February 2025 Tidewater Times Web Magazine

Tidewater Times February 2025

Bozman Victorian

Located on a one-acre lot near Harris Creek, this c. 1900 three-bedroom, 3.5 bath charmer looks fabulous inside and out. With high ceilings and open rooms, it is sunny and spacious, and overlooks a large private yard. Just completely remodeled, it is move-in ready!

Just listed $575,000

Bozman Farm House

Built in 1890 and completely updated with style, this charming two-bedroom on a oneacre lot is just minutes to St. Michaels. The layout is open and light, with a fabulous kitchen, tiled baths, new siding, roof, windows, floors, well. The perfect weekend getaway!

$375,000

Tracey F. Johns

Local Literacy 200 Years Ago: James Dawson.

Rachel Franklin Celebrates Gershwin

Tidewater Gardening K. Marc Teffeau

Respecting Your Elders: A.M. Foley .

Tidewater Kitchen: Pamela Meredith

All Quiet on the Sound (chapter 18): B. P.

About the Cover Photographer Lori R. Bramble

A Dorchester County native, Lori lives on Ross Neck Road in the Dorchester neck district. She has been an amateur photographer for almost 38 years and enjoys nature photography and living on the Eastern Shore.

Like most photographers, she started with taking photos of her family. She then began photographing local scenes around the water. She has continued to do this every year for Christmas cards.

Lori’s focus is nature photography, wildlife and scenery around the Mid-Shore. The two things she enjoys photographing most are sunflowers and the great blue heron,

and she cherishes the opportunity to share those photos with others. As she likes to say, “nothing beats life on the Shore.”

Lori’s photos have been published in Birds & Blooms Magazine, the Department of Natural Resources Magazine and Attraction magazine, as well as on the Facebook pages for all three magazines, the Dorchester Chamber of Commerce Facebook page, in the Chamber’s directory and on numerous other social media pages. You can follow her photography on Instagram @ lrbramble to view her collection of “Life on the Shore Photos.”

Ooops by

Helen Chappell

I want to start this tale of woe by apologizing by profoundly to the following people: the men and women of the Trappe Volunteer Fire Department Emergency Medical Technicians, my friend and editor Anne Farwell (Ed. Note: No apology necessary), my neighbor Chris Morris and my friend who had to come over here from Miles River Neck, Lynne Kemp. A false alarm sent them all running to my house, where I was surprised, lying on the bed wasting time with Facebook instead of dealing with some emergency.

This last should be embarrassing enough to make up an apology, but these people got an unnecessary scare, went to a lot of trouble and for what? Bupkis. Nothing. False alarm.

A year or so ago, I fell and hurt my back. As a reward, I got a lot of lovely parting gifts for entering into my senior years, which they could call my senile years, but— anyway. As a consequence of being sort of helpless there for a while, I was awarded a lot of prizes from various senior service providers, for which I am grateful. The potty chair is a great clothes hanger, and

I am really thrilled to finally have a recliner.

In the swag bag was one of those “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up” gadgets you are supposed to carry with you so if you fall and can’t get up, you can hit the red button and the company will alert everyone and their Uncle Stan about your emergency. I’m not saying this is a bad thing; lots of people depend on these alarms. I just set mine up, plugged it in and ignored it, since I can still get up. It lives on the

Ooops

dresser in the dining room. And we coexisted happily for years.

Apparently, someone, most likely me, accidentally hit the red button and the thing triggered Headquarters in Emer -

gency World. Since I didn’t hear it, I didn’t respond. But all the wonderful people I’m apologizing to did and came running and I am so embarrassed. Unlike the lady in the commercial, I wasn’t helmet haired, mascaraed within an inch of my life and wearing my pearls. If you really need to know, I was wearing a raggedy oversize tee-shirt from a bar in the Keys and some underpants. My standard DOD when home alone in my home office. I have no doubt I had bed hair and looked like something that had been ridden hard and put away wet.

So, there I was, hardly at my best, but I was not sick or dying, even though I probably looked

Ooops

that way. Those of you who work at home will get it.

Aside from issuing a public apology, I’d also like to observe that certain computer functions and I are mortal enemies.

I learned to use a computer when I worked for a now-defunct local newspaper. I can do most basic stuff, but suddenly, there’s an avalanche of places who want you to do everything with their software. Register for stuff, check your information, pay your bills, look at the status of your Whatever.

And to do setup with their forms and their software, you have to fill out eight billion forms, give them three passwords and the name of your great grandmother’s pet cat.

And that’s just to set up the account.

Half the time, it will tell you did it wrong. And no matter how many times you try, it will NEVER LET YOU IN. So, it’s head meet keyboard, and you end up, after a few phone calls, actually going into the business and begging someone to for godsake, let you in with all your 89 passwords and prompts. Then when you finally get that, they change the software on you.

Which is more or less how I ended up with all those people in my house, expecting me to be lying in a pool of blood (okay, okay, I watch too many true crime shows but you get the idea). I don’t know how to get online and cancel this service.

A woman friend of mine who works in banking agrees with me.

Lizzy Dee’s Sweetheart Sale, during Chesapeake Fire & Ice Feb. 14-15

Ooops

This software is sold by fast talking slick salespeople to men in CEO positions who wouldn’t know how to touch a keystroke. An expensive lunch, three martinis and we poor schlubs are left to founder in cyberspace. I ripped that stupid I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up out. It’s so much more peaceful this way.

Getting old is a trap, anyway.

Monday-Saturday 10:30-5:30

31 N. Harrison St., Easton 410-770-4374

Helen Chappell is the creator of the Sam and Hollis mystery series and the Oysterback stories, as well as The Chesapeake Book of the Dead . Under her pen names, Rebecca Baldwin and Caroline Brooks, she has published a number of historical novels.

Adventures in Alaska Cruising Alaska’s Inside Passage

by Bonna L. Nelson

To the lover of pure wildness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.

John Muir Travels in Alaska, 1879

Alaska is one of America’s most unusual states geographically, with 3 million lakes, 100,000 glaciers, 12,000 rivers, 33,904 miles of tidal shoreline and more volcanoes than any other state. We were thrilled to explore the ‘Last Frontier,” as the 591,000 square-mile state, the larg-

est state in the U.S., is called. No, we would never, could never, see all of Alaska’s marvelous natural features but on our sea/land tour we would get a taste of Alaska’s amazing treasures and visit another destination on our quest to explore America the beautiful.

The state that sprawls northwest beyond the 48 contiguous states was purchased from the Russian Empire in 1867 for 7.2 million dollars, which averages out to about two cents per acre. Can you believe it? It lies 55 miles from Russia! Some Alaskan residents say they can see it from their kitchen window. After first becoming a territory in 1912, Alaska became our 49th state in 1959.

We sailed north from Vancouver, Canada, to our first port, Ketchikan, Alaska, onboard the Grand Princess Cruise ship with our friends, the

Connollys and the Dalrymples. After a year of planning, we were excited to experience the voyage, the ports and the excursions and planned to immerse ourselves in all things Alaska. The remote state is twice as big

as the next largest state, Texas, and it is 1,400 miles north to south and 2,700 miles east to west. Alaska has coastlines on three diff erent seas: the Arctic Ocean, Pacific Ocean and Bering Sea. We sailed on the Gulf of Alaska, along the Pacific Ocean and docked in four ports, Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway and Whittier.

Though our largest state, Alaska is small in population with only an estimated 740,000 residents, just a bit more than Washington, D.C., at 702,000, both with average ages of 35, compared to Talbot County’s average age of 51. Why is Alaska’s population so sparse? Most sources attribute the small number to the difficult climate and geography, cold and mountainous regions, remote-

Nestled among the serene loblolly pines, this exquisite 4+/- acre waterfront lot offers an unparalleled retreat overlooking the tranquil waters of Broad Creek. Colorful sunsets year-round thanks to the south-westerly views. Former Church Neck Road adjacent neighbor,James Michener, undoubtedly drew inspiration from similar water views for his novel Chesapeake. Water views greet you from nearly every room on the main level. From the comfort of the primary suite to the warmth of the living room, complete with a wood-burning fireplace, and the inviting ambiance of the dining room, and the sun-drenched charm of the kitchen’s sunroom, each space invites you to unwind and soak in the natural beauty that surrounds you. The living room boasts vaulted ceilings. Upstairs, two bedrooms and a library office offer a bird’s-eye view of the main living area below. Above the garage, an additional bonus two room office/ study space await, complete with a full bathroom. Outside, a 2-car garage for vehicles or storage, while a waterside stone patio provides the perfect spot to bask in the gentle rhythms of the rip-rapped shoreline. There are several places with potential for a water view pool. Experience the magic of waterfront living with the timeless beauty of the Chesapeake Bay.

BENSON & MANGOLD REAL

The Chaffinch House is nestled in the heart of Easton’s picturesque landscape. Dating back to 1893, this Queen Anne Victorian residence underwent meticulous restoration in 2019, preserving its timeless elegance. It boasts inviting porches ideal for relaxation and entertainment, including a screened-in dining area and a secluded rear porch overlooking the enchanting garden. Step inside to discover a grand foyer graced by an intricately carved oak staircase, guiding you to exquisitely designed living spaces featuring soaring ceilings and stunning hardwood floors. The living room and family room exude historic charm, each boasting a distinctive fireplace. Entertain guests in the spacious dining room with a bay window, accommodating up to twelve, seamlessly connected to the updated kitchen. Ascend to the second level, where three luxurious bedrooms await. The primary suite includes a fireplace, tranquil sitting room, a screened sleeping porch and a second porch with sauna. The top floor has two additional bedrooms boasting ensuite baths. Embrace the heritage of this remarkable residence, recognized by the Maryland Inventory of Historic Properties as a quintessential Victorian mansion.

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ness, large areas of inaccessible land and limited economic opportunities.

Cruise ships bring guests ashore who add to the economy by taking tours, dining and shopping. (Though there are current concerns over how many ships and tourists are too

many.) We made memories at each port, touring, dining, shopping and just enjoying the sights and sounds at each bustling stop.

We were blessed with pleasant weather, encountering temperatures in the 60s and 70s and very little of the predicted frequent July rain. We also experienced an average of 18 hours of daylight along with the warm, sunny days.

We endured sailing with a few days of dense fog on the way up the southeast coast toward Ketchikan and in other bays and the ocean. On those shipboard days, the ship’s foghorn was a constant presence during zero visibility, a bit eerie and unsettling.

Ketchikan was a Tlingit people’s

summer fishing camp. In 1883, a salmon saltery business birthed a fishing town. It is situated on an island and is the first stop on most Alaska cruises heading north on the Inside Passage. It can only be reached by sea or air.

The port is a cheerful, welcoming, historic, picturesque town with pastel-colored cottages perched along a boardwalk overlooking a creek filled with salmon in season. We spotted some on our leisurely stroll on the Creek Street boardwalk lined with galleries, shops, dining spots and museums and backdropped by a splendid rainforest.

After touring the town, we walked farther along the boardwalk, away from the commercial district, spot-

ting salmon teeming in the creek below and occasionally a few seals at play. We learned that five types of salmon inhabit the area waters. At another scenic area, we spotted migrating salmon leaping up waterfalls to their spawning grounds, wildly exciting, nature at its best in what is also known as the Salmon Capitol of the World.

New Road, McDaniel - 8.037 wooded acres waiting for someone to build a home and enjoy the privacy of the surrounding woods. Located just west of St Michaels, MD. There is an approved perc and access from both New Road and Walkers Turn Rd. Rare Opportunity for a lot this size.

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We noticed numerous totem poles around the town and followed a trail to learn more about them at the Totem Heritage Center. The site is world renowned and houses the most extensive collection of original Native Alaskan totem poles to be found anywhere according to sources.

Collected from abandoned settlements, some totems date to the 19th century, some have been restored or replicated and some are slowly decaying but reveal their origin stories. Signage details the colorful, artistic totem stories as well as the living artistic traditions of Alaska’s Native people. We learned that the poles were carved from red cedar

logs and that there are multiple types of poles, including crest, memorial, story, mortuary, and house types.

