Tidewater Times September 2023

About the Cover Photographer

George A. Hatcher, Jr.

This month’s cover photo is of the late Bill Moyer’s 1954 MG TF at the Classic Motor Museum in St. Michaels, Maryland, which was graciously donated to the museum by Mr. Moyer’s Estate. Taken by George A. Hatcher, Jr., it captures the timeless styling of the MG with the natural beauty of the Amishbuilt museum building. A graduate of the University of Virginia, Mr. Hatcher has loved cars and photography (and radio) his entire life and is the former owner of Easton Ford Company, Inc. on Route 50 in Easton, Maryland, which he oper-

ated from 1985-2010. He’s been married to his childhood sweetheart, Kim Hershey, for 46 years and has three children and one grandchild. He’s a strong believer in the power and reach of the Tidewater Times and advertised in it continuously for Easton Ford’s 25 years. George took this photo of his and Kim’s 1971 Ford Mustang Mach 1 near the old Fairchild Aircraft plant in Hagerstown, Maryland, with a Fairchild C-119 “Flying Boxcar” in the background.

What I Did With My Summer Vacation

by Helen Chappell

While you were out by the pool or sailing across the Bay or strolling the boards at the beach, I was trapped in the house.

I had everything but an ankle bracelet, with short bursts of going out for groceries or maybe lunch with a friend. I didn’t break the law: the heat, humidity and particulate matter floating through the air meant I was confined indoors with air-conditioning and an air purifier because of my COPD. I’ll spare you the organ recital about my health. Let’s just say

that breathing in woodsmoke from Canada and pollen from up the street doesn’t agree with my lungs.

So, what to do when everyone else is having fun in the sun? I read. A lot. I keep up a lively correspondence on social media. My smart TV is smarter than I am, so it’s on vacation until I can find someone to reprogram it.

So I fell into the trap of streaming media. If you look around and sign up for some stuff, streaming media is your oyster.

I was so bored I started to re -

Summer Vacation

watch the programs of yore. I viewed my way through the classy stuff like classic old movies, Time Team , biographies of dead famous people…you name it.

Then I discovered all the old sitcoms I’d watched on TV through the past 20 or 30 years. It’s possible to watch all of The Rockford Files , for instance, and remember how much you loved James Garner, which will lead you to Maverick . Remember Maverick?

It’s like falling down a rabbit hole. The next thing you know, you’re whiling away those tripledigit-degree days binge-watching stuff you’d forgotten existed.

Apparently, binge-watching episode after episode of a program is

9" x 12" oil

Summer Vacation

a done thing, and common enough among us peasants to be a byword.

I’m sort of ashamed to admit that I binge-watched my way through both of Bob Newhart’s excellent shows. But not ashamed to say they both held up really well and are still funny. Larry, Darryl and Darryl, anyone?

Binge-watched Taxi , another ensemble comedy that’s held up really well.

It’s not just the chemistry of the casting—the writing and crisp and, yes, funny. As a grumpy old lady, I could whine they just don’t make ’em like that anymore, but there are some great shows on

now, or there will be if they settle the actors’ and writers’ strikes. And when I’ve binge-watched my

Summer Vacation

dressed women, attractive willthey-or-won’t-they couples on beaches somewhere, wait-staffed rented yachts. You think you’re watching reality? No. It’s scripted. Trust me.

way through all the classic sitcoms and police procedurals and whatnot, I’ll probably end up rewatching all those, waiting for something new.

I don’t think I’m going to run out of binge-watch. There is a lot of stuff out there I never caught in first run, plus all those Golden Age B movies.

As much as I loved the printed word, which is how I’ve hacked out a living for all these years, I’m starting to appreciate the mechanics of film media. It’s a different kind of storytelling.

Now, I have friends who are addicted to reality shows. Those secretly scripted show about over-

And it just doesn’t thrill me the way some of the classics do. The classics are a comfort when you’re on home confinement and the world outside is melting. It’s not just a waste of time. For me, it’s inspiration and more instruction in how others use storytelling.

And then there’s that big poufy ’80s hair and those shoulder pads and leisure suits…binge-watching isn’t just escape, it’s a lesson in history that should not repeat itself.

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.

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Surfers Healing by

Bonna L. Nelson

What if riding the waves meant changing the world? Here at Surfers Healing our mission is to enrich the lives of people living with autism by exposing them to the unique experience of surfing.

Have you experienced the freedom, thrill and sense of accomplishment that riding an ocean wave delivers? Exhilarating! Have you ever felt untethered while bouncing, gliding, sliding and floating over rolling, crashing waves with the wind rippling across your face and body? Did you imagine that you were a dolphin or a whale cresting a wave? Did you feel the warmth of the sun

on your back, the speed and draw of each wave crest, and then scan the shoreline, your final destination?

I have. I love the joy that comes from riding the waves on a rubber float or boogie board. I love floating aimlessly in the ocean, gliding over gentle waves. Calming, soothing. I love selecting just the right wave to ride in to the beach. Riding on a surfboard? No, not me. But a boogie

Surfers Healing Once again, Surfers Healing Camp returned to Ocean City, Md., in August with its surfing camp for children with autism. Thousands of kids from around the world have attended these camps and been transformed by the experience.

board or rubber float is my speed for body surfing and plenty of fun and excitement.

Can you imagine how a child with autism feels after their first surfing experience? Some kids feel free, happy and accomplished. Others need time to acclimate to the water, the sand, the temperature, the crowds and the noise. And some might put a toe in the water, just float or not get in at all.

When we help kids get up on a board, we’re challenging preconceived notions of capability. When we encourage participants to dive in, we’re empowering them to engage with the world. And when we ride the waves together, we’re affirming that every person is a gift. So states the Surfers Healing website.

Founded by former competitive champion surfer Israel Paskowitz and his wife, Danielle, the San

Surfers Healing

ways did—they headed to the beach.

When Isaiah struggled with sensory overloads typical of autism, riding the waves with his dad comforted him. The couple observed that Isaiah found peace and calm at the beach, in the ocean. Surfers Healing was born. The family invited other friends and families to join them.

Israel Paskowitz and his son, Isaiah.

Juan, Calif.-based Surfers Healing has been serving the autism community since 1996. The Paskowitzes’ son, Isaiah, was diagnosed with autism at age 3. Shocked and distraught, they did what they al -

The original surfing camp for children with autism quickly caught on. The now internationally known grassroots nonprofit continues to serve autistic children at surfing camps free of charge. The Surfers Healing website notes:

…even though we had 6000+ participants at our surf camps last year—and even though autism now affects 1 in 68 children—we don’t

Photo by Nick Denny

Surfers Healing

think in thousands. We think in ones, because that’s where we can effect change. One child. One family. One day at the beach. Join us as we keep making a difference one ride at a time.

Israel recalls the pivotal moment when he learned the therapeutic nature of the ocean and surfi ng for Isaiah and other kids like him. The fam-

ily attended a surfer championship competition in Hawaii. The noise and crowds were too much for then 3-year-old Isaiah to handle. Sensory overload and a meltdown ensued. Out of frustration, he “heaved” himself into the ocean.

When Isaiah’s head popped up, he was transformed: happy, smiling and peaceful. Israel grabbed a surfboard and jumped in with his son. They rode the waves for the first time.

19 Goldsborough St. Easton, MD

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Surfers Healing

Isaiah loved the ocean. He loved being on the board with his dad. And Dad found a connection with his son that lasts to this day.

I watched Israel and Isaiah together in Ocean City a few years ago at a Surfers Healing event. They hugged, smiled and laughed. Now a young adult, Isaiah was still bonding with his dad at the beach as they watched other autistic children experience surfing for the first time. The sight of father and son together warmed my heart and brought tears to my eyes.

Israel shares on the website that he thinks there is something pow-

Photo by Nick Denny

Surfers Healing

erful about the weightlessness of floating, the lightness of riding a wave, that transforms kids. He says that he and Danielle have seen that transformation time and time again with Isaiah, and they thought surfing might help other kids with autism.

Many children with autism struggle with sensory overload, which occurs when they are overwhelmed by sensations perceived with their senses. Too much information in the environment can cause stress, anxiety and possibly physical pain. Surfers Healing camps provide a relaxing, accepting and welcoming environment.

Surfers Healing has flourished with the help of families, children with autism, volunteers, professional

surfers and donations. It now offers free surf camps across the country from San Diego to Rhode Island to Hawaii, and from Mexico to Canada, Puerto Rico and even New Zealand. Thousands of kids with autism attend the daylong camps each year.

Israel and Danielle say the camps are about acceptance, respite and fun for the children and their families. Though it’s not a cure, they say that a day at the beach can make a big difference in the life of a child with autism. Israel sees Isaiah as a precious gift. Like Surfers Healing, he has grown and flourished. As the Surfers Healing website proclaims: Every child is beautiful and unique, and every child deserves a moment in the sun.

I have attended several Surfers Healing camps on the beach in

Surfers Healing website) and surf time scheduling. A prayer circle of participants sets the tone for the day. Campers’ registration numbers are called. Children and parents head to the meeting spot on the beach when they hear their number.

front of the Castle in the Sand Hotel in Ocean City, including the most recent one on Aug. 16. My daughter, Holly Nelson, a pediatric occupational therapist, treats kids with autism spectrum disorder as well as children with other developmental, learning and behavioral challenges. For several years now, she has invited me to join her at the camp to see some of her kids and their families.

It was a gorgeous day. A brilliant blue sky was dotted with a few fluffy white clouds. A very light breeze kept everyone chill. We spotted the decorated Surfers Healing van parked at the entrance to the beach. When we walked over the crest of sand dunes, we saw colorful umbrellas, tents, tables, flags, surfboards and loads of children, parents, siblings, surfers and volunteers getting ready for the inspiring camp to begin.

The Surfers Healing camp day starts off with check-in registration (applications are required and accepted months in advance via the

Camp surfing instructors, trained volunteers and parents ease the kids into the water and get them comfortable and settled on the surfboard. Then off into the ocean and over the waves they head, getting ready for the return together on the perfect wave. The instructors and campers do not rush back to shore. The campers relax and enjoy riding the calming waves while receiving guidance from their expert companion.

While not all children can process the sensory-rich setting and experience, many simply enjoy putting their toes in the sand and water. Some of the campers who surfed want to take another ride or stay in the ocean.

Surfers Healing

the water and walk up on the beach, there are smiles from ear to ear: camper, surfer and parents. Each camp surfer poses for photographs with their surfing instructor in front of their surfboard and the ocean, just like surfing champions. We laughed. We also cried to see them so strong, brave, accomplished and happy. Children, parents, family, volunteers, surfers, supporters—it’s a happy love fest. One volunteer said, “For parents to see their kids up on a surfboard…sometimes it’s nothing less than a miracle.”

The crowd on the beach cheers, applauds and celebrates each child as they ride a wave in with their surfer companion. When they leave

Parents post testaments to the Surfers Healing message boards testifying to the amazing effects the camp has had on families, including. One such contribution is high praise, indeed: What you are doing is nothing short of God’s work…This is the highlight of my son’s year.

