It can't be over a year since I have written! When I started blogging, hardly anyone had heard of it. Now, blogging is a household word. I am still writing my column, so I thought I would post the latest dated January 11, 2007 for "Hole in Heart," by request....Around The Bayside, January 11.... Have you ever had a thought that just wouldn't leave you? You worry it like your tongue against an aching tooth, you forget it is there, yet it keeps coming back, until it is fixed. Or, in my case, written about.
You men might want to grab your testosterone and head for the nearest football game on this one, because the thought I couldn't get out of my head was about "love".
Recently I was in a room with a friend and his very pregnant daughter. They are gloriously, maddeningly high decibel, and someone not used to Italian heritage would almost say they shout when they become impassioned.
The subject they were discussing was his view that he would love the new baby, the product of a blended family, more than her existing stepson.
"Of course I will love the new baby more, because your stepson is not blood". He said.
"Dad, that's horrible!He is just a child and I love him as much as if I had given birth to him". She said. She was so upset she almost cried, but he was adamant. "I always kiss him hello, I like him,but, HE IS NOT BLOOD". He repeated.
I knew better than to interfere, though I wanted to. In my life, I have seen the "blood is thicker than water" adage play out time and time again in families. My own sons are technically "half" brothers, and I was always vigilant to ensure they were treated equally by my husband's family.
Now that I am old enough to be a grandma the discussion between my friends really grabbed my heart. I always wanted a daughter and I consider her a "daughter of my heart", especially since she lost her mom at a very young age. I am also blessed to love my eldest son's girlfriend very much, and she is my other "heart daughter".
They both have children from a previous marriage,so can I REALLY be a grandma to all of their children? What happens when I become a grandma by blood? Will I love that child more?
It was a painful look inside. I realized that blood did matter to me,but only because to hold a child created by my child was to try to recreate that cherished past when he was a baby, and establish my lineage for the future...part of me would live on, even after I was gone.
But the love? Love transcends bloodlines. Love transcends race. Love transcends religions. It's there for all of us, if we open our hearts.
I have come to my own solution for the grandma thing. I will be Nanna---(as others are Mohhma or Mom-Mom or Buhba) and it will mean we can make cookies,and take walks, and I can slip them money, and listen to their secrets. We will play and eat sugar with abandon, and then I will send them home thankfully to their parents as they bounce off the wall.
There will be only one requirement for me being their Nanna...they want me to be.
It's wonderful to be back, see you next week!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Monday, December 12, 2005
December 12Th~~
All the columns from Oct 14 onwards were added today as a special present to my brother, George. Ok, Georgie? Quit bugging me, LOL!
And here is this weeks column....
Bayside 40
Ok, I admit it. With less than 2 weeks away until Christmas, my calm exterior is beginning to crack, and a frantic "hurry, hurry, hurry" mantra is running circles in my brain. Where did that September resolution to be ready for the holidays by Dec. 1st go?
As I often do in times of crisis, I look to nature to soothe and center me. That was how I found myself back at the beach this morning, with the temperature a mere 34 degrees. My car was the sole vehicle in the lot, but as I trudged the beach I received a surprising early Christmas gift. On the wide, empty expanse of beach, someone had recently dropped red rose petals, one by one, in a Hansel and Gretel trail upon the sand. Two lovers, walking hand in hand? A bouquet thrown in the sea to remember someone, washed back to the shore? I will never know, but will cherish the memory the anonymous romantic left for me to discover.
Impulse made me turn in at the Assateague visitor center on the way home. It was my first visit, and I am very glad I stopped. There is a wonderful gift shop along with a "touchable" tank, inviting you to dip in a hand and experience the feel of whelks, horseshoe crabs, and sea snails. There are books, and plush Assateague ponies, t-shirts and ballcaps; a deck prism and CD's, all wonderful, inexpensive stocking stuffers whose proceeds benefit the park. My favorite, though, is the Foster Wild Horse Program. You chose your favorite horse from those shown in the photo album, and receive a handsome portfolio with a 8x10 picture of your horse, a biography, and an official certificate. You can add a plush pony, book, or t-shirt for a modest additional charge. They have a great website about the program, too, www.assateaguewildhorses.org.
There is another way to celebrate nature here on Delmarva, thanks to the many talented artists that use our scenic beauty for inspiration. I had the pleasure of attending A Step Above Art Gallery's monthly reception this past week. Located inside Town Center Antiques in Berlin, and up a creaky wooden staircase, A Step Above is a delight for those seeking the whimsical, the unusual, and the one of a kind. John Heinz and Charlie Flagiello played a bluegrass duet during the reception, and a table was laden with munchies.
Featured artists included Betty Latourney, David Morgan, Mary Murphy, Lee Simon, Suzanne Wilson, Valerie Witkowski, Maria Zankowich, and Bea Miltenberger. If you have never been to an art reception, step out of the ordinary and give their next month's reception a whirl. It's one thing to solemnly view art in a museum, but to look at incredible creativity and shake the hand that created it is a wonderful feeling. Watch for an exciting new dimension to the gallery’s offerings this spring.
Finally, it makes me sad to say that the Beachcombers Art Easel Art Gallery of West Ocean City will be closing it's doors after Christmas. The good news is, they will be reopening in Selbyville, Delaware around Valentine's Day. The Beachcomber is offering a 20% off sale going on now through Dec. 24th, and I will definitely be shopping there. (Lots of jewelry, sculpture, glassware as well as paintings) I especially love the work of Bonnie Preziose, Judy Johnson, and Doris Price. Best of Luck, Edith, in your new location.
Time to put down the pen and put on my apron~ cookies to bake and my first ever try at fruitcake. Who knows, it might become my signature gift; seems fitting to me. See you next week!
All the columns from Oct 14 onwards were added today as a special present to my brother, George. Ok, Georgie? Quit bugging me, LOL!
And here is this weeks column....
Bayside 40
Ok, I admit it. With less than 2 weeks away until Christmas, my calm exterior is beginning to crack, and a frantic "hurry, hurry, hurry" mantra is running circles in my brain. Where did that September resolution to be ready for the holidays by Dec. 1st go?
As I often do in times of crisis, I look to nature to soothe and center me. That was how I found myself back at the beach this morning, with the temperature a mere 34 degrees. My car was the sole vehicle in the lot, but as I trudged the beach I received a surprising early Christmas gift. On the wide, empty expanse of beach, someone had recently dropped red rose petals, one by one, in a Hansel and Gretel trail upon the sand. Two lovers, walking hand in hand? A bouquet thrown in the sea to remember someone, washed back to the shore? I will never know, but will cherish the memory the anonymous romantic left for me to discover.
Impulse made me turn in at the Assateague visitor center on the way home. It was my first visit, and I am very glad I stopped. There is a wonderful gift shop along with a "touchable" tank, inviting you to dip in a hand and experience the feel of whelks, horseshoe crabs, and sea snails. There are books, and plush Assateague ponies, t-shirts and ballcaps; a deck prism and CD's, all wonderful, inexpensive stocking stuffers whose proceeds benefit the park. My favorite, though, is the Foster Wild Horse Program. You chose your favorite horse from those shown in the photo album, and receive a handsome portfolio with a 8x10 picture of your horse, a biography, and an official certificate. You can add a plush pony, book, or t-shirt for a modest additional charge. They have a great website about the program, too, www.assateaguewildhorses.org.
There is another way to celebrate nature here on Delmarva, thanks to the many talented artists that use our scenic beauty for inspiration. I had the pleasure of attending A Step Above Art Gallery's monthly reception this past week. Located inside Town Center Antiques in Berlin, and up a creaky wooden staircase, A Step Above is a delight for those seeking the whimsical, the unusual, and the one of a kind. John Heinz and Charlie Flagiello played a bluegrass duet during the reception, and a table was laden with munchies.
