My father died of lung cancer in 1996 - I still miss him, every day. Still, life goes on, and many situations, including loss, have their more surreal, if not funny side.You see, my father asked to be cremated, and have his ashes scattered through…Read More

My father died of lung cancer in 1996 - I still miss him, every day. Still, life goes on, and many situations, including loss, have their more surreal, if not funny side.

You see, my father asked to be cremated, and have his ashes scattered through what is truly the armpit of the US - Toddville, on the Eastern Shore of Maryland - a small town on the East Coast south of the Mason Dixon Line. And there the story begins.

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The Service
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Cremation is done differently in the US (or, at least in my part of it). Since my father was atheist, we had a small memorial service led by the family, which was lovely, poignant and just right. Poetry written by my Dad was read, and poems he loved. Stories were told, and memories re-lived. It was touching without over-doing the pathos. It was as perfect for Dad as any funeral ever can be.

You don't get the conveyor belt and the curtain here (and boy, did that shock me when I went to my first British funeral). Instead, he was cremated 'industrially' - they took his body away after we'd signed the consent form. Now, I was the only person to have read the consent form - amongst other dire possibilities it warned you of was that they could not guarantee that (a), you'd get all of your loved one's ashes or (b) that you wouldn't get a wee bit of someone's Great Aunt Mabel, or whoever came before your dearly departed. Whilst that makes sense, it's a little disconcerting, to say the least.

So, off he went. After the procedure was completed, my mother receives a tasteful heavy black plastic box containing his remains. Now, this town where my father wished to be scattered is a four-hour drive from my mother's. Furthermore, she really did want myself and my brother there. So there was an inevitable delay before the scattering took place.

And here is where it gets surreal.

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The Storage
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Mum's not one to get an urn and display the ashes on a mantelpiece. Nope. Instead, the box was placed inside (an admittedly tasteful) shopping bag (the paper type with handles - we're not talking Safeway here).

The shopping bag went into the bottom of a closet in the computer room. And there is stayed. For really quite some time.

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The Question
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My daughter was five when my father died. She came to the memorial service (remember, wailing and gnashing of teeth was kept to a minimum). She asked me, in all innocence, in the style of a five year old, where Pop-Pop was.

Now of course, what she meant to ask was whether her grandfather was in Heaven or in Hell (and I could kill the person, whoever that was, who told her about Hell). Keep in mind, we're not a religious family. Indeed, we're just the opposite.

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The Answer
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So, believing in honesty at all times...no, I lie...answering simply automatically without thinking, I replied, "Pop-Pop is in the bottom of the wardrobe."

(She accepted that answer to a point - but did, as an aside, press the matter - not wishing to be cruel, I finally reassured her that Pop-Pop would indeed be in heaven.)

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Time Passes...
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A year, or maybe two passes. A friend of mine, who is a retired teacher, looks after my daughter for the day. They take a trip to the coast to look at headstones for my friend's recently deceased mother.

They are now in the back of the stonemason's car, with the mason driving. Imagine the scene. My friend, being a retired teacher, explains very carefully and thoughtfully that HER mother was having a headstone because she was buried, whereas Pop-Pop didn't have a headstone because he was cremated; and that the lack of a headstone in no way indicated a lack of love or caring for her Pop-Pop.

My friend concludes this little chat by asking, (remember, they are in the back of a car, being driven...) "So, do you know where your Pop-Pop is?"

Daughter, in all innocence and honesty, replies "Oh yes, he's in the bottom of the wardrobe."

At this point, the stonemason, who is, if you recall, driving, nearly crashes the car in shock and surprise, thus requiring a wee bit of explanation on my friend's part.

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MORE Time Passes...
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(As the screen goes wibbly to indicate the passage of time)...

A little while later, mum's dog died. She (the dog) was very old - nearly 17. Her time had come. Mum tells my daughter over the phone that Jols had died.

Can you guess what comes next? Yup - darling daughter's first question was:
"Is she at the bottom of the wardrobe with Pop-Pop"?

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The Committal
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Finally (and this is after two, maybe three years), the time comes to make the trip down to south to scatter Dad's ashes. We are all there - myself, husband, daughter, brother, and mother.

We drive down to the Toddille - a mosquito invested little town, in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, this place is below sea level, so has drainage ditches running along the sides of the roads. It's main industry is crab-fishing - I have no idea what anyone does for a living there if they don't crab fish. It's near no major centres of population. For that matter, it's near no minor centres of population.

Because of these drainage ditches, there is a lot of standing water. The climate in the summer is very hot, and very humid. Add these things together and what do you get? Mosquitoes. Lots and lots of them. I hope this paints a picture for you of what this town is like.

To make matters worse, it seems that the scattering of ashes is illegal in Maryland. This means we have to be a bit surreptitious about it. Shame we brought the big foreign car, then. Every other vehicle in this town was old, and it was American. Mostly pick-up trucks dating, by the looks of them, from 1970 and earlier.

Did we stand out? You bet.

So we drive around the town for a bit, finally stopping along the side of the road. What's at the side of the road? A drainage ditch (these are open - look like little creeks).

You may be able to guess what comes next. The box is pulled out of the boot, and opened. Inside the box we find a surprisingly heavy plastic bag. Inside the bag are the ashes.

After a quick, shifty look around, the bag is opened, and the contents solemnly emptied into the water. Did you know that they mostly sink? No time for long speeches - just a minute or two of quiet contemplation before leaving the scene. Quickly.

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And Finally...
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Well...we drove back. Stopped next to a portaloo, feeling badly out of place, but badly in need of a wee (must be all that water).

We had lunch on the way back, swatting mosquitoes on the skin, and waving wasps away continually (though the crab was lovely).

We went home - sad, yet seeing the humour in the situation. After all, you have to laugh. And it WAS absurd.

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And Finally...Mark II - Matty's Advice
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Does this all sound disrespectful? It's what he wanted. It's (mostly) what we wanted (OK, we could have done without the trip to Drainage Ditch USA, but still...)

All of us miss Dad tremendously, though we don't feel 'cheated' by the lack of a headstone or place to mourn. The best advice I can give is to respect the dying wishes of the deceased, and, most importantly, to do what is right for the grieving family - for yourself, and for the rest of the family. Whether you go for the four black horses, for a church service, or for a simple memorial, do what feels right for the bereaved (including, of course, yourself). Remember, funerals are really for those left behind.