Photo by Nick Denny

Photo by Nick Denny

Surfers Healing

Food, snacks and beverages are served. Kids receive T-shirts and other gifts, while sales of hoodies, T-shirts and souvenir-type items help to raise funds for the project. Tables feature information about how to register for a future camp, how to volunteer and how to donate.

I learned that Surfers Healing is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. Gifts help keep the camps free for families, provide for the support of qualified volunteers and amazing surf instructors and support expanding the camps to new sites. Life vests, wetsuits, surfboards, beach permits and insurance add up to the tune of more than $100 for a single child to attend a day of camp. Contributions also help the organization to sponsor families who are unable to afford the trip to a camp. For more information or to donate, visit surfershealing. org, call (877) 966-SURF or contact Surfers Healing at P.O. Box 1267, San Juan Capistrano, CA 92693.

At Bethany Beach the next day,

our vacation home for the week, I watched with joy as our granddaughter, Bella, rode the waves on her boogie board. She smiled and waved to me and turned around and headed back into the ocean. I thought about how joyful the Surfers Healing campers had been the day before, gliding through the waves so free and happy. I hope that the surfing experience and healing powers of the ocean remain in their hearts and minds and inspire and strengthen them on their journey. I am looking forward to attending Surfers Healing Camp again next year in Ocean City.

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

Photo by Nick Denny

The Spirit of the Speedway

by Tracey F. Johns

The hot July air carried the aromas of hot dogs cooking on the grill and Old Bay sprinkled on fries as families arrived in trucks and trailers and pop-up tents were being set up for a recent club race at Nicholson Speedway in Chestertown. Gas fumes wafted over the lighted track’s bright open field as families worked together preparing their karts for racing while spectators set up chairs along the racetrack’s fence.

Soon, racers as young as five years old were buzzing around

the track like a swarm of bumblebees, some carrying high-tech transponders that sent their crews race data to monitor performance.

Nicholson Speedway was founded in 1962 and is a nationally sanctioned World Kart Association Master Track that has hosted many up-and-coming drivers, including Danica Patrick and Michael Andretti, among others. The Speedway hosts drivers of all ages and continues today under the direction of an all-volunteer board of directors that oversees and fa -

Spirit of the Speedway

cilitates the track’s operations.

The quarter-mile paved road course is one of 19 vintage kart tracks still in operation in the United States and one of two in Maryland—a distinction shared with its sister track, Sandy Hook Speedway in Street, Md., just north of Bel Air. Now, the track hosts vintage and modern-day, modified and unmodified twostroke and four-stroke new and rebuilt karts, with drivers spanning from ages five to 70.

Today, we arrived early to take in about 20 crews preparing for the evening’s races, which made it easy to see that the spirit of the

speedway is carried in the camaraderie and friendship shared among this group.

TABLE OXFORD, MD SEPTEMBER 2023

TIDE

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

Spirit of the Speewday trucks, employing a crew of two and pure people-power to do the heavy lifting.

These moms and dads, grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts and children of all ages spend large chunks of time together throughout the year participating in kart racing in the Mid-Atlantic region. Many have traveled from up to three hours away for today’s club race, while others have come from just down the road to participate.

Some drivers and their crew show up in big trucks and trailers carrying numerous karts, with hydraulic lifts, generators for fans and power tools and cabinets of Snap-On tools. Others arrive after a long day of work in old pick-up

I say people-power because what strikes me the most about the pulse of today’s kart-racing preparation is the high level of involvement from young girls and women of all ages. Swarming the place were girl racers and mom pit crew members working alongside generations of others.

All I could think was that the children who are participating are really growing up in an environment where their entire families are involved on all levels, and one that embraces understanding the physics of combustion and speed and the mechanics of owning and

Lic. #343

Spirit of the Speedway

maintaining a kart. This is really an on-the-road STEM classroom, cultivating an immersive understanding of automotive mechanics shared and built over generations of family members.

“Do you ever worry?” I asked one mom who was volunteering at the concession stand. “All the time,” she answered before I could completely get my question out, pausing a half second in between each word.

The track can see speeds of more than 85 miles per hour, so spotters are set up around its perimeter, with a run-off area and plenty of hay bale buffers and bar -

riers set up for safety. Tucked under the shade of trees is a weighing station to ensure drivers and their karts are competing in the appropriate divisions. Comfort stations are also along the tree line.

“If you like speed and you like racing, you’ll love coming to Nicholson Speedway,” says Board President Bill Dwyer. “It’s a hidden gem. Not many people know about us because we are tucked away on a back road, and we don’t advertise other than a roadside sign.”

Dwyer says the club currently has around 45 members participating in the races, with people learning about Nicholson Speedway by word of mouth, by driving by or by following the speedway on

Slot Docks Ready for Fall!

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• Re-Decking

• Pressure Wash & Seal

• Boat Lifts, PWC Lifts

• Gangways

• Solar Dock Lighting

• Floating Piers

• Rowing Docks

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• Piling Caps

Spirit of the Speedway

the web or on social media.

Dwyer is a career law enforcement officer and narcotics task force leader who was born in Elkton and raised on a dairy farm in Kent County’s Chesterville, where he lives on a thoroughbred horse farm today. Dwyer also works at Dover Motor Speedway as an ontrack race firefighter. He became interested in kart racing three years ago when his son-in-law John Price took up racing again after his beginnings in the motorsport as a young child.

Now, Bill’s son John Thomas, or “JT,” as he’s called, participates in the races. He has participated in every race since getting involved a couple years ago.

JT won the championship last year in kart #74 as part of the Kid Kart class for 5- to 8-year-old participants. This is a learning class where racers must have their own karts to race, and they’re often using rebuilt karts while learning mechanics.

“There’s nothing more fulfilling than to work on your kid’s kart and for him to take that kart out, watch him race and win with it,”

Spirit of the Speedway

and his family have built alongside the racetrack now include traveling together for races in the CKNA Northeast series, for example. They stay in hotels together, eat together and build a community based on a shared interest in building great drivers while making machines perform at ultrahigh levels.

says Dwyer. “Every moment is a teachable moment for both of us because we learn by talking to others and then passing it along.”

He says experienced drivers and mechanics in the group help motorsport novices like him by sharing their tips and knowledge. “We sit and talk, swap parts and build a community on the sidelines that goes far beyond the track.”

Dwyer says the friendships he

Nicholson Speedway’s races usually take place on select weekends from April through November and include qualifying heats, with gates opening early for free admission for spectators. Races classifications consider the age of the driver, type of engine and fuel, weight, age of kart, horsepower and modifications.

Annual race events include Under the Lights, Two- and FourStroke Vintage Races, Club Races and a Turkey Race taking place

this year on Nov. 12. More dates and times are posted at nicholsonspeedway.com .

# # # # #

Nicholson Speedway

9836 Earl Nicholson Road

Chestertown, Maryland 21620

410-708-1904

info@nicholsonspeedway.com nicholsonspeedway.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.

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Thirty-one contoured acres of open space, woods and a stream. The main house dates to 1740 as the miller’s house for Bloomingdale Estate. Additions over the years include a modern kitchen and cozy family room plus a first floor primary suite with large bonus room above. The main house offers four BRs four BAs and several fireplaces. Keeping the historic charm the home is updated for modern living. Additional structures include some older buildings, one used as kennels and storage plus a more modern barn with a large shop, two-car garage and other covered storage. The parklike grounds includes a 40’x20’ pool. All in all a beautiful property. $1,250,000

Summer Mission to Peru Helping Each Other

by Michael Valliant

This summer, 13 people left Easton for a mission trip to the Amazon region of Northern Peru. The people who returned to Easton 12 days later were not the same people who left. That is part of what a mission experience does—both for the villages they travel to and for those missioners who are called—it changes people.

“Being in that space and in those communities where life is stripped down and we really just are with each other and it is constantly about your faith and about looking and

seeing God in others and in the creation around you, there is nothing like it,” said team leader Kelsey Spiker. “We go into these communities to help other people and they are so kind, they don’t even know us, and we can’t even lift a finger to carry something. They want to help us, to do everything, to show their love for us. It’s such a blessing, and I want to share that with others. It’s too beautiful to keep to myself.”

Christ Church Easton and the Episcopal Diocese of Easton (the Eastern Shore) have made three

Summer Mission

trips to the same area of Peru since 2012. They partner with an organization called Youth With A Mission (YWAM), which has relationships with different villages on the river and an ongoing ministry and base in the region.

This year’s team was led by Kelsey and Joanne Fisher. Missioners were Kimberly Cox, Maggie Eller, Jack Gonzales, Holly Foster, Mark Hansen, Anna Kate Leight, Sophie Leight, Zach Lister, Luke Stehle, Faith Walstrum and Dottie Woodard.

Going to a Third World country, away from the life we are used to in the United States, is part of what makes the experience.

“International mission creates

Kelsey Spiker and Joanne Fisher

Summer Mission

something different than domestic mission,” Joanne said. “Here there is the noise of our stuff, the noise of our phones, the noise of our anxieties—being able to physically leave that noise, where it’s totally inaccessible, gives you space to have thin space. You literally can’t use your phone, and in the midst of that you are also challenged—challenged in how you’re sleeping, how you are communicating, what you are eating, and all of that allows you to discover something new—about God, about yourself, about people. Really there is so much transformation that happens because of that. It transforms your worldview about what other countries look like or need. It changes your views about consumerism and what really matters—what real wealth looks like.”

The Peru mission looked to help the communities in multiple ways. The team partnered with Global Vision 2020 to run vision clinics to diagnose impaired vision and give prescription eyeglasses to each villager who needed them. They also offered Vacation Bible School and other youth games and activities to children in the villages, organized church worship services together and worked to build and further relationships with villagers.

This is not the kind of work that most teenagers picture, but it’s how Faith Walstrum wanted to spend the summer before her senior year at Easton High School.

“When I first heard about the Peru mission trip, I immediately wanted to be a part of the team,” Faith said. “The stories and smiling faces that came back in 2019 after their mission into the jungle

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Summer Mission

200 people, where they spent three nights. They then moved to Miraflores, a larger village, where they spent two nights. They then spent one night in the village of Florida, which is about 100 people, before coming back off river to Nauta and then Iquitos.

inspired me then. I was so eager to have the chance to experience such a life-altering mission. I am so grateful God presented the opportunity and for all the support from my family and friends when my heart wanted to take it up.”

After leaving Easton, the team traveled for 24 hours straight to reach Iquitos, Peru. From there, it was a two-hour drive to Nauta, where YWAM missionaries Sandi Morse and her husband, Italo Nashington, are based. From there, it was a six-hour boat ride up the Maranon River.

As they were heading upriver, Sandi let Joanne and Kelsey know that the boat they were riding on was only possible because of a donation that Christ Church Easton made at the end of last year. They were riding on a boat they helped fund, which takes groups and teams into the villages throughout the year.

From Nauta, the group went to Pampa Cano, a village of about

The Global Vision eye clinics were successful in each village. But the stand-out memories came at odd, unscripted moments. Dottie Woodard, a retired schoolteacher, went on mission with her sister Maggie Eller, a retired trauma nurse who served as the team’s nurse.

“There were two experiences that touched me most deeply,” Dottie said. “For my devotional activity, I was to paint a picture of what God’s love felt like. I took my materials out on the veranda of our sleeping quarters. One child came by and then another. I grabbed more supplies, and soon there were eight of us painting away.”