Featured artists included Betty Latourney, David Morgan, Mary Murphy, Lee Simon, Suzanne Wilson, Valerie Witkowski, Maria Zankowich, and Bea Miltenberger. If you have never been to an art reception, step out of the ordinary and give their next month's reception a whirl. It's one thing to solemnly view art in a museum, but to look at incredible creativity and shake the hand that created it is a wonderful feeling. Watch for an exciting new dimension to the gallery’s offerings this spring.
Finally, it makes me sad to say that the Beachcombers Art Easel Art Gallery of West Ocean City will be closing it's doors after Christmas. The good news is, they will be reopening in Selbyville, Delaware around Valentine's Day. The Beachcomber is offering a 20% off sale going on now through Dec. 24th, and I will definitely be shopping there. (Lots of jewelry, sculpture, glassware as well as paintings) I especially love the work of Bonnie Preziose, Judy Johnson, and Doris Price. Best of Luck, Edith, in your new location.
Time to put down the pen and put on my apron~ cookies to bake and my first ever try at fruitcake. Who knows, it might become my signature gift; seems fitting to me. See you next week!
Bayside 39
Snow is falling; plump white kisses from the sky. It doesn't concern me much, because where I come from, this amount of snow doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Still, the sky is white and the air is cold, and I find myself miserably anticipating three more months of the same. I like flowers and color and warmth, t-shirts and flip-flops, so my mind started to wander towards heading south.
Not likely. No time, no money for a Caribbean vacation, unless I could find a reasonable facsimile closer to home.....Didn't I see a press release a few months ago about a new indoor theme pool? A place to swim, play and pretend I'm warm? I searched the web, but couldn't find mention of any such place. It is said there are no coincidences, so when my companion and I had dinner at the Francis Scott Key's signature restaurant, The Marlin Moon Grille, I vaguely registered that there was a cool new pool open to the public.
I love the Francis. Opened in the fifties, it is a sprawling complex of rooms, cottages, pools, and playground, grounded by the main building, with it's fat Adirondack rockers on the porch, and the restaurant. It is old school hostelry at it's best, reminiscent of the grand old Catskill Mountain establishments in New York. The walls of the restaurant are unashamedly nautical, with huge taxidermied marlin staring fiercely at you as you eat. We had mussels with fennel and garlic to start, and the rockfish and combination seafood platter were perfectly prepared, generously portioned, and tasty. It was the happy/stuffed, unhappy/omigod-I'm-getting-fat feeling after dinner that triggered my memory of their theme pool. I resolved to check it out, swim my way to svelte, and find my bit of the sun in the dead of winter.
This morning, as the snow began in half-earnest dribbles, I wound my way to the very back of the hotel's buildings. As I entered the steamy pool area, several smiling seniors, hair damp and towels in tow, emerged. Eureka! I found my little bit of winter paradise. Oh, it's so much fun! Grimacing, life-size pirates greet you at the door, and a 5 foot serpent undulates in the water. Hanging red, blue, and green crayontip buckets continually fill with water, then splash into the pool below. A portly blue whale floats in the kiddy pool, his blowhole a cascading fountain. When I got my childish enthusiasm under control, I noted the Jacuzzi, the state of the art exercise room at the entrance, and the arcade that completes the complex. What a wonderful way to exercise, to bask in warm water, to dispel the gray of winter. I've really hit the jackpot with this find, folks.
The hotel has several offers for us "locals" this time of year. They have a pool gift/membership card that costs $100.00, entitling the bearer to 14 general admissions OR 28 children admissions. If you just want to come for the day, the pool is open to the general public Sundays thru Thursdays, from 12p.m to 8p.m. Admission is $10.00 per adult/ $5.00 per child.
Another nice alternative is to do a mini-vacation at the hotel. If my kids were still little ones, I would definitely opt for the 1 night package that includes a roll of quarters for the Caribbean arcade, one large pizza from Lombardi's, and a full day at the pool.
You're going to thank me for this little oasis this winter. Pina Colada anyone? See you next week!
Snow is falling; plump white kisses from the sky. It doesn't concern me much, because where I come from, this amount of snow doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Still, the sky is white and the air is cold, and I find myself miserably anticipating three more months of the same. I like flowers and color and warmth, t-shirts and flip-flops, so my mind started to wander towards heading south.
Not likely. No time, no money for a Caribbean vacation, unless I could find a reasonable facsimile closer to home.....Didn't I see a press release a few months ago about a new indoor theme pool? A place to swim, play and pretend I'm warm? I searched the web, but couldn't find mention of any such place. It is said there are no coincidences, so when my companion and I had dinner at the Francis Scott Key's signature restaurant, The Marlin Moon Grille, I vaguely registered that there was a cool new pool open to the public.
I love the Francis. Opened in the fifties, it is a sprawling complex of rooms, cottages, pools, and playground, grounded by the main building, with it's fat Adirondack rockers on the porch, and the restaurant. It is old school hostelry at it's best, reminiscent of the grand old Catskill Mountain establishments in New York. The walls of the restaurant are unashamedly nautical, with huge taxidermied marlin staring fiercely at you as you eat. We had mussels with fennel and garlic to start, and the rockfish and combination seafood platter were perfectly prepared, generously portioned, and tasty. It was the happy/stuffed, unhappy/omigod-I'm-getting-fat feeling after dinner that triggered my memory of their theme pool. I resolved to check it out, swim my way to svelte, and find my bit of the sun in the dead of winter.
This morning, as the snow began in half-earnest dribbles, I wound my way to the very back of the hotel's buildings. As I entered the steamy pool area, several smiling seniors, hair damp and towels in tow, emerged. Eureka! I found my little bit of winter paradise. Oh, it's so much fun! Grimacing, life-size pirates greet you at the door, and a 5 foot serpent undulates in the water. Hanging red, blue, and green crayontip buckets continually fill with water, then splash into the pool below. A portly blue whale floats in the kiddy pool, his blowhole a cascading fountain. When I got my childish enthusiasm under control, I noted the Jacuzzi, the state of the art exercise room at the entrance, and the arcade that completes the complex. What a wonderful way to exercise, to bask in warm water, to dispel the gray of winter. I've really hit the jackpot with this find, folks.
The hotel has several offers for us "locals" this time of year. They have a pool gift/membership card that costs $100.00, entitling the bearer to 14 general admissions OR 28 children admissions. If you just want to come for the day, the pool is open to the general public Sundays thru Thursdays, from 12p.m to 8p.m. Admission is $10.00 per adult/ $5.00 per child.
Another nice alternative is to do a mini-vacation at the hotel. If my kids were still little ones, I would definitely opt for the 1 night package that includes a roll of quarters for the Caribbean arcade, one large pizza from Lombardi's, and a full day at the pool.
You're going to thank me for this little oasis this winter. Pina Colada anyone? See you next week!
Bayside 38
As I write this week's column, the aroma of turkey rice soup is wafting through the house, reminding me of what a wonderful Thanksgiving I experienced last week. Yes, I take the turkey bones and bits of stuffing and lots of vegetables and boil it all down into a last grand finale of Thanksgiving. Unable to be with my family by blood this year, I enjoyed family by association, complete with charades after dinner, a mandolin and guitar serenade by my son and little six year old Maris, and a corny movie in the living room instead of the de rigueur football after dinner. I felt truly blessed.
Friday night I snuck out of work early, determined not to miss Art Night in Berlin. I dressed for the occasion, my customary hole-in-the knees jeans with black tights poking through, manly tweed cap perched backwards on my curls, and a velvet scarf atop my black turtleneck. I knew I had hit it right when someone asked me which paintings were mine. I skipped from store to store, drinking little plastic cups of wine and nibbling on the snacks provided. It was a cold night, but I was warmed by meeting people I knew, and watching the shopkeepers as customers stood in line to purchase items, validating their dreams of a successful downtown Berlin business.
It was more then that, though. I almost felt like I had stepped back into time, into a world where lighting was softer, buildings were brick, and neighbors knew each other by name. Every year I purchase one new Christmas ornament, and this year I found a voluptuous mermaid ensconced in a champagne glass, the perfect addition to my tree, as those that know me will attest to.
