October 14th, 05
God Help Me~~ this is probably the last free blog I write....at least, here on Mermaids.
You see, she is moving....stretching, basking, fingering her pearls, ready to go to new seas.
I hate that people anaylse and fret over this plain mermaids journey. Time to find another pearl.
A secret pearl. One that is not shucked, one harder to find.
I am scared., going to a STUPID (fear talking) writer's conference.
What is a writer? I guess it's just someone who loves to write.
that i Do.
see you soon. Pray for me.
Facing my demons, needing prayer.
Don't worry, I will remember you.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
October 3rd~~
I just published my last two columns for the Gazette., and really did it because I know my brother and sister read it faithfully every week, even (imagine that!) look forward to it.
Guess a few other people that love me read it, too. It led me to think about my life, and how tightly my brother and sisters and I are bonded.
Bonded in pain and tragedy, that's true. Bonded in love, also true. Neither of those things are portrayed to the world, if you were to see a photograph of the four of us together...all you would see is well dressed, smiling, group of people, obviously enjoying each other's company.
You wouldn't see my older sister, picking out our mother's casket at 17. You wouldn't see her the epitome of strength until she got to the viewing of her body, when she fainted dead away.
You wouldn't see my little sister, beating her head senselessly against the steps leading upstairs, as she wept when our father died. Nor would you see me, only 11, rocking her, telling her it would be okay.
You wouldn't see our brother, the baby, fiercely protected by his big sisters, determined to be his mother, father, and any other damn thing he needed, as a baby orphaned by age 7.
You wouldn't see a home ripped apart, with vulturistic relatives "shopping" our parent's belongings, while we were delegated to a home far away, in a hostile land.
Why do i bring these things up? I guess it's time to exhume the dead. Perform an autopsy. Because sure as I am standing here, the dead are still alive, to me.
Today I weep. I am the emotional one, I cry for us all. My tears don't pay the bills, they don't make me successful, they keep me balanced precariously on the edge of victimhood and martrydom...both empty platforms to live on.
But they have given me the ability to write...write what other's who are more sensible, more successful, will not reveal, because it costs too much.
Guess today, I just weep. I long for the security of my father's arms, the love in my mother's eyes. All four of us have figured out how to find that security, find that love. Today, though, I can't find either...but, there is always tomorrow. Later.
I just published my last two columns for the Gazette., and really did it because I know my brother and sister read it faithfully every week, even (imagine that!) look forward to it.
Guess a few other people that love me read it, too. It led me to think about my life, and how tightly my brother and sisters and I are bonded.
Bonded in pain and tragedy, that's true. Bonded in love, also true. Neither of those things are portrayed to the world, if you were to see a photograph of the four of us together...all you would see is well dressed, smiling, group of people, obviously enjoying each other's company.
You wouldn't see my older sister, picking out our mother's casket at 17. You wouldn't see her the epitome of strength until she got to the viewing of her body, when she fainted dead away.
You wouldn't see my little sister, beating her head senselessly against the steps leading upstairs, as she wept when our father died. Nor would you see me, only 11, rocking her, telling her it would be okay.
You wouldn't see our brother, the baby, fiercely protected by his big sisters, determined to be his mother, father, and any other damn thing he needed, as a baby orphaned by age 7.
You wouldn't see a home ripped apart, with vulturistic relatives "shopping" our parent's belongings, while we were delegated to a home far away, in a hostile land.
Why do i bring these things up? I guess it's time to exhume the dead. Perform an autopsy. Because sure as I am standing here, the dead are still alive, to me.
Today I weep. I am the emotional one, I cry for us all. My tears don't pay the bills, they don't make me successful, they keep me balanced precariously on the edge of victimhood and martrydom...both empty platforms to live on.
But they have given me the ability to write...write what other's who are more sensible, more successful, will not reveal, because it costs too much.
Guess today, I just weep. I long for the security of my father's arms, the love in my mother's eyes. All four of us have figured out how to find that security, find that love. Today, though, I can't find either...but, there is always tomorrow. Later.