You see, Dad is in my heart. The location of his remains is irrelevant. He's remembered by my family, his friends, his colleagues and me.

And no ditch can ever take that away.

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Dedications
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This piece is dedicated to all those who insisted I write this up. When told the story, one person I told it to was in hysterics, and mentioned the word 'wardrobe' randomly for the rest of the evening. After all, it IS funny!

And, of course, to my father. And to my daughter, who asked the right questions.

In Remembrance Close

Sunset Island has more than just places to stay. There is an interactive fountain in the center of the island. The water attracts children of all ages and invites them to splash and dance around. They are turned off each day from…Read More

Sunset Island has more than just places to stay. There is an interactive fountain in the center of the island. The water attracts children of all ages and invites them to splash and dance around. They are turned off each day from 4 to 6 PM - just enough time to get back to the condo and eat dinner. Then it is back to the fountains with a stop at the General Store for some ice cream.

There are also three beaches on the island. All are accessable by the walking path that surrounds the residence area. The largest beach is just behind the pool area on the west side of the island. It is not guarded but is very shallow so that the children can wade around. The other two beaches are on the north side of the island and are much smaller. One has rocks around it and the other is open to the bay. Both are shallow and some of the bottom is muddy. Beware of the baby crabs that like the warm water. They don't hurt since their pincers are quite small, but it can surprise you if you feel one underfoot. You can also launch your inflatable boats and canoes from the smaller beaches and explore the backwater area of the bay.

The pool is on the west side of the island next to the bay. It is a zero entry pool that goes to 5 foot deep. Children younger than 2 years are not allowed in the main pool - they must use the baby pool and wear plastic pants over the swimmie diaper. Inflatables are not allowed in the main pool - only foam noodles and life guard approved swim vests. There is a heated pool inside the clubhouse that is next to the main pool. They also have a snack bar inside that will serve you while you watch the kids in the pool. The servers are very efficient and cater to the children.

A fishing/crabbing pier is on the northwest corner of the island. It stretches over the shallow water into the bay and provides a place to fish for flounder and set a crab line or two. Wait for high tide and the fishing should be more productive.

The island is flat, like all of Ocean City, so biking is an easy and quick way to get around. You can walk 2 blocks to the ocean side beach. There is only one busy street to cross - be sure to use the crosswalk and wait for the light. The traffic is too heavy to risk your life for a few minutes wait.

Enjoy yourself in Ocean City. It will grow on you so that you will want to return again and again.Close

As all of us know that everyone in this world likes those places where they can enjoy their life with fun, enjoy, and adventures. I also like those places where I can enjoy my life and can get the best life experiences. Last holidays, I…Read More

As all of us know that everyone in this world likes those places where they can enjoy their life with fun, enjoy, and adventures. I also like those places where I can enjoy my life and can get the best life experiences. Last holidays, I was on the visit of ocean city where I get the chance to make my life more beautiful with golden moments and also know about the facts of life. Ocean city is most famous tourist destination in the United States of Maryland. Ocean city is most popular for its clean beaches, skyscraper hotels, and boardwalk restaurants. This city also draws many visitors every year for its sightseeing, attractions, destinations, and more. I also came to know about this city from my friends. But when I came to know about this city then I made a wish to visit this city and waiting for the right chance. When I admired in my office for my dedicated work then my boss asked me that where do you want to go for a trip. After hearing this, I became very happy and suggest my boss for ocean city. My boss also agrees with me and told me that you went there on the behalf of company. But my boss told me that your ocean city hotels will be your choice. For this, I started to search hotels in ocean city and found a hotel site which gives me a large number of cheap ocean city hotels which were containing with all the modern facilities. After finding this hotel site, I gave it to my boss and they reserve a hotel there. I went to this city by road for five days. My bus leaves me at route 50 of ocean city from where my hotel was at a very few distance. As this was the first day of my trip, so I can’t go for any sightseeing because I was so tired during my journey? This day I like to stay only in my hotel and enjoy the facilities of my hotel. My hotel was well furnished with pool, fitness center, conference hall, internet, breakfast, and more. At the time of evening I went to market and shopping stores for taking some junk food and knowing about the sightseeing of this city. I take dinner in the restaurant of my hotel which was very nice and providing all types of foods. After taking my dinner, I go to my bed for taking a good sleep and prepare for the next day. On the second day of my trip, I went to ocean beach which was the main attraction in this city and this beach was 10 mile long. I spent my full day at ocean beach and enjoy a lot also. A lot of fishing boats and kite flyers were there at ocean beach. I also do fishing and boating at ocean beach which were more interesting. At ocean beach, a boardwalk was there which was most famous and containing with shop, restaurants, entertainment, eatering, and beachfront attractions also. This historic boardwalk was very nice and attracts more tourists. On the third day of my trip I went to Ripley’s museum which was situated near to the boardwalk and this museum was very nice and I also enjoy a lot at this museum. After seeing this museum I visit again boardwalk and saw the skyscraper hotels and enjoy also other recreational activities. This day I enjoy the nightlife of this city which was most wonderful. On the fourth day of my trip, I went to Jolly Roger amusement park which was an adventurous place and a lot of recreational activities were there. In this amusement park, I enjoy the ridings and other recreational activities also. This day I also enjoy of many golf courses. I also went to shopping stores and take some good things. In night, I went to clubs for enjoying the music and dance party. On the fifth day, I spend my half of day in my cheap hotel rates and went to sport clubs and enjoy many indoor and outdoor games. On last day, I checked out my hotel with nice memories and came back to home. These memories which I got from this city are unforgettable.Close

Maryland is blessed with an abundance of rivers and streams suitable for canoeing and kayaking. We’re fortunate to live just a few miles from the confluence of the Monocacy and Potomac Rivers and have spent countless hours boating, fishing, and walking along these lovely,…Read More

Maryland is blessed with an abundance of rivers and streams suitable for canoeing and kayaking. We’re fortunate to live just a few miles from the confluence of the Monocacy and Potomac Rivers and have spent countless hours boating, fishing, and walking along these lovely, historic places. Having gotten two recreational kayaks a few years back, we’ve been gradually exploring nearby rivers and streams in our kayaks. Only just recently I found information about the Monocacy River Water Trail, , a 41-mile-long stretch of river that is every flatwater paddler’s dream, I duly put it on my list of places to go and waited for an opportune time.