“The second one was on the last morning in our last village of Florida. I was all packed up, fed and as clean as I was going to get. I went

Summer Mission

out into their common area and sat on a bench to savor the last moments. A woman sat beside me. We shared no common language, but we found a way to communicate. We ‘talked’ about the storm that had blown through the day before. So few words, but I remember that with gratitude.”

Time passed differently in the villages for the missioners. And they discovered connections in ways that we are often too hurried to find in our everyday lives here.

“Studies show that ‘busy-ness’ is our number-one distraction from our faith or a relationship with God,” Kelsey said. “Our culture demands that we be busy. But that culture doesn’t. That culture wakes and goes to bed with the sun, and every

hour in between is spent purposefully, with each other, where there is nothing that distracts you from being together. It’s one of the most

beautiful things I have experienced in my entire life, just to sit and be with somebody, to have a chance just to see what God sees in them and just engage fully in it. There is no word to summarize the power of it.”

Coming from a country with more material wealth, a higher standard of living and easier access to education, churches in the United States send mission teams to poorer countries to help them. But what missioners consistently find is that they are the ones who feel helped by the villagers.

From the teenagers on the team to the retirees and those who came home and are back at their jobs here, seeing and feeling love for

the villagers, experiencing hope in the world despite living in what we would consider poverty, is a transformative part of the trip.

“Our teammate Pastor Mark said that seeing our young people engaged in a way that felt so cohesive, regardless of age, really was ageless; and seeing that people are people no matter where they are,” Joanne said. “The way that we were loved by the Peruvians and the way that we loved them in return, it just helps you see past all the noise of the bad in the world and recognize that there is so much more good.”

Michael

Education and Newcomers Ministry at Christ Church Easton.

Valliant is the Assistant for Adult

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/.

All Quiet on the Sound

A novel by B. P. Gallagher

On the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay the changing of seasons is muddled, like a painter’s palette muddied at the edges from constant use. Summer, buggy and humid, lasts overlong, and smudges of its stickiness persist into autumn, the colors of which smear into winter, into spring, on and on without end. For those who live on the water the patterns of life are much the same, governed by the ebb and flow of the year, the weather, the tides, and the catch. A strenuous but rewarding existence, each new day earned by the hard labors of the last. The passage of time is not clear cut, the rate of change gradual approaching glacial, a constancy of subtle shifts

that you might not notice at all. Yet things change, one way or another. By the waning months of 1935, the Higgins household of Moore Island on the Tangier Sound had weathered many storms. As America lurched from the fog of her Great Depression, a fresh sense of hope prevailed over the nation, and the Higginses were beginning to believe that they too had withstood the worst the world had to offer. They were wrong. The encroaching winter heralded dark nights and darker deeds. This was to be the season their world changed forever.

Chapter 1: Damn Cormorants

“Think them birds’ll show to -

All Quiet on the Sound

day?” said Earl, squinting out over the Blackwater in the misty pre-dawn. A respectable spread of wooden decoys bobbed there atop shallows stained the color of tea by the peat beds through which they drained, and which lent the surrounding waterways their name.

“They will,” said Leon. “I musta seen a thousand of ‘em rafted up this way only yesterday. We just gotta sit tight, let ‘em come to us.” There was the sound of a bottle being uncorked, of Leon taking a lengthy swig.

“Starting before sunup, are we?” Earl raised an eyebrow at his elder brother. Tall and wiry with wavy russet hair, Leon had always loomed large to Earl, despite less than two years and fewer inches separating them. At just shy of six feet, Earl was no slouch in the height department either, though he wore his auburn hair longer than his brother’s and had hazel eyes to Leon’s piercing green. Between his boyish shag and his brother’s dark, dense thicket of facial hair, Leon managed to look much older. But as Earl knew well, wisdom is not measured in hair, height, or even years.

“Keeps the chill from my bones,” answered Leon with a shrug. “Want some?”

Earl declined. He might indulge later, once they’d bagged a dozen or so ducks. Any whiskey before then

was apt to make the preferred result less likely. He and Leon sat facing west on an overgrown point, nestled among the reeds with their shotguns close at hand. Their rowboat was grounded nearby, likewise camouflaged with reeds and marsh grasses. The November morning was chilly, and although the brush blunted somewhat the stiff breeze that had lately arisen, each gust still snatched away the puffs of vapor that formed with Earl’s every breath. Hopefully the wind died down a touch before daybreak, lest the birds be discouraged from flight. In the meantime, he wouldn’t complain if it cleared up this fog some. Sunrise, which would improve visibility one way or another, was a half hour off yet.

Putting out the spread had taken all of ten minutes once they rowed to this familiar spot, following their accustomed route up Fishing Bay and along the Blackwater River in the pitch black witching hour. Now there was only to wait for shooting light. If the hunt went well, they would be back to Moore Island by lunchtime with enough ducks in tow to keep Maggie busy breasting them out until supper. The sky brightened gradually at their backs, brilliant streaks of pink and orange advancing over the horizon as sunlight bathed the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay. But when daybreak failed to bring birds, Leon’s confidence curdled, and his temper with it.

MUSIC HISTORY

Deliciously Spooky Excursions into the Musical Supernatural from the 19th Century to Today

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Instructor: Stephen Walker

Four Sessions:

September 7–10

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Abstracted

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Instructor: Abby Ober

Two Days:

September 9 & 10 10 am-3pm

All Quiet on the Sound

“C’mon now goddammit, get moving!” Leon admonished the tardy waterfowl, scanning the sky over the backwaters. Empty. He took another swig of whiskey, then said, “They’re out there, Earl, no kidding! I ran a barge up the Bay just yesterday, seen ‘em practically blanketing the coves that way. Just gotta get the lazy buggers moving.”

“I believe you, brother,” said Earl. “Now why don’t you try setting down that bottle and picking up a call?” Suiting his words, he raised the duck call suspended from a leather cord around his neck to his lips and blew a series of honks and quacks into it.

Leon grimaced. “Best let me take the lead on that, little brother. You ain’t got the ear for it, like Pop used to say.”

“That didn’t sound half bad,” said Earl, but he let his brother take over just the same. Leon really was better at calling ducks; no use denying the truth, even if he did resent how much Leon relished pointing it out. Besides, calling would keep Leon from hitting the bourbon too hard before the birds started flying. He was a crack shot on a good day and more than passable on a bad one, but his accuracy and judgment suffered the more he drank.

Another thirty minutes elapsed with scant action except a pair of

mallards that failed to commit and two singles that landed among the spread, the latter of which turned out to be not a duck, but a cormorant, and neither of which were worth shooting at on their lonesome. Leon interspersed bird-calls with grumbling over their ill luck, eventually subsiding into a brooding silence. That wasn’t unusual. In all the years Earl had been hunting with his brother, even before the drinking, Leon had never failed to take a bum hunt personally. Almost as if the ducks had promised to show, and were making a fool out of him by not upholding their end of the deal. Distant gunfire from the other creeks on the marsh further soured the bargain, taunt-

ing evidence that not everyone shared their poor luck.

“I’m shootin’ the next bird we see; I don’t care if it’s a single,” Earl started to say after one such volley, but at that moment Leon hissed, “Look, look!” and reached for his shotgun. Following suit, Earl snatched up his 12 gauge, careful to keep his face downturned as he traced his brother’s line of sight.

He spotted the ducks a bare second before he heard them: six sleek shapes darting over the water, six pairs of wings beating a blistering tempo to bear them aloft. Fast, agile, beautiful. Earl’s fingers twitched against the cool stock of his shotgun, palms sweating despite the chill. The knot of birds slowed as it

All Quiet on the Sound

approached the cove, winged past once to admire the spread from aloft, found it pleasing. On the second swoop they slowed, wings cupping up as they prepared to touch down among the decoys.

“Now!” Leon hissed. He needn’t have. Earl was already rising to his feet, shouldering his shotgun, tracking the fleeting shapes as they decelerated to splash down. Beside him, Leon moved in near-perfect synchrony, yet Earl was too honed in on the ducks to be more than peripherally aware of him. Exhaling with each tug of the trigger, he took the first two on the wing, crumpling them, swung through, crippled the third, missed the fourth. Leon picked up the slack, killing the cripple with his first shot before it struck the water and crumpling the next two. The sole survivor darted off, doubtless traumatized by the sudden onslaught.

“Five outta six!” said Earl, ears ringing with gunfire. “Not too shabby!”

“Flubbed my shots,” complained Leon. “Quick, put the skiff in! Let’s grab ‘em before more fly over.”

Their haste was unwarranted. Few ducks appeared over the next two hours, and little else of interest either. Thrice, Vs of Canada geese winged overhead, honking to one another as they sought safety in numbers among the massive flocks

settled in the croplands to the east. But none flew low enough to shoot at, and they all but ignored the duck decoys and attempts to call them in. Earl considered himself better at goose-calling than Leon, which was usually a point of pride, except in this case neither of their efforts earned more than a disdainful glance from the flyovers.

Mid-morning a waterman’s boat appeared in the sunlit mist, cruising the backwaters. A ubiquitous, wooden-hulled vessel made for crabbing, clamming, oystering, and fishing, she featured a flat-topped cabin near her fore and an open work deck that took up the greater portion of her aft. The ubiquity of her ilk owed to her uniquely versatile design, distinguished by a deadrise keel capable of navigating both shallows and the rougher, deeper waters of the Bay to harvest all manner of aquatic creatures where they hid. Still, at over thirty feet she was a sizeable boat in which to traverse these narrow, weed-choked waterways. She must have ridden in on the high tide while it was still dark, and would likely have to wait for the next before making her way back to the big water. The waterman at her helm must have supreme confidence in his piloting skills to chance it. Running aground back here would be a costly error.

“That bastard’s gonna scare the birds away,” griped Leon.

“He don’t know we’re here,” said

All Quiet on the Sound

Earl. “Besides, could be he scares them into us.”

“What’s he doing out here, anyways? Crabbing’s been over with for the season. He’s like to get stuck.”

Earl shrugged. “Getting space from the missus, maybe. Could be he comes out here to the Blackwater to hit the bottle where she’s not.”

Like you do with Maggie, he added silently, glancing at Leon. Margaret didn’t approve of her eldest brother’s drinking, not after seeing what the sauce had done to Pop in the wake of Mom’s death. Not that that seemed to prevent her from partaking, of course. Earl had caught the smell of liquor on their dear sister’s breath on more than one occasion.

“Well he oughta do it elsewhere, the fool. On the big water. He’s apt to scare the birds.” The cork popped again; Leon had another swig.

“Might be he is s’posed to be on the big water. Maybe he’s skipping out on a job.”

There was a distant splash as the waterman threw something overboard. Presently the workboat’s engine sputtered to life, bringing her into clearer view. The deadrise’s mundane appearance was only enhanced by the better vantage, her hull and cabin painted eggshell white, the aft deck piled with crates and crab-pots and other miscellany of the waterman’s trade. ‘Jim-

sonweed ’ was emblazoned in black across her bow, but Earl couldn’t make out the hailing port on the vessel’s exterior. The waterman himself was not in evidence. He must be holed up in the cabin.

“Jimsonweed,” read Earl. Queer name for a boat.