We enjoyed dinner that night with our traveling companions, Rita and Paul Connolly and Genny and Tom Dalrymple. We swapped stories about what we saw and what we did during the day. The meals were always top notch, with multiple selections to suit anyone’s preferences, and food was available in multiple locations as well as from room service.

Our cabins with balconies were nicely decorated and more than comfortable. A gym, spa, lounges, casino, theatre and more offered a variety of venues for entertainment between ports. We especially enjoyed the naturalist lectures and meeting and learning from the National Park Rangers, who boarded the ship to share their knowledge of the area.

Juneau, the capital of Alaska, was our next port. I found Alan, a taxi van driver, when we disembarked, and he agreed to take the six of us on a tour of the town. He was a real find. He took us to see the highlights of Juneau and then some and with an insider’s take on town sites, residents and politics.

We learned from Alan that the year-round population is about 33,000, making it one of the smaller capitals in the U.S. But, at 3,255 square miles, it’s the largest capital city by land area. Also interesting is that Juneau is only accessible by air or water due to the extremely rugged

Alaska

terrain surrounding it, including steep mountains, glaciers and ice fields.

Alan took us 14 miles out of town to see the impressive Mendenhall Glacier, sprawling 12 miles from its icefield source, ½ mile wide and a lovely shade of blue. He taxied us through the picturesque, colorful town of Juneau on winding streets, past totem poles, brightly painted storefronts, restaurants, bars, the famous Red Dog Saloon and lush rain forests to reach the breathtaking ice formation.

For thousands of years, Juneau has been home to the Tlingit, Haida

and Tsimshian people, and their art adorns much of the city today. We saw their totem poles, canoes, baskets and other fine artistry throughout the port city. Another historic period in Juneau occurred when natives and miners found gold. Gold rush fever swept the nation, and Juneau, a mineral-rich area of the country, became Alaska’s capital in 1906.

On our tour, Alan took us to rivers and creeks overflowing with spawning salmon. We saw Sitka deer in the lush forests. We were treated to a drive-by of the Governor’s Mansion, sitting on a hill overlooking the city, as well as the famous Russian Orthodox Church (descendants of early

This restored 1870 waterfront home in Oxford blends historic charm with modern luxury, featuring 10-foot ceilings, custom paneling, and inlaid wood floors. The waterside primary suite offers a sitting room, fireplace, and private balcony. The gourmet kitchen and formal dining spaces are perfect for entertaining. Enjoy a sparkling pool, riverfront patio, and detached garage/studio. $2,295,000

Simply Exquisite Tred Avon Waterfont!

Alaska

Russian settlers remain) and ended our tour at the Alaska State Museum.

The museum maintains a collection of objects representing the people of Alaska, their lives and struggles across thousands of years. It honors Alaska Native people with artifacts, relics, basketry, petro-

glyphs, clothing, a boat, a house, ceremonial objects, maps, etc. It was our favorite exhibit area.

We wished that we had time to explore more of the impressive museum collection reflecting many facets of Alaska’s history, but it was time to return to the ship to freshen for dinner. And John, my husband, was feeling poorly. I insisted that we visit the ship’s medical center, where we learned that he had COVID. I did not, nor did any of our traveling companions.

This resulted in his being quarantined in our cabin for 24 hours on medication until his fever broke. Though not feeling chipper, he enjoyed receiving all the food and beverages that he wanted from room

Alaska

service and watching all the John Wick series on the cabin television. Another downside to his diagnosis was that he could not go on the fishing excursion that he had arranged to take while in Skagway, our next port. Very disappointing for him! Tom Dalrymple, his fishing partner, was able to take the trip and enjoyed the fly-fishing experience.

Skagway is another picturesque port town situated at the base of snow-capped mountains. Shops, bars, restaurants and museums are housed in authentically restored buildings from over 100 years ago when Skagway was a bustling gateway to the Klondike goldfields in the 1890s with 30,000 prospectors traveling through the town in its first year.

Genny Dalrymple and I experienced an easy trip to the goldfields via train—there were none at the beginning of the gold rush. We actually saw the very narrow, wellworn Klondike Trail of 1898 in the mountains across the ravine from

the train tracks. On that trail, miners had climbed with their pack animals, bedding, clothing and gold mining tools to search for the precious commodity and fortune during the Klondike Gold Rush before the train tracks were constructed. The Connollys had taken an earlier scenic train ride.

We virtually stepped off the ship gangplank and took a short walk to our left to board the vintage White Pass & Yukon Route Railroad carriages. The 40-mile round-trip adventure on the historic, narrowgauge railroad traveled through beautiful, rugged terrain climbing 3,000 feet to White Pass Summit, the boundary between Canada and the U.S., while our cell cameras clicked away and we rocked and

Alaska

rolled in our carriage car.

Views from the fully restored train included a majestic panorama of mountains, glaciers, gorges, waterfalls, rivers, tunnels, trestles and historic sites from large picture windows. I must admit that it was a bit scary to travel over the trestle bridges with the rocks and river far below and into the tunnels. Who knew what could happen riding in an antique locomotive?

After disembarking, Genny and I explored the town museums and shops and dined in a brewery. The buildings were fronted by boardwalks lending authenticity to the historic mining town experience. Our ship loomed over the foot of the main street, and we headed back to meet up with the others for dinner, to compare stories and to see how John was surviving his confinement. (Just fine, he was released exactly 24 hours from his diagnosis after

our cabin was cleaned and all linens changed).

Dinner was delicious as usual, but we all missed John. We had friendly, funny, efficient waitstaff, the same group every night. After dinner, our head server took our dessert orders, and some of us ordered two. Rita said that she had enjoyed her dinner and wanted nothing for dessert. But when our dessert orders arrived, Rita received a dish anyway. The white dessert plate was empty but decorated with a message for her: “Nothing” written in cursive in red icing. We all had a good laugh, ending our last port visit of the sea cruise.

Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve, a small, five-mile inlet of wildlife wonderland surrounded by mountains and glaciers was

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our destination the next day. The park comprises 3.3 million acres of mountains, glaciers, forests and waterways.

The ship halted all cruise activities and announcements save for those involving our Glacier Bay Park Rangers and our naturalist, who provided onboard insight about our journey and sites. We met them at various ship locations and observation decks as they pointed out ice formations and marine life and answered questions.

Later from our balcony, as the ship slowly traversed Glacier Bay, we observed snow-capped peaks, lofty glaciers, rivers of ice and adorable

sea otters on their backs with babies snuggling on their chests floating along the side of the ship. Off in the distance, against the shoreline, we spotted humpback whales breeching and spouting in the teal green tidewater as if sending us a welcome greeting.

Glaciers creaked, cracked and groaned while eagles flew overhead. Glacial blue and white beauty sparkled in the sun, enchanting to behold. Occasionally seals swam by the ship, along the shoreline and even hopped up onto glacial ice chunks and shelves to sunbathe.

We excitedly spotted a brown bear mama and a baby cub lumbering along the icy shore.

Cruisers leaned over cabin balconies with binoculars in hand, thrilled

TIDE TABLE

OXFORD, MD FEBRUARY 2025

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SHARP’S IS. LIGHT: 46 minutes before Oxford

TILGHMAN: Dogwood Harbor same as Oxford

EASTON POINT: 5 minutes after Oxford

CAMBRIDGE: 10 minutes after Oxford

CLAIBORNE: 25 minutes after Oxford

ST. MICHAELS MILES R.: 47 min. after Oxford

WYE LANDING: 1 hr. after Oxford

ANNAPOLIS: 1 hr., 29 min. after Oxford

KENT NARROWS: 1 hr., 29 min. after Oxford

CENTREVILLE LANDING: 2 hrs. after Oxford

CHESTERTOWN: 3 hrs., 44 min. after Oxford

3 month tides at www.tidewatertimes.com 5:26 6:19 7:16 8:16 9:20 10:26 11:3512:22 1:20 2:13 3:02 3:48 4:33 5:17 6:01 6:46 7:32 8:19 9:09 10:04 11:0212:01 12:55 1:46 2:35 3:25

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by the wonderful wildlife sightings. All were mostly quiet, in awe of the experience. Nature revealed some of its most majestic treasures to us.

We were very thankful for the experience.

Our last long, quiet cruise day took us past more of the beauty of Alaska to College Fjord with its enormous collection of tidewater glaciers. We observed similar breathtaking glacial scenes and wildlife as we had in Glacier Bay. Between viewings we were packing since we would be disembarking at the port of Whittier the next day.

Genny, Rita and I enjoyed a special tea with scones and cookies in an

upscale ship dining venue and with our fellows we ended the sea cruise with a toast at dinner that night. We discussed all our treasured cruise experiences and the adventures to come. The next day we would be traveling by train to the interior of Alaska and staying at the Denali Princess Wilderness Lodge. We were thrilled to be seeing Alaska next by land.

Bonna L. Nelson is a Bay-area writer, columnist, photographer and world traveler. She resides in Easton with her husband, John.

Easton Maryland Dental

Anijah’s Audacious Ambition

by Tracey F. Johns

Anijah Wilson’s ambition reaches far beyond four generations of teenage mothers and is deeply rooted in her admiration for her late greatgrandmother, Mary “Libby” Copper. Now 29, Wilson is a business and community leader who thrives on meeting people where they are, driven by motivation that fuels both her heart and accomplishments.

Born in Easton, Maryland, Wil-

son grew up facing challenges that might have derailed others. She became a mother at just 15, continuing a family pattern: her mother gave birth at 17, her grandmother at 15, and Libby became a mother at 17. But unlike the generations before her, Wilson envisioned a different future—not only for herself but for her children.

Her great-grandmother Libby

Anijah Wilson with a portrait of her great-grandmother, Libby, in the background.

Blake and aunts Tracy and Sherry played a central role in her life, stepping in to care for Wilson and her brother when their mother, Aishia Handy, needed time to rebuild her life.

“Mom-Mom helped raise me,” Wilson said. “She cared for everyone—her heart of compassion was out of this world. Her example shaped the way I approach everything.”

Wilson stayed focused on her goals, despite becoming a mother as a teenager. She finished high school early and earned her certification as a medical assistant, which allowed her to balance work and motherhood. Today, she is the proud mother of three: Londyn, 13;

Anijah

Dasi, 9; and Dylan, 3. Her journey has come with numerous challenges, yet she still manages to achieve all of her goals.

Her children remain at the heart of everything she does. “I wanted to be present for my kids,” Wilson said. “I didn’t want to be away from them the way my mom had to be.”

Libby’s Legacy Lives On Wilson’s admiration for Libby’s compassion inspired her to create Libby’s Loving Hands, a private nursing agency based in Easton,

Maryland. Launched in May 2020, the company provides in-home care for clients needing everything from companionship to respite and hospice care.

The business began humbly, with Wilson providing care for a single client in 2016. Word quickly spread, and her services expanded through referrals. “It started with one client at Londonderry,” Wilson explained. “Then her neighbor needed help, and then another neighbor. Before we knew it, we had a real agency.”

Today, Libby’s Loving Hands

Anijah with her family at the TWBA graduation. Photo courtesy Talbot County Economic Development and Tourism

Anijah

employs 33 caregivers, including certified nursing assistants (CNAs), home health aides, and nurses. The agency serves private clients and has plans to expand across the Chesapeake Bay to Anne Arundel County.

“We grew fast,” Wilson said. “At one point, we had 48 employees. It’s been a challenge to right-size the team while ensuring we keep the quality of care high.”

Wilson takes pride in the personalized care her team provides. “We don’t just take care of clients’ physical needs,” she said. “We build relationships and become part of their family.”

The agency is preparing to accept Medicaid, a move that will make their services accessible to more families. Long-term care insurance also helps cover costs for private care.

Finding Strength in Struggles

Wilson’s path to success hasn’t been easy. When she founded the agency, she had no formal business training. “I had plenty of medical and private home care experience,” she said. “But I didn’t have a foundation for running a business.”

In 2024, Wilson participated in the Talbot County Business Academy, an eight-week program designed to help entrepreneurs develop essential skills. The timing wasn’t ideal—her clinicals for the licensed practical nurse (LPN) pro -

Anijah with her diploma at the TWBA graduation. Photo courtesy Talbot County Economic Development and Tourism

gram at Standard College in Tysons Corner, Virginia, coincided with the academy classes.