My friends Greg, Diane, and I ended up in Goober's, where I gave the local girls a run for their money on the tiny dance floor. What fun! The night ended up in fisherman Kerry's historic house, at an impromptu party hostessed by my beloved friend Pam, enjoying a cup of his famous crab chowder.
As much as I enjoyed the entire night, in retrospect I found it interesting that I began the sacred holiday season in such a raucous, merry-making way. How did we journey so far from a simple carpenter's birth in a manger, to the commercial frenzy we all experience now?
A tiny press release caught my attention as I scanned the weekly papers. St. Paul's by-the-Sea Episcopal Church was offering a candlelit labyrinth from 7-9 p.m. each Sunday until Christmas. It kept niggling at me; what was it all about?
I asked my companion to accompany me. A staunch supporter of my literary pursuits, he agreed, though his even stauncher Catholic upbringing made him a wee bit nervous. We arrived at the church about 7:30pm, and followed the hand-written signs to the labyrinth. I was struck by the empty parking lot, indeed, the emptiness of downtown Ocean City, in direct opposition to the crowded streets of Berlin just two nights before.
To walk the Labyrinth is a very personal journey, a spiritual road that is different for each that undertake it. I felt it transcended organized religion, and brought me back into the manger where the Christmas season began, some two thousand years ago. It gave me the breath to pause, to reflect, and remember what Christmas is truly about. See you next week!
As I write this week's column, the aroma of turkey rice soup is wafting through the house, reminding me of what a wonderful Thanksgiving I experienced last week. Yes, I take the turkey bones and bits of stuffing and lots of vegetables and boil it all down into a last grand finale of Thanksgiving. Unable to be with my family by blood this year, I enjoyed family by association, complete with charades after dinner, a mandolin and guitar serenade by my son and little six year old Maris, and a corny movie in the living room instead of the de rigueur football after dinner. I felt truly blessed.
Friday night I snuck out of work early, determined not to miss Art Night in Berlin. I dressed for the occasion, my customary hole-in-the knees jeans with black tights poking through, manly tweed cap perched backwards on my curls, and a velvet scarf atop my black turtleneck. I knew I had hit it right when someone asked me which paintings were mine. I skipped from store to store, drinking little plastic cups of wine and nibbling on the snacks provided. It was a cold night, but I was warmed by meeting people I knew, and watching the shopkeepers as customers stood in line to purchase items, validating their dreams of a successful downtown Berlin business.
It was more then that, though. I almost felt like I had stepped back into time, into a world where lighting was softer, buildings were brick, and neighbors knew each other by name. Every year I purchase one new Christmas ornament, and this year I found a voluptuous mermaid ensconced in a champagne glass, the perfect addition to my tree, as those that know me will attest to.
My friends Greg, Diane, and I ended up in Goober's, where I gave the local girls a run for their money on the tiny dance floor. What fun! The night ended up in fisherman Kerry's historic house, at an impromptu party hostessed by my beloved friend Pam, enjoying a cup of his famous crab chowder.
As much as I enjoyed the entire night, in retrospect I found it interesting that I began the sacred holiday season in such a raucous, merry-making way. How did we journey so far from a simple carpenter's birth in a manger, to the commercial frenzy we all experience now?
A tiny press release caught my attention as I scanned the weekly papers. St. Paul's by-the-Sea Episcopal Church was offering a candlelit labyrinth from 7-9 p.m. each Sunday until Christmas. It kept niggling at me; what was it all about?
I asked my companion to accompany me. A staunch supporter of my literary pursuits, he agreed, though his even stauncher Catholic upbringing made him a wee bit nervous. We arrived at the church about 7:30pm, and followed the hand-written signs to the labyrinth. I was struck by the empty parking lot, indeed, the emptiness of downtown Ocean City, in direct opposition to the crowded streets of Berlin just two nights before.
To walk the Labyrinth is a very personal journey, a spiritual road that is different for each that undertake it. I felt it transcended organized religion, and brought me back into the manger where the Christmas season began, some two thousand years ago. It gave me the breath to pause, to reflect, and remember what Christmas is truly about. See you next week!
bayside 37
It's finally happened. I am not fully prepared for Thanksgiving, and the surge of adrenaline to prepare for Christmas has hit. Is it my imagination, or are the holidays slowly squeezing themselves closer and closer? When still in flip-flops and shorts, I see displays for Halloween. Once Halloween is over, turkey-printed napkins and Indian corn jostle for space with Santa's and holiday wreathes.
As with my new tradition of oysters and cream of crab soup for Thanksgiving, I am birthing two new Christmas traditions. The first is my tree. I am saying goodbye to the fragrant pines that have graced my home(s) the last 50 years. I fought it to the death, but, this year, I just can't see the ecological morality of a live tree, nor, to be very honest, sweeping up stray needles stuck in the cracks of the hardwood floors in July.
The second change is just as radical. Though the bulk of my given gifts will be homemade, I am only going to buy from Indie shopkeepers. No toasters from Wal-Mart, no sweaters from Marshall's. Why? Because I want to nurture and support the creativity, the individuality, and the sheer spirit of Mom and Pop store’s in our area.
As you know, Berlin kicks off the season with Arts Night, Nov. 25th. I took the liberty to give you a taste, just a tiny taste, of some of the local treasures to be found in downtown Berlin. Ready?
Town Center Antiques..You could have a field day, here. The place to go for someone who has everything, to find that perfect gift that tells them you know their taste, their memories, their collectables. Maybe a one of a kind teacup, filled with their favorite teabags, an antique dresser scarf wrapping up a plate of homemade cookies, a poster of the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers/ N.Y. Yankees game.
A Step Above Gallery..Silky handmade batik scarves, great framed Assateague photos, and unusual "Simstone" candles, magical looking pieces of rock perched on a refillable glass base, with wicks bored through the stone.
Cody's Christmas Shoppe..Gets you in the mood as you walk in the door, with the scents of apple and cinnamon, home of vintage angel ornaments, Red Hatter's ornaments, "Bake your state" cookie cutters, and Maryland crab ornaments. By the way, they hold a free drawing each month for a free gift basket, by Barbara. As I was there, she was putting the finishing touches on December's, and it was overflowing with goodies. (yes, I put my name in.)
Victorian Charm..reindeer soaps and Brighton key rings and Sandalwood Massage Oil from Caswell Massey for that (ahem!) special someone.
Bruder Hill, the women's boutique to end all boutiques, velvet headwraps with velvet gloves and Magical bus slippers..
The Main Street Gift Gallery..handmade fleecy, silky scarf-wraps with pockets, original Berlin Christmas cards, postcards and magnets, as well as hard to find classical, international, and local artist CDs. Oh, and my favorite, "Boy Chocolate", funky little tins of cocoa mix, with a construction worker theme.
Sassafras Station, an incredible display of light pulls, beaded pens and journals, every imaginable appetizer spreaders, and watering cans shaped like pigs, flamingos, and even elephants.
The Globe Theater..Christmas pet stockings, Shakespeare in a Box for kids, books by celebrated local artists and reindeer candle holders..
TaDa..monogrammed silver jewelry, (still in time for Christmas) and Ocean Pines artist Bonnie Preziosi's elegant sea glass jewelry.
Corner Cupboard..Fairy Godmothers, (think the 70's Kitchen Witches idea), delicate crocheted bookmarks, stunning handmade afghans, tiny teapot ornaments, and a great collection of memorabilia, including Betty Boop, Elvis, and Batman.
J.J. Fish Studio..Marble Pendants and Bubble Blowers for grownups, Art Start Jars for kids, Marble Wine Corks, fabulous glass catchers..
Lavender and Old Lace.., who are also celebrating their Grand Opening, beaded jewelry by
Janice and vibrant glassware.
Unless toasters, socks and sweaters are mandatory on your shopping list, you can find the unique, the unexpected, the delightful in Berlin's downtown shops. Thanks for shopping with me. Happy Thanksgiving, and see you next week!