“You know it?”

“Not sure. I don’t recognize her from the marina, if I do.”

“Me neither,” said Leon. Something occurred to him, and he turned to Earl with an affected expression of bug-eyed horror. “Maybe he really was dumping the missus.”

“Shut up,” said Earl, but couldn’t resist adding with a sly grin, “Could be he was, though.”

“Whatever he’s about, I hope he flushes them birds this way while he’s at it. Least the man can do after disrupting our hunt.”

After a time the waterman puttered off up the Blackwater River. His departure failed to mobilize the

All Quiet on the Sound

ducks as hoped for, though, and he was soon forgotten. Earl decided there was no harm in liquoring up against the elements since there was such scant movement anyways, and accepted Leon’s offer when he next produced the bottle. In short order he had worked up a pleasant buzz of his own. He was relieving himself in the bay grasses a little while later when Leon opened fire without warning, blasting once, twice, thrice over the water.

“Jesus, Leon!” he cried as his brother let out a triumphant whoop.

“That’s a pretty pair!” hollered Leon with unabashed glee. “Smoked ‘em on the wing, by god!”

“Should I put the boat in?”

“Might be able to wade out to ‘em from that point ‘round the way there. We got a couple decoys drifting that need wrangled anyhow.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Lemme stick with shooting for now, little brother,” said Leon. “In case more come in while you’re out there. Seems my eye’s back in!”

Rolling his eyes, Earl checked that his oilskins were properly cinched and arranged, then pushed through the bulrushes and longgrasses towards the bobbing carcasses and wayward decoys. The tannin-stained shallows lapping against the bank to his right disguised a precipitous drop-off, and sticking to the brush was preferable

to that slick terrain. When he could go no further without wading he eased himself into the water, probing ahead with a booted toe to find his footing. The water was cold, but nowhere near as icy as it would have been without the insulating layer of the oilskin. Even so he chose his steps with care, knowing he’d be in for a long afternoon of fighting off hypothermia if he slipped and let the water spill over his waders. But his practiced feet kept him upright, and when he reached the carcasses he had to laugh. Eye back in, indeed.

“You need your vision checked, big brother!” he called. “Them’s cormorants you wasted our shells on.”

“Like hell they are!”

“Have a look, then,” said Earl, tossing the carcasses ashore and hauling himself out after.

Leon spat in disgust as Earl deposited the illicit kills at his feet. While cormorants bore a superficial resemblance to seaducks to the untrained (or inebriated) eye, especially in silhouette, they didn’t make good eating and had been illegal to kill since the turn of the

century. That said, Leon would hardly be the first waterfowler to shoot a couple by accident in poor lighting. Not that the lighting was poor right now, and Leon was far from a novice, but it was an honest mistake. The trick to telling them apart was the cadence of their wingbeats. Ducks tended to maintain a driving tempo, whereas cormorants coasted more between flurries.

“Still damn good shooting,” said Leon, unperturbed.

“Just make sure you toss ‘em far back in the brush before we go,” said Earl. What authority was going to hold them accountable for the indiscretion all the way out here, he didn’t know. The Oyster Police rare -

ly patrolled the marshlands, and once the controlled burns started for the season the evidence would be wiped away anyhow. But why advertise negligence?

“Okay, nervous Nelly,” said Leon. “I will.”

If retribution was in the offing for killing the cormorants, it wasn’t immediately forthcoming. Rather, their fortunes improved by early afternoon, gracing them with three knots of ducks in rapid succession. Earl killed two and Leon three from the first group, briefly evening their tally, but Earl took the lead thereafter, shooting two to Leon’s one in the smaller subsequent group and capping off his performance with a whopping five to Leon’s two in the

All Quiet on the Sound

last cluster. He emptied both his 12 gauge and Pop’s old 10 gauge to manage the latter feat, dropping the final mallard at over fifty yards with the antique shotgun. That brought their total on the day to an even score, a good number to take back home. Fortunately, Leon wasn’t too sour over their disparate kill counts. As far as he seemed concerned, the waterfowl had delivered on their end of the bargain. Either way, his fulfillment or quarrel lay with the birds, not Earl. Competing between them for tallies was just a fun way to pass the time.

Around three in the afternoon, with the sun already sinking towards nightfall, Earl called it a day. “Let’s pick up and head home, Leon. We’ve got enough to keep Maggie happy ‘til next week.”

Leon ungrudgingly agreed, muttering something graceless about the frozen state of his ass and certain other anatomical extremities. Gathering their legitimate kills in a burlap sack and hurling the illegitimate ones deep into the marsh grasses, they retrieved the decoys nearest the shoreline by hand, then rowed out to gather the remainder. They had completed the ritual so often over the years that they performed its constituent tasks largely in silence, moving by rote. Snatch up the decoy, draw up the line with the anchor-weight on it, shaking free

any accumulated gunk; coil the line around the decoy to avoid them all tangling together; toss it into the rowboat. Then onto the next, until the whole spread was picked up.

“Sit back, Earl,” said Leon in an urgent whisper, jolting him from the reverie of repetitive motion. “There’s more coming in! Then we can call it quits for good.”

Earl obeyed without question, leaning back in the boat and hunching his shoulders to lower his profile. Conventional wisdom among seasoned duck hunters held that some birds have an uncanny knack for showing up just as decoys and shotguns were being packed away. The ‘quitting-time crew,’ Pop used to call them. A savvy hunter therefore kept one eye peeled and a gun near to hand even while closing up shop, how Leon was holding his 12 gauge now. Following his brother’s line of sight, Earl spotted it: a solitary waterfowl on the wing over the ponds, heading straight for them. Not a whole crew, then. Maybe not even a duck, now that he had a second glance at it. Too much coasting between wingbeats.

“I don’t think that’s a—” he began, too late. Leon was already in motion, taking aim and pulling the trigger in the space of a breath. “—duck,” finished Earl lamely as the shotgun blast echoed across the Blackwater.

BOOM! A masterful shot, leading the bird so its trajectory carried it directly into the hail of pellets. Dark

wings folded on contact, and the fowl plummeted like a stone into the water. It resurfaced a second later, kicking feebly.

“Alright, let’s put it out of its misery,” said Earl, taking up the oars.

“What, not so much as a ‘good shot, brother’?” said Leon, and took a victory swig from his rapidly emptying pint.

“Let’s see what it is first,” said Earl. “And let me have another sip of that before you polish it off. Way this breeze is picking up, it’ll be a nippy ride back home.”

Leon handed over the bottle and, while Earl had his drink, snatched the last of the decoys from the water and tossed them into the rowboat in a heap. Taking up their oars, they

maneuvered over to the expiring bird. Leon smacked it with the blade of his scull to stun it—needlessly, by Earl’s reckoning, since it was already full of shot—then scooped it up and gave it a vicious whirl to snap its neck. A neck which, as Earl had already noted, was too long to belong to a duck.

“Goddamn cormorants!” said Leon, and flung his latest kill overboard.

Born and raised on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, Brendan Gallagher moonlights as an author and spends his days pursuing a Ph.D. in Social-Personality Psychology at the University at Albany, where he is a doctoral candidate.

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/.

TIDEWATER GARDENING

by K. Marc Teffeau, Ph.D.

Adding Fall Color to the Flower Bed

When gardeners think about adding fall plant color to the landscape, chrysanthemums usually come to mind. By now, retail and garden centers have an abundance of different colors to choose from. Flowering cabbage and kale are alternatives to mums that can also be planted now. Both are colorful and

long lasting. And while many fallflowering plants—including garden mums—lose their flowers and/ or color after several touches of frost, flowering kale and cabbage will intensify in color and may last until spring if the winter is mild. Extensive plant breeding has resulted in many cultivars of these

Tidewater Gardening

of the plant’s central leaves. After several days of night temperatures below 50º F, these leaves lose chlorophyll and reveal the coloration, which ranges from white to pink to red to purple. The intensity of the coloration depends on the length of time the plants are exposed to cool temperatures. Deep, intense foliage coloration usually begins two to four weeks after planting.

plants, also known as Brassica oleracea . They offer solid growth habits and forms and very nice foliar coloration. The “flower” consists

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Flowering cabbage and kale are divided into groups based on the shape of the leaf. Cultivars with smooth leaf margins constitute the cabbage group, while those with divided or “fringed” leaf margins are considered kale. There are two types within the kale group: the most common is the “fringed leaved cultivars,” which have finely ruffled leaf margins. Less common are the “feather leaved cultivars,” with leaves that are finely serrated and deeply notched. Cultivar selection depends on growth habits and coloration.

The Chidori series’ intense colors and fringed, ruffled leaves have

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made these plants the most popular. One type known as the Tokyo series comes in deep maroon, purple and white. The Peacock and Sparrow series are also recommended as some of the most attractive. Within each series, there are normally white, pink and red cultivars.

Ornamental cabbages and kales

can survive winter temperatures as low as 5º F. Light and moderate frosts will intensify their brilliant foliage. When shopping for these plants, it is important to choose plants with a short, rosette-type stem. If the transplants are allowed to become root bound in their pots, they will not get much larger after they are planted. I recommend that you buy the biggest plants you can find, even though they may cost more.

In September and early October, cabbage loopers may still feed on the plants, resulting in unsightly holes. The first or second hard frost will do the loopers in, however. Ornamental cabbage and kale should be planted in a sunny loca-

Tidewater Gardening

ture. Flowering kale and cabbage excel in beds of brightly colored pansies, violas, panolas and snapdragons. I am partial to the purple types grown with yellow pansies. Regardless of cultivar, the leaves make very decorative garnishes.

tion in rich, well-drained, moderately moist soil. Prepare the soil by incorporating 3 to 4 inches of organic matter and 2 pounds of a slow-release 12-6-6 or similar 2 -1-1 ratio fertilizer per 100 square feet of bed space. The plants will reach 6 to 12 inches in height, and you will want to space them 12 to 18 inches apart.

After the first hard frost, add a layer of mulch to help stabilize soil temperatures and conserve mois -

Most homeowners think of spring as the best time to plant perennials, shrubs and trees, but fall is also an excellent time for planting. The soil is still warm, which allows for good root growth, and much of the summer disease and insect pressure have passed.

You can get some pretty good deals on perennials at the local garden center. Some have been in pots for a few months, so before you buy, pull the plants out of their pots and check the root system. A full, healthy white root system indicates that the plants stand a good chance of becoming established in the landscape.

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Tidewater Gardening

with the uniform growth habit, vibrantly colored flowers and multi-branched plants that produce a prolific number of blooms. Pollinators will flock to this echinacea, and gardeners will love this low-maintenance, long-blooming beauty. Hardy in zones 4a to 10b.”

