New Years 2012: Our first Burning Man celebration

Last year on New Years, Keith and I stayed home.  We celebrated the New Years watching Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve and I swear I didn't see a ball fall.  I saw a lot of lights get lower and lower, but nothing fell.  I've been watching that dang ball fall since I was a kid, and all I ever see is a bunch of lights.  I wanted something different for next year.

After we rang in 2011, I announced to Keith that next year I was going to have a Burning Man celebration to ring in the New Year.  "What the Hell is a burning man?" he asked.

Keith had never heard of the annual Burning Man celebration in the Nevada desert so I started explaining.  "Every year, they erect a hundred foot scarecrow in the middle of the desert.  Tens of thousands of hippies come from all over the world to get drunk and dance naked around the scarecrow while listening to sixties music.  At night, they set the scarecrow on fire and the dancing and partying continues for days."

"Ohh, sixities music?  That sounds like fun," Keith remarked, but remained unimpressed.  "I don't want all those people in my yard."

I assured him our celebration would be just me and him unless he wanted to invite a couple of friends.  People from all over the world wouldn't descend on Toddville to watch our little scarecrow burn in a little bonfire.  He remained unimpressed.

When spring arrived, I planted the pole that would hold up our scarecrow and told Keith that as we took care of the yard, anything yanked or cut is to be placed around the pole for our Burning Man celebration on New Years.  I know a yeah-whatever-look when I see one and that's what I got from him. 

Throughout the spring and summer, nothing to burn ended up around the pole except for some branches I moved so I could cut the grass.  October rolled around and I cut down two holly trees so our chaste tree would get more sun next year.  I piled all the wood and branches from both trees around the pole.  "That should give us a good Burning Man celebration," I said.  I got another yeah-whatever-look.

I resigned myself to thinking that I would be the only idiot around a bonfire on New Year's Eve.  I didn't even feel like building the scarecrow.  I figured a nice bonfire would be better than watching a bunch of lights on TV.  Deep down I knew Keith would come out just before midnight to ring in the New Year and then go back in, but I would still be out there listening to my music and enjoying the warmth of the bonfire by myself.

The night before New Year's Eve 2012, I picked Keith up from his work and we headed home. 

Keith was all excited and full of energy.  "I thought about the Burning Man all day and, look, I made my New Year's resolutions."  He held out a notepad piece of paper and read, word-for-word, what he wrote.  "New Year's Resolutions," he began as he pointed to the words.  "And look, I even signed it."  Underneath the title, he read his signed full name and then proceeded to read each of his resolutions.  "Now I gave this a lot of thought.  We have to have a story behind the Burning Man if we want it to be a good tradition."

Up to this point, I never considered we needed a good story to justify standing around a burning scarecrow to drink beer.  I thought the fact it was New Year's Eve was a good enough story.  But Keith wanted a good story and he gave us a good story.

He explained the Burning Man represented our old selves.  We had to write our resolutions down and before we set the fire, we had to read our resolutions to the Burning Man and then pin them to him.  Then we would set the fire and the Burning Man represented our desire to get rid of our old selves.  The Burning Man would go up in smoke and take our resolutions with him.  That way, the Burning Man would know what our resolutions were. 

"And," Keith excitedly explained, "if you break a resolution, the Burning Man will come back and burn your ass."

I loved the story.  "But we need a specific song to play at midnight that reflects the story and New Years.  But it has to be sixties style because that's the kind of music you're supposed to play at a Burning Man celebration."

Keith had no problem coming up with not one, but two songs.  "Out With the Old by Chameleon Church and Hell Fire by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown.  "The first one because that's the whole theme behind the Burning Man and the second one because we want to make sure he burns," Keith explained.

We were all set except for one thing.  We had the story, we had the song, but we didn't have the Burning Man and I had only one day to make him. 

Let me tell you, putting together a scarecrow isn't as easy as it looks.  We've all seen one hanging in a field or even staked in the middle of the family vegetable garden.  They look easy enough to put together, but if you never put one together, it's a difficult task.