It's finally happened. I am not fully prepared for Thanksgiving, and the surge of adrenaline to prepare for Christmas has hit. Is it my imagination, or are the holidays slowly squeezing themselves closer and closer? When still in flip-flops and shorts, I see displays for Halloween. Once Halloween is over, turkey-printed napkins and Indian corn jostle for space with Santa's and holiday wreathes.
As with my new tradition of oysters and cream of crab soup for Thanksgiving, I am birthing two new Christmas traditions. The first is my tree. I am saying goodbye to the fragrant pines that have graced my home(s) the last 50 years. I fought it to the death, but, this year, I just can't see the ecological morality of a live tree, nor, to be very honest, sweeping up stray needles stuck in the cracks of the hardwood floors in July.
The second change is just as radical. Though the bulk of my given gifts will be homemade, I am only going to buy from Indie shopkeepers. No toasters from Wal-Mart, no sweaters from Marshall's. Why? Because I want to nurture and support the creativity, the individuality, and the sheer spirit of Mom and Pop store’s in our area.
As you know, Berlin kicks off the season with Arts Night, Nov. 25th. I took the liberty to give you a taste, just a tiny taste, of some of the local treasures to be found in downtown Berlin. Ready?
Town Center Antiques..You could have a field day, here. The place to go for someone who has everything, to find that perfect gift that tells them you know their taste, their memories, their collectables. Maybe a one of a kind teacup, filled with their favorite teabags, an antique dresser scarf wrapping up a plate of homemade cookies, a poster of the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers/ N.Y. Yankees game.
A Step Above Gallery..Silky handmade batik scarves, great framed Assateague photos, and unusual "Simstone" candles, magical looking pieces of rock perched on a refillable glass base, with wicks bored through the stone.
Cody's Christmas Shoppe..Gets you in the mood as you walk in the door, with the scents of apple and cinnamon, home of vintage angel ornaments, Red Hatter's ornaments, "Bake your state" cookie cutters, and Maryland crab ornaments. By the way, they hold a free drawing each month for a free gift basket, by Barbara. As I was there, she was putting the finishing touches on December's, and it was overflowing with goodies. (yes, I put my name in.)
Victorian Charm..reindeer soaps and Brighton key rings and Sandalwood Massage Oil from Caswell Massey for that (ahem!) special someone.
Bruder Hill, the women's boutique to end all boutiques, velvet headwraps with velvet gloves and Magical bus slippers..
The Main Street Gift Gallery..handmade fleecy, silky scarf-wraps with pockets, original Berlin Christmas cards, postcards and magnets, as well as hard to find classical, international, and local artist CDs. Oh, and my favorite, "Boy Chocolate", funky little tins of cocoa mix, with a construction worker theme.
Sassafras Station, an incredible display of light pulls, beaded pens and journals, every imaginable appetizer spreaders, and watering cans shaped like pigs, flamingos, and even elephants.
The Globe Theater..Christmas pet stockings, Shakespeare in a Box for kids, books by celebrated local artists and reindeer candle holders..
TaDa..monogrammed silver jewelry, (still in time for Christmas) and Ocean Pines artist Bonnie Preziosi's elegant sea glass jewelry.
Corner Cupboard..Fairy Godmothers, (think the 70's Kitchen Witches idea), delicate crocheted bookmarks, stunning handmade afghans, tiny teapot ornaments, and a great collection of memorabilia, including Betty Boop, Elvis, and Batman.
J.J. Fish Studio..Marble Pendants and Bubble Blowers for grownups, Art Start Jars for kids, Marble Wine Corks, fabulous glass catchers..
Lavender and Old Lace.., who are also celebrating their Grand Opening, beaded jewelry by
Janice and vibrant glassware.
Unless toasters, socks and sweaters are mandatory on your shopping list, you can find the unique, the unexpected, the delightful in Berlin's downtown shops. Thanks for shopping with me. Happy Thanksgiving, and see you next week!
Bayside 36
It is the week before Thanksgiving, and as I read through the local newspapers, I was struck by ads promoting lavish Thanksgiving dinners.
I drifted back to the past, when I helped my mother prepare our Thanksgiving feast. She was a fabulous cook, a spicy, Italian married to a Dutch/German Methodist, and she combined the two cultures with culinary ease. Sweet potato casserole ala marshmallow was nestled next to slow simmered garlic mushrooms. A huge pan of lasagna steamed proudly next to a buttery, browned turkey. The Thanksgiving of my childhood was storybook, and embodied love of family and friends.
For years, I continued her culinary traditions with my own family, adding green bean casserole with French onions (recipe on the can), and making sure I didn’t stuff the turkey with the giblet package intact, ( my first attempt at Thanksgiving dinner).
This year will be the first I spend on Delmarva. My readers probably think I eat bon-bons all day and shop for exercise. I actually WORK many hours in addition to writing this column, so I won’t be going "home" to the Midwest, or enjoying my sister’s lovely Thanksgiving feast in North Jersey. Never one to stay low for long, I have decided to create a new Thanksgiving tradition, perhaps echoing my mother’s decision to blend the best of both worlds when she married my very Protestant, very charismatic, father.
First course will be the freshest oysters, succulently displayed on a bed of rock salt. Soup will follow, a Maryland cream of crab with diced shallot and sherry. Of course, lasagna will proudly share the stage with turkey,and marshmallow sweet potatoes and garlic mushrooms will share politically correct goodwill.
Life wasn’t always so easy. My upbringing severely frowned upon "living on the dole", and my grandfather’s favorite expression was, "God gave you two hands, so work." Not so many years ago, as single mother with two boys, even working two jobs didn’t pay the bills. Thanksgiving dinner looked bleak, and Christmas was looming as a panic attack. The week before Thanksgiving, I received a phone call. Someone had anonymously given my name to a local service organization. I was offered a free Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings, delivered to my door. I remember feeling very ashamed, and very thankful at the same time. I I have never forgotten that holiday; not the light from the volunteer’s faces as they delivered my groceries, nor the thankfulness I felt that somehow, someway, God had heard my prayers.
I share that very memorable Thanksgiving because I have seen both sides of the coin, the oysters gleaming on the bed of rock salt, and the brown bags of groceries given by benevolent strangers.
As you read this, you can help, or you can be helped. As I did an internet search for free Thanksgiving dinners on Delmarva, time and time again the Dagsboro Church of God, in conjunction with Mountaire Farms popped up. For ten years now, Mountaire Farms has partnered with the Dagsboro Church of God to feed the needy right here in our own backyard. They began with a count of 400 families assisted, and last year topped 13,700. Seems unbelievable, but perhaps many of those people like me, too proud to ask for assistance.
As in past years, each request from food banks, churches, and individuals are monitored for duplication and authenticity. Food is packed in the Mountaire warehouse in Selbyville, Delaware on Monday, Nov. 21st. Each box is identically packaged with nutritionally balanced ingredients to feed four, allowing families to season and cook the items to taste. On Tuesday, the labeled food boxes are picked up by recipients at the Dagsboro Church of God parking lot.
To donate your time, your money, or nominate someone in need, please call the Dagsboro Church of God at (302) 732-6550.
A final footnote to "my companion’s" Mom. Sorry for poking fun at his flamboyant neckwear last week. Actually, I LIKE his ties. Though bright, they are tastefully so, and let his individuality shine through, a thoroughly American trait.
See you next week!
It is the week before Thanksgiving, and as I read through the local newspapers, I was struck by ads promoting lavish Thanksgiving dinners.
I drifted back to the past, when I helped my mother prepare our Thanksgiving feast. She was a fabulous cook, a spicy, Italian married to a Dutch/German Methodist, and she combined the two cultures with culinary ease. Sweet potato casserole ala marshmallow was nestled next to slow simmered garlic mushrooms. A huge pan of lasagna steamed proudly next to a buttery, browned turkey. The Thanksgiving of my childhood was storybook, and embodied love of family and friends.
For years, I continued her culinary traditions with my own family, adding green bean casserole with French onions (recipe on the can), and making sure I didn’t stuff the turkey with the giblet package intact, ( my first attempt at Thanksgiving dinner).
