Today’s Flashback photo is an undated image of the Prince Theatre on High Street in Chestertown, now home to beloved community theatre, the Garfield Center for the Arts. The Garfield’s website provides a history of the building, which in 1928 was converted from a butcher shop into a theatre. It has remained so ever since, first a movie theatre, and then a venue for live theatre, musical performances, and other community events and presentations. At different times in its history it has been known as the Lyceum, the Chester, the Prince, and now the Garfield.

Readers are invited to share their earliest or most meaningful memories of the theatre in the comments below or via email to [email protected]. Image courtesy of the Historical Society of Kent County.

See you on Saturday at Lawrence Wetlands Preserve!

In honor of the last day of the school year yesterday, we share a school photo for this week’s Flashback. This undated photo is labeled “Hibernia School.” Dozens of small schools like this one educated children from many communities around Kent County in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Students walked to school, often learning in multi-grade classes.

Happy summer to Kent County schools students! Don’t forget to visit the Historical Society during your vacation. You can take a children’s walking tour, learn about ship building and ship captains in Kent County, find books for kids about local history, and ask friendly docents any questions you have about Kent County history.

If you have any information about this school or the people pictured, please share it in the comments or by emailing [email protected].

This was my last week of school for the 2024–2025 year, and to say it was busy is an understatement! Between Donuts for Dads, Spirit Week, Field Day, and the Moving Up ceremony, it was a whirlwind. Friday was spent cleaning and breaking down the classroom, if you’ve ever taught school, you know that means organizing a lot of moving parts: toys, books, centers, and supplies that all have to find a home in storage.

We also had our staff send-off parties this week at local restaurants. I have to say, I was genuinely impressed with the service at Chili’s. Our server was cheerful, knowledgeable, and incredibly attentive. She was clearly someone who enjoyed her job, and it made for a really fun and relaxing experience, the perfect ending to a very full week.

On the flip side, my husband and I grabbed carryout from Chipotle earlier in the week, and it was a major letdown. The person behind the counter was too busy chatting with friends at the register to even acknowledge us. When we asked a question about a couple of new items, the response was simply, “I don’t know,” followed by her walking away. The next staff member wasn’t any more helpful and acted like we were bothering them.

Having owned a restaurant, I can’t help but notice the contrast in service, and how much of a difference it makes. One experience left me smiling after a long week; the other just disappointed.

Kindness is now part of the curriculum at my school through a program called Positive Action. Children are encouraged to choose kindness every day and are recognized when they do. It’s a beautiful practice and a necessary one. Somewhere along the way, especially after the pandemic, it seems there was a disconnect in human interaction. Without regular, meaningful contact, people can forget how powerful simple acts of kindness really are.

Recently, I was surprised by the lack of professionalism during a visit to our doctor’s office. The receptionist was eating a bag of potato chips during check-in and the nurse was sitting in the waiting area having a very personal phone conversation. Thankfully, both women were kind and pleasant, but I was still taken aback by the setting. It reminded me that while kindness is essential, so is professionalism, especially in environments where people seek care and support.

According to some estimates, it takes approximately twelve muscles to smile and forty three to frown. It’s important to note that these are just estimates, and the actual number of muscles involved can fluctuate based on factors such as facial anatomy and the effort put into the expression.

Each morning, I make it a point to look my students in the eye and greet them with a cheerful, “Good morning!” I also try to notice and comment on something kind or joyful, often it’s a beautiful smile, and I make sure to thank them for sharing it.

We have one little boy who arrives each day with the biggest frown imaginable. But every morning, I greet him with, “I’m so glad to see you at school today.” And without fail, that frown slowly turns into a smile. It’s a simple gesture, but it reminds me just how powerful a kind word and genuine connection can be.

Sometimes all it takes is a smile to prove that kindness doesn’t need words to be heard and to make our world a brighter place.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

The first few chords of John Denver’s ballad; Rocky Mountain High have a powerful way of evoking emotions that transport me to different places and memories of my late teens. The feeling is a deep, hollow ache, a sensation of missing someone or something, grieving a moment that can’t be reclaimed.

The day Rocky Mountain High was released, I didn’t hesitate. As a devoted John Denver fan, I bought the album the moment it hit the shelves. I played it on repeat for months, not fully realizing why it resonated so deeply with me. Looking back, I now understand: my mountain had always been a part of me.

In the winter, it was my playground, I skied its slopes, rode snowmobiles through the powder, and went sledding until my feet were numb and my cheeks were pink with cold. When the seasons turned, the mountain transformed. The air smelled of pine and earth, and the song of the Meadowlarks replaced the hush of snowfall. In spring and summer, I hiked to the waterfall, had picnics in wildflower meadows, and practiced archery in the crisp mountain air. The tall Aspen trees and towering Ponderosa pines stood silently in the background, ever-present, like old friends. That mountain and that music shaped who I am. It turns out, it was home. Without realizing it, my mountain had always been part of my story.

Now, when I hear those familiar chords of Rocky Mountain High, I understand why I was drawn to it so fiercely. John Denver wasn’t just singing about Colorado, he was singing about my memories, my joy, my mountain.

As it turns out, mountains are magical places. They are often seen as sites of spiritual elevation, places where individuals can find clarity, inspiration, and a deeper connection to something greater than themselves. Mountains symbolize strength, resilience, and the enduring human spirit. Their presence inspires us to rise above our challenges, just as they rise above the land.

According to the Adventure Tourism Blog, mountains are vital components of Earth’s water resources, climate systems, and cultural heritage. Protecting and conserving mountains is essential for maintaining the balance of our planet and ensuring the well-being of both nature and human communities.

As the summer season approaches, I find myself reflecting on just how deeply meaningful my experiences with the mountains, lakes, and oceans have been. Without fully understanding the power they held at the time, I was always drawn to these natural places, and I made sure to share them with my four children as often and as early as I could.

There’s a photo I treasure: I’m holding my eldest as a tiny infant, bundled up against the cold, surrounded by towering snowbanks at the base of the Snowy Range with Mirror Lake in the background. Years later, I remember my toddlers walking barefoot through icy mountain streams in the hills of Southern California, squealing with surprise and delight.

These places were more than just beautiful backdrops, they were teachers, sanctuaries, and playgrounds. And looking back, I see how they shaped both me and my children in quiet, lasting ways.

The phrase Rocky Mountain High is often used to describe the sense of euphoria that comes from being surrounded by the beauty of the mountains. For me, it’s more than a song, it’s a feeling I’ve known my whole life. It’s the joy, peace, and deep connection I’ve found in nature, and the gift I’ve been able to share with my children. That’s the true high the mountains give.