and here it is~~bayside 28

Bayside 28

All Summer long I watched a dream unfold. The "Rocking Robin" sign that had been my landmark as I traveled the back way to Salisbury on Old Ocean City Blvd. was the first to go. Next came the construction, with piles of junk discarded out the side door, followed by lumber and other building materials. Ever curious, I couldn't wait to see what came next. Finally, a sign proclaimed, "Cool Cats Cove" coming soon. Was it to be a blues club? A throwback to fifties beatniks? I tucked the mystery away until this past week, when I finally saw the Open sign.
I am not one to go into a tavern alone, but in the spirit of exploring what's new in the area, I gathered my courage and visited on Sunday afternoon. It's not a fancy place, nor a particularly elegant establishment. But I predict The Cool Cats Cove is going to become one swinging place to go.
Owner's Shirley and Tee O'Neal have done what most of us don't have the courage to do. They took the "maybe some day" out of their dream, and turned it into "now". Both entertainers, with a passion for music and dancing, they wanted to create a place where people can eat good food, listen to great music from the 1940's to the 1980's, and dance the night away. The plan includes theme nights, including a tribute to Elvis, and classes teaching those cool cat dance steps.
I knew I had hit gold when a dark-haired lady came out of the kitchen proudly carrying a homemade cake, resplendent in chocolate butter crème. When she heard my enthusiastic "Wow!" she offered me a slice. ( I am a fool for chocolate, as you well know.) Between bites of cake, she introduced herself as Taz, head bartender and bottle-washer, along with chef Michael. I didn't tell them I was a columnist until the last bite, so I was particularly impressed with the kindness of the gesture. I am no fool when it comes to good food, as my hips will attest. I asked for a taste of the broth in the homemade Chicken and Dumplings, knowing that one sip would tell me if it was truly homemade, or Sweet Sue in a can. It was to die for, folks, every bit as good as mine. We were just warming up. Next came the broccoli cheddar soup, and that WAS better then mine. Chef Mike waxed lyrical as talked about the specials he had planned, like old-fashioned Ham and Cabbage, and said everybody was loving the southern fried chicken and homemade crab cakes. I'm hoping to catch a few tunes and sample the hot crab dip next weekend after work. They have a really cool website where you can access location, special events, and hours; www.coolcatscove.com.
Great food is good food, and I don't care if it comes wrapped in a napkin or swathed in silk, it's the taste that counts. I headed to Ocean City to finish this week's adventure. I love Chef Paul's food column here in the Bayside Gazette, and now that he's "cheffing" at The Avalon Market, I stopped by to meet him and hopefully sample his culinary delights. The Avalon Market, if you haven't been, is a must for serious foodies looking for hard to find ingredients, specialty equipment and fine wines, and the best in gourmet take-out, meats and cheeses. Watch for a column interviewing Chef Paul and sampling the goodies he creates soon. (there goes another inch on the hips.)
See you next week!

