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December 3, 2023

Chestertown Spy

Nonpartisan and Education-based News for Chestertown

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Point of View Laura Spy Top Story

Suggestible You by Laura J. Oliver

December 3, 2023 by Laura J. Oliver Leave a Comment

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The future is influenced by what you remember. 

It is decided by what you believe.

I have a story to tell you. 

In 1944, as Allied forces stormed the beaches in southern Italy, Dr. Henry Beecher, a graduate of Harvard Medical School and Chief of Anesthesiology at Massachusetts General, was serving at a military base hospital. Overwhelming casualties had depleted medical supplies. When Dr. Beecher realized there was no morphine left to anesthetize a soldier before a surgical procedure, he told the soldier he was injecting him with morphine but injected him with saline instead.  

To Dr. Beecher’s astonishment, the soldier relaxed exactly as if he’d received anesthesia and, more importantly, and significantly, withstood the procedure without any painkiller and without going into shock. 

While no written document verifies this anecdote, Dr. Beecher’s colleagues said it was mostly likely true as the facts that follow are well established. After the war, Dr. Beecher returned to Harvard intrigued by witnessing the power of the mind over the body and began researching the possibilities in earnest. In 1955, he published “The Powerful Placebo” in the Journal of the American Medical Association. He has been known as “the father of the placebo effect” ever since.  

Today, the majority of drugs that fail in late-stage trials, after Big Pharma has spent millions of dollars on their development, fail because they can’t beat the power of belief alone. Now the gold standard in drug testing, the placebo effect demonstrates a significant number of subjects will get well simply because they believe they are going to get well. 

So, it turns out that Rudyard Kipling was both prescient and correct when, in 1923, he said in a speech to the Royal College of Surgeons in London, “Words are the most powerful drug known to mankind. They enter into, and color, the minutest cells of the brain.” 

Words are so powerful they can affect you even on a subliminal level. In 1982, Dr. Lloyd Silverman, a New York research psychologist at the Veterans Administration Regional Office, ran a newspaper ad offering free desensitization for people with insect phobias. Twenty women responded. After dividing the women into two groups, Silverman exposed them to photos of roaches, bees, centipedes, and spiders. Using a tachistoscope, an instrument that flashes images or words across a subject’s visual field so quickly they are not consciously discernible, Silverman interspersed the photos in each group with a sentence flashed on the screen for 4 milliseconds. The control group subconsciously absorbed the totally neutral sentence, “People are walking.” Without knowing they had seen it, the experimental group had read, “Mommy and I are one.” 

The group subliminally absorbing the phrase “Mommy and I are one” had a significantly higher success rate at becoming desensitized. Later, researchers replicated the results, and Silverman found that the phrase “Mommy and I are one” also led to greater success with those quitting smoking and in weight loss programs. Apparently, feeling safe and protected is empowering and transforming. 

The power of words.

When my kids were young and became ill, instead of interpreting fever as a sign of illness, I told them it was a sign they were already getting well. “You have a fever?” I’d say, my cheek grazing a small, hot forehead. I’d sit down on the bed, surrounded by posters of rock groups and runners (Steve Prefontaine: “To do less than your best is to sacrifice the gift”), and say, “That’s actually good news! Your body has marshaled forces! Right this minute, it’s working to make you well. I’ll bet you’ll be fine by morning.” It often worked. And when it didn’t, we saw the pediatrician. But we placed our attention on health, not illness, and it seemed to have an effect. 

When I accidentally crack a kneecap on the pine coffee table by the fireplace, I tell myself the pain has already faded at the moment of injury. I sit down on the hearth, the crackling fire at my back, and I can feel the pain immediately dissipate. The brain is an expectation machine. It believes what you tell it, and it even interprets body language. 

When you smile, even for no reason, even just because you are holding a pencil between your teeth, your brain takes in the message that something good must be happening, and you feel better. 

Everything is story, and your brain has evolved to respond to it. When I began this column, I said I had a story to tell you and when you read those words, your brain released a small surge of endorphins in the belief intriguing information was on its way. So, I start every day with story. You could call it prayer as well. Either way, it is the power of words at work. 

After expressing my gratitude very specifically for the gifts of the day before and for the innumerable gifts of this life, like you, I offer up a story about the next 8 hours as if they have already happened. I am specific and positive; I work from a basis of good intention and goodwill. I write the story down. I write of editing 100 pages of a manuscript, getting across the Bay Bridge without delay, and having a laughter-filled lunch with a friend I love. I imagine healing sent to those deeply challenged at the moment, of a new client call in which we both hang up utterly delighted at the obvious potential in our collaboration. 

You get the idea. At least, I hope you do. I hope you experiment as well. I hope you use the power of words today. I am.

Smile. You are going to have a marvelous morning; you will accomplish all you hoped to accomplish and have a surprisingly delightful amount of time for sheer entertainment this afternoon. You will receive a flash of insight about a problem you’ve been harboring that releases all energy from it, and your unconditional joy will radiate from the inside out all day. You are, in fact, a magnet for miracles.

Don’t believe me? 

Sometimes, you can throw open the cell door, and the prisoner won’t budge. And sometimes, new ideas are met with resistance bordering on hostility. And to that, I say this: 

Mommy and I are one.   

Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Laura, Spy Top Story

Food Friday: Life is Short, Eat Cookies!

December 1, 2023 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

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2023 is spinning away from us, and zipping by so fast! I just ate the last of the leftover Thanksgiving turkey for my lunchtime sandwich today, and now I have to start thinking about holiday cookies. Hanukkah is in a week, and all the Yuletide revelries and First Nights and Lunches with Santa start momentarily. This weekend is a good time to start getting ahead of yourself, and bake a couple of batches of your signature cookies. Monday in National Cookie Day, so for once we are ahead of the game.

I always get too ambitious, and think that I will tirelessly bake batches and batches of adorable Christmas cookies. I have such an amusing fantasy life! There are no children at home here, just Mr. Sanders and me, and Luke the wonder dog. And yet I persist in believing I am preparing for the competitive Annual Sewall’s Point Cookie Swap, or Ms. Backnick’s Fourth Grade Holiday Party. It might be time to cut back.

Where to turn this year? Everything Martha bakes looks so beautiful and uniform, and intimidating; crafted by CIA professionals, but this year I have also become acquainted with Dorie Greenspan. There is alway our favorite Julia Child to consider, and our friends at Food52. The New York Times is producing a week of cookie recipes in a newsletter format, and then there are the new young folks cooking and baking up a storm on Instagram and TikTok. Whew. December is just not long enough for all the baking we can do – while we are decking the halls, celebrating Hanukkah, and cleaning up from Thanksgiving.

Plus, there are store-bought cookies. We ran through a Trader Joe’s on our Thanksgiving trip. You could make a feast that Charlie Bucket would yearn for with all the cookies and sweets available at Trader Joe’s: Peppermint Meringues, Dark Chocolate Covered Peppermint Joe Joe’s, Ginger Cookie Thins, Lebkuchen cookies, Mini Gingerbread People, Decked Out Tree Cookies and and all that Peppermint Bark. It is good for my waistline that we live two hours away from Trader Joe’s, and I have to rely on my own baking skills. If you live near a nice bakery, consider yourself lucky, and try to buy local and support small businesses. We are rationing the Dark Peppermint Joe Joes, and treat ourselves to one a day. I am sorry, but Mr. Sanders and I will not be sharing. We even hid them from our grandchildren at Thanksgiving. Shhh!

It is easy to get overwhelmed with the myriad holiday recipes in Bon Appetit, Epicurious, the Washington Post, Ina Garten and others. It is important to pace yourself. I usually like to bake my mother’s ginger snaps first, because they are simple and fragrant. The house suddenly smells like the house I grew up in. I can sit down at the kitchen table with a plate of warm ginger snaps, and a glass of milk, and be the eight-year-old me again. The magic of Christmas.

I always admire the folks who find all the cute baking supplies, too. I love the fluted paper, the shiny cellophane, the dragées and the colorful jimmies, hundreds and thousands nonpareils, and seasonal sprinkles.

Make something pretty. Make something that reminds you of your mother. When I was little we made some iced sugar cookies with my mother every year. I’d wear one of her aprons and stand on a wobbly red wooden stool at the kitchen table, rolling and cutting and slathering on the confectioner’s sugar icing. And then I made the same cookies, with the same cookies cutters, with my children. All the cookies were hideous, because we mixed icing colors together and got sky blue pink, and grays, and purples. Totally unappetizing to gaze upon, but they were delicious, and very sweet, though fleeting, moments together. Let’s make the world a sweeter, more colorful place again this year.

Nowadays you can find everything you want by way of cookie decorating supplies at Amazon – which makes the process completely devoid of romance. But there you have it – plain, prosaic practicality: Cookie Supplies

I’ve never been to this place in New York City, but I have heard great things about the sheer number of its supplies: NYCake

This are my mother’s plain, unadorned, pure and simple Gingersnaps. I haul the recipe out every year, and so should you:

My favorite cookie is the humble gingersnap. Gingersnaps are among the most versatile of cookies. They taste deelish warm from the oven, cold in a lunch bag, and are still not too bad when they are stale. These are simple, round and wholesome.

Gingersnap Cookies:
3/4 cup unsalted butter, room temp
1/2 cup dark brown sugar (pack it into the measuring cup)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup molasses
1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1
1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

For dusting the cookies:
1 cup granulated white sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.
Beat the butter and sugars until light and fluffy, I use an electric mixer. Add the molasses, egg, and vanilla extract and beat until well-mixed. In a separate bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, and spices. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and mix well. Cover the bowl with Saran Wrap and chill it in the fridge for about half an hour, until it is firm.

Fill a little bowl with the cup (or thereabouts) of granulated sugar. When the dough is nice and chilly, roll it into 1-inch balls. Then drop and roll the balls of dough in the sugar, this is the best point for expecting kid interaction and assistance. Put the dough balls on the baking sheets, and use a small flat-bottomed glass to flatten the balls. Sometimes you will need to dip the glass back into the sugar to maintain the right amount of crunchy, sugary goodness. Do not squash them too thin, or the cookies will get too dark and brittle. Bake for about 12 – 15 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.