The Washington DC area’s customary summer heat and humidity took a break recently, so we loaded our kayaks on one car and headed for the river, leaving another car at the end point near the Monocacy Aqueduct to set up a shuttle. Before leaving, we checked the level of the river at the National Weather Service’s Advanced Hydrologic Prediction website, a handy online resource listing precise hour-by-hour measurements of river levels. I knew from consulting the Monocacy Canoe Club’s list of Ranked Rivers that the Monocacy River needed to be flowing at about two feet at Frederick in order to be considered "enjoyable" for canoeing and kayaking. Although the river levels were just below that (at 1.83 ft.), we didn’t think that .17 was going to make that much of a difference, and indeed it didn’t.

After some deliberation, we decided to put in at Buckeystown, about ten miles upstream of the Monocacy Aqueduct. According to the water trail map, there was a boat ramp at Buckeystown Park, but in fact there is merely access to the river behind a picnic shelter, down a somewhat slippery bank flanked by poison ivy. My kayak is a monster – long and wide – and it took some maneuvering to get it down the bank and into the water. However, once we were in the water we had no regrets about having set off from Buckeystown – the stretch of the Monocacy below Buckeystown was wonderfully peaceful and scenic. And although the river was on the shallow side, we never had to portage the kayaks at any point. Blue herons took wing as we came upon them stalking along the bank and turtles basked in the sunshine on fallen logs. Occasionally we’d come upon a very minor riffle of water that required a modest bit of maneuvering, but I’d hesitate to call these stretches even "class 1."

On such a beautiful day, it was a given that others would be out enjoying the river as well. We passed several anglers (having little luck, it seemed), a few dozen people picnicking on the banks near some of the bridges we passed, and a large party of girl scouts in canoes. Two of the girls, looking a bit tired and hot as they struggled with their canoe, pleaded with us to swap our kayaks for their canoe. Chuckling, I said I’d pass on the offer.

A shaded bank near a sycamore tree leaning picturesquely out over the river made an idyllic lunch stop. Apples, cheese sandwiches, and pink lemonade all disappeared from the cooler I’d stowed in the waterproof compartment of my kayak. It was tempting to stretch out and take a nap, but we weren’t sure how long the 10-mile trip would take us and it was well into the afternoon, so reluctantly we climbed back in our kayaks and resumed our trek.

Just past the bridge at Rt. 28 near Dickerson, we came upon a large congregation of turkey vultures on the bank. (Actually, my friend Henk tells me that the correct collective term for vultures is a "venue.") A few of the vultures in the venue were desultorialy picking at the desiccated carcass of some creature, while others sunned themselves, holding their great wings outspread. I drifted up to see how close they’d let me get to them and was surprised that they showed no signs of alarm. Perhaps they didn’t regard me as a threat in a boat, or perhaps they thought there was safety in numbers. They did, however, grumble a bit, commenting on my presence. Vultures make a peculiar muttering sound that, frankly, I wouldn’t want to hear in the dark. Although vultures may seem like unwholesome creatures, they’re part of the Great Recycling Team that we’d be in bad shape without.

We also saw two park rangers handing out tickets to two canoeists who were paddling without PFDs (personal flotation devices or life jackets). Be forewarned that there’s a $90 fine for paddling without a jacket on Maryland’s rivers, and the rangers seem to be forever on the prowl to catch the unwary. Even when the water is running just a foot or so, the park rangers will be out on the river writing up tickets.

About three hours after we set out, we rounded a bend in the river and saw the familiar span of the Monocacy Aqueduct. This handsome stone structure, completed back in 1833, has recently been restored and made more suitable for foot traffic and cyclists using the C&O Canal Towpath. Straddling the Monocacy River just at the confluence of the Potomac, the aqueduct is one of the most scenic places in Montgomery County, in my opinion. It’s at its finest near sundown, when light cast from the setting sun turns the stone a glowing reddish-gold.

The Monocacy is a river for all seasons. I’ve seen it frozen over in the dead of winter, with interesting brachiate fissures in the ice. I’ve seen it when the sycamore trees lining its banks send countless leaves like golden barques floating on the water. On hot, hazy evenings I’ve seen fat fish jumping to catch the dragonflies zig-zagging over the water’s surface. In the spring, I’ve heard serenades of peepers so deafening that the sound resonates in my ears for a good while afterwards. Each time I come to this river, I find it has something new to show me.

One day I’ll be an old lady, but with some luck and careful stewardship, the Monocacy will look just as lovely as it does today. And, no doubt, it will still hold surprises.

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Toward the end of a gloomy, frigid northeast Ohio winter, nothing boosts the spirits more than a vacation to anyplace the sun is shining and trees are green. Each year, my husband Jack and I try to do just that, if only for a few…Read More

Toward the end of a gloomy, frigid northeast Ohio winter, nothing boosts the spirits more than a vacation to anyplace the sun is shining and trees are green. Each year, my husband Jack and I try to do just that, if only for a few days.

This April, our destination of choice was Solomons, MD, where Jack could take photos of the Drum Point Lighthouse and a couple of other lighthouses in the area. We’d spend a couple of days there, then pop on over to Virginia to finish the weekend visiting old friends.

Jack booked a room at the Comfort Inn Beacon Marina in Solomons, knowing it overlooks the marina where the Drum Point Lighthouse, built in 1883, was moved in 1975. Our room didn’t have a view of the water, but we didn’t care; we use motel rooms for downloading digital photos to a laptop, catching a few ZZZs and little else.

Spending our first night en route in Winchester, Va., we arrived in Solomons in mid-morning, driving straight to the motel as if we’d been there before. We checked out the exterior, then made a beeline next door to the grounds of the Calvert Marine Museum and Drum Point Lighthouse.

And what a fine lighthouse it is! The screwpile style makes it one of the most unique lighthouses we've seen yet. We snapped what seemed like dozens of pictures before venturing into the museum. Guided and self-guided tours of the lighthouse are scheduled periodically, and we had about 20 minutes to kill before the next one started.

The main museum building contains exhibits, displays and aquariums highlighting maritime history, estuarine biology and paleontology as well as a gift shop and an auditorium. In another building, river otters swim in a natural setting, surrounded by aged wood walkways leading to marshes, a waterfront dock and a workroom for boat restoration.