And this is the one i wrote, one year later....Interesting, how many unforseen changes...if you told me a year ago I would be writing a weekly column, my eyebrows would have been raised so high,they would have fallen off my face!!! Bayside 27
This is going to be one of those columns where I try to fit ten lbs. of "stuff" in a five lb. sack. I started my adventures off with Open-Mic night at The Waterline Gallery in Berlin. As I have written before, it is a wonderful way to express yourself as a musician or writer, or just soak up the art displayed as you socialize and enjoy the performances. Open-Mic is a new concept for me, and I definitely put it in the plus category for living in Delmarva. A special thanks to Paul of "Trish and Paul", the emcee for Open-Mic. Not only has he donated his time for this community service, but as I speak, he is with The Red Cross down in Louisiana, aiding Katrina victims.
Saturday Night I found myself at another Open-Mic at Barnes and Noble in Salisbury. This one was for Poetry only, and is held the 2nd Saturday of each month. This month's guest moderator was Henry Wilson, and what caught me as much as his poetry was the fact that he wrote many of his poems working in a factory, when his machine was down or idle. Aspiring as well as accomplished poets are encouraged to read their work, and the cushy chairs to sit and listen in aren't bad, either.
Sunday brought another adventure. As much as I love music and writing, sometimes you just have to put on your flip-flops and go have fun. I have always felt an affinity with Native Americans, so when I was invited to go to the annual Nanticoke Indian Powwow, I went. I guess I expected something out of one of the old westerns I watched as a child, with Native Americans clearly defined by straight black hair and coppery skin tones, yet that wasn't what I found at all. In fact, without the colorful tribal clothing, they could have been any gathering of Americans, black, white, blue-eyed, curly haired, well, you get the picture. What I found as I watched the dances, watched the interactions, was a solid unity of heritage, of family, regardless of individual looks or tribe. My beautiful friend Elizabeth, age 16, was one of the women shawl dancers, and it took my breath away to see her swoop and sway with the other women, like brightly colored butterflies flying in a field. There were at least a thousand people present, native and visitors, participating or watching the dancers, listening to the sweet flute and hypnotic drums, and milling around eating fry bread and other native delicacies. Craftsmen , with hand-written signs denoting tribe of origin, sold intricate beaded moccasins and buckskin clothing, as well as handcrafted jewelry, herbs, and pottery. I was very pleasantly surprised to run into Doris Price, an extremely talented artist I wrote about months ago when covering The Beachcomber's Easel Art Gallery, in West Ocean City. A Native Indian herself, she has graciously invited me to her home to view her private collection. (I will tell you all about it when I go.)
I left the powwow full to the brim with song, and sound, and color. There are several powwows coming up in the area this fall, and I highly recommend the experience. I found a listing of upcoming events at www.500nations.com. See you next week!

this is what i wrote, over a year ago, about moving here to maryland~~Wednesday Night~~
The rain is pouring straight down, drenching, soaking, hot sounding rain, and it's making me hot, too. It's a sound of urgent passion,unstoppable, furious in intent. I feel crazy...like biting the tiles, waiting for release...Ah, it's softer now...with a gentle smack of thunder, and i can finally exhale. Now it is just caressing, and i can hear the different tones as it hits the trees, the grass, the slope of the roof. Black kitty Link is on the windowsill, green eyes luminous, and we rub noses..I think he felt it too.Little oj is in my lap, half asleep, sucking on my thumb..(how strange my 4 legged children are)
Another uneventful day at work...THANK GOD!. Except, except...i have made the reservation for the moving truck. When they asked me the date i was moving, i realized i didn't know...My plans have been so focused on solving all the problems to actually MOVE...my imagination has been so locked into the fantasy of how it will be., that i hadn't set a date...So i heard the little voice in my head say"mid september". I had actually thought the last week end august, but, i always listen when that voice speaks.."Monday, September 13?" the guy asked..And i said "Yes!"...My knees felt weak, my voice shaky. I guess i am really going to do it. New start. New job, new home, new friends, new, new new.
All i have to do is remember how i have been terrified before, of change, of the unknown. And then remember, that out of those changes, have come great learning, great loving, great experiences...And so...the next chapter is ready to begin....... Later.