Food52, which will never steer your wrong, has Bazillions of Cookie Recipes.

Martha will drive you nuts with her perfectionism, and you will undoubtedly have the prettiest cookies at the Cookie Swap

These are sophisticated and are suitable for your grownup friends:
Vanilla Bean Sablés

And if you just can’t decide, Sally will undoubtedly have a cookie for Santa: Sally’s Baking

“She stuck her head out and took a deep breath. If she could eat the cold air, she would. She thought cold snaps were like cookies, like gingersnaps. In her mind they were made with white chocolate chunks and had a cool, brittle vanilla frosting. They melted like snow in her mouth, turning creamy and warm.”
― Sarah Addison Allen

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Spy Top Story

CBMM Becomes More Welcoming: Celebrating a New Welcome Center in St. Michaels

November 29, 2023 by Val Cavalheri Leave a Comment

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After years of planning (and generous philanthropic contributions), the building is ready for the ribbon-cutting celebration that will take place this Saturday. The Center, which broke ground in the summer of 2022, marked the beginning of a project to transform the museum’s campus to include the Museum Store and three exhibition spaces in this sleek and modern structure. With a soft opening last month, the building has already played a pivotal role in CBMM’s fall festivals, with much more to come.

The Spy met with Exhibition Designer Jim Koerner, VP of Engagement Shannon Mitchell, and Director of Curatorial Affairs and Exhibitions Jen Dolde to discuss some of the innovations and historical aspects of this new space and the festivities planned for this weekend.

Built on the Fogg’s Landing side of campus, the structure is strategically attached to a parking lot. “Previously, when you visited, it would be pretty challenging to find where to go, to enter the museum,” Mitchell said. The Welcome Center addresses this concern, providing a seamless transition for visitors right off the parking lot. It also aligns with CBMM’s thematic storytelling approach, with the building being the opening chapter—the orientation. 

As guests enter the Welcome Center, they will step onto a floor map of the Chesapeake Bay and a third-order Fresnel lens (before the use of GPS, it led the mariner from one point to another along the coast.) This will “guide” visitors through the reception area to the exhibitions. Said Dolde, “Each of these exhibits is connected to the other, and we see them both as separate and as part of a whole.”  

The first one guests will come across is titled Navigating the Chesapeake’s Maritime Culture. Using CBMM’s oral history collection, photographs, and artifacts, it displays the Chesapeake as a maritime highway, habitat, and resource for the fisheries within a changing and constantly evolving community. 

Dolde spoke about how these themes serve as the foundation for the entire museum, guiding the reinterpretation of existing exhibitions and creating new ones. She also highlighted the importance of including diverse and underrepresented stories. “There’s tradition, there’s innovation, and there is the Chesapeake as a source of inspiration and identity.”

Walking further into the Center is perhaps the heart of this building. Called Water Lines: Chesapeake Watercraft Traditions, it showcases CBMM’s small craft collection. This exhibition unveils vessels that have been in long-term storage, some of them being shown for the first time. The boats are shown elevated and presented as the artistic pieces they are. 

Associated with each are panels that honor not only the craftsmanship but also the human stories behind these vessels. In one, you will see and read about the Marianne, originally a work boat converted for leisure use. Another boat and story is the Alverta, owned by a black Waterman on Kent Island, whose fortunes rose and fell with the oystering industry.

Said Koerner, “From an engagement standpoint, we’re setting a foundation. You’ll learn the stories and see the boats and the craftsmanship that goes into them. As you go through the museum, you’ll see an image of either that same boat or one similar to it and how it was used by the w waterman, fishermen, crabbers, or just the casual boater. You’ll have more of an understanding of how all these parts came together and how these things are built. It will be a richer experience for our visitors.”

He also emphasized the cultural value of these vessels, noting that as generations pass, preserving these stories becomes increasingly crucial. “We need to be able to hang on to these stories because those are all part of the fabric of our community,” he said.

Still to come is the Stories from the Shoreline, which will expand the current Waterfowling exhibition, delving into the ecology of the Bay and the experiences of those who have called the region home. Don’t miss the custom-designed glass case from Germany, which connects the various spaces within the Welcome Center and will hold more of the storytelling features.

Mitchell envisions the Center as the starting and ending point of a guest’s journey at CBMM. “On a typical day,” she said, “we’ll orient you to the campus and give you an overview of what’s happening. Perhaps give you some recommendations on what to see and do that day.” It’s a curated journey, ensuring guests leave with a sense of maritime history and a comprehensive understanding of CBMM’s offerings. 

Which is why the Museum Store is such an integral part of the Welcome Center, an opportunity to expand and take home some of the experience. It will offer unique merchandise with coastal, nautical, and regional themes. It is an engaging atmosphere with its stylized ceiling tiles, a historic photo of Crisfield’s Horsey Brothers Department Store, and exhibit vessels.

—–

CBMM invites everyone to the free Welcome Center Grand Opening celebration from 10 am to 4 pm on Saturday, December 2nd.

Some highlights include a formal ribbon-cutting ceremony at 10:30 am, after which the “Winter on the Chesapeake” festival will officially begin. It features presentations, hands-on activities, campus tours, and live music for visitors of all ages.