Bayside 30
I am listening to the sweet sounds of Celtic Music..; fitting, because I started my weekend with a man in a kilt, and ended it that way, too.
I know I probably make my editor crazy, because she never knows where I am going, or where I am going to end up. Neither do I, frankly. I just take my fear, put him in my pocket, and take that little devil along for the ride.
Which is how I ended up setting my alarm clock for 5:00 AM on Saturday morning, to volunteer for The Osprey Triathlon at Public Landing, near Snow Hill. Such an incredible jewel in the necklace of Delmarva! A long dock leads to a covered pavilion with a picnic table, a place for fishermen, lovers, and philosopher's alike to pursue their dreams. And...it's free, something that I always hold dear, adhering to the old adage that "The Best Things in Life are Free."
Why was I there so early in the morning? The Maryland Coastal Bays Program needed volunteers, that's why. The very things that attracted me to this area, the beach, the farmlands, the bays, made me want to help an organization that is dedicated to a common sense approach to conserving these natural resources. I didn't do much...just handed t-shirts and goodie bags out to the athletes participating, and enjoyed the camaraderie of the other people there, (hi to Brenda and Christy!) . Of course, if you don't have the time or desire to volunteer, you can always write a check to help preserve what makes it so special to live here. The Maryland Coastal Bays Program's phone number is (410) 213-BAYS.
As I stumbled about in my early morning stupor, my eye was caught by an older gentleman strutting about in a kilt. Was it my much missed, beloved, Scottish/Canadian friend Rikk materializing out of the morning mist? Alas, no, it was a very concrete reminder that Sunday would bring the Celtic Festival, to round out this week's column. I guess the kilted gentleman was just going to the festival, too.
Sunday afternoon I headed back out to Furnace Town, where the Celtic Festival was held. Sorry if you missed it, just mark it on your calendar for next year, because it is a GREAT time. I have written about Furnace Town in the past...it's just such a cool place to go to explore the history of an early American steel-making town. Great for the little ones, plenty of room to run and play under the trees, as well as sneakily stuffing their little heads with history and educating them. Not bad for us grownups, either. An almost free place to picnic, learn something, and do something fun while pretending to be intellectual.
The Celtic Fair greeted me with bagpipes, and people milling about in kilts and medieval garb, and even a spot to have a nip of whiskey. ( I didn't partake, but DID try a Harp's ale.) There were vendors with Celtic jewelry, purveyor's of fine Scottish wool, and Irish groups performing.
My favorite was the main stage featuring girl's dancing to the foot-tapping Celtic music. There were three age groups, little sprites in crimson velvet, intermediate girl's in black and gold, and lush, full grown fairies in soft, wood green gowns. Bravo to all of them for the entertainment.
I ended my weekend where it began, at Public Landing. I took a picnic, and feasted on roasted chicken, a bottle of wine, and great poetry overlooking the bay. Do I need to add that it was at sunset?
Can't wait for next week's adventure, here on Delmarvelous. (Yes, I know that's corny.) See you next week!
I am listening to the sweet sounds of Celtic Music..; fitting, because I started my weekend with a man in a kilt, and ended it that way, too.
I know I probably make my editor crazy, because she never knows where I am going, or where I am going to end up. Neither do I, frankly. I just take my fear, put him in my pocket, and take that little devil along for the ride.
Which is how I ended up setting my alarm clock for 5:00 AM on Saturday morning, to volunteer for The Osprey Triathlon at Public Landing, near Snow Hill. Such an incredible jewel in the necklace of Delmarva! A long dock leads to a covered pavilion with a picnic table, a place for fishermen, lovers, and philosopher's alike to pursue their dreams. And...it's free, something that I always hold dear, adhering to the old adage that "The Best Things in Life are Free."
Why was I there so early in the morning? The Maryland Coastal Bays Program needed volunteers, that's why. The very things that attracted me to this area, the beach, the farmlands, the bays, made me want to help an organization that is dedicated to a common sense approach to conserving these natural resources. I didn't do much...just handed t-shirts and goodie bags out to the athletes participating, and enjoyed the camaraderie of the other people there, (hi to Brenda and Christy!) . Of course, if you don't have the time or desire to volunteer, you can always write a check to help preserve what makes it so special to live here. The Maryland Coastal Bays Program's phone number is (410) 213-BAYS.