This year will be the first I spend on Delmarva. My readers probably think I eat bon-bons all day and shop for exercise. I actually WORK many hours in addition to writing this column, so I won’t be going "home" to the Midwest, or enjoying my sister’s lovely Thanksgiving feast in North Jersey. Never one to stay low for long, I have decided to create a new Thanksgiving tradition, perhaps echoing my mother’s decision to blend the best of both worlds when she married my very Protestant, very charismatic, father.
First course will be the freshest oysters, succulently displayed on a bed of rock salt. Soup will follow, a Maryland cream of crab with diced shallot and sherry. Of course, lasagna will proudly share the stage with turkey,and marshmallow sweet potatoes and garlic mushrooms will share politically correct goodwill.
Life wasn’t always so easy. My upbringing severely frowned upon "living on the dole", and my grandfather’s favorite expression was, "God gave you two hands, so work." Not so many years ago, as single mother with two boys, even working two jobs didn’t pay the bills. Thanksgiving dinner looked bleak, and Christmas was looming as a panic attack. The week before Thanksgiving, I received a phone call. Someone had anonymously given my name to a local service organization. I was offered a free Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings, delivered to my door. I remember feeling very ashamed, and very thankful at the same time. I I have never forgotten that holiday; not the light from the volunteer’s faces as they delivered my groceries, nor the thankfulness I felt that somehow, someway, God had heard my prayers.
I share that very memorable Thanksgiving because I have seen both sides of the coin, the oysters gleaming on the bed of rock salt, and the brown bags of groceries given by benevolent strangers.
As you read this, you can help, or you can be helped. As I did an internet search for free Thanksgiving dinners on Delmarva, time and time again the Dagsboro Church of God, in conjunction with Mountaire Farms popped up. For ten years now, Mountaire Farms has partnered with the Dagsboro Church of God to feed the needy right here in our own backyard. They began with a count of 400 families assisted, and last year topped 13,700. Seems unbelievable, but perhaps many of those people like me, too proud to ask for assistance.
As in past years, each request from food banks, churches, and individuals are monitored for duplication and authenticity. Food is packed in the Mountaire warehouse in Selbyville, Delaware on Monday, Nov. 21st. Each box is identically packaged with nutritionally balanced ingredients to feed four, allowing families to season and cook the items to taste. On Tuesday, the labeled food boxes are picked up by recipients at the Dagsboro Church of God parking lot.
To donate your time, your money, or nominate someone in need, please call the Dagsboro Church of God at (302) 732-6550.
A final footnote to "my companion’s" Mom. Sorry for poking fun at his flamboyant neckwear last week. Actually, I LIKE his ties. Though bright, they are tastefully so, and let his individuality shine through, a thoroughly American trait.
See you next week!
bayside 35
My adventures this week began with trees. I love Indian Summer days, when you can throw on jeans and a sweatshirt, and go for a walk in the woods. I headed up Route 113 and turned in at Shad's Landing, in Pocomoke State Park. Granted, it wasn't the forest of maple and oak I am used to in the Midwest, but the cypress and pine lent a wonderful green contrast to the more flamboyant reds and yellows of autumn. I explored the park by car first, noting the olympic-sized pool and various camping sites. The only other people around were school-children, strapped into neon-colored vests, preparing for a canoe trip. Now is a great time to scope out the best campsites for next season, and walk in undisturbed tranquility. You can still camp and canoe on the weekends until the end of the month.
Thursday night I attended a function for The Epilepsy Association of the Eastern Shore. This non-profit association helps those with epilepsy and other developmental disabilities. They provide public education as well as practical assistance including help with job placements and financial support. If you know of someone in need, or want to volunteer to help, please contact EAES, at (410)543-0665.
Friday night the Ocean Pines Chamber of Commerce hosted a fine arts auction to benefit the building fund. Held at Occasionally Yours in Berlin, it was my first fine art auction, and I was careful not to scratch my nose or utter a peep in fear of owning a piece of art my pocketbook couldn't support. My companion's experience with art is limited to his flamboyant necktie collection, but even he enjoyed the evening. The event was perfectly orchestrated, and included famous works by artists such as Peter Max and Thomas Kincaide at greatly discounted prices. I met new president Reba Felty at the event, and pictures don't do justice to her exuberant vitality..the woman just sparkles! Special hi to Chip, Dolores, and Diane.
Saturday night, (are you tired, yet?) I was back on home turf at The Waterline Gallery in Berlin for the artist reception honoring Parker Nicholls' series of paintings titled "Lifelines of Hope". The theme centers around man's ability to rise and stand tall through life's challenges, and was inspired by Hurricane Katrina and her aftermath. My favorite was "Looking for Home", which went straight to my heart. Sixteen of the paintings sold will be donated entirely to the Katrina relief fund, with a 20% donation to a large portion of his remaining works. Off track a little bit, I expected the "light refreshments" to be crackers and cheese. Kudos to The Globe Theater, who prepared the nibbles for the reception. My Italian taste buds went straight for the hard salami, cut in thick, rustic slices, and there was enough variety to finish with black pearls of caviar. While my soul was doing a happy dance taking in Mr. Nicholls art, and my tummy likewise entranced, I had the pleasure of mingling with artists Patrick Henry and Kevin Fitzgerald, too. Patrick displays at The Waterline, and Kevin at The Globe Theatre, or online at Kevinfitzgeraldpainter.com.
Sunday found me....EXHAUSTED! I wanted to go to the "Punkin Chunkin", in Millsboro, to round out my column. (I will try anything once). I found myself wandering the beach, for private downtime, and picking up driftwood as I walked. Note to the uninitiated, those lighter pieces of wood with the neat holes in them are NOT driftwood, but horse pucks, as my older sister gleefully explained when I showed her my treasures.
I started this column with trees, and I am ending it that way. I am so sad the pines have been cut down across the street from Food Lion in Berlin. I know "Progress has to be Made", and all that jazz, but I felt the same sorrow and foreboding I get with each demolished chicken farm, each sold sign on a cornfield. I hope we find the balance between progress and preservation, in our so unique Delmarva. See you next week!
My adventures this week began with trees. I love Indian Summer days, when you can throw on jeans and a sweatshirt, and go for a walk in the woods. I headed up Route 113 and turned in at Shad's Landing, in Pocomoke State Park. Granted, it wasn't the forest of maple and oak I am used to in the Midwest, but the cypress and pine lent a wonderful green contrast to the more flamboyant reds and yellows of autumn. I explored the park by car first, noting the olympic-sized pool and various camping sites. The only other people around were school-children, strapped into neon-colored vests, preparing for a canoe trip. Now is a great time to scope out the best campsites for next season, and walk in undisturbed tranquility. You can still camp and canoe on the weekends until the end of the month.
Thursday night I attended a function for The Epilepsy Association of the Eastern Shore. This non-profit association helps those with epilepsy and other developmental disabilities. They provide public education as well as practical assistance including help with job placements and financial support. If you know of someone in need, or want to volunteer to help, please contact EAES, at (410)543-0665.
Friday night the Ocean Pines Chamber of Commerce hosted a fine arts auction to benefit the building fund. Held at Occasionally Yours in Berlin, it was my first fine art auction, and I was careful not to scratch my nose or utter a peep in fear of owning a piece of art my pocketbook couldn't support. My companion's experience with art is limited to his flamboyant necktie collection, but even he enjoyed the evening. The event was perfectly orchestrated, and included famous works by artists such as Peter Max and Thomas Kincaide at greatly discounted prices. I met new president Reba Felty at the event, and pictures don't do justice to her exuberant vitality..the woman just sparkles! Special hi to Chip, Dolores, and Diane.