Headlining the entertainment at 11:30 am is renowned jazz saxophonist (and St. Michaels native) Anthony “Turk” Cannon. The festival will also offer unique demonstrations, including an invasive species cooking demo (?) by Chef Zack Mills of Baltimore’s True Chesapeake Oyster Co. and a scrapple-making demo (!) by butchers from The Village Shoppe in St. Michaels.

There will also be a variety of food items and beverages, including festive cocktails for guests to enjoy. Although the event is free, guests are encouraged to get more information and RSVP at cbmm.org/WelcomeCenterGrandOpening.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Arts Portal Lead, Spy Highlights, Spy Top Story

The Armory, WC and Chestertown: A Chat with President Mike Sosulski and Developers Jay Shah and Keith Coe

November 28, 2023 by Dave Wheelan 10 Comments

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The first time the Chestertown Spy reported on the future of the vacant John H. Newnam Armory was three months after the community newspaper began operating in June 2009. The essence of that article was that Chestertown’s then-mayor, Margo Bailey, was making it clear to the state of Maryland that the Town would not pay a dollar more than $500,000 for the property after state officials had calculated its market value as $2.4 million. Chestertown eventually took over the property and later transferred it to Washington College for under $400,000.

Since that news, the Spy has published approximately 150 articles, commentaries, or letters to the editor about the Armory’s future. They are articles and opinions about town/gown relations, aspirations about the Chester River waterfront, and visions of a town that finally has a flagship hotel it has so richly deserved and needed for more than 50 years.

But rarely do those those articles note the grim reality that any significant improvement to a blighted site such as the Armory, requires lots of money. Without capital investors, no town or college can achieve its goals without the cash to complete the project.

And so, while the community has dreamed big about the Armory’s future for the past ten years, only some have understood the pure complexity of fundraising for these extremely expensive projects. More importantly, many have underestimated the role of luck in such undertakings.

Nonetheless, it might be an accurate to note that this critically important ingredient called serendipity has finally seemed to arrive after so much wishful thinking. A serious hotel developer with an impeccable track record, a history of doing challenging projects, and a proven capacity to fundraise for them, fell in love with Chestertown and Washington College.

With the arrival of Jay Shah and his professional team and vast network, the concept for the property has turned very real for Chestertown over the last year. Shah and his company, Hersha Hospitality Trust, want to move forward with a plan for a moderately-sized hotel and conference center at the Armory site.

With the endorsement of Washington College and numerous community leaders, Shah and his team have been successful so far on the various approval processes required to begin fundraising. But the one remaining threshold issue has come down to seeking approval from the town’s Historic District Commission to tear down most of the existing Armory building.

After evaluating the opinion of experts in this kind of restoration, the Shah group has concluded that water damage and mold infestation have made the building unrecoverable. Any attempt to rescue the structure would result in a failed campaign to attract investors to the project.

In simple terms, if the Historic District Commission does not permit the demolition of the building, Jay Shah’s team would need to walk away from the project. And for many in the community, that would be really bad luck.

But for some in Chestertown, the passion to save the historical site overrides Shah’s plans to use the facade of the building as a way to honor its history. Over the last few months, advocates to save the Armory have provided testimony to the commission that the structure can be saved and argued for the Town to seek an independent opinion for a structural analysis.

So the stakes are very high.

To help our readers better understand the developer’s background, their proposed Armory plan, and the major issues related to the environmental hazards of the building, we invited Washington College president Mike Sosulski, Jay Shah, and his team colleague Keith Coe to participate in a Zoom interview on the Armory project.

Given the history and complexity of the project, it was the Spy’s choice to present our coverage in three parts. The first reviews the project’s history with President Sosulski and Jay Shah’s background with Chestertown, the second is on the anticipated financial impact including Keith Coe’s perspective; and, lastly, a specific discussion on the building’s environmental damage and associated risk.

Background and History 

Financial Impact

Environmental Concerns

These video interviews range in length from 5 – 10 minute each. 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Spy Top Story

Time Enough by Laura J. Oliver

November 26, 2023 by Laura J. Oliver 4 Comments

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Emily, my youngest, who lives in D.C., is coming for the weekend. I need to vacuum and plan menus, change the sheets in the loft, scrub the guest bathroom, and yet, I have a manuscript to edit, a workshop to teach, and a column to write. It’s so hard to demonstrate love and write about love at the same time.

On the stair landing, I pause, suddenly arrested by a framed essay in which I not only anticipated this dilemma but chose it. It is a decision I made many years ago and make again in small ways every day.

***

They tell me to breathe, to ride the contraction like an ocean swell, cresting it in rhythmic control. But I barely hear them, diving deep beneath the pain. There is less movement in the depths, less distance to the shore. 

“She’s crowning,” they call out. “Push harder! Again!” I comply just to please them. This child intends to never be born. 

“It’s a girl,” the doctor proclaims, and the pain suddenly stops. I hear a cry, but I am briefly detached. For nine months, we have enjoyed the mystery of this child’s identity. Not knowing whether it was a boy or a girl, the baby became both in our minds. The nursery was decorated a non-committal yellow, and with the choosing of names, “baby” became Adam/Emily. In the last months of pregnancy, I imagined myself holding and dressing newborn Adam one moment, infant Emily the next, and both seemed real. 