Getting the old clothes together was easy enough.  Stuffing it was almost as easy.  The hard part was gathering all the reeds to stuff it with.  Our little scarecrow took several wheelbarrow's worth of reeds. The head was particularly difficult.  I got it as round as I could, but it was still lopsided.  It was also at this point I realized our scarecrow would have no arms because I used a short sleeved shirt.  I figured it would be dark and no one would notice. 

When I first tried to hang it,  the pants fell down and all the upper body stuffing fell out.  I laid it back down on the ground and re-stuffed it.  I decided I needed to learn how to sew.  Trying to get the thread through the eye of the needle almost stopped my plans for a Burning Man.  My eyesight used to be so good, I could thread a needle blindfolded.  It took me almost half an hour to get that needle threaded.  I don't know what happened to my eye sight, but suffice it to say it sucks getting old.

I hung the Burning Man, but the dang thing wasn't high enough over the wood for the fire.  On top of that, the body of the scarecrow flopped into an odd posture.  I don't know how they get them straight in the fields, but ours limply flopped every which way.  It was past dark and I wanted to take an hour nap before celebrating, so I decided what I had would have to do.

Keith came out to look at the finished product.  "Can't you fix it?  Look how it's posed.  We have an armless, gay Burning Man." 

"No, I can't fix it because it'd probably fall apart again.  It'll have to do."

Keith shook his head.  "That's the gayest looking thing I've ever seen.  I hope we do better next year."

About fifteen minutes before midnight, I opened a beer, grabbed the burnable trash, and headed outside.  Keith followed with a glass of wine in hand and his sixties music.  As he got his music ready, I placed the burnable trash in the pile of wood, prepared to start the fire.

Once we were ready, Keith pulled out his resolutions and read all three of them to the Burning Man. I pulled out my resolutions and read all six.

"Six?" Keith asked.  "Just a couple of hours ago you couldn't think of one."

"That was then.  This is now."  I proceeded to read all six of my resolutions.

When I was done, we pinned our resolutions over the heart of the Burning Man and I set the fire.  DeeJay Keith started the song, Out With the Old as the fire struggled to burn. As the song was about to end, our fire finally started to take off.

Keith ran to the truck to play the next song.  At this point, we realized we were three minutes late ringing in the New Year.  Good thing we didn't sell tickets to the event.  Of course, down here in Toddville, we all do things at our own pace so even though the clock said we were late, we were really on time.  I reckon over the last couple of centuries, ringing in the New Year a few minutes late added up to why we're a good fifty years behind everyone else now.

As Hell Fire played, our friends, Brian and Shana joined the celebration.  As we stood around the bonfire (the Burning Man had disappeared into ashes), Brian asked what the celebration was about.  He thought for sure it was some sort of witchcraft celebration.  I knew he never heard of the Nevada celebration so I simply said there was no witchery involved.  It was just an excuse to drink beer on a nice night.  That explanation was good enough for him.

Keith was going to play his sixties music all night, but when Hell Fire ended, he played the classic rock station as he searched for the next CD to play.  A Lynryd Skynrd song played and Brain began serenading Keith.  In Brian's defense, anytime a Lynryd Skynrd song plays, Brian serenades anyone who will listen.  No one's ever serenaded Keith before and he was flattered.  He decided to leave the classic rock station play for Brian since he enjoyed it so much.

By this time our fire was back to a candle flame and struggling to catch the wood on fire.  While Brian serenaded Keith, Shana went and got a friend, Mary, to come over.  Mary came up to the dwindling flames with her resolutions and asked me, "What do I do?  Just throw them in the fire?"

"Well, even though the Burning Man is ashes now, you still need to read them before throwing them in."

"But their personal."

"Then read them to yourself and toss them."

She quickly read her resolutions and threw them in the fire.  I joined Keith and Brian in drinking beer and took their pictures.  None of us noticed Shana and Mary had disappeared. 