Back at the lighthouse, we climbed the steps and squeezed our way on up to the lens tower at the top. On the way down, the tour guide was easily coaxed into taking our picture so we can prove to friends and relatives back home we really were there together.

It was tough to leave this beautiful place, but weather folks were predicting sprinkles for the following day. Not wanting to push our luck, we figured we’d better take advantage of the current sunshine and drive about seven miles to the Cove Point Lighthouse, the oldest continuously operating lighthouse in Maryland. This lighthouse, also a project of the Calvert Marine Museum, was built in 1828 to mark one of the narrowest parts of the Chesapeake Bay and guide ships into the Patuxent River.

The lighthouse, which continues to shine, is owned and operated by the U.S. Lighthouse Service and U.S. Coast Guard. Since it’s closed October through May, we couldn’t get inside. Still, Cove Point’s location offers a view of Calvert Cliffs as well as marine traffic up and down the Bay, making our visit well worth while even in the off-season.

Then it was back through Solomons, where we spent some time on the boardwalk, technically in Solomons Island, that overlooks the water and the impressive Gov. George Thomas Johnson Bridge. By that time, we were pretty hungry; looking across the road from the boardwalk, we spied a place named Catamarans and distinctly heard the outdoor dining patio calling our name.

Long before we got here, I'd said I wouldn’t leave Maryland without trying one of the Old Line State's famous crabcakes. Warning: They don’t come cheap. A sandwich was a pricey $13.99 with fries (two cakes sans bun was a budget-ruining $27), but I decided I had to go for it. Jack ordered peel-and-eat shrimp, also relatively expensive at $13.99 for only 10 (in fairness, they were large).

One bite of the broiled crabcake left absolutely no doubt about why Maryland is known for them. First, it was huge. Better yet, unlike the crabcakes I've had in other parts of the country, this one had almost no "filler" -- just a minimal amount of whatever they use to bind the copious amount of tender crabmeat into a patty. It was without doubt one of the most mouth-watering delicacies I've had the pleasure of eating.

In an attempt to walk off some calories (or so we told ourselves), we stopped at a few of the little shops that line the street across from the boardwalk. Some weren't open yet -- the "season" doesn't start for another month or so – so that was a bit disappointing; on the other hand, it was great not to have to fight crowds as we strolled up and down the quiet street.

Checking into our motel room, we noticed The Captain’s Table restaurant behind the motel on the marina near the Drum Point Light. Within minutes, we were plopped on the outdoor deck, cold beers in hand, scoping out the dinner menu. We liked what we saw.

After downloading the multitude of pictures we'd taken earlier in the day, we headed back to The Captain's Table for our evening meal. The prices here were a little better; two crabcakes were going for $19.99. Jack stopped looking when he saw broiled scallops, which he ordered with onion rings and a cup of clam chowder. The fish of the day, red snapper, got my attention, as did a cup of creamed crab soup. Both meals were $13.99, and each came with a broccoli, cauliflower and carrot mixture and a tangy thousand island-style tartar sauce.

We ate till we nearly exploded, starting with the soups – both thick enough that a spoon would stand by itself in the middle of the cup. Not inisignificantly, they also were absolutely delicious.

The following day unexpectedly dawned under brilliant sunshine and an expectation of nearly 70 degrees. Still, weather gurus were predicting afternoon clouds, so we hustled to get to nearby Point Lookout State Park and the lighthouse there before the rays disappeared.

There's a park visitor fee of $4 per car, but on the off-season it's based strictly on the honor system. The lighthouse itself is on government property and surrounded by a chain link fence, so getting really good photographs is nearly impossible.

At one time, the land was the site of a prison camp that imprisoned as many as 52,264 Confederate soldiers during the Civil War – so there’s plenty to do in the park including swimming and boating on the Potomac River and visiting the Civil War Museum/Marshland Nature Center. Outdoor-lovers can pitch tents and RVs at 143 campsites, and a six-person cottage is perched right on the shores of the Potomac River.

Our next destination was the Piney Point Lighthouse; the view of the water from here is gorgeous. The lighthouse and keeper’s house are located on the northeast side of the Potomac River near Callaway, Md.

The lighthouse, built in 1836, stands 35 feet tall, and the wall at ground level is four feet thick. Visitors can climb to the top only during the annual celebration in May and other special occasions. Although the house isn’t open to the public, there’s a small museum and gift shop that’s run by the Friends of Piney Point, and the grounds are open every day during daylight hours.

Then it was back to Solomons, where we went on a search for a different restaurant. Just down the road from our motel we found what we wanted nestled in the Spring Cove Marina -- the Naughty Gull Restaurant & Pub.

One look around convinced us this laid-back place would be a favorite haunt if we were staying longer. Jack thought the crab-stuffed potato skins, which came with a salad, sounded filling enough for him. Since I still craved those wonderful crabcakes, I ordered one here (even though the only choice was fried) and it arrived with hushpuppies and potato wedges. Once again, the crabcake was awesome – even at a rather hefty $11.95, it almost seemed like a bargain.

Needless to say, we took many, many pictures while we roamed around, even though the weather was somewhat less than perfect. Our only real wish was that we’d had more time; this is a great place that deserves to be explored far more in-depth than we were able to do on this trip. To paraphrase Arnold, "We’ll be back!"

If you go:

Calvert Marine Museum, 14200 Solomons Island Road, Solomons, MD. (410) 326-2042.

Catamarans Restaurant, 14470 Solomons Island Road, Solomons, MD. (410) 326-8399.

Comfort Inn Beacon Marina, 255 Lord Road, Solomons, MD 20688. (410) 326-6303.

Cove Point Lighthouse, c/o Calvert Marine Museum (above).

The Naughty Gull Restaurant & Pub, Spring Cove Marina, Solomons, MD. (410) 326-4855.

Piney Point Lighthouse, Piney Point, MD. (301) 769-2222.

Point Lookout State Park, 11175 Point Lookout Road, Scotland, MD. (301) 872-5688.