Now, the wondering is over, and as delighted as we are to greet Emily, a faint loss accompanies the revelation. Because there is an Emily, there will never be an Adam. The memory of this fantasy child fades as Emily claims her place in reality. 

Peace floods my body at last. It is deep, complete, thorough. A nurse covers me with a warm blanket, and I sleep.

Someone is shaking my arm. I awake in a dimly lit room on the maternity ward where I have been moved. A curtain partially shields from view another bed, where my roommate, whose child is only a few hours older than my own, is also rousing from a few precious hours of stolen sleep.

“It’s 1 a.m.,” the nurse tells us, “And the babies will be brought from the nursery for feeding in a few minutes. Wake up. You must be alert before you handle the infants.”

We struggle to sit upright for the first time since giving birth, sharing a few tentative words in the dimness. During our brief stay, this waking will become a nightly ritual. We will hear the squeaking wheels of the hospital bassinettes as they are rolled one by one down the hall, bringing each infant to its mother. Each night a nurse will herald the coming procession, calling softly into the darkened rooms, “The babies are coming! The babies are coming!” Years later, I will still remember the hushed breathlessness that filled the ward as we waited. 

I brush my hair, hold a cold, wet cloth to my face for a moment, and prepare for the arrival of my tiny daughter. She is rolled in, lying on her side, tightly swaddled. Only her face is visible in the folds of a white blanket, her eyes bright with hunger. 

I pick her up, and she stares directly at me. She looks intelligent, demanding. The nurse retreats, and I feed her, relieved when she surrenders her fierce concentration to the comfort of my arms and closes her eyes. I am temporarily released from her stoic scrutiny. 

In a little while, the nurse returns, and the tiny bundle is put back in her bassinet for the return trip to the nursery. Although I cannot see her as the door closes behind them, I picture her staring in regal intensity at her attendant as she rides down the hall—a tiny Cleopatra on her barge, sweeping down the Nile.

We are home and she has smiled at me. She has also smiled at the blank, quilted side of her crib bumpers and some memory in her dreams. But it’s too late for me. I stay within the orbit of her cradle hoping to glimpse another smile, though they are as predictable as shooting stars. 

She is not my first child. She is my last. Every touch, every moment with this child is more precious, more intense, because I will not pass this way again. 

I had meant to begin work on a novel this spring—to have a real schedule, to live the life of which book jacket bios are made: “Ms. Oliver is a critically acclaimed novelist who lives in Annapolis, Maryland.” But you can’t write about life without participating in it. 

Emily, her brother, and sister, all the people I love and those I’ve lost, are the richest colors, the teachers and tenderizers for the substance of my work, my life.

I will always long for uninterrupted afternoons of creative concentration. There will never be enough mornings spent at my desk in which to harvest these years. But even now, as I seek the heart of an essay I must set aside (Emily is coming! Emily is coming!), I remember a friend saying, “Consider the interruptions holy.”

And so I have. And so I do. 

Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Laura, Spy Top Story, Top Story

Happy Thanksgiving Weekend – We’ll Be Back Talking Turkey on Monday

November 24, 2023 by The Spy Leave a Comment

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Filed Under: Spy Top Story

It’s All about Wastewater Treatment: A Chat with New Rock Hall Mayor James Cook

November 20, 2023 by James Dissette 2 Comments

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When James Cook ran for Rock Hall mayor, he already had insight into the town’s most critical issue—wastewater and water.

As an engineering and project designer at RAUCH, Inc, in Easton along with a term on the Rock Hall town council, Cook knew what he was getting into and made it his single issue running as a candidate.

And it’s a daunting task. To overhaul the Town’s most critical infrastructure issue could take a decade and 20+ million dollars. In the meantime, however, the young mayor is promoting a temporary solution to the water quality: a mobile filtration system that will circumvent the long- deteriorated filtration component of the water treatment plant.

“A mobile filtration system will take care of 30-40% of the water quality, he says.

At the same time, Cook, will reach out for assistance through his roles as a member of the Board of Directors of the Maryland Municipal League and Eastern Shore Association of Municipalities and his almost four years at an Adjunct Instructor for the Engineering Technology Department at Chesapeake College.

Switching gears, the Mayor discusses a project involving the transformation of the Rock Hall Library, originally housed in the old Rock Hall municipal building, into a community-focused library located at the Civic Center.  The project gained widespread support, with community members actively contributing ideas and suggestions recently during a well-attended meeting. Anticipating completion by 2025 or 2026, the Mayor envisions a thriving and community-centric library for Rock Hall.

Beyond infrastructure, the Cook is deeply committed to education and community retention while emphasizing the importance of addressing demographic shifts and retaining young families. His initiatives include forming an Economic Development Committee and advocating for a satellite campus of Chesapeake College’s Skilled Trades Program in Rock Hall, focusing initially on marine trades.

The Mayor’s two-pronged approach to community development involves creating affordable housing and facilitating economic growth beyond seasonal activities. By loosening restrictions and encouraging mixed-use developments, the new Mayor aims to make Rock Hall an attractive place for both living and working.