A couple of minutes later, they reappeared, Mary with a truckload of paper and cardboard.  She tossed it all on the near-gone fire, even tucking it behind the pallet we used for wood.  She made a couple of trips to her truck for more cardboard and paper to get the fire going.  Her eyes were focused on the one task - get the fire burning.

It only took a few minutes and we had a roaring fire that soared a good ten or fifteen feet in the air.  We'll never know what Mary's resolutions were, but she wanted to make sure the Burning Man took care of them.  Unfortunately, Mary disappeared before I could get her picture, but I hope whatever she threw in that fire means this year will be a better year for her.  She was so determined to get that fire going, I never got to wish her a Happy New Year, so, Mary, if you are reading this, "Happy New Year!"

Brian had enough beer so we offered him some of our egg nog.  It must've been good stuff.  He drank the whole bottle by himself.  By about two-thirty, the fire still put out heat, but most of the wood was burned.  And the egg nog was gone.  It was time to bring our Burning Man celebration to an end. 

Keith and I had a great time.  Our whole concept of the celebration went better than we had thought, despite having the "gayest Burning Man" in town, with no arms, no less.  We're already making plans for next year to ensure an even better celebration.  I think I know how to make a better and taller Burning Man.  Keith is working on compiling a Burning Man CD so all the songs will play in order without having to change CDs between songs.  And I think next year I'm going to include some food.  Stay tuned for next year's celebration....

If you want to see some of the excitement, hear the music mentioned, or, for some of our Internet friends who are curious what Keith and I and some of our friends look like, please feel free to watch the short video below.   The middle of the movie includes live video footage of the Burning Man.



© 2012
Mark Darien
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Please include this copyright notice if you share this article

Problems getting to work Toddville style

Since I could write a book about this, I decided to do a TTW radio broadcast instead.  It's a lot faster than writing, although I'm not certain it's more entertaining.  Perhaps I may write the story at a later date, but, for now, my narration should give you an idea of the problems we had getting to work.

© 2012
Mark Darien
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Truth smacked us in the face

Reading the paper this morning, reality hit us hard.  Derek McCoy, President of the Maryland Family Alliance, spoke out against gay marriage at the Easton Volunteer Fire Department last week.  Fearing Maryland may follow New York's legislative lead next year, he vowed to rally national organizations and the citizens of Maryland to defeat next year's planned bill.  He also vowed to take the issue out of the legislative process and force a referendum so Marylanders can decide if same sex couples should be allowed to marry.

We've said it before in prior posts, but it's worth reiterating.  When Keith and I moved here, we were scared to death of what the reaction of the local people would be.  We held the stereotype that our neighbors would be dumb, macho rednecks living a mentatility of fifty years ago.  If they knew we were gay, they would vandalize our home with nasty spray paint, if they didn't burn it down first, and for a Saturday night of fun, they'd beat us up and leave us in the marsh for dead. 

Yeah, I know.  What extreme thinking.  Unfortunately, both Keith and I have known gay people who suffered such violence for no other reason than they were gay.  We won't bore you with our stories, but you can see our fears of moving here weren't without basis.

For almost the first year we were here, we said nothing.  When we were at Carolyn's Stonehouse, a couple of people would hint around about us being gay to see how we would respond.  We simply blew them off without admitting we were a couple, nor denying it.  Everyone knew we were a couple and bent over backwards to make us feel welcomed and accepted in the community.  It became apparent to us we had to be honest and forthcoming with them.

The people down here in Toddville shattered our stereotype of the local people here and on Delmarva. They were very much with the times and accepting.  Sure, a couple of people had a problem with the gay couple who moved in.  We could see their expressions when we walked into Mr. Pritchett's store or Carolyn's Stonehouse.  But no one gave us a hard time.

After six years of going around town up in the high country to do our shopping, employees of the Food Lion, Royal Farms, Lowe's, Snow's Turn, and a couple of the restaurants we eat at fairly regularly have figured out we must be a couple.  We don't hold hands or kiss in  public like a straight couple will do, but I reckon they know two guys don't hang around with each other as much as we do for as long as we have.  They figure we must be more than friends.  It's something we know they know, especially if one of us shows up without the other and the waitress or cashier will ask, "Where's your partner?"