“My Tuesdays started at 4 a.m.,” she said. “I’d take my kids to my aunt’s house and head to VA for clinicals, then attend class in the evening. It was exhausting, but I learned so much.”

The academy helped Wilson develop a deeper understanding of business operations, human resources, and compliance. “It’s evolving every day,” she said. “I’m constantly learning how to be a better leader.”

Anijah with her mother Aishia Handy.

The Heart of an Advocate

Wilson’s dedication to caring for others goes beyond her business. Her experiences caring for Libby during her battle with cancer and advocating for her father, Darryl Wilson, during his battle with cancer shaped her passion for helping those in need.

Darryl Wilson was incarcerated for 12 years at the Eastern Correctional Institution. When he fell ill, it was Anijah who took the lead, advocating for his release and ensuring he received proper medical care. “He was very sick, and they weren’t listening,” she said. “I worked myself to death to get him home.”

Wilson hopes to channel her advocacy skills into a future nonprofit focused on supporting young mothers, girls struggling with mental health and children of incarcerated parents. “I want to help those who

feel like they don’t have a voice,” she said.

Her personal experiences inform her approach. As a teenager, Wilson struggled with anger and behavioral issues, leading to suspensions and alternative schooling. Therapy, led by licensed counselor Kashira Brooks, was pivotal in helping her heal.

“I was a very angry child,” Wilson said. “Therapy taught me how to release that anger and channel it into something positive.”

Today, she encourages others to seek help. “If you’re dealing with trauma, anger or mental health issues, tell someone,” she said. “Getting help can change your life.”

A Vision for the Future

Wilson’s ambitions don’t stop at running a successful business. She will be working toward her registered nurse degree and dreams of expanding Libby’s Loving Hands into new regions.

Her nonprofit plans include mentoring young girls, particularly those who are teen mothers or dealing with challenges like parental incarceration. “I want to show them that their circumstances don’t define them,” she said.

She also hopes to be a role model for her children. “I want my kids to know their mom is ambitious, determined and compassionate,” she said. “I want them to see that hard work and a positive attitude can take you anywhere.”

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Anijah

Despite her demanding schedule, Wilson prioritizes time with her family. She and her children are active members of Union Baptist Church in Easton, where she serves as the family ministry leader.

Carrying Libby’s Spirit Forward

Wilson often reflects on the lessons she learned from Libby, whose legacy is at the heart of everything she does. “Libby always said I’d be a nurse,” Wilson said. “I think she’d be proud of me today.”

Libby’s home was a place of love and community, where everyone was welcome. Wilson is dedicated to recreating that spirit in her own

home, where she has taken on the matriarch role for her family.

“I want to be just like her,” Wilson said. “She raised me to care for others, and I carry her in everything I do.”

To learn more, visit libbyslovinghands.com.

Tracey Johns has worked in communications, marketing and business management for more than 30 years, including non-profit leadership. Tracey’s work is focused on public and constituent relations, along with communication strategies, positioning and brand development and project management.

I Have Roaght Him a Fue Lines”: Local Literacy 200 Years Ago

by James Dawson

Two hundred years ago, there was a different level of literacy. There was no public school system in Maryland, for example, and schools were organized at the local level. And even then, most students quit after learning the 3Rs: readin’, ’riitin’ and ’rithmetic (which themselves aren’t spelled correctly). While most of the correspondence that survives from this period was written by educated men and women, what follows is a letter written in 1806 by Capt. Greenbury Griffin of St. Michaels, MD, to his friend, Dr. John Barnett also of St. Michaels. A workingman’s letter from the period is a rare item indeed.

It was written by a hard-working man who probably left school early to follow the water, but he was an intelligent man, judging by his word choice, and also his letter is not printed, but written in script. And his handwriting is very legible. Spelling was not so standardized then; dictionaries were almost unheard of, and words were worked

out phonetically. An old salt was Capt. Griffin. He had just sailed his new schooner Resolution from Talbot County up the Chesapeake Bay to Annapolis.

I came across this wonderful letter and can’t resist sharing it in its original form, even at the risk of offending the spelling police, and possibly causing my spell check to have a meltdown. The letter is copied exactly as to punctuation, capitalization and the spelling. See how much of it you can read. My modern “translation” follows.

“Doctor John Barnett favor By Chals Golsborough Esqr Sat Michals Talbut Conty

“Annapoles Berd Schooner Resolution Apirl the 22- 1806

Docter John Barnett

“Der Sir-

“I a Rieaved Hear on Saterday Last at 5 oclock in Eaven: owing to Head winds nearley all the way and

Fue Lines

two Lat to Dow any Bisnis til yersterday- So that I Coald noat Send Nor Right you: and Send the money over to Oarrem till to Day- whear I Have the first Safe opertunity By mr Charles Golsborough of Dorset Conty- Hume I Send fifty Dollars By which you will oblige me By forreading to- mr oarrem Fortey Dollars on accent of my noat and Have a Recipt Taken for that a moant in Bar of the noat all So In Dorsed on the Back of the note to the a mont Pad: I wold tak it as a Faver if you wold be Par ti coler in Having it In Dowesed on the noat as mr oarrem may Sine the noat a way- and If you ar Gine Dowen your Self I wold

you will much oblig me if you will a Tend to it your Self: you will Gove Polley Griffin ten Dollars ought of the Fifty for famley yuse: as I find it Difacul to Git money ought of my Frends Hands Hear= So that I Cant Gove mr Oarram but fortey Dollars ought Fifty- I- Have Roaght him a fue Lines which- you will Gave him or Send Him.- I Think the nue Schooner will Sale fast and She is wary much a Pru ved of hear as wary Hansem Schooner I have Goat my nue Sayles Bent which fitis wary well and shall Leave hear to Day for Baltimor whear I am In Hoapes to meat with a Good mar ket and Cash to Help my Good health and Pay my Pashage to the [In ount?] City of Black and yellow

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[Dod?] all Rond the Houses= I am In Hoapes to meat with better Luck then I Expected when I Left Home

“I am your obed. Srvt Greenby Griffin PS.

This will be Handed you By a Good on nis True federalist of Congres”

And here is the same letter with the spelling repaired:

“Doctor John Barnett favor

By Charles Goldsborough Esq. St Michaels, Talbot County

“Annapolis [on] board [the] Schooner Resolution April the 22- 1806

“Doctor John Barnett “Dear Sir, “I arrived here on Saturday last at 5 o’clock in [the] evening owing to head winds nearly all the way and too late to do any business ’till yesterday, so that I could not send nor write you and send the money over to Orem till today- where I have the first safe opportunity by Mr. Charles Goldsborough of Dorset County- whom I send fifty dollars by which you oblige me my forwarding to Mr. Orem forty dollars on account of my note and have a receipt taken for that amount in [back?] of the note also endorsed on the back of the note

to the amount paid. I would take it as a favor if you would be particular in having it endorsed as Mr. Orem may sign it away- and if you are going down yourself I would you will much oblige me if you will attend to it yourself, you will give Polly Griffin ten dollars out of the fifty for family use as I find it difficult to get money out of my friends hands here, so that I can’t give Mr. Orem but forty dollars out [of] fifty- I have wrote him a few lines which you will give him or send him- I think the new schooner will sail fast and she is very much approved of here as [a] very handsome schooner I have got my new sails bent which fits very well and shall leave

here today for Baltimore where I am in hopes to meet with a good market and cash to help my good health and pay my passage to the [in ount?] city of black and yellow [dod?] all ‘round the houses- I am in hopes to meet with better luck than I expected when I left home

“I am your obed. servt. Greenbury Griffin “P.S.

This will be handed you by a good honest true Federalist of Congress”

This letter was not mailed, but was hand delivered to Dr. Barnett by Charles Goldsborough “of Dorset Co.” This “good, honest true Federalist of Congress” was born in Dorchester County in 1764, served in Congress

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from 1805 to 1817 and was Governor of Maryland 1818–1819. He was a Federalist, one of the political parties of the day.

Poor Capt. Griffin, you can almost picture him sitting in his cabin as he struggled with his quill pen, with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, beads of sweat on his forehead, pausing frequently to sound out long words while battling the headwinds on the paper. Surely, he’d much rather be sailing his schooner straight into a storm rather than sitting in his cabin at anchor in Annapolis navigating this letter as he had head winds and rough seas nearly all the of the way through this letter, too.

In this age of dictionaries and computer spell checks, we shouldn’t smile too much at Capt. Griffin’s orthography (although it is pretty amazing even by 1806 standards). He was doing the best that he could.

Having said all that, I personally think that we can learn much from these old phonetically spelled letters. Since audio recorders wouldn’t be invented for many years, letters like this give us a hint as to how people pronounced certain words then. We see that he apparently pronounced the word “do” as “dow,” “going” as “gine,” “very” as “wary,” “ought” for out and “get” as “git”. I believe “going” was also pronounced as “gwine,” especially by African Americans in the South, but we see that white folks could have said

it that way, too. It is also interesting that he seemingly pronounced “not” at “noat,” but the word “note” was also pronounced as “noat.” “Ar” for “are” has a distinctly piratical sound to it: “Arrrrrrr!”

From the spaces in his handwriting, you can see how he chopped his way through multisyllabic words, pausing every now and then to look around and get his bearings—writing “on is” for honest and “par ti coler” for particular and “I have roaght him a fue lines” for I have written him a few lines. A tense time of it had Capt. Griffin.

And then there is “yuse” for “use,” “on nis” for “honest,” “hume” for “whom,” “goat” for “got” and “nue” for “new” etc. (as a matter of fact, “new” and “nue” do sound alike! As do “wrote” and “roaght” and “sine,” and “sign” so maybe they aren’t so very funny after all.

Come to think of it, Griffin’s spelling of “hansem” makes a lot more sense that the “normal” spelling of the word, which is “handsome.” Actually, “hansem” is how I pronounce the word. Have you ever heard someone say it with the “d” in it? Probably not! The “d” is silent. So if it’s silent, why have it at all?

One wonders what might have happened to the American language if Capt. Griffin had ever taken Mr. Noah Webster, the dictionary maker, on board his ship. We may well now be spelling some words in some quite “nue” and “par ti colar” ways. Perhaps it would have been called Griffin’s

Orthography.

In any event, the letter is much more interesting with its original spelling than with the spelling sanitized and modernized. It is not known what Capt. Griffin meant by the city of black and yellow. Black and yellow are the state colors of Maryland, so apparently he meant Baltimore or Annapolis. If you have any par ti colar ideas, write me a fue lines. Thanks.

Notes by J.D. : Griffin, Capt. Greenbury (1770–1834), Dr. Barnett’s landlord, was a Bay captain from Queen Anne’s County who married Mary Kemp in 1796. She was given lot #45 in St. Michaels by her father, Thomas Kemp, in 1798 (Kemp also gave lot #44 adjacent to it to his other

daughter, Rachael Wrightson, that same year).

In the 1798 property inventory, the listing is “Greenbury Griffin–fee Lott in St. Michaels No 45 1/2 acre value 3.0.0 [3 pounds no shillings and no pence] Improvements: dwelling house £70, kitchen £15, store house £6, stable 80/, paild garden Total value 108.0.0”. Griffin then purchased lot #39 immediately behind it that fronted onto St. Marys Square, and the half lot #38 next to that that bordered the Methodist meeting house. Presumably this was done to enlarge the property. Dr. John Barnett lived with Griffin in St. Michaels during the period he wrote this Journal and, according to his medical ledger, had been rent-

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ing a room from Griffin since Nov. 6, 1802, at $8 a month, which was charged against medical services for Griffin.

Griffin would be back in Queenstown, MD, by 1807, and operating the passenger schooner Jefferson from there in 1808 and a tavern in 1810. In 1812, he was advertised as an insolvent debtor and would lose the lots in St. Michaels in a judgment to John Denny, but would buy them back from Denny in 1817, finally selling them to Levin Blades in 1833.

The house now on lot #45 is called the Samuel Blades house and dates from the 1870s, and the modern address is 410 Water St. The lot and a half behind it are still joined and the site of an imitation log cabin built for the Boy Scouts Lodge 741 circa 1938 now owned by the Commissioners of St. Michaels.

