St. Mary's College Part 2

There was a lot to be learned in college, but I'm sure it won't surprise anyone to hear that most of that learning took place outside of the classroom.  The lessons learned there are simple, but so often forgotten: take time to look around-really look around- and enjoy what's in front of you, relax, laugh with friends, and watching a good sunset can take the edge off of any day.

There was a lot to see in St. Mary's, but certainly one of the most memorable sights came sometime during my freshman year when a friend and I were walking along the river one evening.  We decided to take a wet shortcut to the boathouse when I was surprised to see our footprints glowing in the sand.  Lucky for me my friend was majoring in biology and was able to teach me all about bioluminescence in algae.  I had never seen such a thing before and didn't see it again until a few summers ago when I explained to whole thing to my nephew while we stood on the beach in North Carolina.

Laughter.  I experienced more than my fair share of that while living the good life in southern Maryland.  Fortunately I still get opportunities to laugh with the same good friends today.  The friends I made down there were the kind that you know are going to be a part of your life for the rest of your life, which is a great way to keep the laughter going.

The other part of campus that would make any alumni's "best of" list would be the treat of so many sunsets on the St. Mary's River.  Many evening meals at the dining hall were followed by a stroll over to the historic cemetery at Trinity Parish for the best view.  I can still picture myself sitting on a bluff, surrounded by buttercups, looking down as the blue sky yielded to the rich oranges, reds and yellows of the setting sun.  The air was still but my friends and I were laughing as we took in the beauty that was our daily existence.  That's what I call relaxation at its finest.

St. Mary's College Part 1

I'm really much more of a small town kind of gal.  Even though I've spent the last 25 years living 5 miles from the nation's capital I'm much more comfortable in a one stoplight town- three or four is okay as well.

St. Mary's City was that town.  I'm sure it was big stuff in it's heyday, as the fourth permanent settlement in British North America and as Maryland's first capital, but by the time I arrived in August of 1980 it was not really much of a town at all.  There was a post office, a church and one flashing light.  The nearest store of any kind was about 3 miles away.  St. Mary's City was really just St. Mary's College. In fact, tourists would often flag us college students down as we strolled along Route 5 on our way to class.

"Excuse me, could you tell us where St. Mary's City is? " they would inquire.

"Uh, you're in it."

Life at St. Mary's College was small in size, but, wow, it was large in so many other ways.  To start with there was the river.  The St. Mary's River is impressive.  I'd bet if you asked anyone who went to school there what their favorite part of campus was they'd say it was the drive down Rt. 5 into St. Mary's City.  Shortly after passing an old tobacco barn and a dive bar, The Green Door, the road bends around to the right a bit.  After a short drive through a stand of trees the road curves once more and opens up with a grand view of nothing but river, trees and sky.  When the water is filled with the sails of 420s, Lasers, and windsurfers it's downright fabulous.  I have four years of memories crammed into my head about that place, but nothing beats the way the river welcomes me every time I go down that way.

Lessons Learned on Rainier Ave.

Yup, I learned a lot up there on Rainier Ave. - some good, some bad.  I learned I don't really like babysitting.  I remember babysitting some kids across the way and just hating it.  The only person I liked babysitting was my young neighbor, Gerald.  I would sit with him on Sunday nights while his parents went off to church.  Gerald was the easiest child I've ever sat for.  He pretty much entertained himself while I was there and when I let him know it was time for bed he would, without a word, turn towards the steps, smile and say, "Okay, good night then!"

Yes, it was that easy.  And if that's not enough, his mom always made me some sort of dessert to enjoy while they were gone.  On the one occasion when there was no cake to munch on she apologized profusely and let me know that she'd left me all the fixings for a banana split. 

I learned playing in the snow can be painful...especially when chasing someone (Freddy) with a snowball and slipping on a patch of ice that lay hidden underneath 6 inches of snow.  To this day I can still recall the horrific sound of my bone breaking.

I learned it's really not that fun to miss three weeks of school.