The Spy recently interviewed James Cook to talk about his new role as Rock Hall Mayor and how enthusiasm for leadership roles can contagiously attract and inspire essential contributors.

This video is approximately ten minutes in length.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Spy Top Story

Unverified by Laura J. Oliver

November 19, 2023 by Laura J. Oliver 4 Comments

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This was harder than you might think. A few years ago, National Public Radio ran a series called “This I Believe.” Listeners were to submit 500-word essays sharing beliefs they held to be unequivocally true—anything from “I believe in ghosts” to “I believe in democracy.” The only rule was to include the phrase, “This I believe.” 

The response was overwhelming. I submitted one myself. It was about my daughter’s choice to join her high school cross-country team because students were required to have an athletic activity, and she was not an athlete. Cross Country was a no-fail sport. You competed only with yourself, a situation a lot like life, I imagine.

So, my submission was about learning to cheer for everyone—always. We are all attempting to at least place in the same event: a life of consequence lived with kindness. This I believe. 

The topic of what I believe has been on my mind since last week’s class in “Near Death Experiences,” in which we learned about the concept of the Life Review. People who have been resuscitated after being declared clinically dead report remarkably similar experiences across cultures.

I’m not talking about encountering a religious figure or a tunnel of light. I am talking about being greeted by a love of inexpressible depth. I’m talking about the near- universal first words of those revived being, “Why did you bring me back?” And another important commonality: no one dies alone. This I believe.

In my mother’s journals, some of which I read after she died, I found a sketch she’d drawn 50 years ago titled “Image of Death.” A prone stick figure reached up toward three stick figures hovering overhead——their arms extended in invitation. Dotted lines between the figures below and those above indicated an energy flowing between them. A rudimentary sun shone in the sky, one tree, flowers, and grass. 

All my life, I had tried to include my mother in every meaningful moment—every holiday, birthday, vacation, graduation, and school program- often at the expense of my own family. Because she had been alone since the age of 42, I was determined being alone should not mean feeling alone, but death is an outlier. 

It was the week after Christmas; I was working and had a house full of family, guests, meals to make, and a kitchen to clean. I was at my desk trying to finish a manuscript when my mother’s assisted living facility called to say it was time to bring in hospice. Having just visited with Mom up, dressed, and talking days earlier, I was taken by surprise. I thought this meant she might die within 3 months, and I was overwhelmed at the very word. Hospice. I suddenly couldn’t speak. 

But Mom didn’t die within three months. She died within 3 days. 

On what would be her last day, I spent the afternoon in her room, just the two of us. Her bed had been lowered nearly to the floor, so I sat on the carpet next to her. She was unconscious, the room dimly lit, with soft classical music playing. I picked up a book of her published poetry titled A Fine Thin Thread. Since she once wrote, “My poetry is me, inside out,” I thought I’d read to her. 

As I read, I realized I was recalling in exquisite imagery, every relationship, hope, loss, longing, and love she had ever had. I was, in essence, reading a life review.  

That’s another commonality of near-death experiences. You are able to review your life with a compassionate understanding and lack of judgment we are incapable of here. 

After a few hours, I became anxious about the holiday company I’d left sitting at home. My youngest was visiting with a new boyfriend. I’d need to help get dinner started. I’d need not be a big drag. So, I texted home, asked if I should stop at the grocery store for coffee and more eggs, then told Mom, “I’ll see you tomorrow” because, in my inexperience, I fully believed I would. 

At the threshold, I suddenly stopped and turned back, intuitively unwilling to part quite so casually. I went back in, kissed her, and told her something much different. Something about how there would never be a day in my life I didn’t want her to stay and about what I imagined was waiting for her if she chose to go. Hospice was scheduled to come explain their program to us the following week. 

Just before midnight, the night nurse called to say, ‘Come as fast as you can! Your mother is actively dying.” I was the only local daughter, the only one whose name and number they had used countless times over the last decade for every emergency, but inexplicably, when every second counted, they had not called me first. They had called my sister–the only daughter of three who lives out of state. The only one who could not possibly get there in time, which delayed telling me.  

I’d just gotten in bed—so I threw on jeans and a sweater, and we drove back as fast as possible. Christmas lights and stoplights lit the darkness. Within 15 minutes, we were at the facility, but it was nearly midnight, and the doors were locked. We beat on them, rang the bell, and called on cell phones as time dragged on until finally, a lackadaisical security guard came strolling through the lobby and let us in. 

I raced up to the second floor—on the mission of a lifetime—to not let my mother die alone—only to be greeted by a staff member ten feet outside her door, framed by fake tinsel and a string of lights. “She’s gone,” she said. “Your mother died a few minutes ago.” I was stunned. She didn’t say ‘oops’ or ‘my bad,’ but might as well have. 

Had a trio of angels arrived? I’d spent my entire life making sure Mom wasn’t alone for important occasions—once even leaving a New Year’s Eve party with my new boyfriend unkissed at midnight to race the clock home—and here I’d missed the biggest transition to something new any of us ever encounter. 