Fall-flowering perennials such as Aster novi-belgii (Michaelmas daisy), mums, Chelone (Turtlehead), Helenium (Sneezeweed), Helianthus (Perennial Sunflower), Heliopsis (False Sunflower) and Sedum (Stonecrop) should be available. Coneflowers (Echinacea) are also good perennials to plant in fall. Gardeners usually think of Echinacea as being purple, but there are several neat non-purple cultivars. If you can find them, I would recommend Echinacea Orange Passion and Echinacea Hot Coral to add pops of orange and coral to your perennial bed. Echinacea Artisan™ Yellow Ombre is a new All-American Selection (AAS) for 2023. According to AAS, this cultivar, “with an intense golden yellow bloom along with graduated colors of yellow, is a gem in the garden. AAS Judges were impressed

Now is a great time to plant and divide perennials for next year’s garden. Plants planted in fall will not have to endure the summer heat as they become established and will form sufficient root systems before winter dormancy. Dig, divide and replant overcrowded beds of daylilies, violets and Shasta daisies. Spread a liberal amount of organic matter such as compost and fertilizer evenly over the area. Mix this into the soil at least 6 to 8 inches deep. Space divisions at least 1 foot apart in all directions so that root competition will not be a problem for several years. If you have a

Tidewater Gardening

mass of perennials where the center plants have died out, discard the dead centers and replant divisions

from around the perimeter. Fistsized pieces are fine.

Don’t forget to add lilies to perennial beds for many years of beautiful flowering. Modern hybrids are available in many colors and grow from 2 to 6 feet tall. American-grown hybrid varieties have less trouble with viral disease than the old species types. If you have perennial phlox, add some to the perennial bed. Perennial phlox should be divided about every third or fourth year in early spring or early fall. Divide big clumps into thirds before transplanting.

As the nights become cool, caladiums will begin to lose leaves. Dig them up, allow them to dry and store them in a warm, dry place.

The spaces the caladiums leave behind can be replanted with Christmas peppers or Jerusalem cherry plants that are easy to grow from seed in pots or with mum transplants that have been grown to

flower size. Snapdragons and pansies are also good choices.

Sowing seeds of hardy annuals—such as sweet alyssum, pinks and sweet peas—now will give the seedlings time to get established and develop good root systems before the coldest part of winter. This gives them a head start on next spring’s growth and flowering.

Mums can be transplanted while in bloom, which makes them useful for instant landscapes in early autumn. Dig the plants carefully several hours or the day after watering, retaining as much of the root system as possible. Gently loosen a small amount of soil from the outer roots. Plant and then water thoroughly to settle them in. As

Tidewater Gardening

harden off before cold temperatures. However, roots are active until the soil temperature drops below 40° F, so nutrients will be taken up and used by the plants to develop a stronger root system.

with any transplanting, it is best to do this in early morning or late evening, when temperatures are cool. Monitor plants carefully for several days for wilting, and shade briefly during the hotter periods of the day if necessary.

As with perennials, September is a great time to plant shrubs and trees, as cooler temperatures allow them to become established and develop sufficient root systems before winter and without the stress of summer heat. Wait for established deciduous trees and shrubs to begin dropping their leaves before fertilizing them. Leaf drop signals that the plants are doing into dormancy—no new growth will be stimulated that might not

Also allow plants to finish the summer growth cycle in a normal manner. Never encourage growth with excessive pruning at this time, as plants will quickly delay the hardening process that has already begun in anticipation of winter. New growth can easily be injured by an early freeze.

Don’t forget the vegetable garden. If you haven’t already, sow some lettuce and other greens seeds in early September. They will come up and give you a nice base for salads later on in October. Also seed root crops like beets, carrots, turnips and parsnips. They might not get really big in fall, but they do overwinter—if you cover them with some straw, you can harvest

them in spring. Harvesting some of these root crops in fall is nice, however, because they don’t get big, which means they stay tender. Ever eaten a beet the size of a baseball? They tend to be rather woody.

During September, be sure to water vegetables adequately if there is not sufficient rainfall.

Crops such as corn, pepper, squash and tomato won’t mature correctly if they are stressed due to lack of water.

It’s also important to do a good job of cleaning up the vegetable garden. Remove and dispose of diseased and insect-infected plants and vines that have finished producing. Put these in the trash, not the compost pile. A number of

insect pests like cucumber beetles, squash bugs, Colorado potato beetles and European corn borers pass the winter in debris left in the garden. Disease organisms like early blight also overwinter in vegetation left in the garden. Practicing good sanitation in fall is the best way to reduce disease and insect pressure in the vegetable garden next year.

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/.

Having Their Say by

A.M. Foley

If Captain John Smith were sailing Chesapeake Bay in 2023, he would be on high alert exploring the Nanticoke River as it twisted and turned a dozen miles from its mouth. Those aboard his shallop would hear throbbing drums and rhythmic chants drifting across the marsh as they neared a village site. Each September, today’s visitors to Vienna experience modern echoes of that time.

In the hundred years subsequent to Smith’s exploration in 1608, Vienna had supplanted the village

once called “Emperor’s Landing.” After an additional 200 years, the course Smith mapped became America’s first water-based National Historic Trail. In that 300year span, a theory became widely accepted that original Americans had all drifted north and joined the Iroquois Nations, having sold their riverside reservations to Europeans. To refute this, descendants of Native Americans hold an annual powwow in Vienna to celebrate: “We survived. We’re still here.”

The Nause-Waiwash Band of

Having Their Say

Indian People host this unique festival, a celebration open to the public, whom they invite to bring a chair and spend the day with them. Around 300 descendants make up the host tribe, which traces ancestral heritage to local indigenous people—those who declined to migrate north. Many of those ancestors left small reservations assigned to them on the Nanticoke and Choptank rivers to settle on lowlands less coveted by Europeans. Unable to live traditionally in confined, assigned locales, they gravitated to “islands” of high ground amid the vast marshlands of lower Dorchester and Somerset counties.

There, their skills equipped them to subsist—to gradually develop a hy-

The CRAB CLAW RESTAURANT

brid culture and thrive within the new system.

One such descendant left a good description of how prior generations adapted. In his memoir, Having My Say, waterman/trapper Wylie Abbott described his paternal grandmother, Lola Hurley Abbott. Of her home in the “Dorchester Everglades” in the mid-1900s, he said, “If Indians lived around there still, they looked like Mamma. She was outdoors a lot, dark complected, with dark hair she always wore in a ponytail. She wasn’t wrinkled, even at seventy. She looked good.”

At that time in Wylie’s childhood, his grandmother was a widow, living at a deserted landing in the twostory house where she and George

Washington Abbott had raised 10 children. Her neighbors were gone, except for one elderly widow whom she’d taken in. Whatever necessities she couldn’t produce, her sons toted to her. Finally they lured her inland, building a small house for her and her companion next to their home on the county road.

Before the two widows relocated, Wylie and his brothers had sometimes stayed at the landing place with their grandmother:

“Going up Blackwater River from Fishing Bay, you’ll never find Robbins Landing if you don’t know what to look for….I don’t see how they survived winters. Of course, they got everything up before the weather turned cold. That’s all

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/.

Having Their Say

they did do—get stuff up to live off of. Mamma got her wood up for her stove and got her meats salted down and hung in her smokehouse. She had a little hill high enough for a garden and she put up beans and peas and tomatoes and banked potatoes in the ground. She hunted small game—kept little rabbit ‘gums,’ which worked like live-boxes used for trapping. She set gums up on sticks all around the edge of the yard. When a rabbit or squirrel went in to get the bait, it tripped the gum. Mamma caught possums, too, and ate them, but I never did.”

Previously, wild cattle and hogs had grazed the area, to be harvest-

ed and shared by the community. “Hog dogs” were trained to disable a boar by attacking the back of its leg. There were no wild boars or hog dogs in Wylie’s day, but domesticated hogs were fattened in pens outside many rural homes. “I remember when they had a hog-killing, Mamma used it all….When they got the hog down to the fat, Mamma made lye soap.”

Through the years, European and surviving native cultures gradually melded into a new way of life. The newcomers learned to cultivate and profit financially from tobacco, a crop central to native ceremonies. Blacksmiths devised metal tongheads, combining rakes and baskets to replace wooden rakes used

for oystering. Indigenous non-bark canoes evolved into bugeyes, crafted from as many as nine logs, dug out, pinned together and propelled by sail. Numerous metal traps were invented to harvest food and pelts from the marshes.

In larger society, government census forms for decades defined people as “Free Black, Slave, or White.” While laws and social customs stigmatized and restricted Native Americans, indigenous families came to downplay their identity in dealings outside their own community. To varying degrees, in different families, awareness and pride in this aspect of their background declined. Meanwhile, advertising and Hollywood films stereotyped Indi -

Having Their Say

ans as people of the Great Plains, tall in the saddle, bedecked in elaborately feathered headdresses, eventually either living on reservations or eliminated.

Eastern Woodland tribes never fit this stereotype, and even less so as time passed. Gradually, allseason roads and public education reached the lower county and integrated communities. In the 20th century, tradition-keepers such as Lola Abbott were ebbing away into history. Another proud son from “down below,” Sewell Fitzhugh, learned traditions from his grandmother. He became determined to pull together the history and de -

scendants of their people before another generation passed.

Fitzhugh gathered known clans -

men of local tribal descent and incorporated them in the 1980s into the Nause-Waiwash Band of Indians, named after two villages. Captain Smith, in mapping his search for a Northwest Passage, had sited the small village of Nause on the Nanticoke River, below today’s Vienna. Farther upriver, he visited the chief-of-chiefs’ village, later the plantation Handsell. After sailing back downriver into the Bay, Smith bypassed the Choptank River, missing the former site of Waiwash, above present-day Cambridge.

In the matrilineal tradition, clan mothers elected Fitzhugh to be installed as Chief Winterhawk, their first in modern times. He

dedicated his life to preserving, celebrating and spreading the history of his forgotten people and to raising awareness among youth and the general public of their survival and culture.

Today’s Nause-Waiwash generally aren’t touchy about terminology, so it’s not politically incorrect to call their tribe “Indian.” Naming individuals, on the other hand, is important in their culture. Chief Winterhawk might ponder for a year or more before selecting a traditional name for a tribal member. Habitually, he spent a weekend each year praying and meditating on Snake Island, where his ancestors once lived. After returning from camping one Labor Day

Having Their Say

weekend, he gave Donna Abbott her choice of names: either Mother of Wolves or Wolf Mother. She felt the former sounded presumptuous, that she hadn’t yet “proved worthy,” so she chose to become Donna Wolf Mother Abbott. Following Fitzhugh’s untimely death in 2014, clan mothers selected her Chief.

Chief Donna has since had occasion to name others. She says, “Naming comes after getting to know someone well—their character, their likes and dislikes. If they don’t like the name, they can ask somebody else, someone held in high regard, like a chief, elder or medicine man.”

Oxford Business Association

September 2023 Calendar

Till November 12 - Duck, Duck, Goose - Presenting Talbot County’s Decoys and Carvers - Oxford Museum exhibit; Fri-Mon, 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Oxford Museum, 101 S. Morris St. More info. at www.oxfordmuseummd.org/

9/1-7 - Vintage & Vintage Inspired Clothing Event - Oxford Vintage and Trade. 202 Bank St.; Thur-Mon, 11-5 or on instagram @oxfordvintagentrade

9/2 - Cars and Coffee - Come out and enjoy cars, coffee, and camaraderie. Sponsored by Prestige Auto Vault. Oxford Community Center. Free; 8:30 -10:30. www.oxfordcc.org; 410226-5409.

9/2 - Community Collective - Community showcase of local nonprofits, organizations, and clubs. Pop up artist show, cars & coffee. Oxford Community Center, 9 - noon. Free.