Bent sails meant to make the sails fast by attaching them to a yard or stay.

James Dawson is the owner of Unicorn Bookshop in Trappe.

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Queen Anne’s County

The history of Queen Anne’s County dates back to the earliest Colonial settlements in Maryland. Small hamlets began appearing in the northern portion of the county in the 1600s. Early communities grew up around transportation routes, the rivers and streams, and then roads and eventually railroads. Small towns were centers of economic and social activity and evolved over the years from thriving centers of tobacco trade to communities boosted by the railroad boom. The county is named for Queen Anne of Great Britain, who reigned when the county was established in 1706.

Queenstown was the original county seat when Queen Anne’s County was created, but that designation was passed on to Centreville in 1782. It’s location was important during the 18th century, because it is near a creek that, during that time, could be navigated by tradesmen. A hub for shipping and receiving, Queenstown was attacked by English troops during the War of 1812.

Construction of the Federal-style courthouse in Centreville began in 1791 and is the oldest courthouse in continuous use in the state of Maryland. Today, Centreville is the largest town in Queen Anne’s County. With its relaxed lifestyle and tree-lined streets, it is a classic example of small town America.

The Stevensville Historic District, also known as Historic Stevensville, is a national historic district in downtown Stevensville, Queen Anne’s County. It contains roughly 100 historic structures, and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is located primarily along East Main Street, a portion of Love Point Road, and a former section of Cockey Lane.

The Chesapeake Heritage and Visitor Center in Chester at Kent Narrows provides and overview of the Chesapeake region’s heritage, resources and culture. The Chesapeake Heritage and Visitor Center serves as Queen Anne’s County’s official welcome center.

Queen Anne’s County is also home to the Chesapeake Bay Environmental Center (formerly Horsehead Wetland Center), located in Grasonville. The CBEC is a 500-acre preserve just 15 minutes from the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Over 200 species of birds have been recorded in the area.

Embraced by miles of scenic Chesapeake Bay waterways and graced with acres of pastoral rural landscape, Queen Anne’s County offers a relaxing environment for visitors and locals alike.

For more information about Queen Anne’s County, visit www.qac.org .

Kent County and Chestertown at a Glance

Kent County is a treasury of early American history. Its principal towns and back roads abound with beautiful old homes and historic landmarks.

The area was first explored by Captain John Smith in 1608. Kent County was founded in 1642 and named for the shire in England that was the home of many of Kent’s earliest colonists. When the first legislature assembled in 1649, Kent County was one of two counties in the colony, thus making it the oldest on the Eastern Shore. It extended from Kent Island to the present boundary.

The first settlement, New Yarmouth, thrived for a time and, until the founding of Chestertown, was the area’s economic, social and religious center.

Chestertown, the county seat, was founded in 1706 and served as a port of entry during colonial times. A town rich in history, its attractions include a blend of past and present. Its brick sidewalks and attractive antiques stores, restaurants and inns beckon all to wander through the historic district and enjoy homes and places with architecture ranging from the Georgian mansions of wealthy colonial merchants to the elaborate style of the Victorian era.

Second largest district of restored 18th-century homes in Maryland, Chestertown is also home to Washington College, the nation’s tenth oldest liberal arts college, founded in 1782. Washington College was also the only college that was given permission by George Washington for the use of his name, as well as given a personal donation of money.

The beauty of the Eastern Shore and its waterways, the opportunity for boating and recreation, the tranquility of a rural setting and the ambiance of living history offer both visitors and residents a variety of pleasing experiences. A wealth of events and local entertainment make a visit to Chestertown special at any time of the year.

For more information about events and attractions in Kent County, contact the Kent County Visitor Center at 410-778-0416, visit www. kentcounty.com or e-mail tourism@kentcounty.com . For information about the Historical Society of Kent County, call 410-778-3499 or visit www.kentcountyhistory.org/geddes.php . For information specific to Chestertown visit www.chestertown.com .

Rachel Franklin Celebrates Gershwin

Returning to Temple B’nai Israel, the Satell Center for Jewish Life on the Eastern Shore, on Thurs., Feb. 20 at 7 p.m., Dr. Rachel Franklin will present a program celebrating George Gershwin’s greatest achievements during this centenary decade She will focus on his Rhapsody in Blue, Concerto in F and An American in Paris, as well as perform highlights from several of his piano works. The Temple is located at 7199 Tristan Drive, Easton.

Gershwin’s groundbreaking fusion of classical music and jazz, Rhapsody in Blue, is one of America’s most beloved cultural icons, an exuberant symbol of the nation’s melting pot selfimage, its vigor, optimism and constant reinvention. However, the Rhapsody is just one of several masterworks that Gershwin’s boundless imagination produced during the 1920s.

Dr. Franklin’s passion provokes connections and sparks imaginative pathways for her listeners and students so their own creativity can be inspired by extraordinary musical art. As a Jewish artist, she has a particular interest in music of

Jewish heritage and has given many lectures on the Golden Age of Jewish Film Music. This program, part of the Susan and Barry Koh Music Series, is free and everyone is welcome. Register at bit.ly/3C9pZ45 or call 410-822-0553.

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Caroline County – A Perspective

Caroline County is the very definition of a rural community. For more than 300 years, the county’s economy has been based on “market” agriculture.

Caroline County was created in 1773 from Dorchester and Queen Anne’s counties. The county was named for Lady Caroline Eden, the wife of Maryland’s last colonial governor, Robert Eden (1741-1784).

Denton, the county seat, was situated on a point between two ferry boat landings. Much of the business district in Denton was wiped out by the fire of 1863.

Following the Civil War, Denton’s location about fifty miles up the Choptank River from the Chesapeake Bay enabled it to become an important shipping point for agricultural products. Denton became a regular port-ofcall for Baltimore-based steamer lines in the latter half of the 19th century.

Preston was the site of three Underground Railroad stations during the 1840s and 1850s. One of those stations was operated by Harriet Tubman’s parents, Benjamin and Harriet Ross. When Tubman’s parents were exposed by a traitor, she smuggled them to safety in Wilmington, Delaware.

Linchester Mill, just east of Preston, can be traced back to 1681, and possibly as early as 1670. The mill is the last of 26 water-powered mills to operate in Caroline County and is currently being restored. The long-term goals include rebuilding the millpond, rehabilitating the mill equipment, restoring the miller’s dwelling, and opening the historic mill on a scheduled basis.

Federalsburg is located on Marshyhope Creek in the southern-most part of Caroline County. Agriculture is still a major portion of the industry in the area; however, Federalsburg is rapidly being discovered and there is a noticeable influx of people, expansion and development. Ridgely has found a niche as the “Strawberry Capital of the World.” The present streetscape, lined with stately Victorian homes, reflects the transient prosperity during the countywide canning boom (1895-1919). Hanover Foods, formerly an enterprise of Saulsbury Bros. Inc., for more than 100 years, is the last of more than 250 food processors that once operated in the Caroline County region.

Points of interest in Caroline County include the Museum of Rural Life in Denton, Adkins Arboretum near Ridgely, and the Mason-Dixon Crown Stone in Marydel. To contact the Caroline County Office of Tourism, call 410-479-0655 or visit their website at www.tourcaroline.com .

Easton

Map and History

The County Seat of Talbot County. Established around early religious settlements and a court of law, Historic Downtown Easton is today a centerpiece of fine specialty shops, business and cultural activities, unique restaurants, and architectural fascination. Treelined streets are graced with various period structures and remarkable homes, carefully preserved or restored. Because of its historical significance, historic Easton has earned distinction as the “Colonial Capitol of the Eastern Shore” and was honored as number eight in the book “The 100 Best Small Towns in America.” With a population of over 16,500, Easton offers the best of many worlds including access to large metropolitan areas like Baltimore, Annapolis, Washington, and Wilmington. For a walking tour and more history visit https:// tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/easton-maryland/.

Dorchester Map and History

Dorchester County is known as the Heart of the Chesapeake. It is rich in Chesapeake Bay history, folklore and tradition. With 1,700 miles of shoreline (more than any other Maryland county), marshlands, working boats, quaint waterfront towns and villages among fertile farm fields – much still exists of what is the authentic Eastern Shore landscape and traditional way of life along the Chesapeake.

For more information about Dorchester County visit https://tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/dorchester/.

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TIDEWATER GARDENING

by K. Marc Teffeau, Ph.D.

Frolicking February

As I sit at my computer writing this column, the Eastern Shore has received its first major snowstorm of 2025. While we get snowstorms and cold temperatures in February, sometimes a warmer day or two may occur. If you can motivate yourself, on some of the milder February days there are garden -

ing activities to be done inside and outside the house.

One practice that you can do in February, if there is no snow on the ground, is to lime the lawn and garden if you didn’t get to it last fall. Apply the correct amount of lime based on your soil test results. If the ground dries out a bit,

Tidewater Gardening

you can still take soil samples and send them to a commercial soil test lab, though the results will be a little slower getting to you because of testing backup. The University of Maryland Extension Home and Garden Information Center (UMHGIC) has a very informative webpage on soil and soil testing, including a list of commercial soil testing laboratories: https:// extension.umd.edu/resources/ yard-garden/soils-compost-andfertilizer/soil-testing/.

During the milder days of February, you can get outside and do some plant pruning. This is a good time to do rose care. If you didn’t

your home

get to it in fall, you can prune hybrid tea roses and Knock Out Roses© now by removing the old canes and lowering the plant to a height of 12–15 inches. After pruning the canes, apply a drop of white glue or a thumbtack to the end of fresh-cut canes to prevent borers from moving into the cut stem.

Now is a good time to fertilize your roses. Applying a fertilizer heavy in potassium (K), such as

Tidewater Gardening

5-10-10, encourages the development of abundant flower buds. There are also several inorganic and organic specialty rose fertilizers you can purchase at the garden center that will provide nutrients as well.

Practice some preventive insect/ disease control on your rose bushes in February. Apply a dormant spray of lime sulfur and dormant oil before active growth appears to help control black spot and other rose diseases. Clean up the rose beds, discard old foliage and pieces of canes, remove old mulch that contains dead weeds and weed seeds, and reapply a fresh layer of mulch to the rose beds. If you would like more information on roses and rose care, check out the star® Roses website at https:// starrosesandplants.com . star® Roses are the creators of the Knock Out Roses©.

Another outside pruning activity is to prune the clumps of ornamental grasses before new growth appears. Tie the large clumps with rope and cut them down to the cor -

rect height with a hedge trimmer. While you are working on your ornamental trees and shrubs, take time to clean them up. Remove any bagworm “Christmas ornaments” on your cedars and other narrowleafed evergreens. This will reduce the population that will hatch in June. Each of the “bags” contains 500 to 1,000 eggs that will hatch out later this spring. Prune out any dead or diseased branches and stems and remove diseased leaves and insect eggs.

In February, watch for signs of growth in early spring bulbs. When foliage is one inch high, gradually start removing mulch. Cloudy days are best for the initial exposure of the leaves to strong sunlight, which can burn tender foliage. Pinch off the early buds from developing pansies to encourage plants to branch and form more buds. When the crocus pokes their leaves through the mulch, bring a little color into the house in late February by potting up a few clumps from the garden as they emerge.

Tidewater Gardening

In a sunny spot indoors, they will develop blooms before the ones outside.

Don’t be in a hurry to remove mulch from perennials too early. A warm day may make you think spring is almost here, but colder weather will return. Also, remem-

ber to avoid walking on frozen grass and groundcovers during winter. Ajuga is especially sensitive to being walked on, and large portions can die back, leaving bare spots for the spring. The frozen leaves are brittle and easily damaged.

Even though there might be rain or snow, the soil dries out against a house under the eaves where rain rarely reaches. Be sure to water well during a thaw to prevent loss of plants. Plants require water during winter to replace water lost due to wind desiccation and lack of rain or snow. This is especially true for narrow- or broad-leafed evergreens.

After the first of the year, my

Custom Yearly Programs

Disease and Fungal Control Soil Amendments Overseeding Aeration

Complete Lawn Renovations Grading

mailbox fills up with garden seed catalogs. All the major seed companies are offering traditional vegetable varieties and new selections. If you are like me, I have a supply of various vegetable seeds that date back a couple of years. I was going through my “stash” the other day in the garage.