I went into the quiet room I’d left only hours earlier. My mother was lying on the bed just as I’d left her. But she wasn’t there. 

I have since told myself she knew we were coming and chose to die with the same independence with which she had lived. But it’s hard to forgive myself for being so clueless. For not understanding the significance of what was happening that afternoon. For honoring the wrong priorities. 

I anticipate having a hard time explaining this in my own life review, so I’m telling you. 

But sometimes, I think the indifferent security guard was part of a plan. And the nurse who waited too long and then called the out-of-state daughter was part of a plan. And maybe three angels hovering overhead heard my footsteps on the stairs and whispered, the love that’s approaching can’t compare to the love that is waiting. And with joyous anticipation, she just let go.

A belief is not, by definition, a truth. It’s just a thought you’ve had for a long time. So, although I can’t be sure, and this theory cannot be verified, this I choose to believe.

 

Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here. 

 

 

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Laura, Spy Top Story, Top Story

Food Friday: Thanksgiving Prep

November 17, 2023 by Jean Sanders 2 Comments

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This is the final countdown to Thanksgiving. Six days to go! I went to the grocery store yesterday, just to get some milk, and was practically trampled by stressed-out shoppers with carts full of turkeys, aluminum pans and stacks of canned green beans and pumpkin purée. Here are a couple of things to remember:

Make your pie dough now. Melissa Clark’s All-butter Pie Crust recipe keeps in the freezer for three months; defrost it in the fridge overnight before you need to bake.

After writing out your Thanksgiving menu, divide your grocery list into perishables and non-perishables. Get those non-perishables this weekend, if you can! Join the stressed-out folks at your grocery store!

This is one of my favorite cautionary tales of Thanksgiving. I have since learned to keep it simple. Don’t promise to deliver a dish to the feast if you haven’t made it before. It is perfectly fine to buy items to bring – time is short and we have enough demands on our already-fraying nerves. We are not Martha, and we do not have a staff. And not everything is made to be photographed, Instagrammed or put on Threads. Life is messy. Got it?

I lived in London the year after I was graduated from Washington College, with another WC alum and one of her childhood chums. We were sight-seeing by day, and waitressing in Covent Garden restaurants by night. It was the end of the 70s, and there were Mohawks galore, and cute punky girls wearing Doc Martens, sporting safety pin jewels.

We had been invited to a posh Thanksgiving dinner and were responsible for bringing a dish to share. Our assignment, as the token Americans, was to bring scalloped potatoes. That seemed simple enough. But we were kitchen novices. Our spaghetti sauce had sent boys with potential scurrying from our flat – because we thought chopped onions were an excellent thickener for the runny tomato sauce. Fully aware of our limitations, and these being the olden days before the Internet and smart phones, we set off to the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea’s library, in search of a helpful cookbook. At least we were smart enough to have library cards.

We hauled the weighty Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Cookery and Household Management back to our flat to do our research. Mrs. Beeton’s book, unlike many of Nigella’s or Ina Garten’s friendly and photo-heavy volumes today, was complicated and bewildering to us. Illustrations? Few and far between. Breadcrumbs? Bechamel sauce? Grams instead of cups? And the cooking times were distressingly vague, too. 1 1/2 to 2 hours? That could make the difference between half raw potatoes and a dishful of burnt glue!

After thumbing through the book we finally realized that Mrs. Beeton did not have an easy-to-follow recipe for scalloped potatoes. We were left to our own devices; young women who thought chopped onions were the salvation for watery spaghetti sauce have no business trying to invent scalloped potatoes. We didn’t even have a potato peeler! We hacked the raw potatoes into hunks, covered them with ropes of processed gloopy cheese, and too much milk, and shoved them in our tiny oven. Our scalloped potatoes were a lumpy, sloshing mess.

We somehow transported the now-cooled baking dish (where did we ever find one?) on our knees on the Tube ride to Chiswick. Once we had arrived and said our hellos, we warmed the potatoes up it an intimidating Aga range, which did nothing to improve the potatoes’ appearance. Those sad-looking, gray potatoes were inedible. We were not sure of the etiquette for this situation. Our dish remained untouched by the discerning Brits who were already suspicious of anything American: particularly loud young American women who perhaps drank a bit too much of the Beaujolais Nouveau… Our hearts were in the right place, though, and we helped with the washing up, before retiring to drink port and smoke cigars with the former RAF pilots, who were telling the best stories we had ever heard.

The lesson here: if asked to bring something specific and complicated for Thanksgiving, and you are pressed for time, see what your grocery store or bakery has to offer. You might be surprised. Otherwise keep it simple. Or avail yourself of internet videos. Scalloped Potatoes It is amazing what you can find these days. “Dear Mrs. Butler, I hope it is not too late to apologize for the scalloped potatoes we brought to your very nice dinner party. Thanks again for inviting us.”

The garlic is a lovely, unexpected flavor with the creamy potatoes. And the layers of grated Gruyere melt in a divine fashion; the cheese was evident in every bite. The RAF chaps would have enjoyed these potatoes.

Good luck with your Thanksgiving planning, lists, travel and cooking. We will be having old-fashioned, lumpy mashed potatoes once again this year, but we will be enjoying a very fancy, store-bought chocolate pie. I can’t wait!