posted by Lisa @ 9:45 PM 1 comments

Bayside 26

The cornfields that I so love to view are no longer towering in brilliant green. Seemingly overnight, the stalks look crispy-fried and brown, and autumn is on it's way.
It's my anniversary, too. Exactly one year ago I did a fair imitation of The Beverly Hillbilly's, loaded up a moving truck and moved to Delmarva.
Perhaps your cousin Tillie from Long Island is thinking about doing the same thing. Perhaps you ARE cousin Tillie, and this column will strike a chord within you. Or perhaps you are a local, born and bred, and you will get a peek at how an "outsider" perceives Delmarva.
This is a land of startling contrast. Wide fields with work creased farmhouses stand side by side with cookie cutter sub-divisions. Raucous, crowded Ocean City boardwalk is only a spit away from serene Assateague Beach. There is huge money to be made in tourism and real estate, but I have seen people with a master's degree in social service making eight dollars an hour.
So why did I stay? Because Delmarva is truly beautiful, and a place to make dreams come true. It is here I thank The Bayside Gazette, for taking a chance on an unknown writer, with a thirty year writer's block, and making my dream a reality. This is a community that honors and respects the arts, at a grassroots level. Where I came from, accessibility and entrance into the art world was only for the elite. Here, there are so many events, many of them free, for the artist or writer or musician, I can barely keep up with them all. It is a strangely smooth blending of little town coziness with big city sophistication. Pig races on the Main St. in Berlin? Followed by a first rate Fiddler's Convention? Yes, and it works.
I could go into the things I found that DON'T work here on Delmarva, like the vanishing rural landscape that we all moved here to enjoy, but that's not my place here to do. I could talk about the great gap between the retired folks and working poor trying to grocery shop and pay oil bills on salaries way behind inflation, but that's not my purpose with this column, so I won't do that, either. Let it suffice to say, regardless of those things, Delmarva's biggest crop isn't corn or chickens (are chicken's a crop?) it's dreams.
I am revving up for next week's Coastal Day at Assateague, and the Fiddler's convention the following week in downtown Berlin. There are really cool happenings going on EVERYWHERE in the next couple of weeks, and I intend to be a part of them. (The day job is just going to have to go.)
A final note: last week I wrote about the threat of Katrina hitting New Orleans. We all know what tragedy did befall that city. I lived in South Florida and survived Hurricane Andrew years back, and I feel obligated to share what I learned during that time. Please, please, prepare before there is a hint of a storm coming. How? Stock up on water and canned goods and candles. Lots and lots of batteries, and a landlocked phone. Plywood and duct tape to cover windows was the first thing the stores ran out of. If the word comes to evacuate, GO. I am sure Aunt Tillie in Long Island will be glad to see you. Thank you for sharing my anniversary with me, and... See you next week!

Move Over, Grandma Moses
Dot Truitt’s eyes sparkled as she leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “We are both artists, you know. It’s never too late to create. And Bob, here, didn’t start til he was 70.”
I met Dot Truitt and her husband Bob at the retail store I work in. When our business was finished, they stayed to chat. Dot, a slim, energetic woman of 71, did most of the talking. "What type of art, ?" I queried, and thus began a story I knew I had to share.
"Wait, I’ll show you" she said, and ran out to her car. She came back with a bag of beautiful clay bracelets, each a circle of brilliant color and hand-painted design. She looked fondly over at her husband, Bob. "He does handmade pottery mirrors. “She explained. She went on to say that she had started 16 years earlier, in her mid fifties. Wow, I thought. So many people at age 50 plus think it’s rocking chair time, but not these two.
She was the typical stay at home Mom, and though she always wanted to create, caring for her family took priority. When her daughter graduated high school , she seized the opportunity to finally follow her artistic vision. Laughing, she explained to me that she did it all wrong. "I bought a huge kiln and a couple of books." She went on to tell me that doing it all wrong meant she did it all right, because her trial and error helped her perfect a unique kiln-firing method that produced brilliant, yet translucent colors.
I asked her where she first showed her work. She laughed again, and explained that her first showing was in the National Museum of Ceramic Art, in downtown Baltimore. " I had been selected for jury duty," she mused, "and in those days, it meant calling the courthouse at 6pm the day before, and then high-tailing it to Baltimore to stay in a hotel that night." She happened to wear one of her pendants, and while visiting the museum, they asked her on the spot to display in their gift shop. She now shows her work in various craft shows in the area. Her next big show is in Lewes on July 9th, sponsored by the Lewes Historical Society.
Bob was a little more reserved about his art. A native eastern shoreman, he joked about “outsiders”, and once I confessed to the sin of being one, he relented and told me, “I don’t think of myself as an artist, more of a craftsman. Dot makes the designs for my work, I just put it all together.” Regardless of what he thinks, I saw an example of his work, and it’s striking.
Move over, Grandma Moses. Go ahead, pull out those dusty paint brushes, rework that old manuscript, learn that guitar. In Dot Truitt’s words, “It’s never too late to create.”
this is a reprint for flora....whose mother is 77, and having an art exhibit in the netherlands...