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The way of life is wonderful; it is by abandonment. – Emerson The restoration of once-neglected Patterson Park is one of the most successful of Baltimore’s urban renewal projects. Now dubbed "Baltimore’s Best Backyard," the park hums with recreational sports leagues, community gardens, karate classes, art…Read More

The way of life is wonderful; it is by abandonment. – Emerson

The restoration of once-neglected Patterson Park is one of the most successful of Baltimore’s urban renewal projects. Now dubbed "Baltimore’s Best Backyard," the park hums with recreational sports leagues, community gardens, karate classes, art seminars, winter skating, summer swimming, and various festivals, attracting assorted bird watchers, dog walkers, picnic goers, joggers, bicyclists, strollers, and, in sum, all those who enjoy life’s gentler pleasures.

Presiding serenely over the park is a quirky edifice that has come to symbolize this renewed spirit of civic pride, the Patterson Park Pagoda. Originally built as an observation tower in the 1890s, the quaint Victorian structure had fallen into decay and was closed in the 1950s, but, after a lengthy renovation, was reopened last year to great fanfare (literally), with 100 saxophonists serenading visitors at the opening ceremony.

Riding the wave of Pagoda enthusiasm, the Friends of Patterson Park and the Creative Alliance planned a 2002 Halloween celebration of a correspondingly ambitious nature. Part whimsical parade, part performance art, the Great Halloween Lantern Parade was quintessentially Baltimorean.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect the Saturday evening before Halloween, as I made my way toward the corner of Patterson and Lombard Streets, the staging area for the parade. While I’d come to watch, it was obvious that the line between onlooker and participant had been erased. Marshaled near a statue at the far end of the park, a small army of volunteers was busy organizing the assembling masses. Weeks, if not months, of preparation had clearly gone into this event. Hundreds of colorful hand-made lanterns made of paper and balsa wood had been prepared, along with banners, balloons, and scores of noise makers such as kazoos and whistles. Volunteers had also constructed large effigies made of tissue paper and wood: several human figures, a miniature replica in red tissue paper of the Pagoda, assorted whimsical objects, and, most impressively, an enormous creature that I gaped at for a moment before realizing, with delight, was a giant squid.

A giant squid? Fascinated, I inched forward to watch several people put the finishing touches on the creation, installing battery-operated lights to illuminate it from within. "I just watched a Discovery Channel special on squid," I blurted to a young man rigging lights behind the platter-like eyes of the squid. Beaming, he turned around, "I saw that, too!" Soon we were deep in an enthusiastic discussion of the mysteries of deep sea life, interrupted only when a woman came up and asked if I’d mind carrying a flag during the parade.

Before long, several hundred people had been organized into a rough marching order, each person carrying a lantern or perhaps some sort of musical instrument or noise-maker, while others carried banners or helped hoist one of the effigies. It took a mass effort to launch the squid, while another group gently lifted the miniature pagoda borne on a regal palanquin. I was surprised to find there weren’t many traditional Halloween costumes--few monsters, ghouls, witches, or vampires. Instead, in keeping with the more innocent themes of lanterns and light, people had come dressed in flamboyant carnival-style costumes, some with immense headpieces, silvery breastplates, or gossamer wings. It was if a costume designer for a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream had gotten a little confused and scheduled a dress rehearsal outdoors in October.

Into this swirl of organized chaos, a sense of happy anticipation built and bubbled over, inciting impromptu saxophone solos and giddy dancing. Someone standing near the squid suddenly declaimed, "Long live the squid!" A few more people took up the cry. "Long live the squid!" A phalanx of kazoo players began tootling in cadence, "Long live the squid!" A bass drum pounded the rhythm, "Long live the squid!" as the parade, like a vast caterpillar, began to crawl forward, lanterns bobbing, flags waving, feet shuffling. "Long live the squid!"

Patterson Park is vast, with winding asphalt paths snaking past tennis courts and pavilions, through groves of mature trees and up gentle hills. The lantern parade followed the most direct (but, in truth, rather circuitous) route through the park toward the Pagoda, which sits on the highest aspect of the park, with commanding views over east Baltimore and the dock areas. By this time, it was completely dark, save for the gentle glow of the lanterns, and so as the parade marched into the heart of the park it seemed to the more imaginative that perhaps the path was meandering through an enchanted forest.

By chance I found myself marching alongside a shepherdess, in flounced skirt and bonnet, her crooked staff decked in colorful ribbons and likewise the neck of her very fat and preternaturally calm sheep. "Nice sheep," I commented by way of a conversation opener. "Oh, thank you," replied the shepherdess, "She seems to be having a good time tonight." (And, indeed, I’d never seen a sheep that was as content looking or, for that matter, as well behaved.) A young man with beautifully braided hair, looking like a cross between Adonis and Kunta Kinte, joined us in our admiration of the sheep, which seemed to bask in the glow of our praise. "Long live the sheep!" we cheered, in a minor counterpoint to the larger cry supporting the squid.

After some twenty minutes, the parade approached its final rallying point, the Pagoda, perched beacon-like on the summit of a hill. Just beside the Pagoda, a second structure had been erected, a tall, narrow scaffold covered with white sheeting, below which a small stage had been constructed. As the parade spilled up the hill, musicians on the stage began playing an indescribable theme--driving and insistent, yet loose and ethereal--encompassing the marchers in an ocean of sound. At the same time, the scaffolding screen came alive with a strange pantomime cast in shadow puppetry, an ambitious son et lumiere spectacle.

There was a vague narrative thread to the light show, which involved a boy living in a house populated with sinister figures. This desolate urban vision alternated with images of sea life--octopi, fish, and jellyfish. As the music rose and wailed, the light images grew more random and frenetic, morphing into images of the sun, moon and stars; now the boy was on board a hot-air balloon, rising in the heavens. This theme of ascent was echoed by white "balloon" lanterns that rose along guy wires rigged to the stage and by fluttering white bird-like objects that appeared spot-lit in nearby trees.

Then, as the maelstrom of light, images, and sound climaxed, a blizzard of confetti suddenly burst over the crowd, greeted by ecstatic cheers and whistles. Just as suddenly, all the lights were extinguished and the music stopped. Only the cheering went on for some minutes, until the audience was completely spent.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The following morning, I returned to the pagoda in the clear light of a peaceful Sunday morning. The air was crisp with that delightful tang of late October, and the sunlight gilded the late autumn foliage of the trees. I can’t say exactly why I’d come back here, but I think it might have been to assure myself that what happened the previous night had been real.