9/2 - The Fabulous Hubcaps - Final Tour, don’t miss it! Dance the night away at Oxford Community Center, 7-10 p.m., $35. Tickets at www.oxfordcc.org/

9/8-10 - Shore Shakespeare - Much Ado About Nothing - At Oxford Community Center with Shore Shakespeare www.shoreshakespeare.org. Suggested donation, $20. Show times at www.oxfordcc.org/

9/8-14 - Sterling Silver Event - Oxford Vintage and Trade. 202 Bank St. Thur-Mon, 11-5 or on instagram @oxfordvintagentrade

9/9 - A Carver’s Shop - Decoy carving demonstration by Bruce Eppard, 10-4 at the Oxford Museum. More information on the exhibit and special programming at www.oxfordmuseummd.org

9/9 - Picket Fence Auction - Oxford Community Center, 5 p.m. Sponsored by Oxford Business Assoc. All proceeds go to local non-profits. More information, pictures and bid sheets at portofoxford.com.

9/9 - Navy Race to Oxford - Tred Avon Yacht Club. Info at www.tayc.com.

9/10 - Pancake Breakfast - Oxford Volunteer Fire Department, 8 - 11 a.m.

9/10 - Hammond Regatta - Tred Avon Yacht Club. Info at www.tayc.com

9/15 - SILK All-in-One Chalk Paint Demo - 5:30 - 6:30 p.m., $10. Limit of 6 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

9/15-21 - “Oil and Water” Art Event - Oxford Vintage and Trade. 202 Bank St. Thur.-Mon., 11-5 or on instagram @oxfordvintagentrade.

9/16 - Road Rally - Starts at 8 a.m. from Oxford Community Center, box breakfast, ride thru the countryside to Massey Aerodrome followed by lunch. More information and registration at www.oxfordcc.org.

9/16 - Waterfowling Around: Our Experiences Hunting in Talbot County - Stories of hunting told by local hunting guides. 5-6:30 p.m. at the Oxford Museum. More information at www.oxfordmuseummd.org.

9/16 - Duck In For An Appraisal - Bring in a decoy or other waterfowl carving to learn more about it. Oxford Museum. Appraisal appointments required and can be scheduled at www.oxfordmuseummd.org. $10.

9/20 - Bring Your Own Piece Furniture Painting Class - $65, includes 4 oz. jar of paint. 5:30-8:30 p.m. Limit of 3 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

9/21 - Mexican Cooking Class - Oxford Community Center, 10 - noon. $35 includes instruction and lunch. Limited seating. Reservations at www.oxfordcc.org

9/22-28 - Fall Tablescapes - Oxford Vintage and Trade. 202 Bank St. Thur.-Mon., 11-5 or on instagram @oxfordvintagentrade.

9/28 - Beginner Chalk Mineral Paint Class - $45, all materials provided. 5:30 - 8 p.m. Limit of 3 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

9/29-10/5 - “Bejeweled” Jewelry - Oxford Vintage and Trade. 202 Bank St. Thur.-Mon., 11-5 or on instagram @oxfordvintagentrade

9/30 - Autumn Craft Show and Sale - Oxford Fire House, 9 - 4. www.ofcamd.net.

9/30 - Oxford Library Book Sale - 9 - noon, Market Street, Oxford. Raindate 10/1. Ferry opens 9 am daily, call 410-745-9023 for last trip time. Check restaurant and shop websites or facebook for current days/hours.

Having Their Say

As Chief Donna Wolf Mother Abbott nears her ninth anniversary, Nause-Waiwash is currently Maryland’s only indigenous tribe sponsoring a powwow. Their 31st annual Native American Festival, on Sat., Sept. 16, expects participants, visitors and vendors from across the United States and Canada. The festival is intended to both educate and entertain, with drumming, songs, dancing, traditional food, demonstrations and exhibits, plus a variety of local and visiting vendors, raffles and a silent auction.

Like Chief Winterhawk, Chief Wolf Mother visits schools and other organizations throughout the year, presenting interested groups with information on the tribe and its customs and activities. Currently, she is consulting with Maryland State Department of Education in a project designed to revise public school curricula to incorporate more accurate Native American history.

Though some activities have religious significance, the tribe can invite the public to participate by keeping the festival largely educational. The beat of the drum simulates and honors the heartbeat of Mother Earth and all her living creatures. Dancers enter the circle inspired to find healing, shedding any burden borne of negative attitudes. A master of ceremonies

clarifies customs and etiquette, such as: dances may be restricted, perhaps featuring specialties such as Fire Devil Sticks, or specifically honoring veterans or ancestors, or open to everybody. All children celebrate the candy dance. Other customs include: ask permission before photographing an individual; if admiring traditional attire or jewelry, don’t touch it; no drugs, alcohol or pets onsite (face paint and feathered staffs intimidate some dogs).

To enjoy a front row seat, spectators bring their own chairs and get settled in time to witness the Grand Entry at noon.

Gate Open 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Grand Entry Ceremony at noon

Ball Field under the water tower

Middle Street, Vienna, MD

Admission: $7

(children 4 and under free)

Bring a chair and spend the day Rain or shine

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. Published works are described at www.HollandIslandBook.com .

Versatile Vegetables

The days are beginning to grow shorter. The sunlight takes on a more golden glow as it streams from a lower angle, telling us our warm days are numbered. The fields have had months of sunshine and warmth. We still have some of the vegetables that joined the party early in the season, but this is the peak season for winter squash and sweet potatoes. Win -

ter squashes are distinguished from summer squash by their hard shells and later ripening time. Both winter squashes and sweet potatoes are incredibly versatile. Once the squashes are cooked, the shells offer interesting cooking possibilities. For example, AppleStuffed Squash has a maple-flavored stuffing made of chopped apples and cashews. Butternut

Tidewater Kitchen

Squash Puff uses squash in a different way. It starts with cooked squash, mashed and mixed with other ingredients to make a delicately flavored casserole with a souffle-like texture. Butternut Sauté features rings of butternut squash sautéed with brown sugar and basil.

Baked and candied sweet potatoes are longtime favorites on the Eastern Shore, but this vegetable’s possibilities don’t end there. Try Sweet Potato-Apricot Bake as an alternative; pecan halves on top add a special touch. Sweet potatoes and apples make a nice combination in Sweet Potatoes in Ap -

ple Shells. The filling is a creamy mixture of sweet potatoes, apples and whipping cream; the shells are garnished with apple wedges.

Apple-Stuffed Squash

3 small acorn squash

2 apples, peeled, cored and diced

1/2 cup coarsely chopped cashews

1/4 cup butter, melted

1/4 cup maple syrup

Cut squash in half lengthwise and remove seeds. Place squash, cut side down, in a steamer rack over boiling water in a large Dutch oven. Steam about 20 minutes; transfer to two 9-inch square baking dishes and squash upright. Set aside.

Combine remaining ingredients. Mix well and spoon into squash cavities. Pour hot water ½ inch deep into dishes. Cover and bake at 400° F for 25 minutes. Serves 6.

Pecan halves (optional)

Combine all ingredients except pecans; mix well. Spoon into a greased 1 ½-quart casserole; place casserole in a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan. Pour hot water into pan ½ inch deep; bake at 350° F for 50 minutes or until set. Garnish with pecan halves if desired. Serves 6.

Butternut Sauté

1 (2-pound) butternut squash, peeled and cut into ¼-inch-thick slices

12 fresh basil leaves, chopped

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

3 tablespoons butter

Ground cinnamon

Butternut Squash Puff

3 cups mashed cooked butternut

squash

2 eggs, beaten

1/4 cup half-and-half

2 tablespoons butter, melted

1 tablespoon grated orange rind

1/2 teaspoon grated lemon rind

2 tablespoons flour

1 tablespoon sugar

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Additional fresh basil leaves (optional)

Place squash in a single layer on a large platter or baking sheet. Sprinkle with chopped basil, sugar and salt; let stand for 30 minutes. Melt butter in a skillet; add squash, turning pieces to coat with butter. Cover and cook over low heat for 20 minutes or until tender. Before serving, garnish with additional fresh basil leaves and cinnamon. Serves 4.

Sweet Potato-Apricot Bake

3 sweet potatoes (about 1-1/2 pounds), peeled and halved lengthwise 1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar

Tidewater Kitchen

Tidewater Kitchen

1/2 cup pecan halves

Place sweet potato halves in a lightly greased 10 x 6 x 2-inch baking dish; set aside.

Combine sugar, cornstarch, salt, cinnamon and orange rind in a heavy saucepan; mix well. Drain apricots, reserving liquid, and set aside.

1 -1/2 tablespoons cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon grated orange rind

1 (15-ounce) can apricot halves

2 tablespoons butter

Add enough water to apricot liquid to make 1 cup. Gradually stir into dry mixture; cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until smooth and thickened. Remove from heat. Add butter; stir until butter melts. Add apricots and pecans; stir gently. Pour over sweet potatoes, cover and bake at 375° F for 50 minutes or until potatoes

Pamela P. Gardner

Kitchen

are tender. Serves 6.

Sweet Potatoes in Apple Shells

3 large Honey Crisp apples

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons firmly

packed brown sugar, divided

3 cups mashed cooked sweet potatoes

1/4 cup butter, melted and divided 3 tablespoons whipping cream

6 small apple wedges with peel (optional)

Cut apples in half crosswise; remove core. Place apples in a shallow baking dish; sprinkle each with 1 ½ teaspoons brown sugar. Pour 1 cup water into bottom of baking dish. Bake apples at 400° F for 25 minutes or until just tender. Scoop out apple pulp, leaving a ½ inch border of shells intact. Chop pulp.

Combine apple pulp with sweet potatoes, 2 tablespoons butter and whipping cream; beat mixture with electric mixer until well blended.

Spoon potato mixture into apple shells; sprinkle with remaining sugar and drizzle with remaining butter. Place the stuffed shells in a shallow baking dish and bake at 400° F for 10–15 minutes or until thoroughly heated. Garnish with apple wedges if desired. Serves 6.

A longtime resident of Oxford, Pamela Meredith has taught both adult and children’s cooking classes. She currently resides in Easton. For more of Pam’s recipes, visit the Story Archive tab at tidewatertimes.com.

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Devil’s Island and Damned Quarter

by James Dawson

Deal Island is separated from the Dames Quarter section of the mainland of Somerset County, Maryland, by a narrow bay of water, yet these innocent, normal-sounding names hide an unsavory past. Their original names were Devil’s Island and Damned Quarter because of all the rowdy, lawless, thieving and piratical activities that went on there in the days before the area got religion. The conversion came in the early 1800s due to the great sweep of Methodism, largely from the influence of Rev. Joshua Thomas, the

“Parson of the Islands,” and the area has behaved itself ever since.

The transition from Devil’s to Deal and from Damned to Dames can be documented through old maps. It is named Devil’s Island on the 1794 Griffith map of Maryland and also on the 1857 Lucas chart of the Chesapeake Bay. The earliest use of the name Deal’s Island I have seen on a map is on the 1814 Carey map and in print is in the Jan. 8, 1835 Maryland Gazette , which reported that citizens of Somerset County were petitioning the state to build

Devil's Island

a bridge across Law’s Thoroughfare between the main land and Deal’s Island. Ads for steamship excursions to the Methodist camp meetings on Deal’s Island became commonplace after 1835 and persisted into the 1880s. You could hardly have held religious camp meetings in places named Devil’s Island or Damned Quarter.