As I stumbled about in my early morning stupor, my eye was caught by an older gentleman strutting about in a kilt. Was it my much missed, beloved, Scottish/Canadian friend Rikk materializing out of the morning mist? Alas, no, it was a very concrete reminder that Sunday would bring the Celtic Festival, to round out this week's column. I guess the kilted gentleman was just going to the festival, too.
Sunday afternoon I headed back out to Furnace Town, where the Celtic Festival was held. Sorry if you missed it, just mark it on your calendar for next year, because it is a GREAT time. I have written about Furnace Town in the past...it's just such a cool place to go to explore the history of an early American steel-making town. Great for the little ones, plenty of room to run and play under the trees, as well as sneakily stuffing their little heads with history and educating them. Not bad for us grownups, either. An almost free place to picnic, learn something, and do something fun while pretending to be intellectual.
The Celtic Fair greeted me with bagpipes, and people milling about in kilts and medieval garb, and even a spot to have a nip of whiskey. ( I didn't partake, but DID try a Harp's ale.) There were vendors with Celtic jewelry, purveyor's of fine Scottish wool, and Irish groups performing.
My favorite was the main stage featuring girl's dancing to the foot-tapping Celtic music. There were three age groups, little sprites in crimson velvet, intermediate girl's in black and gold, and lush, full grown fairies in soft, wood green gowns. Bravo to all of them for the entertainment.
I ended my weekend where it began, at Public Landing. I took a picnic, and feasted on roasted chicken, a bottle of wine, and great poetry overlooking the bay. Do I need to add that it was at sunset?
Can't wait for next week's adventure, here on Delmarvelous. (Yes, I know that's corny.) See you next week!
Around the Bayside 29
It's the end of September, and I find myself wanting to "button-up." Back home in the Midwest, that's exactly what everybody is doing. The maples and oaks burn red and yellow, and the lakes become a deeper blue. Gutters are cleaned so ice doesn't collect and trickle down inside the walls, and delicate plants are shrouded in burlap coats in preparation for winter. People wander on the weekends to the famous apple farms, sipping unprocessed cider and biting into hot cinnamon doughnuts, determined to enjoy the outdoors before hibernation mode kicks in.
It's a little different down here. I know things are changing because the corn is cut down, and I don't have to run the air conditioning 24/7. I am not afraid to brave the traffic on 50 to go into Ocean City, and there isn't a line of cars to get into Assateague. The clearest indication that summer is gone and fall has begun? Sunfest, in Ocean City. I attended last Friday night, and had a blast. Maybe I am simple, but the fun began before I even got to the festival. If you haven't tried the West Ocean City Park and Ride, you are really missing out. It's laid out almost like a park, with little wooden bridges and a great view of the Ocean City skyline. You park your car for free, and wait in front of the transit building (clean bathrooms) for the shuttle to Ocean City. It only costs a dollar both ways, and it deposits you over the bridge to the Division St. transit center. What a hassle saver! Now that I have done it once, I realize it's the only way to go. They also make a stop at The White Marlin Outlet Mall, so you can shop, go into Ocean City, and be deposited back at the mall.
As I walked from South Division Street to the Boardwalk, the pulsing colored lights from the Ferris Wheel and amusement rides reminded me of going to Coney Island as a kid. Same "this is going to be fun" excitement in the pit of my stomach, and then I saw the huge white tents billowing in the wind against the dark sky. Even if you don't have money, it's worth it just to see the sheer diversity of goods for sale. My favorites were the candles shaped like pies and drinks, uncannily scented exactly like pina coladas, cinnamon buns, and blueberry pies. I saw vendors from all over the U.S., proving that Sunfest is no longer just a local artisan gathering.