We get a real charge out of the talking heads on TV or the radio who complain about the growing acceptance of gay people.  "Why do they have to go around telling everyone they're gay?" they'll rhetorically ask.

Well, we told no one and still tell no one, yet everyone knows.  So we have to rhetorically ask, "Why the Hell do you care?"

Back to last week's meeting with Derek McCoy, president of the Maryland Family Alliance.  Let's not gloss this one over.  Anytime there's an organization with the word, family, in its name and the organization's purpose is to promote strong healthy families based on Christian values, you can be guaranteed it's members simply hate gay people.  Derek McCoy and the Maryland Family Alliance is no exception.

Obviously, we take exception to Derek McCoy and the Maryland Families Alliance's comments and stance on the issue of same sex marriage.  Keith and I will be starting our twelth year together.  So far, we have stayed together almost twice as long as about half of the legally married couples who tied the knot when we first committed to each other.  Derek McCoy, if you and your organization are about promoting strong families, why were those couples allowed to marry, only to bail ship, but we aren't allowed to marry? 

At the time we got together, Keith's daughter was nine-years-old.  Because we couldn't get married, I couldn't add his daughter to my health insurance plan.  As you push for legislation to make families stronger,do you consider the sons and daughters of gay people as being not as important as the children of straight people?

People in prison, people on the sex offenders list, people with a history of spousal abuse, and people with a history of child abuse or neglect can all legally get married.  In your effort to create a positive environment to raise strong families, are you saying all these people are good role models, but gay people aren't?

Alcoholics and drug addicts can legally marry.  Are you saying they're good role models for a strong family unit, but gay people aren't?

Almost half the marriages in this country end in divorce.  Aside from trying to prevent same sex couples from marrying, what are you doing to prevent couples, who don't understand the meaning of "Until death do us part", from marrying or are you saying that a straight marriage ending in divorce is better than a life long marriage between a same sex couple?

In 1967, the Supreme Court ruled a marriage between two people is a basic, civil right.  Since when did you and your organization decide the people should get to vote on which civil rights we'll let people have?

Much to Keith's chagrain, I sort of hope Maryland does take the issue of same sex marriage to the people to vote on.  Whether it will pass or not is beside the point for me.  If you really want to start letting people vote on which civil rights we allow to which groups of people, I have a whole list of referendums to start flooding our state legislature with.  I guarantee you nor anyone affiliated with your organization will like any of them.

Oh wait.  Up until about fifty years ago, we did vote on which civil rights people were or were not entitled to.  It wasn't a pretty picture, was it?

For once, we would like to see someone from any homophobic organization out there, including the Maryland Families Alliance, publically answer any, preferably all, of the questions we posed above.  For the casual reader of Toddville Tidewaters, we ask you ponder the questions we posed for yourself.



© 2012
Mark Darien
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Suriving two weeks of an earthquake, hurricane, and tropical depression

Three weeks ago, we had our worst nightmare forming out in the Carribean.  A strong hurrican named Irene had its sights set for Delmarva.  A week in advance, before it even hit Puerto Rico, we were on edge.  A tropical storm or hurricane usually hits us within a week of Labor Day weekend.  In fact, we moved into our house on Labor Day weekend, and the day we moved into our new home five years ago, tropical storm Ernesto welcomed us.

Since that time, Keith has pondered, every year, what would happen if a category one hurricane hit us on a path right up the Bay.  Hazel was our last category one hurricane to hit and that was way back before either one of us were born.  Fifty-seven years ago, to be exact.  A major storm like Hazel is supposed to hit us every thirty to fifty years so we figured we were on borrowed time.