Saturday night, (are you tired, yet?) I was back on home turf at The Waterline Gallery in Berlin for the artist reception honoring Parker Nicholls' series of paintings titled "Lifelines of Hope". The theme centers around man's ability to rise and stand tall through life's challenges, and was inspired by Hurricane Katrina and her aftermath. My favorite was "Looking for Home", which went straight to my heart. Sixteen of the paintings sold will be donated entirely to the Katrina relief fund, with a 20% donation to a large portion of his remaining works. Off track a little bit, I expected the "light refreshments" to be crackers and cheese. Kudos to The Globe Theater, who prepared the nibbles for the reception. My Italian taste buds went straight for the hard salami, cut in thick, rustic slices, and there was enough variety to finish with black pearls of caviar. While my soul was doing a happy dance taking in Mr. Nicholls art, and my tummy likewise entranced, I had the pleasure of mingling with artists Patrick Henry and Kevin Fitzgerald, too. Patrick displays at The Waterline, and Kevin at The Globe Theatre, or online at Kevinfitzgeraldpainter.com.
Sunday found me....EXHAUSTED! I wanted to go to the "Punkin Chunkin", in Millsboro, to round out my column. (I will try anything once). I found myself wandering the beach, for private downtime, and picking up driftwood as I walked. Note to the uninitiated, those lighter pieces of wood with the neat holes in them are NOT driftwood, but horse pucks, as my older sister gleefully explained when I showed her my treasures.
I started this column with trees, and I am ending it that way. I am so sad the pines have been cut down across the street from Food Lion in Berlin. I know "Progress has to be Made", and all that jazz, but I felt the same sorrow and foreboding I get with each demolished chicken farm, each sold sign on a cornfield. I hope we find the balance between progress and preservation, in our so unique Delmarva. See you next week!
Around The Bayside, 34
I'm not a bar girl, but the place I found this past Saturday night could make me one. It's so special that I had to fight the urge to keep it a secret. Ready? It's The Port Authority Piano Bar on Willow St. in Snow Hill.
The general plan was for my companion and I to scope out the piano bar, then have dinner at Tavern on the Green. A word of caution, here. Eat dinner first, because once the magic of the piano bar hits you, you won't make it to dinner.
It's a tiny place, made intimate with rich, hollyhock red walls and antique brickwork. A gleaming black piano sits smack in the middle of the room. Tiny blue starlights and flickering candles added to that intimacy, creating a womb-like atmosphere. Martini glasses filled with hershey's kisses and salted peanuts graced the bar. My glass of wine was served in a tall, flowered goblet. Wine and chocolate? Definitely my kind of place.
We sat at the bar, and swiveled in our seats to watch Cathy Silva playing the piano. Next time I will head for the seats, snuggled up to the piano itself, because that is where the real action is.
By my first glass of wine, I found myself humming along to the music. There were songbooks scattered about, and patrons were calling out suggested tunes, singing along, or occasionally quietly deferring to those among us with beautiful voices.
I watched a man at the bar in a white t-shirt, looking down at his beer, whispering the words to "I'm Leaving on a Jetplane." Request after request flowed, as we all dipped into our music memory banks, recalling the people and places that made each song so special.
By my second glass of wine, bolstered by a few chocolate kisses, I found myself standing with the braver-voiced souls congregating around the piano. I didn't care that my voice is spectacularly off-key, because it just felt so good. Male, female, young, middle-aged and down-right old folks, somehow, we all belonged, all blended.
Unfortunately, Karen Holck, the owner of Port Authority, wasn’t in that evening. I would have liked to thank her for creating such a lovely haven. A special thanks to gracious Michelle, bartender extraordinaire, for making me feel welcome.
Because my day job involves long hours and weekends, once again I was unable to do justice to the town of Snow Hill in my column. If I had been able to, I would have started my adventure walking about town, visiting Bishop’s Stock Art Gallery, a place many of my (artsy) friends have told me is a must. I would have also visited Alice, a book store known to be different and appealing. Next would be a long walk enjoying the historic homes surrounding the downtown, and then dinner at the Tavern on the Green. Of course, you know where my final destination would be, crooning with my new found friends at the Port Authority. See you next week!
I'm not a bar girl, but the place I found this past Saturday night could make me one. It's so special that I had to fight the urge to keep it a secret. Ready? It's The Port Authority Piano Bar on Willow St. in Snow Hill.
The general plan was for my companion and I to scope out the piano bar, then have dinner at Tavern on the Green. A word of caution, here. Eat dinner first, because once the magic of the piano bar hits you, you won't make it to dinner.
It's a tiny place, made intimate with rich, hollyhock red walls and antique brickwork. A gleaming black piano sits smack in the middle of the room. Tiny blue starlights and flickering candles added to that intimacy, creating a womb-like atmosphere. Martini glasses filled with hershey's kisses and salted peanuts graced the bar. My glass of wine was served in a tall, flowered goblet. Wine and chocolate? Definitely my kind of place.
We sat at the bar, and swiveled in our seats to watch Cathy Silva playing the piano. Next time I will head for the seats, snuggled up to the piano itself, because that is where the real action is.
By my first glass of wine, I found myself humming along to the music. There were songbooks scattered about, and patrons were calling out suggested tunes, singing along, or occasionally quietly deferring to those among us with beautiful voices.
I watched a man at the bar in a white t-shirt, looking down at his beer, whispering the words to "I'm Leaving on a Jetplane." Request after request flowed, as we all dipped into our music memory banks, recalling the people and places that made each song so special.
By my second glass of wine, bolstered by a few chocolate kisses, I found myself standing with the braver-voiced souls congregating around the piano. I didn't care that my voice is spectacularly off-key, because it just felt so good. Male, female, young, middle-aged and down-right old folks, somehow, we all belonged, all blended.
Unfortunately, Karen Holck, the owner of Port Authority, wasn’t in that evening. I would have liked to thank her for creating such a lovely haven. A special thanks to gracious Michelle, bartender extraordinaire, for making me feel welcome.
Because my day job involves long hours and weekends, once again I was unable to do justice to the town of Snow Hill in my column. If I had been able to, I would have started my adventure walking about town, visiting Bishop’s Stock Art Gallery, a place many of my (artsy) friends have told me is a must. I would have also visited Alice, a book store known to be different and appealing. Next would be a long walk enjoying the historic homes surrounding the downtown, and then dinner at the Tavern on the Green. Of course, you know where my final destination would be, crooning with my new found friends at the Port Authority. See you next week!
Bayside 33
The party is over, folks. There is a curious lull around town, a rainy Saturday afternoon "let's just watch movies on the couch" feeling, permeating Delmarva. The corn has been roughly sheared from the fields, the trees are either a tired green or starting their last red tango before their leaves drop, and I couldn't find one blooming big event to cover this week.
You know why? All the weekend warriors from points north have gone home. Sure, we rant about the traffic, we rail against the crowds, but, it seemed kinda lonely this week. I am starting to secretly think about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I bet I am not the only one quietly gearing up for the holidays. Hence, the lull....we are all catching our breath from the 2005 "season".
So what is there to do? You can always start shopping, of course. One great place to do it is to go to the many church bazaars happening in the next month. There are too many to list; I suggest slowing down as you pass by the churches, because I have found everything from pints of chicken salad, oysters, and homemade pies being touted as well as the traditional holiday crafts. Watch for an upcoming column on places to shop from independent, one of a kind stores, places to shop and find gifts that you won't see anywhere else. This area thankfully still has alot of Mom and Pop stores that specialize in unique, if not handmade, gifts.
There are also some interesting art happenings coming up. Maybe you want to try your hand at painting a holiday gift....The Art League of Ocean City is sponsoring a two day pastel workshop on Nov. 15-16 from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Call Jody Veader at (410)641-8789 to register.
If you would prefer to buy instead of try, The Fallfest of Fine Arts (say that fast, twice) will be held at the Ocean City Convention Center, Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 5-6. Featured will be sculptors, painters, carvers, and other high art crafts.
Finally, the Ocean Pines Chamber of Commerce will be hosting an art show and auction on Friday, Nov. 4, at Occasionally Yours at Racetrack Road in Berlin. Cost is $25.00 per person, or $40.00 per couple, and includes beverages and an array of hors d"oeuvres from Carrabba's restaurant. Call the chamber at (410)641-5306 for more info.