“The more we peeled, the more peel there seemed to be left on; by the time we had got all the peel off and all the eyes out, there was no potato left – at least none worth speaking of.”

― Jerome K. Jerome

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Food Friday, Spy Top Story

Creating Space for Dialogue: Adam Himoff’s Frederick Douglass Mural 

November 15, 2023 by Val Cavalheri 1 Comment

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Last week, Easton  saw the unveiling of a 21×16 foot mural of Frederick Douglass. It was created by Park City, Utah-based artist Adam Himoff, whose hope is that the modern rendition of the famous abolitionist will stimulate timely conversations about race, justice, and Douglass’s enduring connection to the Eastern Shore region.

Located next door to the Out of the Fire Restaurant on Washington Street, the project was conceived by Richard Marks and Amy Haines with support from Talbot Arts and Dock Street Foundation. “In 2016, my wife, Amy (owner of Out of the Fire), and I purchased a property on Washington Street in Easton,” said Marks. “Since we love art and particularly enjoy seeing how art displayed publicly integrates with the surrounding community, we recognized the brick wall facing south would be an excellent place for a mural.”

Also in a contemplative state was Himoff. He’d decided to close his finance firm to concentrate on his work as a linocut artist. In this printmaking technique, a design is carved on a linoleum block, from which prints can be made. To critical acclaim, Himoff had been creating colorful representational images of iconic figures (such as Mick Jagger and Andy Warhol) but began to wonder how he could bring historical figures into modern times. One of the people who came to mind was Douglass. As an undergraduate English literature major, he had been impacted by the biographies and speeches written by the abolitionist. 

Modernizing Douglass juxtaposed against the backdrop of contemporary issues felt like a compelling creative challenge for the artist. “I wanted to capture his essence, but not necessarily the literal details of his life,” Himoff said. “What was available to me was his expression–seriousness, courage, fearlessness, and confidence. Then I created these other elements–he’s in the suit, crouched down, wearing Converse shoes and a nice watch.” Also, unlike his previous work, this was created in black and white. This depiction of a contemporary Douglass, Himoff felt, would allow the viewer to imagine Douglass’s role and life if he were alive today and wonder how his influence would impact the current struggle for justice and equality. 

Himoff knew it was the right person at the right time, yet once completed, he wasn’t sure who would be interested in the project beyond his immediate network of friends and family. So, he shared it on social media. Almost immediately, he heard from an African-American music teacher. “She said she loved it and asked if she could share it on her Instagram feed. Within a short time, people in her network reacted. And the feedback was very validating.” 

Then, someone who knew someone who knew Marks shared it with him. Seeing the image inspired Marks to commit to the project and the artist.

But before it became a mural, an art consultant, who also found the image on social media, reached out to Himoff. The ACLU in New York City wanted one of the original 40 print editions for their headquarters. The same image is now part of the ACLU permanent collection.

Of course, Easton is also the perfect location for such an impactful public art piece and as discussions began around bringing the project here, Himoff started revisiting more of Douglass’s biographies and exploring the more profound history and connection to the area. The artist was moved by what he learned. “I get the sense of responsibility that people feel this need to maintain his legacy,” he said. 

The revealing of the mural along Easton’s historic architecture has certainly sparked reaction and discussion, just as the artist anticipated. Himoff has received positive feedback from many in the black community who felt a connection to this contemporary portrayal of a legendary leader. This was the case the Spy observed as we waited for the artist to join us for the interview. 

A woman named Lisa Taylor walked into the building looking for more information. She is from DC and was in town for the Waterfowl Festival. Her husband had seen the mural the night before and had been touched by it, and since Taylor’s mother attended the Frederick Douglass High School in Elm City, North Carolina, he knew it would be of great interest to her as well. Taylor took several pictures, bought a poster and t-shirt (merchandise is available for sale with proceeds to benefit the Frederick Douglass Honor Society scholarship fund) and then said:

“So the story in this mural is about how the then transforms into the now. And an artist brought it all together today so that young people can say, ‘Okay, well, maybe I don’t know who this guy is, but he sure as hell is cool–with the watch and the Converse high-top sneakers. Let me pull out my phone and find out who this dude is.’ When they do that, it brings previous generations to today’s generation. Hopefully, it gets people thinking about what liberty means. So it’s like a rediscovery of him and his legacy from older people like me to young folks who would recognize the shoes and the watch. And the artist, Adam, yeah, he literally knocked it out of the park.”

Not that there haven’t also been disagreements and uncertainty about Douglass being depicted in a modern style. But Himoff welcomes these discussions as part of Douglass’s legacy of free speech and empowering marginalized voices. “Frederick Douglass would believe that that is an important and healing conversation to have,” he said. 

Ultimately, the power of public art is bringing people together for dialogue and change. It is something that Himoff hopes to inspire through his creative work as he takes on more public art projects. Said Himoff, “I think it transforms communities, transforms neighborhoods. You’re not just creating something for somebody’s living room; it’s something that is eliciting a reaction. I love that dynamic; I love this notion of just creating a conversation about important issues.” 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: Arts Lead, Arts Portal Lead, Spy Top Story

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