I was surprised--and yet, at the same time not surprised--to find a small cleanup crew hard at work, their task nearly completed. Little remained of the confetti snowstorm and the scaffolding had already been disassembled. The previous night the Pagoda had been thronged and I’d been frustrated in my attempt to make my way to the top to look out over the city. The following morning, however, only a small group of people was inside, talking animatedly about the previous evening’s festivities. I recognized two of them: the shepherdess, minus her sheep, and the black Adonis, with his trademark dreadlocks. We greeted each other like old friends. After a time, I broke off from the group and climbed, alone, up the circular stairs to the top of the Pagoda.

Ah, Baltimore. How beautiful you can be.

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As you may have already guessed, there’s nothing that I find quite so captivating as the offbeat or downright bizarre. Anything that gives rise to the question, "Why on earth would anyone do that? “ makes my pulse race. So, naturally, when I…Read More

As you may have already guessed, there’s nothing that I find quite so captivating as the offbeat or downright bizarre. Anything that gives rise to the question, "Why on earth would anyone do that? “ makes my pulse race. So, naturally, when I heard that Baltimore boasts the world’s largest trashcan, I simply had to see it.

Later, when I read that Baltimore holds an annual Garbageman Appreciation Day, I grew even more excited. (I must pause here to applaud that politically incorrect term, garbageman, which has somehow escaped becoming “garbageperson.” I note with some chagrin that the Queen of the annual Garbageman Appreciation Day Parade is known as “Ms Garbageman Appreciation Day.” So, as you can see, the waste managers of Baltimore do move with the times.)

The world’s largest trashcan – 18 feet high and holding over 15,000 gallons – sits outside the Baltimore Refuse Energy Systems Company (BRESCO) plant on Russell Street. The plant turns solid waste into steam, which is then converted into electricity. I’m not entirely sure how this process works, but it sounds like a worthwhile enterprise: from trash to energy.

So I’m driving south on Russell Street, past the stadium that’s home to the Baltimore Ravens, keeping an eye out for the Bresco plant. Suddenly, there it is, on the other side what is now a divided highway. I wave at it as I whiz by, for suddenly Russell Street has become - hey, wait a minute! - an expressway.

Before I know it, I’m heading out of Baltimore on 295. Silly me. Had I consulted a bigger map I’d’ve known that Russell Street becomes the Baltimore-Washington Expressway. I’ve just passed the only place I could have conveniently turned around within the city limits, and I’m deep into the suburbs before there’s an exit. Somehow – blind luck, basically - I manage to work my way back onto 95 north, and then lo and behold I see an exit for Russell Street. Going north this time.

I feel positively lightheaded making my way toward the Bresco plant. I can see the enormous smokestack with BRESCO written on it, and soon I’m in front of the plant and there’s the trashcan. However, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere in particular to park, so I pull up to the security booth near the gate to check.

Wearing what in retrospect must have been an idiotic grin on my face, I get out of my battered pickup and walk toward the booth. A middle-aged woman wearing a “what sweet hell is this?” expression on her face looks at me soberly.

“I made it!” I crow. “The world’s biggest trashcan!”

A very long couple of seconds go by before she responds. “Yeeesss…it’s here.”

“You must get visitors all the time,” I enthuse. “Is there somewhere I can park my car while I get some pictures of the trashcan?”

She is now regarding me suspiciously, as if any minute now she’ll hear an APB on her poh-leece radio about an escaped lunatic fitting my description. “Actually, you’re the first one I’ve ever had. This is only my second week on the job, see.”

I nod sympathetically, somewhat proud to be her first trashcan tourist.

Gesturing to a small space between orange traffic cones, she instructs me to park there. I do what I consider a very spiffy parallel parking job between the cones, suddenly remembering the day I got my driver’s license and how I’d dreaded the parallel parking portion of the driving test.

When I step out of the parked car, the guard beckons me over. She looks pleased. And, somehow, relieved. “It’s okay. I checked with my supervisor and he said you can go on over and take a picture of the trashcan.”

Somewhat baffled that this merited checking with her supervisor, I politely thank the guard, then walk over to the grassy area housing the trashcan.

Now, I don’t mean to sound small minded here, but I just have to say that the idea of the World’s Largest Trashcan is more satisfying than the thing itself. It’s a can. A very large one. What impressed me most, I suppose, was the large sign directly in front of it, proclaiming, “WORLD’S LARGEST TRASHCAN” in great big letters. And, even more impressive, there’s a large wooden viewing platform that supports the sign. If anyone had been with me, I could have had my picture taken standing on the platform in front of the trashcan. I briefly consider asking the guard to do the honors, but I doubt she’d leave her post. She seems to take being a guard very seriously.

I photograph the trashcan from several artistic angles. Then, looking up at the phallic looming Bresco smokestack tower, visible for miles and one of Baltimore’s more prominent landmarks, I photograph that, too, just for good measure. I stand for a couple long minutes, to mark the occasion of my visit. There really isn’t much to do after you’ve just seen the biggest trashcan in the world, I’m afraid. It’s a bit anticlimactic.

As I head back to my car, I see the security guard beckoning me again, in apparent agitation.

“You were supposed to take pictures of the trashcan,” she said, accusingly.

“Yes?” I’m keeping my polite tourist smile plastered on my face, though an alarm bell is sounding faintly in my skull.

“You took a picture of the tower. No one gave you permission to do that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea… It’s quite a prominent landmark, you see, so I never imagined there was a restriction.” More memories, this time of being upbraided by an army guard in Red Square for pointing my camera in the wrong direction, come unbidden into my head.

“And you’ve got one of those swan stickers on your truck.”

“Swan stickers?” I’m now completely at sea. What on earth is she talking about? Then I realize what she’s referring to. “Oh! Yes! You mean an Audubon Society sticker.”

“Yeah, one of them.”

“Well, yes, I belong to the Audubon Society. And, as you can see, there are also stickers for the Smithsonian Associate Program and Montgomery College, where I work. But what’s that got to do with the tower?”

I’m playing innocent, but I know what’s she’s thinking: I’m an environmental activist, out to make trouble at the municipal waste recycling plant. It doesn’t really make much sense, but perhaps she’s been told to keep an eye out for Green Peace types. Just in case. You know the sort: they drive battered vehicles, bumper stickers basically holding the rusted hulks together.