Off the high-brow art to something a little more spookily fun. Remember I told you about my finding the historic town of Laurel, Delaware? Rumor has it that the BEST haunted house is happening there, including a haunted hayride to the house itself. OF COURSE, the house is set next to a graveyard...Boo! Did I mention it is the THIRTEENTH year it's been run by the Odd Fellows Charity Lodge # 27? Those brave enough to go should park on 10th St. at the Laurel Fire Dept. and hop on the haywagon that takes you there. The house will be receiving victims on October 27-28, between 7-11 p.m. I found a great website for more Halloween happenings, www.atlanticbreezes.com. (Just click on Halloween.) Me? I will be on the porch, handing out candies, in the time honored tradition of two for the kids, one for me. See you next week!
The party is over, folks. There is a curious lull around town, a rainy Saturday afternoon "let's just watch movies on the couch" feeling, permeating Delmarva. The corn has been roughly sheared from the fields, the trees are either a tired green or starting their last red tango before their leaves drop, and I couldn't find one blooming big event to cover this week.
You know why? All the weekend warriors from points north have gone home. Sure, we rant about the traffic, we rail against the crowds, but, it seemed kinda lonely this week. I am starting to secretly think about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I bet I am not the only one quietly gearing up for the holidays. Hence, the lull....we are all catching our breath from the 2005 "season".
So what is there to do? You can always start shopping, of course. One great place to do it is to go to the many church bazaars happening in the next month. There are too many to list; I suggest slowing down as you pass by the churches, because I have found everything from pints of chicken salad, oysters, and homemade pies being touted as well as the traditional holiday crafts. Watch for an upcoming column on places to shop from independent, one of a kind stores, places to shop and find gifts that you won't see anywhere else. This area thankfully still has alot of Mom and Pop stores that specialize in unique, if not handmade, gifts.
There are also some interesting art happenings coming up. Maybe you want to try your hand at painting a holiday gift....The Art League of Ocean City is sponsoring a two day pastel workshop on Nov. 15-16 from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Call Jody Veader at (410)641-8789 to register.
If you would prefer to buy instead of try, The Fallfest of Fine Arts (say that fast, twice) will be held at the Ocean City Convention Center, Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 5-6. Featured will be sculptors, painters, carvers, and other high art crafts.
Finally, the Ocean Pines Chamber of Commerce will be hosting an art show and auction on Friday, Nov. 4, at Occasionally Yours at Racetrack Road in Berlin. Cost is $25.00 per person, or $40.00 per couple, and includes beverages and an array of hors d"oeuvres from Carrabba's restaurant. Call the chamber at (410)641-5306 for more info.
Off the high-brow art to something a little more spookily fun. Remember I told you about my finding the historic town of Laurel, Delaware? Rumor has it that the BEST haunted house is happening there, including a haunted hayride to the house itself. OF COURSE, the house is set next to a graveyard...Boo! Did I mention it is the THIRTEENTH year it's been run by the Odd Fellows Charity Lodge # 27? Those brave enough to go should park on 10th St. at the Laurel Fire Dept. and hop on the haywagon that takes you there. The house will be receiving victims on October 27-28, between 7-11 p.m. I found a great website for more Halloween happenings, www.atlanticbreezes.com. (Just click on Halloween.) Me? I will be on the porch, handing out candies, in the time honored tradition of two for the kids, one for me. See you next week!
Around the Bayside 32
All Michigander's will explain that their best roadmap is pointing out where you are, or where you are going, on the "mitten". In Delmarva, geographically speaking, of course, the best you can do is point with a stuck up a finger, and that probably won't get you far in certain social circles.
This past week, I traveled nearly the whole upraised digit. I started my adventure in Seaford, Delaware, got lost in Laurel, and ended up in Chincoteague, Va., all in the interest of creative expression.
I had long heard rumors about someone called "the bead lady", in Seaford. Located in a strip mall between a hairdresser and a pawn shop, is the coolest little bead store,” Tangled Up in Beads.” Wow! Hundreds and hundreds of rainbow bits of glass, priceless crystals and glowing pearls poured into tea cups and wineglasses and even an antique pedestal sink!
A worktable displayed a half finished purple and citrine necklace, and Wendy, the artist who created it, explained that they not only do custom pieces, but give jewelry making workshops, as well.
You can also walk in anytime, and receive a two-hour private lesson for less then twenty dollars, plus materials. I am going to take heirloom loose beads from my jewelry box, augment them with pearls, and make Christmas presents. For more information call (215)292-3208.
On the way home from Seaford, I finally gave in to my itch to turn at the sign reading "Britt's Dutch Inn". Rather then think it a curse, I love having no sense of direction, because though I often don't find what I THINK I am looking for, getting lost means I always find unexpected treasure. In this case, it was the secluded village of Laurel, dotted with gingerbread and clapboard homes, and a historic, russet brick downtown. I can't wait to explore it more, and try once again to find Britt's Dutch Inn.(it’s the lure of good food, again) A word of caution; at the time of my adventure, the main street into town was being blacktopped, and my little car spit tar for three days afterwards.
My final destination was Chincoteague Island, Va., where I attended a weekend writer's conference. I took the back way, bypassing Pokemoke City for Route 12, instead. The ride itself is a meditation, past neatly tended chicken farms and ramshackle, abandoned homesteads, along wide open fields of gold and brown, then abruptly shaded stretches of maple and pine. A road sign with a little red cardinal on it told me I was in Virginia, and once I passed the jarring white rocket marking the NASA Visitor Center, I knew I was almost there. The road becomes a narrow ribbon of land between water and marsh, punctuated by white egrets and Buy Here!, Eat Here! Sleep Here! signs sticking up out of the water. Somehow, it's charming, and that charm is reinforced as you slow down to cross the narrow drawbridge, with tall masted white boats anchored to your right.
To me, Chincoteague is a double cheese pizza, topped with Berlin‘s Victorian charm, the peace of Assateague Island, and the waterfront shopping of Ocean City, baked in an Ultimate Delmarva Special.
All the restaurants, hotels, and shops are within strolling distance, so park your car and pocket your keys.
One great place to start is Irene Rouse Bookstore, located at 4073 Main St. No slick, bookstore cum coffee shop here, but an old-fashioned booklover’s paradise, complete with Irene, celebrated local poet and columnist. The floorboards creaked, books and artwork were crammed wall to wall, and Irene held court in her tweedy sweater, long skirt, and boots. In the space of two minutes, I found three books I just HAD to have, along with valuable information on Island amenities. Not to be missed, folks.
See you next week!
All Michigander's will explain that their best roadmap is pointing out where you are, or where you are going, on the "mitten". In Delmarva, geographically speaking, of course, the best you can do is point with a stuck up a finger, and that probably won't get you far in certain social circles.
This past week, I traveled nearly the whole upraised digit. I started my adventure in Seaford, Delaware, got lost in Laurel, and ended up in Chincoteague, Va., all in the interest of creative expression.
I had long heard rumors about someone called "the bead lady", in Seaford. Located in a strip mall between a hairdresser and a pawn shop, is the coolest little bead store,” Tangled Up in Beads.” Wow! Hundreds and hundreds of rainbow bits of glass, priceless crystals and glowing pearls poured into tea cups and wineglasses and even an antique pedestal sink!
A worktable displayed a half finished purple and citrine necklace, and Wendy, the artist who created it, explained that they not only do custom pieces, but give jewelry making workshops, as well.
You can also walk in anytime, and receive a two-hour private lesson for less then twenty dollars, plus materials. I am going to take heirloom loose beads from my jewelry box, augment them with pearls, and make Christmas presents. For more information call (215)292-3208.
On the way home from Seaford, I finally gave in to my itch to turn at the sign reading "Britt's Dutch Inn". Rather then think it a curse, I love having no sense of direction, because though I often don't find what I THINK I am looking for, getting lost means I always find unexpected treasure. In this case, it was the secluded village of Laurel, dotted with gingerbread and clapboard homes, and a historic, russet brick downtown. I can't wait to explore it more, and try once again to find Britt's Dutch Inn.(it’s the lure of good food, again) A word of caution; at the time of my adventure, the main street into town was being blacktopped, and my little car spit tar for three days afterwards.
