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Month: September 2022

A Laurel View

A Laurel View

Johnstown is a small city in western Pennsylvania about 56 miles east of Pittsburgh.  It sits nestled in the Laurel Mountains in the steep valley where the Conemaugh River meets the Stonycreek River. Once known for its coal, iron, and steel production, the evidence of those heydays now lie as empty relics over sprawling blocks of the once thriving city.  A victim of at least three major floods, one in 1889, one in 1936, and the last in 1977, it is now in a struggle to stage its comeback.

Old Orchard Way is at the top of the hill as you climb steeply up Sell Street.  On the corner, at 102 Old Orchard Way is the house as we have been told, that Arlene Ober’s grandfather built.  At the bottom of the hill on Sell Street near the intersection of Franklin stands the Roxbury Church of the Brethren, a beautiful old building of stone, large windows, and heavy wooden doors.  A young Arlene Ober would walk down that hill every Sunday, even in the cold and the snow and ice of the western Pennsylvania winters, hurrying so as not to be late for Sunday school.

Just inside those large, heavy wooden entrance doors that take you into the vestibule and then to the sanctuary, is a small sign on the left that marks the Heritage Room.  On the walls are old photos, newspaper articles, and even a vintage quilt that is proof that this was once a large and vibrant congregation.  In the corner is a mannequin of an early Brethren woman in what was the traditional dress of the time.   Another photo we saw on the piano in the sanctuary was of a large group that included young people and children, dated 1938, that no doubt included a young Arlene Ober, though it was beyond our ability to discern.

 

Kim and I were back in western PA for the weekend.  Kim’s mom Faye lives at Laurel View Village, a retirement community and assisted living in Davidsville, Pennsylvania just west of Johnstown. Named appropriately for its location along the Laurel Highlands and the scenic view of the Laurel Mountains, it’s a wonderful place. Saturday morning was the Que Classic (pronounced “kwee”) a 5 and 10 K walk and run held at the Quemahoning Dam, where the proceeds were to benefit Laurel View Village. So, wanting to support the cause, we signed up for the 5K, and though our running days are behind us, we managed to mix it up a bit and cross the finish line running.

Kim’s mom lives in an area designated as “personal care” meaning those residents are independent but require a little more assistance with activities of daily living. The more often we go up, the closer we get to the residents, Faye’s friends, and neighbors.  Sadly many, we have learned, have little contact with their families so they love to share their stories when the opportunity presents itself.  Once striking up a conversation, you can expect that out of the pockets of the attachments on their walkers, will come photos and other items that help to provide perspective to the details of their families and their lives before Laurel View Village.

Like our friend Arlene, many have Brethren roots, in fact, Kim’s family was raised or are still members of the Church of the Brethren.   I remember during the early years of our relationship and marriage I got pretty comfortable with my father-in-law preaching and sharing his beliefs with me, as a good dad should have, while he vetted me out on my position on the Big Guy.  The Brethren only have communion twice a year, it is called the Love Feast, and it involves the washing of one another’s feet, just as Jesus did at the Last Supper.  I was blessed to have shared that experience with my father-in-law once before he passed away.

 

Kim and Arlene (her married name Pfost), now relocated to Northern Virginia and practicing Methodists, would occasionally attend the local Dranesville Church of the Brethren for the Love Feast.  And even though there was a great difference in age since Arlene was born in 1935, they had plenty of similar experiences to share, like Camp Harmony in Kim’s Somerset County PA, a summer camp for Brethren youth that is still active and both Kim and Arlene attended as kids.

Before Arlene passed away last May, knowing we were beginning to make frequent visits to the Davidsville and the Johnstown area, she asked Kim if she would return the commemorative Roxbury Church of the Brethren plate that she had, back to the church of her childhood.  She said to go in the front door and there was a small room to the left containing the history of her church, and that is where she wanted it to remain.

This past Sunday, Kim and I returned Arlene’s plate to Roxbury.