Most vegetable seeds have a short life and usually will not be viable after a year or two, especially if they have been stored in a shed or garage. Short storage life seeds that will not be viable after a year or two include sweet corn, onions, okra, beans, parsnips and peppers. I have also found that both garden peas and “sugar” peas lose their viability after about three years.

I had some older sugar snap peas that I mixed with fresh pea seeds and planted last year. The older ones did not germinate, or if they did, they succumbed very quickly to damping off disease.

A tip to get pea seeds to germinate faster is to soak them in warm water overnight before planting. Also don’t forget to apply bean legume bacterial inoculant when planting the pea and bean seeds. I have found the easiest place to find this seed inoculant is in stores where there are Burpee seed racks.

The best advice is to use vegetable seed packed for the 2025 growing season and toss any seed that is two years old or older. You must handle the seed packets carefully.

Tidewater Gardening

Rubbing the outside of the packet to determine how many seeds are inside can break the protective seed coats. This will result in a reduction in the percentage of germination of the seeds.

If you use hay and manure in the vegetable garden, one way to make old hay and manure weed-free is to spread it on the garden soil surface in late winter, water well and cover it with black plastic. The weed seeds will sprout after a few days of warm weather, and they will be killed by frost and lack of daylight. Now is also a good time to hang out or clean out bluebird houses before the birds start looking for a home. If you use clay pots for container gardening, clean and disinfect them by soaking them in a solution of one part liquid bleach and 10 parts water. Wear plastic gloves and scrub them with a stiff brush. Rinse thoroughly to remove all the bleach residue. Doing this now will have them ready to be planted

with spring annuals. While you are cleaning the pots, do a review of any other outside containers. If they have cracked or been damaged in some way, consider replacing them.

I always recommend that you do not reuse the potting soil left in the containers. Start with a fresh growing medium for the gardening season for container plants. If you are growing vegetables in raised beds, the soil from the container plants could be recycled into the bed, assuming you did not have any soil disease problems in the container plants. The other use could be to add it to a compost pile.

February weather can be pretty gloomy and somber. How would you like to get a jump on spring? You can brighten your winter home by forcing several springblooming shrub branches. Generally, it takes two or three weeks to bring to blossom such items as pussy willow, forsythia, Japanese quince, flowering almond, azalea, magnolia, European birch, and red maple. Cut some of these flow -

Tidewater Gardening

ering branches and bring them inside. Keep them in a cool area, and they will flower out. Make long, slanted cuts when collecting the branches, and place the stems in a vase of water. Change the water every four days. They should bloom in about three weeks. You can also force the cuttings of apples, peaches and cherries.

During those nights when there is nothing good on cable TV, start preparing for the vegetable garden by making labels for your spring garden. Plastic milk jugs or bleach bottles cut in strips 1 inch by 6 or 7 inches work well. Use permanent ink markers to write on them. Don’t forget to start building up your supply of gardening aids, such as plastic milk jugs for hot caps and orange juice cans to make guards to stop cutworms.

Now is the time to check that leftover inventory of vegetable seeds that you may have from last year’s season. If you have trouble planting small vegetable seeds, some mail-order seed companies offer pelleted seeds of lettuce, carrot and a few other small-seeded crops. The pelleted seed has a special coating to make them larger. This is especially valuable for children and gardeners with arthritic hands, weak eyesight or poor coordination. In addition, wide spacing of seed helps elimi-

nate thinning.

When using pelleted seed, plant in moist soil and keep it moist because the clay-based coating has to dissolve before the seed can germinate. If you use artificial light in your seed-starting process, it is essential to change the fluorescent light bulbs every couple of years, as older bulbs do not give off as much light. Happy Gardening!

Marc Teffeau retired as Director of Research and Regulatory Affairs at the American Nursery and Landscape Association in Washington, D.C. He now lives in Georgia with his wife, Linda.

St. Michaels Map and History

On the broad Miles River, with its picturesque tree-lined streets and beautiful harbor, St. Michaels has been a haven for boats plying the Chesapeake and its inlets since the earliest days. Here, some of the handsomest models of the Bay craft, such as canoes, bugeyes, pungys and some famous Baltimore Clippers, were designed and built. The Church, named “St. Michael’s,” was the first building erected (about 1677) and around it clustered the town that took its name.

For a walking tour and more history of the St. Michaels area visit https://tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/st-michaels-maryland/.

Respecting Your Elders by A.M.

Among valuable lessons I’ve learned in life, many were acquired in Miss Nora Foxwell’s store on Elliott Island. She and the sages who hung out in her establishment have long since gone to well-earned rest, but they live on in the minds and hearts of surviving customers. Just the other day I overheard one younger waterman quoting advice he’d gotten in the store from an old timer:

“When you’ve got an old woman, an old body, and an old boat, all you got is chills, pills, and railway bills.”

Foley

Much of such humor among those elderly store-sitters concerned limitations of an old body’s performance—always framed to a G-rating in mixed company. Otherwise, aches, pains, and lost abilities were freely discussed. My mentor, Eva, never joined in that refrain. Personally, I try to follow what she muttered as we left her contemporaries in the store one day: “I hurt every bit as bad as the rest of ’em, but nobody wants to listen to that s--- [expletive deleted].”

In defense of the others, their com -

Respecting Your Elders

plaints clearly derived from decades of toil, usually outdoor work, and always jobs accomplished without benefit of modern conveniences. No power tools. No nail guns or power saws for boatbuilders, no tractors in market gardens, no electric water pumps or washing machines for homemakers. No electricity at all before the close of World War II, when the Choptank Co-op belatedly ran a line across the marsh to Elliott Island.

Before there were electric wires, computers and artificial intelligence, there was native wit. One island boatbuilder had converted a pedal-driven Singer sewing ma-

chine into a jig saw, driven by foot power, where he sat to fashion finish work on pleasure-boat orders. Such boats were built by “rack of eye.” Likewise, a good seamstress could peddle up a dress, customfit to a customer, after looking at a fashion picture and visually sizing up the lady. As WWII came to a close, one island resident studied a book of diagrams on how to wire a house, preparing to compete with the professional electrician commuting from town.

Much had changed in the rest of the world as Elliott Island awaited electricity. On the island of Manhattan, wiring had illuminated homes in 1882. In the latter 1940s, preparing their house on Pokes

Oxford Map and History

Oxford is one of the oldest towns in Maryland. Although already settled for perhaps 20 years, Oxford marks the year 1683 as its official founding, for in that year Oxford was first named by the Maryland General Assembly as a seaport and was laid out as a town. In 1694, Oxford and a new town called Anne Arundel (now Annapolis) were selected the only ports of entry for the entire Maryland province. Until the American Revolution, Oxford enjoyed prominence as an international shipping center surrounded by wealthy tobacco plantations. Today, Oxford is a charming tree-lined and waterbound village with a population of just over 700 and is still important in boat building and yachting. It has a protected harbor for watermen who harvest oysters, crabs, clams and fish, and for sailors from all over the Bay. For a walking tour and more history visit https://tidewatertimes. com/travel-tourism/oxford-maryland/.

Respecting Your Elders

Road for initiation of electrical service, due on Christmas Eve, Nora and Lennie Foxwell bought a toaster and a string of tree lights. When the time arrived, friends and neighbors had gathered, and their boys waited eagerly by the tree. Only the rear portion of the

house lit up. The Christmas tree stood in a dark corner of the parlor, but Nora said, “In the kitchen, I thought Eva and them would kill theirselves eating buttered toast.”

A decade earlier, oddly enough, the telephone company had decided to run lines across the marsh to a few customers with use for such a contraption: the seafood packer, mail contractor and one or two forward-thinking storekeepers. Ma Bell’s service line at that time required two lines, one each for incoming and outgoing calls. She ran them for miles, straight across marshland to glass insulators affixed to boards elevated by pine trunks—logs driven intermittently into muck, so as to extend

ten feet above the boggy surface. To erect these sawhorse-shaped supports wasn’t simple in tidal marsh, but labor was cheap during those Depression years. The county roads board also utilized the abundant labor situation to surface an ancient, one-lane dirt path into a cord-road. Not nearly so straight as the phone line, upwards of ten miles of pine logs followed a snakey course—from high land in Hurley’s Neck over to the island. An elderly man later reminisced about driving the cord-road to deliver a truckload of soda pop. He said that every bottle had blown its cap before the truck could turn around and go back to Cambridge.

Now-legendary Shoremen I met or learned of at Miss Nora’s have gone. But they live on in my mind on par with fabled characters like Paul Bunyan and Sacagawea. Even my contemporary, Wylie Abbott, left us. On rare days deemed too windy for hand-tonging oysters, Wylie held the floor at Miss Nora’s, enlivening the give-and-take among less-active regulars. Now Wylie shares his truths only on youtube.com , in interviews taped in the 1990s about working the water and trapping the marsh. Speaking of his respect for the wisdom of those semi-retired waterman who delighted in ragging him, he said:

“We got a lot of tough old people on Elliotts Island. Them old people, they growed up tough. Every-

thing they done was by hand and by foot. They don’t mind work. It’s what they done all their lives and they don’t mind. They jump right in and do what they got to do and get it done and that’s it. That’s the way they always done it.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got a lot of respect for the old timers. A person that

Respecting Your Elders

did these things and been through these situations knows real well what to do about them. I started working on the water with my father and he carried me out and taught me. I got two sons working on the water. I guess they’re gonna stick with it. Once it gets in your blood, seems like you can’t get it out.”

According to Scorchy Tawes, whose weekly “Scorchy’s Corner” feature ran for decades on Salisbury television, Wylie was “Babe Ruth of muskrat skinners,” holding the official World Championship title for thirteen years. Wylie learned muskratting from his fa -

ther and dominated speed-skinning until Wylie Junior replaced him. At the time of Scorchy’s inter -

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view, “Big Wylie’s” own 84-yearold father, Winnie Abbott, said he was just “sitting around miserating.” Actually, he was still keeping up a workboat he’d built and progging around the marsh, trapping some. Shortness of breath confined Winnie’s walking to acres that bordered a county road, but in World War II he had led a reconnaissance unit and “walked across Europe.”

In addition to pre-war hunting and tracking experience, Winnie was of Native American extraction, well-suited to leading a recon patrol. When his sons later served, the army confined two of them to claustrophobic duty: one operating a tank and another guarding Spandau Prison, where Rudolf Hess survived as the last Nazi convicted by Nuremburg Trial.

Newcomers, myself among them, are moving into dwellings in lower Dorchester County. On Elliott Island, we’ve come to what Scorchy called the “icon of isolation” from many directions: from Maryland’s western shore, from Long Island, New York, and Yorkshire, England.

Local orientation is no longer to be had at stores like Miss Nora’s, once common at every crossroads. To orient new residents, Dorchester groups, bless them, expend time and effort to preserve and honor their inheritance and sense of place. In addition to the traditional Dorchester County Historical Society, we have the National Outdoor Foundation and the NauseWaiwash Band of Indians.

The last weekend of every February, the annual National Outdoor Show at Golden Hill offers a crash course on traditions of lower Dorchester’s marshes (and Louisiana’s bayou). Over 78 years, speedskinners from the U.S. and Canada have competed here in various divisions based on gender, age, and species: boys and girls, men and women, and senior former champions, skinning muskrat or raccoon (or pine log). The show evolved into today’s extravaganza from the competitive nature of most trappers, who once gathered after work at a fur-buyer’s shop and compared catches for bragging rights.

Respecting Your Elders

Now a South Dorchester school venue houses a countless variety of craft, antique and cultural vendors and exhibitors; talent contests for tots and teens; dog trials; competitions in cookery and outdoor skills: photography, wildfowl calls, trap-setting, log sawing and skinning—something for every taste, especially for down-home seafood cooking. The fur-averse can easily avoid speed-skinning to view competitions in gentler arts, but they will miss unique occurrences.