My final destination was Chincoteague Island, Va., where I attended a weekend writer's conference. I took the back way, bypassing Pokemoke City for Route 12, instead. The ride itself is a meditation, past neatly tended chicken farms and ramshackle, abandoned homesteads, along wide open fields of gold and brown, then abruptly shaded stretches of maple and pine. A road sign with a little red cardinal on it told me I was in Virginia, and once I passed the jarring white rocket marking the NASA Visitor Center, I knew I was almost there. The road becomes a narrow ribbon of land between water and marsh, punctuated by white egrets and Buy Here!, Eat Here! Sleep Here! signs sticking up out of the water. Somehow, it's charming, and that charm is reinforced as you slow down to cross the narrow drawbridge, with tall masted white boats anchored to your right.
To me, Chincoteague is a double cheese pizza, topped with Berlin‘s Victorian charm, the peace of Assateague Island, and the waterfront shopping of Ocean City, baked in an Ultimate Delmarva Special.
All the restaurants, hotels, and shops are within strolling distance, so park your car and pocket your keys.
One great place to start is Irene Rouse Bookstore, located at 4073 Main St. No slick, bookstore cum coffee shop here, but an old-fashioned booklover’s paradise, complete with Irene, celebrated local poet and columnist. The floorboards creaked, books and artwork were crammed wall to wall, and Irene held court in her tweedy sweater, long skirt, and boots. In the space of two minutes, I found three books I just HAD to have, along with valuable information on Island amenities. Not to be missed, folks.
See you next week!
Around the Bayside 31
Loosely translated, the word "Mazat" means love. It's very fitting, because I loved a lot of things about the new Mediterranean style restaurant in Fenwick Island bearing the same name.
I have an almost eerie sixth sense when it comes to finding good places to eat. Be it a hole in the wall with a hand painted sign that says "Good Eats" to a fancy establishment dripping ambiance, if good food lurks within, I can smell it.
For the last three months I have seen Mazat advertised, and I knew it was time to test my nose once again. My companion and I arrived about 8 p.m. on Saturday night. The outside of Mazat is not remarkable, just a neat, trim building just over the Maryland border in Fenwick Island. Two things caught my eye as soon as we walked in, the oriental rug in the entranceway, and the gracious way we were greeted. There are several dining rooms, and we were seated in a long, narrow room lit by candles and painted in shades of sherbet lemon and lime, trimmed in white. Before we even ordered our meal, a cloth covered basket arrived with hot peasant bread, and a bowl of crushed olive spread. Sacrificing my diet once again in dedication to this column, I dug in. Yum! If the olive spread was an indication of the meal, it was going to be a good one.
And it was. I ordered the Salmon Vera Cruz, a delectable dish of perfectly cooked salmon, bathed in a light cream sauce, studded with grilled shrimp and scallops. My friend ordered the surf and turf, and surrendered a bite of each for me to taste. Again, perfectly balanced cooking technique and spice, with the quality of ingredients very evident. The fresh vegetable medley that accompanied each dish was lightly steamed and still crisp, again attesting to experienced culinary skill. Over a dessert of homemade flan, a cool, creamy, latin custard with caramel, I scribbled notes and watched my fellow diners. A birthday party was in progress near the small stage that featured Heather G. and friend Rob Hennis on guitar. (Yes, her angelic voice serenaded us as we ate, as well.) Spontaneous dancing broke out in the aisle as she played a poigent love song, and reinforced the magical feel. ( Heather G., is a very talented performer, and I will keep you posted where she is performing.)
As I sipped the complimentary after dinner port that is served with each meal, I spoke with Michelle, employed with the owners of Mazat for over ten years. It was then I found out that Mazat has a sister restaurant in Salisbury, The Cactus Taverna. Never one to be derelict in the line of duty, Sunday night my companion and I headed out to Salisbury to compare the two. I had assumed that The Cactus Taverna was primarily a Mexican restaurant, but was pleasantly surprised to see the menu included many of the same dishes featured at Mazat, also. I had the beef chimichanga, served with tiny, spiced black beans and rice, and just like at Mazat, the portion was so generous I had to ask for a doggie bag to take home. Little hint, here. If you want to dress up a bit and have a leisurely, delightful dining experience, go to Mazat. If you want to wear your jeans, take your kids, and eat the same great food for less, go to The Cactus Taverna. You will get tasty food, a warm welcome, and a complimentary sip of port in both restaurants.
Just a footnote; last week an evil computer genie wiped out my column featuring The Maryland Coastal Bay’s Osprey Triathlon and the Celtic Festival....my apologies, and more on The Maryland Coastal Bay’s events in a future column. See you next week!
Loosely translated, the word "Mazat" means love. It's very fitting, because I loved a lot of things about the new Mediterranean style restaurant in Fenwick Island bearing the same name.
I have an almost eerie sixth sense when it comes to finding good places to eat. Be it a hole in the wall with a hand painted sign that says "Good Eats" to a fancy establishment dripping ambiance, if good food lurks within, I can smell it.
For the last three months I have seen Mazat advertised, and I knew it was time to test my nose once again. My companion and I arrived about 8 p.m. on Saturday night. The outside of Mazat is not remarkable, just a neat, trim building just over the Maryland border in Fenwick Island. Two things caught my eye as soon as we walked in, the oriental rug in the entranceway, and the gracious way we were greeted. There are several dining rooms, and we were seated in a long, narrow room lit by candles and painted in shades of sherbet lemon and lime, trimmed in white. Before we even ordered our meal, a cloth covered basket arrived with hot peasant bread, and a bowl of crushed olive spread. Sacrificing my diet once again in dedication to this column, I dug in. Yum! If the olive spread was an indication of the meal, it was going to be a good one.
And it was. I ordered the Salmon Vera Cruz, a delectable dish of perfectly cooked salmon, bathed in a light cream sauce, studded with grilled shrimp and scallops. My friend ordered the surf and turf, and surrendered a bite of each for me to taste. Again, perfectly balanced cooking technique and spice, with the quality of ingredients very evident. The fresh vegetable medley that accompanied each dish was lightly steamed and still crisp, again attesting to experienced culinary skill. Over a dessert of homemade flan, a cool, creamy, latin custard with caramel, I scribbled notes and watched my fellow diners. A birthday party was in progress near the small stage that featured Heather G. and friend Rob Hennis on guitar. (Yes, her angelic voice serenaded us as we ate, as well.) Spontaneous dancing broke out in the aisle as she played a poigent love song, and reinforced the magical feel. ( Heather G., is a very talented performer, and I will keep you posted where she is performing.)
As I sipped the complimentary after dinner port that is served with each meal, I spoke with Michelle, employed with the owners of Mazat for over ten years. It was then I found out that Mazat has a sister restaurant in Salisbury, The Cactus Taverna. Never one to be derelict in the line of duty, Sunday night my companion and I headed out to Salisbury to compare the two. I had assumed that The Cactus Taverna was primarily a Mexican restaurant, but was pleasantly surprised to see the menu included many of the same dishes featured at Mazat, also. I had the beef chimichanga, served with tiny, spiced black beans and rice, and just like at Mazat, the portion was so generous I had to ask for a doggie bag to take home. Little hint, here. If you want to dress up a bit and have a leisurely, delightful dining experience, go to Mazat. If you want to wear your jeans, take your kids, and eat the same great food for less, go to The Cactus Taverna. You will get tasty food, a warm welcome, and a complimentary sip of port in both restaurants.
Just a footnote; last week an evil computer genie wiped out my column featuring The Maryland Coastal Bay’s Osprey Triathlon and the Celtic Festival....my apologies, and more on The Maryland Coastal Bay’s events in a future column. See you next week!
Friday, October 14, 2005
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.
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.
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
Monday, September 19, 2005
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
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 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!
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
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
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
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
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!
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...
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