I didn't really stay to listen to the music, but wandered the boardwalk instead. I had my first taste of Thrasher's french fries, and was particularly amused by the sign in red that boldly proclaimed, "NO CATSUP.". Thrasher fries liberally sprinkled with vinegar and salt, eaten on a bench watching the human parade, just heaven. The cost freaked me out a little, I could only imagine the cost for a night of fun for a family of four.
The hay bales were in the streets of downtown Berlin again this weekend, too. I've been here long enough to figure out the back way out when they close the downtown off for festivals, and it still reinforces that Mayberry feel when I see the hay bales and cowboy hats at The Fiddler's Convention. I was only able to catch the tail end of the festival on Friday night, but the streets were full, the music good, and lots of people milled around enjoying themselves. I've been told that Sunday morning was the crème de la crème of the festival, when bluegrass met gospel on the grass in front of The Calvin D. Taylor Museum.
All in all, proves my point that there is never any reason to be bored down here in Delmarva. There is always something to do, somewhere to go. If all else fails, you can find beauty and peace on the beach, which is where I am headed now. See you next week
It's the end of September, and I find myself wanting to "button-up." Back home in the Midwest, that's exactly what everybody is doing. The maples and oaks burn red and yellow, and the lakes become a deeper blue. Gutters are cleaned so ice doesn't collect and trickle down inside the walls, and delicate plants are shrouded in burlap coats in preparation for winter. People wander on the weekends to the famous apple farms, sipping unprocessed cider and biting into hot cinnamon doughnuts, determined to enjoy the outdoors before hibernation mode kicks in.
It's a little different down here. I know things are changing because the corn is cut down, and I don't have to run the air conditioning 24/7. I am not afraid to brave the traffic on 50 to go into Ocean City, and there isn't a line of cars to get into Assateague. The clearest indication that summer is gone and fall has begun? Sunfest, in Ocean City. I attended last Friday night, and had a blast. Maybe I am simple, but the fun began before I even got to the festival. If you haven't tried the West Ocean City Park and Ride, you are really missing out. It's laid out almost like a park, with little wooden bridges and a great view of the Ocean City skyline. You park your car for free, and wait in front of the transit building (clean bathrooms) for the shuttle to Ocean City. It only costs a dollar both ways, and it deposits you over the bridge to the Division St. transit center. What a hassle saver! Now that I have done it once, I realize it's the only way to go. They also make a stop at The White Marlin Outlet Mall, so you can shop, go into Ocean City, and be deposited back at the mall.
As I walked from South Division Street to the Boardwalk, the pulsing colored lights from the Ferris Wheel and amusement rides reminded me of going to Coney Island as a kid. Same "this is going to be fun" excitement in the pit of my stomach, and then I saw the huge white tents billowing in the wind against the dark sky. Even if you don't have money, it's worth it just to see the sheer diversity of goods for sale. My favorites were the candles shaped like pies and drinks, uncannily scented exactly like pina coladas, cinnamon buns, and blueberry pies. I saw vendors from all over the U.S., proving that Sunfest is no longer just a local artisan gathering.
I didn't really stay to listen to the music, but wandered the boardwalk instead. I had my first taste of Thrasher's french fries, and was particularly amused by the sign in red that boldly proclaimed, "NO CATSUP.". Thrasher fries liberally sprinkled with vinegar and salt, eaten on a bench watching the human parade, just heaven. The cost freaked me out a little, I could only imagine the cost for a night of fun for a family of four.
The hay bales were in the streets of downtown Berlin again this weekend, too. I've been here long enough to figure out the back way out when they close the downtown off for festivals, and it still reinforces that Mayberry feel when I see the hay bales and cowboy hats at The Fiddler's Convention. I was only able to catch the tail end of the festival on Friday night, but the streets were full, the music good, and lots of people milled around enjoying themselves. I've been told that Sunday morning was the crème de la crème of the festival, when bluegrass met gospel on the grass in front of The Calvin D. Taylor Museum.
All in all, proves my point that there is never any reason to be bored down here in Delmarva. There is always something to do, somewhere to go. If all else fails, you can find beauty and peace on the beach, which is where I am headed now. See you next week
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