A former women’s champion skinner laughs about one mishap she had. Kneeling onstage, swiftly skinning her ’rats, she accidentally popped off one’s head, sending it flying into the lap of a woman in the auditorium’s front row. Another year, some Louisianans tried to gain an illicit edge by skinning the freshest possible ’rats. To do so, they kept their bayou catch alive in a Cambridge motel bathtub, then toted semi-comatose ’rats to the contest. Taken from a sack onstage,

some muskrats revived, escaped and had to be chased down and finished off.

To travel farther back in time, every September the NauseWaiwash Band of Indians hosts the only indigenous people’s Pow Wow in Maryland. Their unique festival at the Nanticoke River in Vienna is open to the general public and draws drummers, dancers and musicians, along with artistic Native American jewelers and crafts people, from across the country.

The ancestors of the NauseWaiwash were on the riverside when Captain John Smith sailed up the Nanticoke in 1607. In years after their contested encounter with the Captain, many descendants of

M.H.I.C. #35075

those original warriors have survived in the area. Other Nanticokes migrated northward, ultimately into Canada, but some abided in

less-coveted lowlands, while European immigration washed over them. Early settlers to the area learned survival skills and merged their lives and customs with the native peoples. Chief Donna Wolf Mother Abbott and tribal descendants assemble celebrants and vendors each September to educate the public and honor their elders’ survival and traditions.

Forty-some years ago, A.M. Foley swapped the Washington, D.C. business scene for a writing life on Elliott Island, Maryland. Tidewater Times kindly publishes Foley’s musings on regional history and life in general.

AND DAVID B. COLE BLUES BAND

Photo by John Cole Photography

Healthy Habits

Habits

Becoming aware of new habits takes three days, but it takes up to three months before an old habit is replaced, so be patient. Habits are crucial when it comes to developing sustainable lifestyle and exercise changes. Developing a new habit is important, but cementing it to becoming a long-term regular part of your day is vital.

Always Eat Breakfast

People who regularly eat a substantial breakfast lose more weight than those who have a small breakfast. Choose eggs or quality protein or sourdough whole-grain bread, natural granola with fruit and Greek or your favorite non-dairy yogurt or a smoothie and notice how much more satisfied you feel throughout the morning.

Eat at a Table

You’ll eat more slowly and often consume less food as a result. Remember, eating should be an enjoyable social experience, so take time out to do it properly.

Drink Green Tea After a Meal

Not only is green tea exceptionally high in healthy antioxidants, but it can also help increase metabolic rate and curb sugar cravings.

Eat Carbs & Protein to Satisfy Your Hunger

Low glycemic index carbohydrates provide sustainable energy, while eating protein offers key nutrients, and it helps keep you full. Some choices you can make without going over your budget include eggs on toast, yogurt, fruit, crackers and cheese or a sourdough or wholegrain sandwich with tuna, chicken or salmon.

Keep Your Gut Healthy

Eat a fiber rich diet. Adult women should aim for 25g (1/4 cup) and men 35–38g (1/3 cup) of fiber daily. Beans, lentils, fruits, vegetables and whole grains all contain fiber. Fiber is important for gut health and helps with fullness, bowel regularity and blood sugar regulation.

Scrambled Tofu Wraps

Makes 4 servings

Scrambling tofu instead of eggs is

a good way to get the health benefits of soy. Turmeric imparts color, and adding black pepper ensures bio-

availability of the powerful anti-inflammatory properties of this spice. Vegetables, spices, and soy chorizo make this a hearty breakfast dish, especially when it is wrapped in a whole wheat or sourdough tortilla. If you like, add ½ cup rinsed and drained canned black beans to the scramble. It’s a lovely addition and great for your gut health.

1 package extra-firm tofu, crumbled 1/4 cup nutritional yeast flakes 1 teaspoon Himalayan salt

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground turmeric 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon expeller-pressed grapeseed oil or extra virgin olive

Tidewater Kitchen

oil 1 small onion, diced 1/2 red bell pepper, diced 1 package soy sausage, crumbled, or your favorite vegan meat 1 medium

tomato, diced 4 sourdough or whole wheat tortillas

In a bowl, mix together the tofu, yeast flakes, salt, cumin, turmeric and black pepper. In a skillet, heat the canola oil over medium-high heat.

Add the onion and red pepper, and sauté until the onion is translucent. Let cool and add to the tofu mixture. Mix until well combined. (The tofu mixture may be prepared the night before serving.)

In a sauté pan, heat the olive oil. Combine the tofu mixture and chorizo in the pan and mix well. Cook over high heat until the mixture turns golden brown and the edges

are crispy. Fold in the tomato. Divide the scrambled tofu among the tortillas and top with the avocado slices, scallions, and cilantro sprigs. Roll the tortillas tightly into burritos and cut in half on the bias before serving. You can wrap in foil and reheat during the week.

Black Bean Dip with a Kick Serves 6

For an easy protein snack or for a side with your favorite meal, such as your Tofu Wrap, or cooked chicken with veggies or favorite whole grain tortilla chip.

1 garlic clove, pressed and allowed to sit for 10 minutes Pure allicin (helps ease swelling and block free

radicals that harm cells and tissues within your body and lead to disease) only remains stable in freshly crushed or cut garlic for a short time. By letting it rest for 5–10 minutes, it helps to boost the levels.

1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained

1/4 cup roughly chopped white onion

1/4 cup salsa (jarred or fresh)

2 tablespoons lime juice, or to taste

1/4 cup fresh cilantro, leaves, plus 1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro for garnish if you’d like

1 tablespoon canned chipotle, or more to taste

1 teaspoon ground cumin

4 teaspoons sea salt, or to taste

1 to 2 tablespoons water (optional)

1 small tomato, seeded and finely diced

Place all of the ingredients except the water, tomato and chopped cilantro for garnish in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until you reach a dip-like consistency.

If the mixture is too thick, continue to pulse, adding water by the tablespoonful. Taste and adjust the seasoning with more salt or lime juice, if desired.

Transfer to a serving bowl, cover the dip and place in the refrigerator to chill for at least 15 minutes. Garnish with diced tomatoes and chopped cilantro, and serve with

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Tidewater Kitchen

vegetables or tortilla chips for dipping. The mixture can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Southwest Chicken Soup Serves 8

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 -1/2 chicken breasts, cubed

2 onions, diced

2 garlic cloves, minced 1 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/8 teaspoon cayenne

2 cans (14 ½-ounce) chicken broth

2 cans of corn, drained

2 cans, black beans

2 cans Mexican stewed tomatoes

1/4 cup of rice

Heat oil in heavy Dutch oven over medium heat. Add chicken and cook 3 to 5 minutes, until opaque.

Stir in cumin, onion, salt, chili powder and cayenne. Cook two minutes, stirring frequently until garlic and spices are fragrant. Stir in broth, corn, stewed tomatoes, black bean and rice. Increase heat and bring to boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer 20 minutes. Garnish with cilantro and yogurt. Great to serve with a salad, chips, salsa & guacamole.

Corn Muffins

12 muffins

2-1/3 cups organic all-purpose flour—you can also use gluten-free flour

½ cup organic cane sugar

1 cup medium cornmeal, I love the ground fresh you can get at some

Tidewater Kitchen

farmers markets 4 ½ teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon Himalayan salt

1-2/3 cups whole milk

2/3 cup grass-fed unsalted butter, melted and cooled, or your favorite vegan butter 4 farm-fresh extralarge eggs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line 12 large muffin cups with paper liners. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, mix the flour, sugar, cornmeal, baking powder and salt. In a separate bowl, combine the milk, melted butter and eggs. With the mixer on the lowest speed, pour the wet ingredients into the dry ones and stir until they are just blended. Spoon the batter into the paper liners, filling each one to the top. Bake for 30 minutes, until the tops are crisp and a toothpick comes out clean. Cool slightly and remove from the pan.

Healthy Crunchy Peanut

Chocolate Bars or Chewy Bites

3 cups gluten-free crispies or gluten-free oats

2 scoops of your favorite protein powder, optional for more fiber and protein (I add Juiceplus Complete, chocolate or vanilla)

2/3 cup raw honey

2/3 cup organic smooth peanut butter

1/3 cup Lilly’s

(or sprinkle in desired

Mix together and mash into a 9x9 dish, or roll into bite-size pieces and refrigerate. For a quick fix, freeze for 15 minutes and enjoy!

Pamela Meredith, formerly Denver’s NBC Channel 9 Children’s Chef, has taught both adult and children’s cooking classes.

For more of Pam’s recipes, visit the Story Archive tab at tidewatertimes.com.

All Quiet on the Sound A novel by

B. P. Gallagher

Chapter 18: Revisited

The prolonged gasp of leap year February signaled the end of a dismal winter. It arrived in a briny bluster, carrying upon it fell tidings and bitter memories. With it the chill dark of winter began to recede, the ground to sweat and the sky to weep fat teardrops of sleet instead of snow. The mound over Robert Gibbs’s grave compacted with the weight of slush. A slate headstone supplanted the temporary placard that marked his final resting place.

Deputy Calhoun was a frequent visitor to the marina and island in those days. Occasionally he tailed them home from work or on their way to pick up Maggie at the cannery. Half the time he asked no questions, only watched from afar as if he expected the mundane patterns of Earl’s and Leon’s everyday lives to carry the signature of their crime. He seemed less interested in Margaret, which was a boon. When Tyler Calhoun did ask questions of the brothers, the Higginses’ answers went unchanged. An unten-

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able detente had emerged between them. Calhoun’s suspicion and scrutiny had no grounds thus far other than circumstance and intimation. An old family feud and coincidental access to a tugboat were the stuff of town gossip, not the makings of a criminal charge. As long as they had no body…

As for how the hell anything else was supposed to get solved with half the sheriff’s department fixated on such an immaterial case, Earl didn’t know. Nor how the Higginses were supposed to go about their lives while being so targeted. Of that there could be no doubt, as Maggie had confirmed through her ongoing dealings with Jonah Everett. That their not-so-secret dalliance had survived the salacious rumors about the Higginses was proof enough the boy was outright smitten. That could prove useful. What troubled Earl was how Maggie spoke of the gawky kid with increasing fondness. Earl smelled a complication, and the last thing they needed was another complication.

They could no longer afford to place their trust outside the family—not and weather this dark season intact. As the Leap Year anniversaries of their family members’ deaths crept closer, the Higgins household turned inwards, becoming shuttered and insular: curtains

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drawn, lips sealed. Elsewhere, people talked.

The hearsay wasn’t constrained to the Calhoun clan and its prodigious offshoots, either. Earl began to imagine that people on the island were giving him looks, whispering behind his back. He soon came to doubt he was imagining it. The sensation was too powerful to deny, and without question Dougal had fewer doting visitors these days. Earl couldn’t decide whether that was due to people losing interest in the growing puppy or something worse. His paranoia intensified. Where others seemed to be growing wary of associating with

the Higginses, Leon’s courtship of Clara Gibbs and her integration into the Higgins family had accelerated. Leon and Clara’s evening strolls continued, sometimes with and sometimes without Dougal in tow. In either case, Leon tended to return smiling. As for Clara, she looked like she hadn’t been eating much. Her grandfather’s estate was still settling, and Maggie and Leon whispered of malevolent hauntings by ghosts of taxmen past.

Robert Gibbs’s affairs hadn’t been wholly in order. The title for Mr. Gibbs’s workboat was tied up in the probate court. Until that was settled, and contrary to the late waterman’s express wishes, the Marylou was off-limits. That and other

mutual injustices had only brought the neighbors closer together—Higginses and Gibbses, an island unto themselves.

One afternoon, a few days before the end of February, Earl and Leon got home from the marina to find a bicycle parked on their front porch. Exchanging a dark look with Leon, Earl threw open the door.

“…to bed,” Maggie was saying in the den.

Ever overprotective, Leon led the way with a bullish charge. “What’s this about ‘to bed’ I hear, now?”

Jonah Everett’s pale face went crimson as he sprang in a fright from his chair, barking his shin on and nearly upending the rack of fire pokers and brushes beside

the hearth. “Hiya, Higgins. Ouch! Christ! ” He gasped in pain. “I mean, hello Mr.’s Higgins.”

“Hi Earl, Leon,” said Maggie, calm as could be. “You two remember Jonah?”