Though it was Sunday morning, there was only one car in the parking lot.  We found the front doors unlocked and entered the vestibule and viewed the large and beautiful old sanctuary.  We saw the door on the left to the area that Arlene had described and eventually, I wandered around and found the church office.  In the office was an elderly woman and a more middle-aged man named Jim Mosholder.  I began to explain about Arlene and the reason for our surprise visit, and now with Kim present,  plate in hand, she told the story of Arlene’s request.  Kim presented the plate to Mr. Mosholder along with a bit of written history of Arlene’s life.

We spent some time in the Heritage Room viewing and reading and imagining the church as Arlene would have as a child.  On the wall was that very large quilt with hundreds of names of members sewn onto it.  Somewhere on that quilt of familiar western Pennsylvania names like Mishler, Ream, and Mosholder were the names of Sara Ober and Blodwen Ober.  Blodwen Ober was Arlene’s mother.  Sara, the best I could determine was Arlene’s sister who died in infancy.

The sign in the vestibule next to the entrance doors with the changeable numbers indicated the current number on the Sunday school roll as twenty-one, and the attendance the last two Sundays was five and seven.

But Roxbury Church of the Brethren is still surviving.

 

Arlene and our friends at Laurel View are of the generation of my mother and father and Kim’s mother and father.  We are blessed to have learned and be able to retell the stories our parents have shared and in some cases are still sharing.

We continue to have the honor and the joy of being able to share in the lives of Faye’s new friends and hear their stories.

For Kim and me, Arlene was a blessing.  It was a privilege to have known Arlene as a friend and a member of our church family and to have been able to be a part of her life and share that experience to a small degree.   This past Sunday I think we felt like we brought some closure to Arlene’s Johnstown memories and our commitment to our friend. Kim, who was unable to attend Arlene’s funeral due to an out-of-town business meeting,  felt at peace, walking the same walk up those steps and through the doors of the church that Arlene had described to her, coming down that hill to attend Sunday school.

 

Sunday afternoon I was reading a silly story on social media that was meant to be humorous, but it was the last line that made me think about Arlene:

“Life isn’t about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain.”

Our friend Arlene, danced.

 

Roxbury Church of the Brethren

 

102 Old Orchard Way

 

Kim with “Roxie” an example of a Brethren woman of the past

 

The sanctuary

 

Kim with Jim Mosholder

 

The quilt in the Heritage Room

 

The quilt has the names of Blodwen Ober and Sara Ober.

 

The weekly attendance

 

Arlene on the left, with our friend Karen at my Kentucky Derby party in 2019. Arlene loved to watch the horse races.

 

The feature photo above is a selfie taken at the end of the Que Classic.

This was Kim and I crossing the finish line, and yes it looks like I am about to plant my face in the pavement, thankfully that did not happen.
A Bad Day Fishing is…

A Bad Day Fishing is…

As skillfully as a surgeon might remove a fishhook embedded in the skin of a human being, a fish has the ability to remove bait that has also been embedded by the fishhook.  The gentle tugs on the line as well as the sometimes not so gentle has the fisherman waiting in anticipation for that big pull and the awesome feeling of the fish attempting to swim away, hook in mouth.

But more often than not the end result is a fishing line reeled in exposing the empty hook that once supported a nice big chunk of peeler crab.

If you have ever eaten a crab and you cut the body in half with your little crab knife, then quarter it to expose the muscles used to power the swimming fins and the walking legs and the claws,  then you are familiar with the work involved in picking a crab in order to eat it.

A fish doesn’t seem to have that problem. They can pull and suck the crab meat from around a fishhook swiftly and with ease.  Like those surgeons in an operating room I imagine four of them planning the crab meat lumpectomy from my hook:

“Okay you two guys take the right side, me and Junior here will take the left.  And be careful not to engage with that shiny pointy thing in the middle or it’s curtains.”

And there you have it.

The line pulls, the pole may bend, the anticipation builds, and you begin to reel your line in but then everything goes limp.

As the excitement quickly wanes the hook finally breaks the surface showing the bait removed with just a bit of shell remaining from the area where the swimming fin connected to the body.

In medical terms, a CABG (aka Coronary Artery Bypass Graft) but in fishing with peelers, it stands for Crab-All Bait Gone.

 

Kim and I went on vacation last week.