On Friday, the day before the Big Storm, I went out on a mission to get sandbags and some other storm prep supplies.  I couldn't find a sandbag within a fifty mile radius.  To top it off, I couldn't find a decent flashlight nor batteries to operate the little ones we already have.  Knowing Irene was going to blow in with a vengeance, we realized too late the importance of being prepared way before you even know what might hit you.

I managed to get twelve bags of sand and bought my own bags to make my own sandbags.  On the night of the storm, I sandbagged the doors and had a few more ready to fight the water anywhere else it could find a way in.  We also got everything - and I mean everything - off the first floor.  The big things that we left behind were ready to be moved when the tides came pouring through.  We were set as much as available supplies and our budget would allow.

Saturday came and Irene began knocking on our door.  She brought heavy rains and breezes, a warning that she could be vicious and gentle at the same time.  All we could do was wait.  Our flood tides don't happen during the storm.  They always come as the storm exits. 

So we waited - and drank beer.  The original forcast had the brunt of the storm coming after midnight, but on the five o'clock news, the forcasters upped the time for the strongest part of the storm to hit after eight pm.  That was only three hours away, and while we had a deluge the entire day, the winds were only breezy.  We've had stronger nor'easters.

Keith's pessimism began to show through.  "Where's the hurricane?  The trees are supposed to be bending back and forth and things are supposed to be flying through the air."

In Keith's defense, his pessimism wasn't without foundation.  Three days earlier, as we drove to work, he mentioned that he had never experienced a category one hurricane and he wanted to experience one.  His grandmother talked about how bad Hazel was in '54 and Irene was his chance to experience what his grandmother had told him.  He added, "I've never experienced a tornado or an earthquake, either.  I don't want to experience a tornado, but I'd like to see one.  And I'd want to feel an earthquake.  I can't imagine what one feels like."

"If you want to feel an earthquake, you have to go to California, and I ain't going to California.  If Apryl [his daughter] moves to Ohio, you can visit her during tornado season, but I ain't going," I replied.

That afternoon, I ate my lunch under the pine tree on the hill behind where I work, then lay down to take a nap.  As I dozed off, the ground felt like jello and I instantly sat up, startled.  I rocked as if I were sitting on a bowl of jello, and the hill felt as if it were going to slide down.  The sensation only lasted a few seconds, but by the time I gathered my senses, I sat there wondering if there was something physically wrong with me or if we had an earthquake.  I lit up a smoke and then I heard someone yell, "We had an earthquake!"

I breathed a sigh of relief knowing there was nothing wrong with me.  Then I remembered Keith and our conversation this morning and wondered if he felt the quake he caused.  Yes, he caused it.  He wanted a blizzard and we got two back-to-back blizzards.  He wanted the spring to dry out so his flowers would grow, and we had no rain for two months, plunging us into a moderate drought.  He wanted to feel an earthquake, and we got a 5.8 quake.  Mother Nature listens to Keith, but, unfortunately, gives him more than he asks for.

I felt the quake he asked for.  He didn't.  He was in his work van and didn't feel a thing.  He's still upset about that.  All I can say is everyone east of the Mississippi should brace themselves for another - and much larger - quake, one that drivers will even feel.

Now here we were, three hours away from the height of a category one hurricane, and all we had were breezes and lots of rain.  "I missed the earthquake and now we ain't going to get the hurricane," he lamented.

I pulled up the weather observations for Bishops Head.  Winds were steady at 23 mph, gusting to near 40.  We weren't even in tropical strength, yet.  Maybe Keith was right.

About an hour later, I refreshed the stats, and winds were steady at 39 mph, with gusts just over 50.  I woke Keith up.  "It's coming, Keith.  We're in tropical strength now and the peak is still two hours away.  Grab some beer and let's go."

Keith got excited until he looked outside.  "It doesn't look all that much more windy."

I packed our beer and explained, "We'll go out to the docks and see the full force.  We're too protected here with all the trees."

