Shelter From The Storm
I think we all have a place to go to and people we go to escape or recharge ourselves both mentally and physically. For some it is their hometowns. For me it is the Lower Eastern Shore of Maryland, more commonly known as Delmarva.
My father grew up there (had my great grandfather not been a bigot, my father might have grown up around Lancaster, Pa.) and the bulk of my father's side of the family still lives there (the true mark of an Eastern Shoreman is that their interest in the outside world stops at the western edge of the Chesapeake Bay, so it is the rare native who strikes out into the world). Given its closeness in comparison to where my mother’s side of the family lived/s, many family trips were to visit his relatives and I also spent most of my teen summers there as well. But even then I was ‘that boy from the city’.
It’s a different place, with different, clannish people. The Chesapeake Bay, Atlantic Ocean and agriculture figure large in this area and until the early 50's isolated as well as the only practical way to get there was a ferry across the Chesapeake Bay. The bridge that replaced the ferry is for some of the natives, probably one of the worst things to happen to their way of life as 'city folk’, i.e., anyone on the other side of the Bay, arrive in droves during the warmer months.
Two books, which I have read, are good introductions to the Lower Shore and its people. The first is Chesapeake, by James Michener, and the other Beautiful Swimmers, by William Warner is another.
Last weekend was a rare free weekend so off my wife and I went. My son stayed at home since he did not want to be 'bored'. So packed and headed for my cousin's house. She is the one holding me in the photo atop this blog. She was glad to see us not only as it had been a while since the last visit and also her husband, like many of the men on The Shore, are usually not at home during the weekend, being out on the water fishing, hunting or just hanging out with their buddies at 'the store'. In his case, he was sailing his cruiser out from the oceanside to a winter berth on the Bay and do some late season fishing along the way.
She had a 1.5 liter bottle of an unpleasantly sweet Chardonnay which she and I finished off between the 2 of us and a couple of shots of a coffee-favored liqueur. We did not get shit-faced drunk, but we certainly were happy and compared family notes and gossip. Learned she, contrary to what I had thought of her, had tried to be a cheerleader in high school but failed as she did not have the necessary attributes. She still seemed bitter even after all the yeas that have gone by.
But far more rewarding was waking up the following day (no hangover) stepping outside in the morning and listen to the Canadian Geese in flight, inhale deeply the air and smell the familiar smells of the woods and farmland taking me way back to when my life was much more simpler. And inside the body and mind, the beat slowed down.
This feeling lasted for most of the trip back to Northern Va. and I was content to let those also headed back the metropolis rush pell-mell by us.
Oh yes, the house was still standing when we got back and my son was so ‘bored’ he actually sat down to do all his weekend homework!!!!