Oh dear. I see, in a flash, what the guard must see. “I’m at that awkward stage between birth and death,” proclaims one of the stickers on my pick-up''s bumper.

Rather than answer my question, she narrows her eyes and announces, “Wait just a minute,” pointedly turning her back to me as she makes a phone call. Long minutes go by. I feel like a child again, standing outside the principal’s office. Honest, Miss Green, I didn’t mean to trip Johnny. It just happened.

I snap back from my guilt-ridden reverie as she hangs up the phone and swivels to face me.

“Now, normally what we do in these circumstances is to confiscate the film,” she says. Then, observing my somewhat slack-jawed incredulity, there’s a pause before she goes on magisterially, “But seeing as how you’re from Maryland and all,” she gestures at my license plate, “we’ll just let it slide.”

“Thh-thh-thank you,” I stammer.

She’s got me squirming now, and uses the occasion to let me know how badly I’ve betrayed her trust. She continues, in rising tones, ex cathedra: “No sir, it shouldn’t oughta ever have happened, that’s all.” She shakes her head solemnly, letting the lesson sink in. “It. Shouldn’t. Ever. Have. Happened.”

“I’m truly sorry,” I repeat, edging toward my truck. “I won’t even download that picture. This camera’s digital, see?” This seems to confuse her, and I mentally kick myself. Is she going to check with the supervisor about that, too? Before she has time to pick up the phone, I’m in my truck. Giving her a cheery wave, I pull away.

“Good GRIEF!” I exclaim to no one but my trusty vehicle. “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

I’m still feeling a bit rattled driving back toward downtown Baltimore, when I see one of my favorite Baltimore landmarks ahead, the Bromo Seltzer Tower. The mere wackiness of this Italian-style campanello built in 1911 to advertise a popular bromide exerts a peculiar calming effect upon me.

It is with some satisfaction that I pull into a parking spot on South Paca Street, get out, and start photographing the tower from every conceivable angle. People in business suits coming out of the Convention Center are looking at me a bit oddly, but they can go to blazes.

No one’s going to stop me this time.

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Visitors to Baltimore are fortunate to have not one, but four traditional markets in close proximity to many of the important sites and attractions. Each market provides space for many vendors, and most (if not all) of the market stalls deal in food or drink. Maintained and…Read More

Visitors to Baltimore are fortunate to have not one, but four traditional markets in close proximity to many of the important sites and attractions. Each market provides space for many vendors, and most (if not all) of the market stalls deal in food or drink.

Maintained and sponsored by the city, the markets are many things to many people: For locals, they're treasure-houses of locally-grown foods. If you're looking for the freshest fish, the crunchiest new vegetables, or fresh bread right from the oven, head for a market. Whether it's locally made Polish or Italian sausage or fine pates and cheeses, the market vendors have covered it all.

For visitors, they provide a wonderful opportunity for that inexpensive breakfast, lunch, or snack. Freshly ground gourmet coffees abound, and there are stalls specializing in any kind of ethnic food you can imagine, from Chinese, Thai, and Vientamese to Italian to Polish to fresh, simple foods prepared in Amish country.

Markets are located in several neighborhoods, all reasonably close to visitor attractions:

1. Broadway Market: Located at the foot of Broadway in Fell's Point. Many gourmet foods, specialties, and fresh seafood.

2. Cross Street Market: Located in Federal Hill, Baltimore's first "Renaissance" neighborhood, just a few blocks south of the Inner Harbor. Fresh fish and meats, ethnic foods, and unexpectedly, an assortment of good wines, beers, and cigars. Light and Cross Streets, Federal Hill.

3. Lexington Market: This enormous market is the granddaddy. Shop for food and snacks or souvenirs, or outfit your whole family for the winter. :) It's all at Lexington Market. Howard and Lexington Streets, just a block or two north of the Inner Harbor.

4. Northeast Market: Located on Monument Street a few blocks west of the Johns Hopkins Hospital campus. This is the most local of the markets and the one that caters least to tourists and visitors. It's also somewhat off the beaten track.

While as a visitor you won't be able to take any of that lovely food home to prepare, try a market to start out your day. Or better yet, shop in a market for a picnic lunch to enjoy at your leisure as you tour the city.

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This little free-form essay is a glossary of the crab knowledge I’ve gained from 25 years of living next-door to the Chesapeake. Watermen: I suppose in any other part of the world, they’d be referred to as "fishermen." In Maryland, men who make their living…Read More

This little free-form essay is a glossary of the crab knowledge I’ve gained from 25 years of living next-door to the Chesapeake.

Watermen: I suppose in any other part of the world, they’d be referred to as "fishermen." In Maryland, men who make their living fishing the waters of the Bay are never referred to as anything but watermen. It is a trade requiring a variety of skills, an encyclopedic knowledge of the Bay in all its aspects, business sense, and a great deal of very hard work. In these days of upward mobility, it is still most often a trade passed on from one generation to the next. Watermen have harvested the Bay for generations, going out after crabs and fishing for oysters either with long tongs or dredges (pronounced "drudges"). Up until a few years ago, those wishing to dredge for oysters were required by law to do so only under sail, and Maryland boasted the last working fleet of sailing vessels in the United States.

Crabs, hard: These are the beauties you will find in your crab cake. Crabs live to be about four years old if they are fortunate enough to survive the many adversities that face them. They’re quite aggressive, gifted with claws and legs both for swimming and for fighting. In their natural state they are a blue-green color on top and a pale cream beneath. Legally, you can’t catch or keep one that’s less than about four inches. Strictly speaking, they’re not very good to eat until they’re quite a bit larger than that. In Maryland, the male crab (called a Jimmy) is preferred for eating. (This isn’t the case everywhere.) Immature female crabs are called she-crabs, and mature females are called sooks. It takes a waterman to tell the two kinds of females apart, though anyone can distinguish the male from the female by the configuration of their undersides. Female crabs lay their eggs only once in their lifetime, and they usually die shortly afterward.

Everyone in proximity to the Chesapeake or its tributaries catches crabs occasionally. They are even taken out of the waters around Baltimore. Watermen use a variety of methods, including ingenious traps and long, long lines baited at intervals. They get up in the middle of the night to go and do this, which is why my journal is entitled "Catching the Early Crab." People with waterfront property set traps, too. People with pleasure boats occasionally attempt to emulate the watermen by setting out long lines. This tends to foul things up for the men who have to make a living at it, and the amateurs are referred to by the professionals as "chicken neckers," an allusion to the preferred amateur bait.