“Sure, I remember Jonah,” said Leon. “Hi there, Jonah. Now what’s this I hear about bed? Better not be what it sounds like.”

“I said, we’re eager to put this thing to bed,” Maggie said. “You deaf dullard.”

“Hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

“Calm down, Leon—I’m just saying we wanna put an end to all this rumor and hearsay, that’s all.” She giggled as Jonah hopped on one foot, clutching at his smarting leg.

Earl was unconvinced of the

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All Quiet

situation’s humor, but not out of concern for Jonah Everett’s comfort. There was a ferret in the den, couldn’t Maggie see that? A feckless ferret, but still dangerous. No time to let their guard down. “Did you pedal all the way over here looking for anything in particular, Jonah? You’re lucky your kin didn’t tail us all the way home tonight, seen your bicycle out front.”

Jonah, regaining his balance, promptly deflated. “I hadn’t really thought—”

“What d’you think I had him put it on the porch for, dummies?” said Maggie. “Besides, Clara and I brought him and his bike home in

her Pop Pop’s car after work, so nobody saw him on his way here. And before you jump down his throat, I invited him for dinner tonight. Clara too, so you’d better go wash up Leon, you big smelly oaf.”

“Still,” said Earl. “We noticed it on the porch right off.”

“Clara’s coming over?” Leon perked up.

“At seven. So you’d better clean up and get changed before then. I’m making crabcakes.”

With a distrustful glance at their visitor and a look for their sister that said you haven’t heard the end of this, Leon stumped upstairs to get ready.

“You too, Earl,” said Maggie. “Sunday best.”

EASTERN SHORE

Melissa Grimes-Guy Photography

“What for? It’s Tuesday. And what’s he gonna do in the meantime?”

“He’s my guest, Earl. So I suppose he can do whatever he wants!”

“Oh no,” said Jonah quickly. “I really don’t want to do much at all. I guess I’ll help out in the kitchen, if that’s alright. Maybe toss a stick out back for Dougal ’til dinner’s ready.” He was blushing again, though Earl didn’t know what for this time. Lord, the kid flustered easily!

Earl’s apprehension abated a hair. Jonah’s shyness appeared genuine. He didn’t seem like the sneaking, spying type, that was for sure. Dumb smitten maybe, but not a spy. Then again, weren’t those precisely the qualities of a good double

agent? Cautioning Maggie with a look to keep a close eye on their guest, Earl went to change out of his dock clothes.

“Never tastes quite the same outta the can,” said Leon as they sat down to eat a short while later. To accommodate their guests, Leon had moved Pop’s armchair from the den to the head of the dining room table, where he sat it like a throne. The lofty seat hadn’t elevated his sense of decorum.

“If you want crabcakes in February, you gotta make them from the can,” said Maggie. “That’s just how it is.”

“Who asked for crabcakes?”

“I did,” said Jonah.

“And me,” said Clara.

“Oh,” said Leon. “Fine choice, then.”

Clara smiled. Maggie rolled her eyes. Jonah knocked over the salt and pepper shakers as he reached for a dinner roll. Talk died for a time, and quiet fell unbroken over the table except for the sounds of chewing, the clatter of silverware, the pop of a cork on a bottle of wine opened for the occasion. But beneath the superficial sounds of dining, the atmosphere was less that of a dinner party than an adjudication. There were other, uninvited guests in the room, specters looming unseen in the corners, ruling over the conversational lull.

Impatient with the uncomfortable silence, Earl brought them to table.

“So Jonah, what do your folks think of you spending time with Maggie? Y’know, given the talk around town these days.” He forced an easy smirk to show just what he thought of such talk.

“Yeah? Dontcha know Imma villain?” asked Leon around a mouthful of crabcake. “Aintcha heard?”

“I’ve heard,” said Jonah levelly, as if he’d given the question much forethought, “and I reckon I don’t believe it. It all seems so small, y’know? So much small-town country rubbish. Especially next to what else is going on in the world. There’s talk of civil war in Spain, did you know? I read it in the gazette. And

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pundits point to rumblings of another big war on the horizon in Europe, possibly within the decade! Did you know?”

“I don’t believe it,” said Leon.

“Jonah keeps an ear to the wind,” said Maggie admiringly. “An eye on the whole wide world! He reads, y’know!” She paused. “Did you know?”

Jonah looked sheepish, perhaps trying to figure out if he was the butt of a joke. “When I can spare to. It’s nothing, really. Newspapers and bulletins and such. I’ve an interest in current events, that’s all.”

“Just not events around here, huh?” said Earl.

“…I guess not. Not as much, anyways.”

“Well, I wish more folks around here were like that,” said Clara. “I sure get sick of hearing about the same old boring Shore stuff.”

“Me too,” Leon said.

“Even when it’s gotta do with your family, though?” Earl said. “I mean, don’t all that stuff bother you?”

“Must you insist, Earl?” said Maggie. “We were having a nice dinner!”

But Jonah answered in a quiet voice, “All due respect, Mister Higgins, but if I worried over every shred of gossip about a relation of mine around here, well—I wouldn’t have time for much else. It’s been

kinda nice getting away from them and the Shore for an afternoon, to tell the truth. That’s why I like spending time with your sister so much.”

Maggie beamed at him.

“Fair enough, but can you please call me Earl? I told you, I’m only a couple years older’n you.”

“Alright, Earl.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Not so hard, no. Anything else I can do for you?” The kid had some pluck, then. Earl would give him that.

He shrugged. “Guess I’m still wondering what your family’ll think when they hear their froggy’s gone a-courtin’ on the next lily-pad over. That’s all.”

Clara concealed her laughter behind her napkin. Maggie, less demure, snorted so hard cheap wine sprayed out of her nose. “Come again?”

“Sounded better in my head, I guess. What I mean is,” Earl leaned across the table, meeting Jonah’s bespectacled gaze. “Don’t it bother you to be sitting down to eat with the people your family suspect of, y’know…”

To his credit, Jonah held his ground. “Tell you the truth, Earl, you don’t seem like the murdering type. You neither, Leon. Now Maggie?” He grinned. “Maybe.”

Uneasy laughter all around. Leon poured the rest of the wine, and talk soon turned to less brittle topics.

Earl came away from the exchange with a grudging respect for Jonah Everett. He didn’t trust the flighty little bugger farther than he could throw him, but Maggie could do worse for an admirer-cum-informant.

“Walk me home, Leon, will you?” said Clara, later.

“Really?” A pleased, not-entirelysober smile bloomed amid Leon’s bristly thicket of facial hair. “A known villain like me?”

“That’s why you must bring Doogie along, to protect me from rogues like you. Maggie, do you mind?”

“Take him! Just make sure he goes both before you bring him inside, okay, Leon?”

“Sure, I will.” They left hand in hand, the puppy towing them on his leash.

“I guess I oughta go as well,” said Jonah, showing uncommon tact for his age. “I can row myself and my bike across, if you don’t mind picking up your rowboat ashore sometime tomorrow.” Earl’s estimation of him rose.

“Don’t be silly,” said Maggie. “I’ll

go with you. I’ve said it a hundred times—I can row back on my own!”

Earl shook his head. “It’s blustery, Maggs, and you’ve been drinking. I dunno if that’s such a good idea.”

“Just two teensy glasses of wine, Earl! I’d be fine.”

“No, he’s right, Maggie. On second thought, Earl, if it’s not too great an inconvenience, I’d like you to come along.”

The sudden change of course aroused Earl’s suspicions. “What for?”

“Well, considering we’ve been drinking and it’s rough out, like you said, I don’t wanna be responsible for swamping your rowboat.”

That was how Earl found himself rowing across the Sound with Jonah and his bicycle crammed into the foot of the boat across from him. The moon rode high in the sky, casting silver fi ligree over the implacable black depths.

“I care about your sister, Mist— ahem, Earl. I really do,” said Jonah, twin moons reflected in the lenses of his bifocals. The glare hid his eyes.

“I believe you,” said Earl, and was

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surprised to discover he meant it.

“And I meant what I said regarding neither you nor your brother seeming like killers.”

“I…appreciate that.”

Jonah’s next words came in a breathless tumble. “That’s why I gotta warn you. Listen, they’re building a murder case against your brother. Maybe you, too, I don’t know—they only talk in broad strokes at the firehall meetings these days.”

Earl went cold from head to toe. Words spilled from his mouth that hardly seemed to belong to him. “What?! How? They haven’t—we didn’t do anything!” That’s it; revert to denial. Deny. Forever and always, deny.

“They think you have, that’s what’s important. And they’re putting something together behind the scenes, you can bet.”

Earl stopped rowing. “But—but how? They haven’t got anything!” He hated how petulant he sounded, how desperate.

“I mean, I know that.” Jonah’s posture was the very picture of discomfort; even his shadow seemed to squirm. Or maybe that was only an artifact of Earl’s spinning head. “It’s like—you know one of them fillin-the-blank stories, like in the biweekly’s sometimes?”

“Yeah. I guess,” said Earl, fingers numb though his heart must be pumping four times its normal speed.

“Well picture one of those, except the only thing they’re waiting to write in is the infraction they drag Leon into Salisbury on. First chance, fi rst whiff of wrongdoing they get, they’ll arraign him.”

“And me.”

More squirming answered the question, which was no question at all. “…Maybe you too, yeah. Like I said, I don’t know. Just be careful, y’know? Try not to give ’em any excuse.”

“Jonah, why are you doing this? You don’t owe us nothing.”

“For Maggie. You and your brother are all the family she’s got, and I don’t want her to lose you.”

Of course. It all comes back to Maggie. All except the consequences.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Earl said, hollow-voiced. Arraigned—on what charges, exactly? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. You’d better believe they’ll tack on murder somewhere down the line.

“Sure, you’re welcome. Um, d’you mind if we get moving? I wasn’t just looking for an excuse for you to tag

along instead of Maggie—it’s kinda rough out here.” He was right; the Sound grew choppy.

An accusatory wind gathered out of the east, unfurling banners of scudding cloud borne swift across the moon’s silver face as if by dark cavalry. A rushing whoosh arose in Earl’s ears that had nothing to do with the weather. As it did he was overtaken by a sensation of falling, falling, falling down a lightless shaft with no end in sight.

When Jonah staggered through the shallows with his bike hoisted overhead, his departure barely registered.

Earl careened home in petrified silence, pitching and plummeting all the way. He failed to notice the pale silhouette of a deadrise sliding through the shadows over the Sound, making north for the Blackwater.

Brendan Gallagher is a 2013 graduate of Easton High School and is currently finishing up a Ph.D. in Social-Personality Psychology at the University at Albany.

Changes: In the Middle of Nowhere

Up the creek with a paddle - in the Arctic (Part 3 of 3)

by Roger Vaughan

Summer 1988:

After five days, I realized we had been paddling incessantly seven hours a day. We’d go 45 minutes to an hour at a stretch, take a 10-minute break and keep on. We’d stop for an hour or more to eat lunch. Aside from the dry spots, the river had been a series of one- to threemile “lakes” connected by narrow riffles of faster water. Overall, the current was slow, an insignificant assist. How we were doing relative to Osgood’s progress was mentioned frequently.

Hoyt, 50, our leader, was grunting and groaning with the rest of us, but he was obviously invigorated by being in the North. He was far from the strongest paddler in the group. But he was verbally pushing, romancing the stones. Around the fire, when he and Fred weren’t talking business, he and Steve were comparing historical notes, reminiscing about early explorers like the English, who thought they knew better than the natives and perished in their leather boots.

And the radical Vilhjalmur Stefanson, who was determined to live off the land, and did. And Sir John Franklin, an indomitable sailor, who was finally lost.

They spoke of the famous Royal Canadian Mounties Lost Patrol and regaled us with exploits of the Voyageurs, tough, elite French Canadians from the St. Lawrence Valley who hired themselves out as paddlers to northern trading companies from 1750 to 1850. Each was required to portage 180 pounds. Some could carry 270 pounds.

The romance of our adventure was important to Hoyt. He had provided each canoe with a wanigan, a wooden box weighing ten pounds empty with leather strapping and protective metal corners purchased at Abercrombie & Fitch in the 1930s. Our food containers were canvas Duluth packs, leaky and lead-heavy.