There was even Little Devil’s Island, just below Devil’s Island, apparently for the lesser devils or child pirates. It was called Little Deil in the 1877 atlas and is now Little Deal Island or Little Island.

Dames Quarter was once called Damned Quarter and is so named

3109 Ocean Gateway Cambridge, MD. 21613

410-228-9022

on the Augustine Hermann map of 1670, the 1708 Moll map, the 1747 Bowen, the 1751 Fry and Jefferson map (which spells it out Damned Quarter) and the 1755 de Vaugondy maps. It is Dames Quarter on the 1794 Griffith map, which is the first occurrence I’ve seen of that name used, and on the 1837 Lucas chart, but Dam Quarter on the 1795 Lewis map.

Looking for naughty names on old maps is something akin to searching for swear words in dictionaries, but I guess some of us have nothing better to do. It is Deal’s Island and Dammed Quarter on the 1814 Carey map and Deal’s Island and

Devil's Island

Devil’s Island and Damquarter on the 1833 Tanner and the 1833 Burr maps. The earliest map I have seen with both Deal’s Island and Dames Quarter is the Bradford map of 1838, as maps usually had just one objectionable name or the other, but not both. Then there’s the wimpy 1814 Carey map, which chickened out by calling it D. Quarter. Many maps either don’t show the island or don’t name it if they do show it.

D. Quarter on the 1814 Lewis map, which is the earliest I have seen Deal’s Island marked on a map. Coincidently, 1814 was also the year when Joshua Thomas preached to the British and warned them not to attack Baltimore. The names are

Some maps use Devil and Dam, some use Deal and Dam and still others use Devil and Dame before Deal and Dames became the norm. Of course, the collector would prefer maps that used both now-inappropriate names, but I have only seen a few: the 1833 Tanner, 1833 Burr,

Devil's Island

1840 Greenleaf, 1842 Morse, 1850 Thomas, Cowperthwait and 1856 De Silver maps, which use Devil’s Island and Damquarter. Note that on these maps Damquarter is now one word, which perhaps made it seem less offensive than the earlier Damned Quarter or Damn’d Quarter spelled out with two words. The 1877 Atlas and the 1879 Gray map show Deil’s Island and have Dames Quarter as both an area and a town. And for some reason, the Mount and Page map of 1689 has it as just a garbled Damand, which is presumably a typo, while a 1778 French map has it Quartier de Damned, or Quarter of the Damned.

Damned if you do and Dames if you don’t!

In The Placenames of Maryland, Their Origin and Meaning (Maryland Historical Society, 1984),

Hamill Kenny records another origin story—that Damned Quarter got its name when a fisherman dropped a quarter overboard. He also records that the name might have been the whimsical name of a land grant, or it was a region of beaver dams, or from someone whose last name was Dames, although as far as I know, no Dames have been found in the area, just dames and guessing games.

The fisherman dropping the quarter, while a cute explanation, is improbable at best. In those days, a quarter was a name for 160 acres of land, or a building to house soldiers or slaves, rather than a colloquial

name for a quarter of a dollar. The name Damned Quarter existed more than 100 years before the U.S. issued the first quarter dollar coin in 1795, so no fisherman was dropping quarters overboard and cussing in 1670, as there were no quarters yet minted to be dropped and cussed.

Maps that have it as Dam Quarter might support the beaver dam origin, but that is undermined by maps that have it as unequivocally Damned Quarter or Damn’d Quarter—when literally spelling it out like that, there is no mistaking a damn for a dam.

As for Deal Island, J.K. Keatley, in his Place Names of the Eastern Shore of Maryland (Queen Anne Press, 1987), repeats the legends

that the Scotch-Irish settlers of the area pronounced Devils as Dee-uls, and so Rev. Thomas insisted that the spelling be changed to match the sound, which might have some truth in it. But that Damned Quarter got its name because residents saw some Native Americans fishing nearby and exclaimed “there’s some more of those damned squatters” seems doubtful, as the name is Damned Quarter, not Damned Squatters.

Personally, I am inclined to doubt most of these cute, long-after-the fact whitewashed versions intended to pretty up the area. Since Devil’s Island is so close to Damned Quarter, these rowdy next-door names are surely not coincidental. Before it got religion, it was a very rough area. It was Deil’s Island when it got a post office in 1866, and the Postal Service has long been known for prettying up and renaming crude and objectionable place names, or just names that it didn’t like. It is also Deil’s Island on the 1877 Lake, Griffing and Stevenson atlas and the J.L. Smith map of 1891, which could be another spelling of the Scotch-Irish “dee-ul” pronunciation of devil. Someone else wrote that it was so named because some people were shipwrecked there.

However, as we saw, it was Deal’s Island in 1814, some decades before it got a post office, which was spelled Deil in 1866. Maybe someone thought Deal was objectionable because it sounded like gambling.

Then there is the name Monie, which is a bay in Somerset County.

The theory is that the name is from an Algonquin word meaning deep water—except that the waters there are mostly shallow, so maybe the name dates from its former piratical days instead.

Since Victorian days, the Postal Service has gone after crude, naughty or otherwise objectionable Colonial, but often colorful and quirky, names and dropped them in favor of boring new ones. In Dorchester County, the wonderful Tobacco Stick was normalized to Madison, and in Talbot County, Hole in the Wall was changed to Hamilton when they got post offices, which were often named for local notables or politicians.

Those in authority also went after apostrophes, and so Deal’s Island is now Deal Island. Locally, Chora’s Point is now Chora Point. Hooper’s Island is now Hooper Island, and so on and so forth, clear across the country (e.g., Pike’s Peak is Pikes Peak). As far as I know, just about the only apostrophe remaining in a name is Martha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts, which is still Martha’s Vineyard and not Martha Vineyard. They tried to take it away, but 40 years of determined local effort got it restored. Obviously, there is a nationwide conspiracy against apostrophes, or perhaps it is just the government’s cost-cutting way of saving ink. Some name game, indeed.

The explanation by Patricia T. O’Connor and Steward Kellerman given online on Grammarphobia says that the U.S. Board on Geographic Names, established in 1890, has discouraged the use of apostrophes in geographic names since the beginning. The best explanation is that the board does not want to show possession of natural features. As it says in its editorial guidelines, “Apostrophes suggesting possession or association are not to be used within the body of a proper name (Henrys Fork, not Henry’s Fork).” But no reason is given for this policy. The s is grudgingly allowed, but the apostrophe is discouraged and al-

most always removed, though its use is permitted to indicate omitted letters. So sayeth the apostrophe police.

Apparently, you can keep the s after you’ve dropped the apostrophe, yet with Deal Island, both the apostrophe and the s are now gone. And Deil’s Post Office is now Deal Island Post Office.

The name trail from Devil’s Island to Deal Island, now littered with discarded apostrophes, has taken us several centuries, and I suppose Dames Quarter should now be Dame Quarter or maybe Dam Quarter, so we can start the cycle all over again.

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Save the Dates!

Chesapeake Film Festival Announces 2023 Films and Events Schedule

Now in its 16th year, the Chesapeake Film Festival (CFF) will once again transform downtown Easton, Md., into a film lover’s destination this fall. The live festival kicks off on Sept. 30 at the historic Avalon Theatre, followed by a second day at the Ebenezer Theatre on Oct. 1. The virtual festival Oct. 2–8 will showcase 37 outstanding documentaries, narrative films and animations. To explore this year’s film selections, screening schedule and special events, visit chesapeakefilmfestival.com .

“Our mission is to champion the creative spirit of emerging and independent filmmakers,” said CFF President Martin Zell. “Our festival serves as an extraordinary platform, inviting cinephiles to experience films of compelling local and global interest and bringing this experience to the Eastern Shore.”

The live festival kicks off with the Maryland premiere of Karen Carpenter: Starving for Perfection , a captivating documentary about the singer’s life and musical legacy. Don’t miss the chance to engage with the film team, including director Randy Schmidt, executive producer Andy Streitfeld and asso -

ciate producer Jon Gann, who will be present for audience questions.

The opening day includes blocks of documentary and narrative shorts, as well as the world premiere of ICEMAN: Book One , directed by Harold Jackson III, an award-winning director and CFF board member. The day concludes with the Environmental Opening Night, featuring two local productions—A Passion for Oysters and

Chesapeake Film Festival

lowed by Q&A with director Lisa Hurwitz, moderated by Martin Zell.

The 2023 virtual festival allows participants to enjoy 37 carefully curated independent films in the comfort of their own homes, all for one price. Explore professional and student films, live action and animation, enlightening environmental shorts and exciting documentary shorts and features, as well as long and short narrative films. This celebration of international talent is found nowhere else.

Windshipped —followed by a panel discussion with directors Dave Harp and Jon Bowermaster, moderated by Ryan Conrath, associate professor of English in the film program at Salisbury University. The live festival continues Oct. 1 at Ebenezer Theatre with the documentary The Life and Legend of Jane Goodall, followed by a Q&A with director Judith Dwan Hallet. The day continues with a series of film blocks— Outdoors Maryland, Animation, Student and Comedy Shorts —each including Q&A discussions with filmmakers. The day concludes with The Automat, a documentary with Mel Brooks, fol-

Don’t miss the free preview event, a screening of the film With Peter Bradley, at the Academy Art Museum (AAM) on Thurs., Aug. 17 at 5:30 p.m. Through intimate conversations with renowned 80-year-old abstract painter Peter Bradley, director Alex Rappoport takes viewers on a journey through Bradley’s artistic development, fame and unique approach to creating artwork. The evening will include a guest speaker, AAM Director Sarah Jesse, and a Zoom chat with the director, moderated by CFF board member Kimberly Skyrme. Space for this free event is limited; sign up to reserve your seat at academyartmuseum.org/ film-with-peter-bradley/.

The VIP Opening Night Reception at AAM, which begins at 5:30 p.m. on Sept. 30, features freshly shucked oysters generously provided by renowned local contributors Tom Horton, Dave Harp, Sandy

Cannon-Brown and Richard Tilghman. The world premiere of A Passion for Oysters, a captivating documentary that explores the enduring legacy of oysters in the Chesapeake Bay, will follow. Celebrity chef Jordan Lloyd of Hambleton House will cater the event. The fee of $125 per ticket covers the VIP reception and all fi lms and events during the live festival. Tickets for this event and for the live and virtual festivals can

be purchased online at chesapeakefi lmfestival.com.

For more information, email artisticdirector@chesapeakefilmfestival.com , call (410) 822-3500 or visit chesapeakefilmfestival.com .

Studio B Art Gallery Presents: An Evening with Author Anna Eckhoff

Studio B Art Gallery is thrilled to announce a captivating event featuring acclaimed author Anna Eckhoff during the upcoming First Friday Gallery Walk on September 1, 2023, from 5 to 7 p.m. The gallery, known for promoting diverse, artistic talents, will host a special salon-style gathering where attendees can meet the inspirational author in person. An Unconventional Journey: From IT Manager to Frontline Administrator Join Studio B Art Gallery for an evening of inspiration and en-

lightenment. Anna Eckhoff, the brilliant mind behind the compelling book "A New Beginning: Life on the Frontlines," will grace the gallery during her book tour in the United States. Accompanied by her esteemed publisher, Heidi Korsgaard, the event promises to be an extraordinary experience.