Thanks to those three missed weeks there's one thing I didn't learn- how to diagram sentences.  There are days when I wonder if I missed anything at all. Other days I'm sure I there is a void in my life that could be filled by that one skill.  One day...

I learned how to drive.  It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, well the driving itself was okay, but throw in learning on a stick shift and parallel parking and things get a little dicey.

On a similar note I learned when driving in a torrential downpour be careful of streams that rise out of their banks.  The water is deeper than it appears.  You should not attempt to drive through no matter how safe it looks.  However, if you make the wrong decision it's best to climb out the window and hold onto the car until reaching shallow water.

As far as school goes, I found out that middle school really isn't much fun for an introvert with a low level of self-esteem.  Thankfully, high school is better.

After 7 years on Rainier Ave. I learned enough for the next stage of life.  In August of 1980 I packed up my things and headed south to St. Mary's College of Maryland.

New Digs a Little North

My family and I arrived in Bel Air during the summer before I started 6th grade.  The house was brand, spanking new.  The housing development was new as well, one of the first of many built in Bel Air at that time period.  Since then the entire area has continued to explode- to the point where these days I have a hard time recognizing the places I knew so well back then.

The year was 1973 and boy did our house show it.  Every room was adorned with a different tri-color shag rug.  There was gold in the living and family room, green in the boys' room and a fabulous shade of orange in the bedroom that my sister and I shared.
New construction meant we finally had central air conditioning.  I was sure I wouldn't be sweating out another summer but didn't count on my mother policing the thermostat.  She was one money saver that's for sure- if she deemed it hot enough to turn the a/c on it didn't go on until after dinner and was turned off as soon as she got up early the next morning.  Yeah, it wasn't exactly what I had imagined the comforts of forced, cooled air to be but it beat having nothing at all.

I lived on Rainier Ave. for 7 years- longer than anywhere else I've lived.  I started off as an insecure 11 year-old and managed to survive the challenges of adolescence, middle school and high school before heading off to college at the age of 18. 

Yup, I learned a whole bunch while living in Bel Air-so much; I don't even know where to start.

Let me think on all that a bit more...I'll get back to you tomorrow...

Gothard Rd. Part 2

The one thing that stands out to me about the time we spent on Gothard Rd. is the amount of freedom us kids were given.  Not only were we running about on the Cul-de-sac for nightly games of Kick the Can, we were running all over the neighborhood.

Back then we was usually myself and Cheryl, who had moved in across the street sometime after my family had arrived.  Cheryl and her family had come from Michigan after her father accepted a job with another favorite team, the Baltimore Colts.  We were the same age so it made sense that we hung out together.

We covered a lot of ground in those days.  There was a 7-11 about a mile away.  It became an almost daily ritual to head over that way for candy cigarettes, wax lips and some strange candy that was made to look like lipstick.  Yeah, us kids were not only running free through the neighborhood, we were also stuffing as much sugar as possible into our mouths while we did it.

We spent most of our time outside.  There was no air conditioning inside and the black and white TV that sat in the corner of our living room only played 4 or 5 stations.  The outside offered a whole lot more fun than anything going on inside the house.  When Hurricane Agnes arrived in June of 1972 we were not deterred; we put on bathing suits and headed out the front door to play in the storm. 

The Bookmobile drove through the neighborhood each week, so did the fruit and vegetable truck.  The older man who owned the green panel van always had purple grapes to hand out to kids.  The Charlie Chip man came through on a regular basis delivering chips and pretzels to the neighbors.  We weren't one of the lucky ones getting a delivery from the chip guy but I sure wished we could be.

There were three good years on Gothard Rd., and then before I knew it we were moving north to someplace called Bel Air.   I didn't know much about Bel Air, except that it was located in Harford County, and that county was always getting snow days.

Gothard Rd. Part 1

By the time I started third grade I had moved into the split-level house on Gothard Rd.  This time around it wasn't just my family of six that moved in.  My paternal grandmother, Mom Mom to all of us kids, and my great aunt moved in with us.  Mom Mom had recently suffered a stroke.  Finding a place that provided a space for the two of them was important so we found a new rental property about 5 miles from the house on Othoridge.