We headed out to the mouth of Tedious Creek, where we go fishing and crabbing.  Normally, Tedious Creek is calm with little ripples lapping the shore.  During storms, it turns into a viscious flood machine.  When the winds blow right, the water is forced up the creek, over the land, and, at least once a year, into our yard.  Now, keep in mind, we don't live on Tedious Creek.  Tedious Creek is a mile or two from us.  So when it comes into our yard, you can imagine the volume of Bay water the wind has pushed up the creek to reach us.  It doesn't even have to be a strong wind.  A steady, persistent breeze from the right direction is all it takes.  The Mother's Day storm of '08 testifies to that.

We got down to the docks and the wind howled.  Waves crashed on the shore.  For the first time that day, we felt we were in a tropical storm.  The good news was the waves slammed against the east side banks of Tedious Creek instead of blowing straight up the creek. 

"We're not going to get flooded, Keith.  Look where the waves are going."

"You're sure?"

"With the tides around here, no, the tides do what they want, but what I'm seeing is a good sign.  The waves are wrong and high tide is still a good six hours away."  (It's only an 11-second shot, but you can view the peak of our storm as seen at the mouth of Tedious Creek following the rest of the story.)

As darkness crept in and our beer supply dwindled, we went home.  There's only so much wind and repetive wave action one can watch before you realize you're running out of beer.  As we left the docks, the winds seemed to get less harsh.  By the time we got home (ten minutes later), there was no storm.  It wasn't even raining.

I pulled up the radar and it showed the storm passing us.  The stats showed the steady wind speed at 23 mph with gusts to almost forty.  The storm was over, which meant the flood tides were coming.  Keith, already dejected because he didn't get to exprience a category one hurricane, had fallen fast asleep on the sofa.  I didn't expect much of anything, so I let him sleep and headed out on my own. 

The exiting storm brought in a bit stronger winds, I'm sure, but nothing stronger than what we had seen all day.  The tides, however, were coming in.  On my short trip around the block, the block being about a square mile radious of country roads, the usual low-lying parts of the road had water coming across.

I got home and woke Keith up.  "The tides are coming in.  Let's go fo a ride."

You're expecting something exciting to happen here, huh?  Sorry, no.  The flood tide was nothing more than a full moon tide.  The low spots of the roads flooded and that's about it.  Irene turned out to be a non-event.  Our sandbags not only didn't hold back flood waters, they didn't even get wet. 

About five days later, the remnants of tropical storm Lee hit us.  I can cut this story short.  Yes, we had more rain, maybe an inch or two, but no winds and no flooding.  Lee had no effect on us.

Ironically, between the two storms, people living in the high country had way more problems than we had.  One thing we learned is that no matter how much rain falls, the marsh asorbs it all.  It's the winds partnering with the tides that flood us.  Irene and Lee proved that.  Between the two storms within the same week, we had well over a foot of rain.  We had no flooding.  Last spring, we had a nor'easter that dropped about an inch of rain, but the winds brought in a tide that flooded our house.

Keith missed our earthquake and our category one hurricane.  He'll get over it.  According to the Mayans, the end of the world is a little over a year from now.  He figures that December 2012 will bring a major earthquake, hurricane, tornado, and probably an asteroid.  He's already planned his time off and started thinking about an end-of-the-world party.  If Mother Nature really does listen to him, we're in for some wild events next year.

Irene's peak fury

© 2011
Mark Darien
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Please include this copyright notice if you share this article

Tour Toddville Tidewater's Tombstones

Keith and I are getting dangerous.  Ok, I'm getting dangerous.  I've been playing with Window's Movie Maker, again.

There is logic to my madness.  Keith loves his music, particularly anything from the '50's, 60's, and early '70's.  While he favors doo wop and surf, he is almost as equally entralled with the psychedelic '60's and the garage bands of that era.  Lately, he's been into the cover craze mode.  Many songs he loved and thought were the original, he is now discovering that someone else had done them before. 

Ok, I started him on the cover craze.  I put together a cd and included the song, Love Hurts, by Nazareth released in 1975.  To rock and roll fans, we all know Nazareth was the original and Nazareth soared to fame with the number one song.  Who would dare cover such a huge hit?