At the age of fifty-six, Anna Eckhoff decided to make a profound change in her life. Swapping her career as an IT manager, she embarked on a courageous journey as the head of administration in Afghanistan and the Middle East.

Throughout her remarkable tenure, she encountered challenges, fears, and self-discovery, proving that it's never too late to pursue one's dreams. Now, as a mother of six and grandmother of fourteen, Anna will share her gripping experiences with gallery guests.

During the event, Studio B Gallery owner Betty Huang will have the honor of conducting an intimate interview with Anna Eckhoff. The discussion will delve into Anna's audacious decision to chase her dreams, even in the face of skepticism from those around her. Hear firsthand accounts of the fear and inner growth she encountered

while living and working on the world's frontlines.

Don't miss this extraordinary occasion to connect with an author whose life experiences have inspired countless individuals around the world. Discover the courage to pursue your passions and join us for an unforgettable evening with Anna Eckhoff.

For more information about this event and Studio B Art Gallery, please visit www.studiobartgallery.com , Facebook and Instagram @StudioBArtGallery, or contact the gallery at 443-988-1818 or Betty@studiobartgallery.com .

C. ALBERT MATTHEWS

Where Integrity Meets Innovation

Anna Eckhoff

Changes: Flashing Lights in the Rearview Mirror

Excerpt from a Memoir by Roger Vaughan

13. Music: Herbert von Karajan

When a person has been overly blessed with a particular talent, chances are he or she will assume the brilliance they enjoy in their particular art or craft will automatically transfer to whatever else they might try. An outstanding example of this theorem was the music director Herbert von Karajan. Thought to stand among the greatest who ever brandished a baton, Karajan took pride in his ability as a sportsman. He skied with Stein Erickson and drove race cars with Niki Lauda. “How well you are doing as a driver,” Karajan once told me, “can be judged by the number of bugs you are killing with the side windows.” His personal car at the time was a 1981 Porsche 930 3.3 turbo. He didn’t own a Porsche because it was a great car. It was a great car because he owned it.

As a sailor, while he was inexperienced, he was confident enough in his abilities to purchase a maxi sailboat, an 80-footer. As with ski-

ing and driving, he enlisted the best sailors to help him polish his command of such a demanding vessel. America’s Cup winners Dennis Conner, Ted Hood and Gary Job -

son took turns helping the maestro get to know his boat and manage the team of 20-odd sailors it took to race it. When I heard Gary was about to take his turn with Karajan,

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I suggested to Sail Magazine editor Keith Taylor that Jobson teaching the maestro how to sail a maxi would make a good story. Keith agreed. Karajan gave his permission. Off we went.

In advance of our arrival, Jobson had sent Karajan Fastnet, a book I had written about the storm-tossed 1979 Fastnet Race, with the focus on Kialoa owner Jim Kilroy. Karajan had read it and said he would like it if I would write about him. The fact I was a sailor, with no pretentions of musical expertise, made me acceptable to the maestro. Watching Jobson work his quiet, logical magic on Karajan was good fun. One day Germany’s Chancellor, Helmut Kohl, went sailing with us. But the real fun started when Karajan brought his Berlin Philharmonic orchestra to New York.

the posters announcing their four New York concerts had been put in the frames outside the Hall, the little black-and-white “sold out” stickers were already attached.

October 1982

Carnegie Hall had been sold out for six months. The Berlin Philharmonic hadn’t played in New York for six years, and just the rumor of their visit had been sufficient to overheat the ticket office switchboard. Herbert von Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic, living, breathing, making music together for 27 years. Inseparable. A latterday phenomenon in a time when very little lasts for 27 years. When

Inside the Hall, there was a problem. Herbert von Karajan had stopped rehearsal after only a few bars of Stravinsky’s Apollo and had turned on his stool, peering into the semi-darkness of the nearly empty hall for a lieutenant with whom he could confer. A man ran quickly toward the elevated stage, then another, and another. The men craned their necks in order to speak with Karajan, who rose above them on his high perch.

The problem was a noise. Herbert von Karajan had heard a noise, and

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he didn’t like it. He held up a hand. The group fell silent, listening. “There it is…you hear it?” Karajan said, smiling the way a father might to encourage his child’s dawning comprehension of the obvious. It was faint, ever so faint, but yes, they heard it. What could be done? They would look into it. Karajan said he wouldn’t complain if the noise was in pitch, but it wasn’t. The lieutenants laughed on cue. He said he supposed nothing could be done about the sporadic rumble of the subway. With nervous laughter, the group of lieutenants supposed not. Karajan wanted to know when the subway was built, when the hall was built. He suspected bad planning. Then he spun on his stool back toward the orchestra, gaining their attention and dispatching the lieutenants with that single move. “So!” he said to the players, raising his baton and muttering a comment in German that made them chuckle.

Karajan looked good for a man of 73 who was said to be in constant pain from a deteriorating back condition that could be traced to a mountain climbing fall suffered when he was 12 years old. He walked with difficulty, pulling his right leg after him stiffly and with concerted effort. But in front of the orchestra, he seemed rested, relaxed, younger than his years. It was something he worked at. Once, while visiting him

in Anif, his home outside Vienna, I was surprised to see signs of surgery that had been done on his face. He explained he had started his motorcycle in gear and it had run him into a tree. When I mentioned this to his secretary, she had laughed and shaken her head. She told me he’d had cosmetic surgery.

Karajan is a handsome man. His heavily lined, aristocratic face reflects his Greek heritage. His slightly olive skin is smoother than a man his age deserves. His hair is gray, almost white, and is brushed back from his face in a manner that makes him appear to have just finished a ski run. He is not a large person, around five-foot-six in built-up shoes, and he is compact,

gathered, from a lifetime of sports. He currently fights off the inevitable paunch with rigorous attention to diet inspired by a degree of vanity that is unusual in a man of his age. “Dashing,” Karajan has often been called in the past. Somehow, at 73, the description still applies.

At the break, Karajan received a report on the noise. It was from a pump in the basement of the building that moves water to a holding tank on the roof from whence it is dispensed to 140 apartments on the upper floors of the building. It was agreed that the pump would be turned off for all rehearsals, and of

course for concerts. As for the subway, not even Herbert von Karajan could do anything about that. Not in New York, anyway.

If the scene had been Austria, where Karajan is considered something of a natural resource—a national hero—and if Austria had subways, and if the subways ran under the hall (which would be unlikely), he could have stopped them during concert hours, no doubt about it. Certainly in Salzburg, home of “his” annual festival, and probably in Vienna, where people still speak about “the Karajan years” when he commanded the Vienna State Opera with the same grim tone one might use when referring to a war. Possibly also in Berlin, where he has been in charge of musical fortunes for nearly 30 years, and most definitely in Japan, where he is all but deified.

Superstars do not develop on talent alone. Immense talent is a prerequisite, but it is a unique and fortuitous combination of other elements that merge with the talent to produce the superstar.

First of all, Karajan had a captivating look about him, with an underlying fierceness in the eyes. And with his fast cars, his maxi boat, his love of mountain climbing, flying and skiing, he combined the dash of a wealthy sportsman with the steely self-discipline of a Buddhist monk. He drank very little, and he didn’t smoke. His small stature and less-

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than-reliable good health induced an initial touch of sympathy that captured people’s imaginations and was immediately converted to a perception of courage by the tough-guy stance he had carried through life. Whether he was being questioned by the Nazis about his first wife, who was Jewish, or by the Allies about his Nazi associations (an admirer of Hitler, he had joined the Nazi party before it was forgivable), or harassed by the legendary conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler, or beleaguered by festival boards or opera house administrators, or confronted by

prima donnas—anyone who interfered with his doing what he wanted, when and how he wanted to do it—he held with tenacity to his guiding principle: namely that his mission put him essentially beyond reproach. His career was a mission. As Karajan wrote in a letter (1947) to Henry Alter, who was working to reestablish music and theater as part of the post-war Allied Occupation forces, “I believe one must be capable of great suffering in a cause to know how deeply one loves that cause.”

The late Max Rudolph, a wellknown conductor and teacher, has said that conductors have a right to feel important: “They represent the masters, after all.” Most conductors, the good ones at least, manage to reinforce their importance with considerable amounts of power. Power seems to go with the profession. Consider this: in a hall there is an orchestra of a hundred players who are chatting, tuning their instruments, drumming, playing phrases; and there are 2,000 people getting seated, arranging their coats, flipping through programs, waving at friends, talking, coughing. One person enters and the hall immediately becomes quiet. The person raises a small white baton and there is dead silence, followed by noise of the most complex sort

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rendered in pleasurable sound. Instant order from chaos. Such a response to one’s presence is more than any mortal can be expected to bear without effect. The ego, which must be immense as a prerequisite for even entering the profession, is further enlarged. Delusions rush in. Depending on the basic nature and stability of the individual, a conductor’s self-image can get more or less out of hand.

In the basement of Karajan’s house in Anif was a large threehead cutting table and all the equipment required for editing 16mm film. Many were the long evenings Karajan would work with

an editor, directing the cutting of film that had been shot of the Berlin Philharmonic performing various symphonies. With Karajan frequently muttering terse comments, dismissing shots of this awkward-looking instrument or that “ugly” player, the resulting films were primarily documentaries of the maestro conducting.

Karajan is austere on the podium, businesslike from the moment he appears onstage and restrained in his gestures. He has had his theatrical moments. Those who were in Berlin when he first appeared there in the mid-1930s recall that at one of his first concerts he was led to the podium with his eyes closed. He was young then, trying

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to make an impression in a city with an embarrassment of outstanding conductors. Furtwängler, Karl Böhm, Bruno Walter and Eric Kleiber were the resident directors of the major musical ensembles at the time. Karajan is no longer guided to the podium, but he continues to conduct with his eyes closed. He says it improves his concentration, and since he doesn’t use a score when he conducts, there is nothing to look at. Conductor Seiji Ozawa doesn’t use a score, either, but his eyes are open during a performance. Ozawa says that for him, eye contact with the players is critical. One of the fascinating aspects

of conducting is there are no rules, only guidelines. The most eccentric approach is tolerated if the results are successful.

Walter Legge, who for years was a dominant figure in the performance and recording of symphonic music, has written that “sound comes from gesture, basically. What is a conductor’s gesture? It’s merely the prolongation of his musical will. It’s the power of communication (by the hands) of a musical idea.”

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“Will” is a key word. The best conductors simply exude music. Obviously they know the repertoire in the most complete way—from the notes, from reams of research, from extensive educations that are both musical and humanitarian and that should include, as Karajan has said, “knowledge of everything that has touched and occupied the spirit.” These conductors understand and feel the music in such a compelling way, and their presence is so towering—the mammoth ego harnessed by overpoweringly charismatic quantities of charm, or forcefulness, or vitriol, or pathos, or entreaty—that their will cannot be denied. Karajan says he can tell just by watching a conductor walk to the podium whether the person is going to succeed with the orchestra.

(to be continued)

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