Hoyt looked askance at the flipflops Eric brought for camp shoes (“That’s an Arctic first,” he said) and at those of us who worked at

drying garments by the fire. “My feeling is that you come up here, you get wet, you go to bed wet, and you get up wet, you do it for 23 days, then you go home and get dry,” Hoyt said. He assured himself of being wet by lugging his personal gear in a Duluth pack. He said he hated the look of the waterproof rubber duffels the rest of us used.

Hoyt’s anachronistic notions didn’t include the menu. He was very proud of the enormous store of food he had provided. “Tell ’em we ate well,” he would often say to the group. We ate well. We greatly improved the expensive, freeze-dried fare with spices from a varied stash Hoyt had brought along. We had chili and curry and fettuccine Alfredo. One evening, as he opened an appetizer of Strasbourg liver pate with truffles, he said “the bark, seaweed and granola bar set who cut holes in their toothbrush handles to reduce weight, and who argue all night about the comparative value of high-tech fabrics, should be restricted to state parks.” He railed against salads, gleefully booting our last head of cabbage into the river at least a day before it was necessary.

leton, Peary, Stefansson, Franklin all of them were polished politicians, captains of con able to seduce bankers and crews time and again with the urgency of their dreams. Hoyt is a man partly imprisoned in the books of his beloved library, seeking every so often to bring a few pages to life. “On to the Polar Sea!” he would say at least once a day. It was part challenge, part entreaty; a coach’s exhortation.

He assured himself of being wet by lugging his personal gear in a Duluth pack.

At the end of one long, wet day, dinner was crowned with an orange cake that Steve managed to bake, without eggs, in the reflector oven. In the gray drizzle, we cut the cake, smeared each piece with a glob of canned chocolate icing and ate it out of our wet hands. “You can’t begin to explain this to people,” Hoyt said, holding his cake aloft like a trophy. Shortly thereafter, it rained hard.

A part of Hoyt lives in the 1800s. One can see a touch of the old explorer madness about him. Shack-

Arctic Dream No. 2: that night Peter dreamed he was in Toronto. There were three women, one on a bike, one at a bus stop, one at home. He was skiing wearing a parachute. He skied off a cliff, was scared to death, pulled the ripcord and floated down into the backyard of the girl with the bike. The next morning, Peter asked Fred what he made of it. Fred shrugged: “Freud said that sometimes a snake is simply a snake.”

Later that day the wind came

from behind us, and we began sailing, much to everyone’s surprise and delight. Months ago, Hoyt had expressed an interest in trying to sail. He said we could lash the canoes together and raise a tarp on some paddles. When I suggested bringing an old spinnaker, he said by all means.

We stopped, selected a straight, 18-foot black spruce (150 years old), cut it not without some guilt, trimmed it and attached a couple of lines for backstays. We reduced the large spinnaker by rolling up the bottom two panels and sewing them in place. We lashed the canoes four abreast, assigned Fred the job of holding the base of our mast in place, filled the sail and took off down one of the broad stretches almost as fast as the redheaded mergansers that exploded from their nests and ran from us as we approached.

a strange sight: a four-canoe raft under spinnaker with the crew singing and laughing its way down this isolated Arctic River.

Spinnakers don’t fly without the occasional mishap, and we had our share.

Spinnakers don’t fly without the occasional mishap, and we had our share. A few times we failed to negotiate narrow riffles, grinding into gravel with hoots of laughter. Until we got the hang of it, we ran over the sail once or twice when the wind died. But the sailing lightened our hearts as it eased the constant strain of paddling. Eric went ashore to photograph what must have been

In two days, we put in a total of 10 hours under sail before the wind shifted, moving us closer to the halfway point and the rapids that awaited us in the canyon Ingmar had said was the high point of his trip. After seven days, we looked back on remarkable weather. There had been one rain day and one drizzle day. The rest had blessed us with absolutely balmy temperatures in the 70s and 80s. We’d had a few bad mosquito minutes, but our bug jackets saturated with toxic deet repellent kept them at bay while at the same time shortening our lives. Expectations had steeled us for crazy weather patterns, killer mosquitoes and black flies. One Arctic vet had told us of urinating down his pant leg for fear of exposing himself to the swarming mosquitoes. Yet here we were often paddling shirtless, with bugs less annoying for the most part than on Maryland’s Eastern Shore in summer. It was a bit puzzling.

The absence of big animals was also strange. After all the bear talk, it was a bit of a letdown not to at least see one up close. And a relief. Grizzles are said to stalk men. We had counted half a dozen Caribou,

Eric’s wolf and, much to Hoyt’s dismay, not a single musk ox. “Tomorrow,” he would say each night, “is musk ox day. I know they are out there, getting their horns polished, their coats brushed.” Steve said they were tiptoeing around at night. He said we should put cornflakes around our tents so we would hear them.

On the eighth day, the scenery began a gradual transition from rolling green ridges to a sheer, rocky look. At lunch, we stopped opposite a sharply rising, 200foot bank of golden lime and sandstone upon which had been built two eagle’s nests, one an enormous two-story job.

lunch. Suddenly, we were between 100-foot vertical rock walls, drifting rapidly down a 200-yard-wide stretch of the river.

We heard the rapids first, a more throaty sound than the riffles we had gotten used to. The canyon amplified it. We stopped and walked across 100 yards of basketball- and softball-sized boulders to have a look. The rocks showed scars from the recent battering of ice borne on the spring flood. The lead-in to this rapid was slick, misleading. “It invites you in,” Hoyt said, studying it. By scale, it wasn’t much, Class II or III (of six), but there was lots of water moving.

Like spring skiers, we strolled around on the ice in our T-shirts.

The ninth day it was gray and 56-degrees, a typical 30-degree arctic weather change from the day before. In winter, a typical temperature drop can be 60 degrees. The river was flat, with no wind and little current. We paddled 12 miles before lunch, heads down, arms and shoulders complaining, grinding it out. At lunch, we stopped at the first substantial ice we had seen, a two-acre shelf on a north facing tributary that was dry. The temperature had risen to the high 60s. Like spring skiers, we strolled around on the ice in our T-shirts.

We entered the canyon after

Jim and Eric wanted to play it safe. They unloaded half their canoe, making several arduous trips over the boulder field. Hoyt thought it was unnecessary. Steve and Fred, who were paddling a canoe with a spray cover that didn’t fit, went first. They entered too far left and were flipped instantly by a pillow (a boulder awash). It took them an hour to beach the sodden load, bail, and put on dry clothes. Luckily, it was warming up. Their mishap made the rest of us more careful. We made it. It was a wild, exhilarating ride.

There were eight more rapids the next day. The river began to take on the appearance of a miniature

Grand Canyon, with jagged walls, stepped ledges that looked like the work of crazed masons. There were turrets, leaning towers, balancing rocks, bridges and carved abstract faces that were like pumpkins perched atop tall posts. By 8:30 p.m. we had left the final rapids behind after 10 hours of whitewater. At that point, the temperature was still 85. We were paddling shirtless. An hour later, it was 60, and we were dressed in foul weather gear against cold rain, driven by a headwind.

By the time we found a campsite and completed the chores, it was 2 a.m., still daylight. The bugs were as thick as the Red River cereal we ate each morning. After 10 consecutive days of paddling, Hoyt finally declared a day off. We laid out gear to dry and took naps. Eric and Steve paddled to the next riffle to fish, while Jim, Doc, Peter and I went for a climb. Fred was in his tent, not feeling well. Hoyt hung around camp and re-organized the food packs.

spotted two adolescent eagles taking the sun. Down on the river, Eric and Steve looked like ants.

On the 12th day, we began a series of two-mile stretches through ugly 100-foot banks of washedout mud and gravel. It was 50 degrees, raining. The head wind was 15 knots. The best part of the river was behind us. One hundred and twenty miles of sameness lay ahead. Our only goal, Hoyt’s determination to paddle to the Arctic Ocean, had become a withered carrot. It was our longest day, and we slugged it out until 7 p.m.

The bugs were as thick as the Red River cereal we ate each morning.

Hoyt had a big farewell banquet planned that evening for Jim and Doc, a spaghetti dinner complete with bottles of $20 burgundy, candles, clean clothes. The works. Given the rain and the 20-knot gusts that battered our campsite, soup and bed would have been better. Instead, we rigged the parawing, a 19-foot shelter of light nylon rip-stop material. It flailed and snapped like a wild animal.

Atop of the 400-foot bank, the tundra spread before us. There were a dozen lakes visible. We could see for miles up and down the river, for miles in all directions across the flat, green expanse. We scanned through the binoculars for animals. Nothing. A hundred feet below us on a tiny rock ledge, we

We started the wet wood with a 15-minute flare. While struggling with our tents in the wind and rain, we heard Hoyt bellow as he coaxed the fire into life: “Arrgh! This is the fury of the Arctic!”

Under the whipping parawing that stirred ashes from the fire into a confetti storm and caused the hot smoke to swirl and sting our

Arctic

eyes, the eight of us huddled elbow to elbow, dripping, wet and cold. Squatting in the mud, we got into it, carefully slicing fresh garlic for the sauce, not forgetting to remove the bitter green hearts. We stirred the pea soup, melted butter for the garlic bread and made jokes. Steve opened the wine.

The parawing repeatedly smacked our heads. The temperature dropped to 45 degrees. Someone asked Hoyt if we were miserable enough for him. No, he said, it should be zero or below. For a moment it felt like Shackleton was in charge.

Finally, dinner was ready. We drank soup from cups and forked chunks of spaghetti and sauce onto cold, rain-puddled plates. “Pass the parmesan,” said Hoyt.

the soggy ruin of dinner preparation surrounding us, the driven rain, the wildly flapping parawing. We laughed until we were weak.

“I lust for this,” Hoyt said during a lull. “I really do. Sometimes in my office I think about these rivers and lust for this life.”

Someone suggested that the next time he was in an uncomfortable situation, all he had to do was imagine that he could be eating dinner under the parawing on the Horton River and whatever unpleasant scene he was facing wouldn’t seem so bad.

On cue, one end of the para-wing tore loose, sending us scurrying to our tents.

On cue, one end of the parawing tore loose, sending us scurrying to our tents.

“Waiter,” Peter said. “There’s a bug in my wine.” We looked at his cup, which hadn’t been cleaned before he filled it with wine. Beads of pea soup had congealed near the edges and were coated with ash. Lumps of soup floated on the wine. Water ran down Peter’s face and dripped from his smiling lips. He began to cackle hysterically.

The full absurdity hit us as we took stock of the grubby plates we were holding in filthy hands, of the mud puddles where we crouched,

Arctic Dream No. 3: I’m on a bicycle and ski trip with a friend. Walking through a village, he falls behind. I go back to look for him. He has been stabbed in the ribs. He is dazed, sitting astride a snowdrift, holding a canoe paddle.

Eric and I talked to Hoyt the next morning, having decided to fly out with Doc and Jim. Hoyt was quite angry, unable to understand why reaching the Arctic Ocean wasn’t enough to slug it out for seven more days. The plane arrived on schedule and was able to accommodate two extra bodies after leaving behind everything that wasn’t

essential. The pilot insisted that each of us urinate before boarding the airplane. Our takeoff run took two tries and required every yard of available water.

Three days later, Hoyt suffered an angina attack. Given his medical history, a heart bypass operation in 1981, he wisely decided to terminate the trip 70 river miles short of his goal. Later, a full examination revealed nothing serious. Though disappointed, he was in good spirits when we spoke by phone two weeks later. No musk oxen had appeared, but a day after we left, he and Peter, Steve and Fred had found the remains of a cabin built by the explorer Stefansson in the winter of 1910–11. “It

Caroline, Dorchester, Kent, Queen Anne's & Talbot Counties

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was very exciting,” Hoyt said. “The bottom logs for the walls were still in place.” The four left a note on the site sealed in a film can, listing their names and the date.

“I’ve already got my next river picked out,” Hoyt said. ***

William B. Hoyt, chairman of the New York State Assembly Energy Committee, died on March 26, 1992, of an apparent heart attack suffered during a roll call vote on the Assembly floor.

Vaughan.roger@gmail.com

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