The neighborhood was full of kids and although it wasn't easy making friends at first, eventually we all got used to each other and learned how to have fun together.  In the summertime we had epic games of kick the can in the Cul-de-sac to the left of our property. 

The Vietnam War was the lead news story of the day.  Pictures of soldiers and war covered the pages of The Baltimore Sun and the now defunct, News American.  At the age of 8 I didn't really understand what was going on over there but I do remember wondering who was winning on regularly. 

My grandmother and great aunt weren't the only additions to household on Gothard Rd.  After years of asking, begging and pleading I got my first pet.  My third grade teacher, Mrs. Carey, was quite the saleswoman.  We arrived at school one day and found kittens running all over the classroom.  Lucky for us they were all in need of homes!  To this day I can't be sure what it was that convinced my mom to say yes, but the next thing I knew I was coming home with my very own gray cat.  Deciding on a name was tough.  I was still an Orioles fan so of course Brooks Robinson and Boog Powell were in the running for some time.  Eventually I settled on the name of my favorite cat food spokesperson of the day and named my new kitten Morris. 

Did I mention that my mother specified the cat had to be a boy?  She was not about to deal with any cat that was going to sneak into some closet and have a bunch of kittens.

Oops...Morris turned out to be a girl.  Not only did she sneak into the closet and have kittens (twice), the closet she decided to sneak into was the one that stored my mother's clothes and shoes.

more tomorrow...

Detour

Yes, there are the all those houses that I lived in.  From Baltimore to DC, and back to Baltimore again, there have been a number of places that I've "grown up" in.   But really, it would be irresponsible not to mention one more place before I go any further- and that would be my grandmother's house on the eastern shore of Maryland.

If anyone were looking for a litmus test to see if they can classify themselves as a real friend of mine I'd have to say it has to do with my maternal grandmother.  If you can retell 3 or 4 good "Granny stories" from my childhood, then you and I are pretty good friends.  If you have been privy to a few of those stories then I've opened up to you and let you pretty far into my real world.

It was a "back door" kind of place.  The only people who came to the front door were the ones that didn't come by that often.  Most people climbed the rear concrete steps and entered through the kitchen without ever a knock on the door.  For the most part that's where all the gatherings took place.  Everyone found a seat around the Formica table that took up a good part of the kitchen and settled in for food and chat.  Pop Pop's chair was the only reserved seat- he sat in his chair by the window. His was a perch that offered up a view of the garden out back, allowing him to be a part of the conversation when he wanted, while he kept watch over his pride and joy in the back yard.

In the early years my grandparents were without the comforts of a real bathroom and that was okay with me.  I never minded heading out back to the outhouse.  Yeah, it smelled kind of nasty, but it was just part of the way things were down on the eastern shore.  When I was still small enough baths were taken in the kitchen sink followed by a thorough drying off by Granny as I stood on a kitchen chair by the stove.  Dinnertime meant the best lima beans ever, fresh squeezed lemonade and homemade ice cream.

At night I would climb the wooden stairs to Granny's bedroom where I snuggled up next to her in bed.  My grandfather slept in his own room down the hall- another story on its own- with a Mason jar of ice-cold water next to his bed.

We didn't spend a lot of time in the living room.  There was a couch, which Granny always referred to as the davenport, and a black and white console TV.  Next to the TV sat a wooden telephone table.  It looked a bit like an old fashioned school desk except it was made for sitting while talking on the phone-something that may seem odd to the cordless phone culture of today, but was just right for the bulky, black rotary dial phone of the 60s and 70s.

During the summer the conversations moved out of the warm kitchen to the cooler screened-in porch out front.  My favorite spot was the wooden porch swing where I could sit for hours and listen as the grown-ups talked about everything and nothing in particular.  It was on that porch that I would earn a quarter here and there for massaging my grandmother's feet with rubbing alcohol helping to relieve the pains of the day.


That cedar-shingled house may not have looked like much to any passersby, but to me it was, and still is, the heartbeat of my childhood.