No one.  The song, though, was not a Nazareth original.  It was an Everly Brothers original released in 1963.  The song never charted and, as much as Keith knows his oldies and loves The Everly Brothers, he never knew they originally did the song until I made the cd.  He's now on a cover craze theme with six volumes made and counting.  Oh, and Nazareth wasn't the first to take the song to number one, as Keith learned.  While not a hit in this country, Roy Orbison did take it to number one in Australia.

Keith's cd collection is dang near large enough to rival any radio station's collection.  He gets excited about his music and always laments that he wishes he could share it with others.  After a little research, I figured our own radio station would be just too dang expensive.

Now that I took you through the meadow, over the hills, and across the ocean to Australia, let me bring you back to Toddville and the point of why I've been playing with Window's Movie Maker.  Simply, I wanted to create a way for Keith to share his music that we could afford.

You Tube is affordable because it's free.  I like free.  My first attempt at how we could share our music resulted in a short clip dedicated to Keith, Experimenting with music videos.  Of course, Keith loved the video, but it didn't seem impressive enough to motivate him to do his own clips to share his music with y'all.

This time, I learned a bit more and got a bit more creative.  This past Memorial Day, we discovered a long forgotten cemetary that someone else remembered.  After writing the article, I went through my files of pics and realized I could give everyone a tour of a few of the cemetaries down here.  I also realized I could be a little more creative and, hopefully, inspire Keith to start sharing his music as he always wishes he could.

My idea for Toddville Tidewaters Radio (TTW Radio) was born.  Sure, it's not a live broadcast, but y'all can select the segments you want to listen to.  That's what we do when we listen to the radio in the car.  We're always switching stations to hear something better.  With TTW radio, you browse the titles of the segments and decide what you want to hear as if you're switching stations on the car radio.

So, under our new tag, TTW radio, you will find all of our programming.  And, tonight, we bring you our second installment, "Tour Toddville Tidewaters Tombstones", featuring the song, Saudade, by Love and Rockets.



© 2008
Mark Darien
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Memorial Day 2011

Coming home from shopping, we passed Cedar Creek Road on the main road, Wesley Church Road.  When the short way out of Toddville isn't flooded, this is the route we have taken for years.  Cedar Creek Road is a simple dirt road that dead ends about a mile back at what we would assume is Cedar Creek.

We've been down Cedar Creek Road hundreds of times.  We tried fishing, but caught nothing.  Another old timer fishing there claimed he caught lots of catfish, but that might have been the typical fish tale enhanced with beer.  He had left, but we stayed awhile trying to catch something.  About a half hour later, we called it quits and headed out.  On our way, there was the old timer, cold beer in hand and truck stuck in the marsh.  He was waiting for his son to come tow him out.  The road doesn't go quite the same way as one sees it when they've had a few too many beers - as the old timer found out.  We think the one too many beers also had something to do with his catching a lot of fish that obviously weren't there.

Mostly, we love going down Cedar Creek Road a night.  It leads out to the wide open marsh and we get an unlimited view of the night sky.  We've enjoyed many meteor showers and plenty of more nights just gazing at the vastness of space while our dogs run around doing dog things.

In all these years, we never knew there was a cemetary right on the corner where Cedar Creek Road meets Wesley Church Road.  The corner was too overgrown with bacchus bushes, greenbriars, poison ivy, and phragmites.  

Someone knew that cemetary was there.  Sometime late Saturday or early Sunday, the day before Memorial Day, they cleared the corner out to reveal the gravesite of the Insley family.  They placed a single flag in front of the fallen tombstone of William Insley, whom we believe was the father of the family.  Behind this plot stands a tall tombstone of a twenty-eight-year-old Captain William T. H. Insley, whom we believe was the son.  A single flag was placed in front of his tombstone, a silent tribute to someone who served our country 120 years ago.

To the left of the Captain's grave are two small graves.  The tombstones are too weathered to be readable, but the size of the plots and tombstones lead us to believe two children, newborns or, at most, one or two years old, lie here.  To the right of the Captain's grave is where we believe the mother of all three lies.