Crabs, soft: In order to grow, the crab must shed its hard shell and grow a new one from time to time. This process is arduous for the crab but delicious for humans. For a few short hours the crab’s new shell is soft and completely edible. It requires only a brief cleaning before being sautéed in a little butter. Everyone I know enjoys their soft crabs as sandwiches, simply eaten between two pieces of toast. The flavor is, if it’s possible, even more delicate than that of the hard crab.

Crab Soup: The Marylander’s preferred crab soup is a sort of tomato-based chowder, loaded with sweet corn, green or lima beans, whatever other vegetables happen to be around, and of course plenty of chunks of crab meat. This peppery and substantial meal-in-a-bowl is most often enjoyed the day after a feast of hard crabs. The prudent cook saves all the little leftover claws and adds those to the soup for extra flavor. Those in more southerly states make a cream-based, mild crab soup laced with a little sherry.

Crab Feasts: The general belief is that crabs get better after July 4, so an awful lot of people throw crab feasts on Independence Day. Crabs, like lobsters, need to be cooked alive. They’re layered in an enormous lidded pot with liberal sprinklings of Old Bay Seasoning (red pepper, spices, and other hot things). A can of beer is added, and they’re steamed until done. The table is spread thickly with newspaper, each feaster is provided with a wooden mallet and plenty of melted butter, and the feast begins. The traditional beverage is ice-cold beer. It would take another long essay to explain how to open and eat a crab. Your waitress—or your host or hostess—will be happy to demonstrate how to get every delicious morsel, and you’ll be enjoying your crabs like an old pro in no time.

Other Ways to Enjoy Crab: Crabmeat takes to just about anything. Sauce it richly for Crab Imperial or Crab Norfolk. Mound it in ramekins with a little cream and a few spices for deviled crab. Bind it lightly and gently with a little mayonnaise, some parsley, and a (very) few bread crumbs, sauté or broil it, and you have the delicious crab cake.

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Just a few blocks away from Baltimore’s busy Inner Harbor, at the Maryland Historical Society, you can relive many important events and the people who helped shape the state’s dramatic history. Throughout history, of course, it has been the "important people" who have been remembered…Read More

Just a few blocks away from Baltimore’s busy Inner Harbor, at the Maryland Historical Society, you can relive many important events and the people who helped shape the state’s dramatic history.

Throughout history, of course, it has been the "important people" who have been remembered and honored—The George Washingtons, the Abrahaham Lincolns. Presidents, princesses and movie stars, all seem to have their place in history and Maryland certainly has its share of these as well. It’s only appropriate that their history should be remembered at this museum.

Yet, all too often, the people who made up everyday life have been forgotten. But, now, with their new spotlight exhibit, An Extraordinary, Ordinary Life: The Life and Times of Miss Treva K. Walkling, the Maryland Historical Society is recognizing the vital role of people who were not rich or famous, but played a very important role in their times.

"Miss Treva," as she was called by her customers, was a working woman who embodies the spirit of 20th-century Baltimore. At this display, you will be able to view objects and photographs that bring to life her 47-year career as a waitress and her love of travel, horse racing, and dogs. Although Treva Katherina Phillipena Wilhelmina Walkling led what many people would consider a very ordinary life, she was definitely not an ordinary, but extraordinary woman. As anyone who knew Treva will tell you, she always had a ready smile for everyone, a sweet, yet mischievous, twinkle in her eyes, and a happy chuckle that bubbled like fine Champagne.

Treva had the wisdom of an experienced Zen master, and, in addition to being my aunt, was a profound role model for me. She enjoyed the here and now and found great pleasure in simple little things like smelling the earthy fresh aroma of a newly plowed field, laughing at the antics of a beguiling beagle, discovering a dime on the pavement – or outsmarting the age-guessing men at carnivals.

Treva was her own person.

Treva had discovered early on that the true secret of life is being yourself and you didn’t have to know her long to realize that she definitely was always her own person. As so many of her friends have put it, "Treva had a mind of her own." While still being her pleasant self, she quickly and firmly let everyone who tried to help her or pay her way know that she preferred to do things for herself.

One time, I secretly tried to give her a book of postage stamps and thought I had succeeded and left the room for a few minutes. When I returned home later that evening I discovered that, when I wasn’t looking, she had slipped the stamps back into my handbag. When I looked back on it, that explained the mischievous look on her face after I had returned to the room.

Treva was always willing to learn new things. Well into her 80’s, she willingly sat before a laptop computer as the magic of the Internet was demonstrated to her. Whether it was asking about the health of a friend or being impressed with daredevil kyackers challenging the rapids at Great Falls,Virginia, Treva was always interested in others.

But her interest was more than passive. She had a caring concern and she reached out to help others all throughout her life. Treva not only knew the meaning of a happy life, but lived it in out in her every day actions.

Treva was always young at heart.

Even at 88, Treva still was far from being old. In each new day, each new hour, she always found new zest to enjoy the here and now. My husband and I still laugh about the time she was in the hospital for cataracts and literally fell upon and consumed the pasticcio ice cream we brought her. She was as happy as a kid at an all-you-can eat ice cream bar. Why pasticcio? Because that’s the flavor she always remembered scooping out for me when I used to visit her at her job at the Purity Creamery.

It’s easy to be happy when you are have a life of luxury. But, as a self-supporting waitress – a profession that has never paid its employee what they are worth -- for almost 50 years, Treva knew what hard work was. Her feet had corns and her legs and back ached, but she never complained. It takes a special person to maintain a happy, young-at-heart attitude all throughout life and, even when stricken with the excruciating pain of arthritis, Treva Walkling was as positive and upbeat as she must have been at 17.

Most of all, Treva reached out to help others. Even when she was in poor health herself, she would drive others to their medical appointments, take them to church, shop for them, and, in general, be there, doing whatever was needed, without any thought of ever being repaid. She set an incredible example for all of us on how to live our lives.

Maryland Historical Society
201 West Monument Street
Baltimore, Maryland
410-685-3750
www.mdhs.org

This Spotlight Exhibit will open at 6 p.m. on March 7 and continue until June 16, 2002.

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