That may not sound like a big deal to most but in our case, other than visiting kids, it’s the first time we have done such a thing since 2014.  I know that because I am reminded of it daily by the Delaware Surf Fishing License plate on the front of my truck with the “14” decal which I leave there on purpose as a motivator.

But we didn’t revisit the Delaware beaches, we based out of the house in Woolford on Maryland’s Eastern Shore and as we explored those activities we don’t usually have time for, mostly in Dorchester County and to the north, Talbot County where Easton, St. Michaels, and Tilghman Island are located.

We brought our bikes and our kayaks.

We visited St. Michaels and biked Tilghman Island and discovered a cool place to eat, drink, and even spend the night called Lowe’s Wharf Marina Inn just on the mainland side near the bridge to Tilghman Island.

We took the short family-operated Oxford Bellevue ferry ride from the St. Michaels side to Oxford.

We got to know the neighborhood better by kayaking Fishing Creek and Church Creek.

While kayaking and biking on Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge we observed many bald eagles, a variety of herons, ospreys, and other wetland birds.

On our kayak trip on the Blackwater River Kim was reluctant to approach something in the water (she thought it was an alligator), so I kayaked close to it and poked it with my paddle assuring her it was an old stump covered in mud or something like that.   On our return trip, we were more than a little surprised to see our “stump” moving fairly efficiently across to the other side of the river.  Describing our experience to our friend Mare who has volunteered at Blackwater for the last sixteen or seventeen years, she explained our paddling stump was more likely a large snapping turtle.

I was pretty happy he didn’t raise his head while I was poking him with my paddle.

It could have got very messy in my kayak.

 

We spent a night in Salisbury and attended the Salisbury University Seagulls’ opening football game where we were able to watch the debut of their new placekicker and field goal kicker, the son of friends of ours, kick seven extra points and numerous kickoffs.

We did some crabbing and ate some crabs.

 

And wanting to learn more about the history of the area and the role Harriet Tubman played, we returned to the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Visitor’s Center to spend some additional time reading and learning.  Then we drove around the area and visited some of the sites significant to her life in Dorchester County.  Madison, the next town down the road from Woolford towards Taylor’s Island in Harriet’s time was known as Tobacco Stick and it is there she worked lumbering, boat building, and working the docks.  Today it is the site of a marina, a campground, a fun restaurant called Maryland Blue, and the crab processing plant where I buy my peelers, the Madison Bay Seafood Co.

 

Oh yeah, my peelers.

I didn’t fish as much as I expected to this trip but I think I got out maybe three evening high tides and one morning.

In all that time, however, I only caught one fish.

A croaker, also known locally as a hardhead.

I threw him back.

But I got lots of bites, and experienced many moments of anticipation, only to be followed by disappointment.

Mostly, I very generously fed the fish providing the opportunity for them to perform those crab meat lumpectomies on my peeler crab bait over and over again.

 

But you know what they say about a bad day fishing.

And the same could be said for everything else I think.

I shared some photos and links below.

 

 

Postscript:

I have been traveling to this area for a long time but I have learned more about this part of Maryland in the past year than I have in the last thirty or so.  There is much to learn and much to do in the rivers, swamps, and country roads of Dorchester County and neighboring counties.  I would highly recommend a visit.

A peeler crab by the way is one that has developed its soft new shell under its existing hard shell as it prepares to shed, expand its new shell and grow to a bigger size.  Fish love them.

Tomorrow will be one year since my dad was discharged from the hospital and entered a rehab facility in Easton.  He lasted about three days there before falling, returning to the hospital, and ultimately being discharged to the facility where he now resides in Cambridge.  It’s been a year of adjustment, but he is in a good place.

 

Getting ready to kayak
Biking, waiting for the draw bridge on Tilghman Island
The swimming stump
At Lowes Wharf Marina
Kim and I with Sammy Sea Gull
Kayaking
Harriet and me
On the ferry to Oxford, we were the only vehicle
The sun going down on Fishing Creek
Pelicans on Hooper’s Island
St. Michaels

 

More Kayaking
Bald Eagle over the Blackwater River
Raising the new colors for the 2022 season
Crabs

 

Lowes Wharf Marina and Inn

Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park

Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge

Blackwater Paddle & Peddle Adventures

Oxford Bellevue Ferry

Maryland Blue