We don't know who the Insleys were nor do we know any Insleys currently living here.  But someone remembered.


© 2008
Mark Darien
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Spring has been a wild ride!

If there is one natural event that defines how we live down here in Toddville, unquestionably that event is our tides.  To most people, tides are the natural cycle of rising and falling waters that follow a predictable, roughly six to eight hour cycle and are strongest during a full moon.  Spend some time down here in Toddville, and you will learn tides are everything except predictable.

When we first moved here, Keith and I tried to learn all we could about the tides.  To our surprise, the watermen born and raised here knew as much about the tides as we do.  That fact didn't strike us as any more odd than the number of watermen down here who don't know how to swim.  We decided we had to learn about the tides ourselves.

Here's what we know: tides come in and they go out.  How far they come in and how far they go out can be explained only after they've done their cycle.  In general, fall and spring tides are the highest and always peak during a full moon cycle.  They also peak during the new moon cycle, but not at the level of a full moon cycle.  And they don't necessarily peak at the times listed on the tide tables.  Wind speed, direction, and duration plays a key role.

We're in the middle of our spring tides.  With two exceptions, each lasting about a week or less, we haven't had our spring tides.  The past two springs, the short way out of Toddville was flooded from about the middle to end of March until about the end of May.  Last year, the spring tides persisted until July.  We have since learned the long spring tide cycle was due to strong currents out in the Atlantic that affected tides all up and down the East Coast.  This year, we haven't had the spring tides.  Two coastal storms brought in the tides for a few days, but the normal spring tides lasting several weeks have been nonexistent.

In fact, by April 16th, we had no spring tides.  The tides were actually running below normal, almost like winter tides.  (Winter tides are our lowest.)  On April 16th, a strong coastal storm moved through, bringing strong easterly winds from Friday night through Saturday night.  We had no doubt we were in for a strong tide, but because the tides were running so low prior to the storm, we weren't worried about our house flooding.

The morning tide was a flood tide, but one of the normal spring nuisance tides.  Keith and I left for town to do some shopping and were gone for most of the day.  When we returned, what should have been our low tide was still a near flood tide.  Those persistent, strong easterly winds never let the water flow out to the Bay.

Around eleven-thirty at night, the winds calmed to a dead still.  We saw no sign of flooding and peak high tide was only an hour and a half away.  We felt sure that we were safe from flooding.  The two hours before peak high tide and the two hours after peak high tide are the critical times.  The winds were calm and no sign of flooding meant we had to be safe. 

About one in the morning, the peak high tide time, I let the dogs out and there still was no sign of flooding.  The dogs and I came back in (we go out with the dogs because Kiwi is high on the owls' menu list) and I confidently told Keith we had nothing to worry about with possible flooding.

An hour and a half later, I looked outside.  Water surrounded our house and was rising fast.  It came, literally, within a hair's breadth of breaching our front door threshold.  Unfortunately, where the original house joins the extension added in the seventies sits a little lower than our front door and water began seeping through. 

Since it was nighttime, we can't say for sure how extensive this flooding was.  Judging by what we could see, we reckon this flood was worse than the Mother's Day flood of  '08. After that flood, we did some changes in our yard to allow the water to run more freely and obviously that helped on this flood.  Instead of the whole bottom floor of the original part of the house suffering water damage, only a small part in the living room received water damage this time around. 

We're back to redesigning the yard a bit.  Flood insurance will help us raise the low part of the house where it joins the extension.  Maybe the next tidal flood will just flow on by our house without incidence - at least to the house.  Our gardens suffered under the salt water inundation. One thing we all agree on down here: the tides will go wherever and whenever they damned well please and there's no stopping them.  All we can do is mitigate the damage.

Oh, and now we understand why the watermen born and raised down here don't understand the tides.  The tides have a mind of their own and just when you think you understand them, they go and do something different.
© 2008
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article