HB 1345 Riles Us Up

While I never really wanted to turn this blog into a political forum, something we saw on Maryland Public Television really riled us up last night. The station aired the proceedings going on in our State House yesterday, and the piece of legislation up for debate was HB 1345, a bill that would prevent same sex marriage and put the question to the voters of Maryland.

Keith and I would never have had an idea that the legislation was even proposed much less debated. It's amazing what one can learn watching late night public television. Needless to say, I spent this afternoon filing off letters to my representatives, both who not only support the bill, but are also co-sponsors of it.

Keith and I have always taken a lackadaisical attitude towards same sex marriage. If it were ever legalized, yes, we would get married. Even though everyone down here in the boondocks appears to support our relationship, we keep to ourselves and try not to make waves. We love the country life. We love the Eastern Shore. We'd rather people just leave us alone so we can enjoy it all without making an issue of our relationship.

Watching the performance of our legislators last night, though, riled us up. It's time to shake up the house, so to speak. Everyone got an earful from me, today, including our local news station. It'll probably come as a shock to them that a gay couple lives here. It'll probably make the breaking headlines.

For any of our readers who may live in Maryland or here on the Eastern Shore, I have tacked my letters to the end of this blog. The issue is important to us, not in that we want to get married, but in how our elected officials treat us as they greedily dig into our pockets and take more of our hard-earned dollars. If the issue is important to you, please take the time to write the delegates about HB 1345. Please write them to oppose it. If you write them to show your support, just please don't tell us about it.

The first letter is to Delegate Dwyer from Anne Arundel County. The gist of his argument and his supporters' arguments is that God is on their side and our children need good role models for parents, that is one mother and one father.

email: don.dwyer@house.state.md.us

The Honorable Don H. Dwyer, Jr.
House Office Building, Room 154
6 Bladen St., Annapolis, MD 21401

P. O. Box 667
Glen Burnie, MD 21060 – 0667


Dear Delegate Dwyer,

Last night, I caught your performance on the House floor with regards to HB 1345 on Maryland Public Television.

Presumably, you and I read the same Bible. Starting your support for the bill with a prayer to invoke a sense of “God is on my side” can, at best, be described as blasphemous. Fortunately, for you, God doesn’t care what goes on in our state legislatures. If He did, surely a thunderbolt from heaven would have put a quick end to the debate and your testimony.

Needless to say, I can’t, don’t, and won’t support your bill. Basic civil rights should never be put up for popular vote. If that were an acceptable practice for dealing with civil rights, then women would still be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen and Blacks would still be drinking out of “Coloreds Only” fountains.

Since we know laws aren’t to be passed based on whether we think God would approve or not, your supporters tried valiantly to claim the proposed ban on same sex marriage was “for the children.” If you are willing to put forth a bill that makes marriage contingent upon the couple being good role models for children, I will support that one. Drug users and alcoholics should be denied marriage. Anyone under the age of twenty-five should be denied marriage. And all marriage applicants should pass a parental test before a license is issued.

Oh, and let’s not forget to disallow Blacks from marrying. Single mother households are disproportionately represented in the Black community. A report just released show one in ten Black males is in prison. Certainly you would agree that single mothers and criminals are not good role models for our children.

Maybe now you see how ridiculous your supporters’ and your arguments were. When some members chuckled at your comments, you demanded respect. Respect is earned, not given by virtue of title. You failed to earn any respect.

Please don’t use my God to defend your homophobic prejudices. I, and I’m sure many other Christians, find the tactic highly insulting. And, until you are ready to set standards for all couples to meet for suitability as “role models” for our children other than solely one’s gender, allow homosexuals to marry. In most cases, they will be just as good, if not better, role models as many married couples are today.

Regards,

Mark Darien

The other letter is to the two Eastern Shore delegates who co-sponsored the bill, Delegate Eckardt and Delegate Haddaway:

Emails:

adelaide.eckardt@house.state.md.us

jeannie.haddaway@house.state.md.us

The Honorable Adelaide C. Eckardt
House Office Building, Room 213
6 Bladen St., Annapolis, MD 21401

601 Locust St., Suite 202
Cambridge, MD 21613 – 1012

The Honorable Jeannie Haddaway
House Office Building, Room 216

6 Bladen St., Annapolis, MD 21401

32 South Washington St., Suite 1
Easton, MD 21601


Dear Delegate Eckhardt and Delegate Haddaway,

Last night, I caught the discussions on HB 351 and HB 1345 on Maryland Public Television. Delegate Dwyer’s and his supporters’ performances infuriated me. It baffles me that our state legislature even entertains the idea that basic civil rights for our citizens should be put up for popular vote. Of course, it has always baffled me that our elected officials, both state and federal levels, even think that spouting off homophobic prejudices qualifies as intellectual debate. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you both not only support Delegate Dwyer’s homophobic legislation, but you both are also co-sponsors of the bill.

I would think you have more important matters to attend to other than to worry about whether my partner of eight years and I can get married or not. I’ve watched our farmlands fall to development because the family farmer can no longer make a profitable living off of the land. Severe restrictions, regulations, and tax burden have plowed them under. I’ve watched our independent watermen drown under the similiar restrictions, regulations and taxes. Generations of families have fished the Bay. This generation can’t break out of poverty fishing the Bay. One-by-one, they are throwing their hands up in the air and moving out of state and moving to states like Louisiana where they know they can make a decent living off the waters.

If HB 1345 passes, you know what? My partner and I won’t be able to get married, but our farmlands will still disappear, our watermen will leave the state, and those who are left behind will work two minimum wage jobs to make ends meet because, Lord knows, nothing is being done to ease the tax burdens and no one is trying to bring in businesses that are willing to pay 2008 wages. I think it’s time to get some priorities straight. Instead of worrying about who is marrying who, it is time to get our rural communities out from under the thumb of big city regulations and big city taxes. It’s time to sever our ties with the Western Shore and attract employers who will provide meaningful employment while respecting and preserving our rural character. And it’s time to help the family farmer and independent waterman earn a decent living by leveling the playing field for them against their corporate-run counterparts.

I urge you both to drop your sponsorship of HB 1345. It is a piece of homophobic legislation designed to punish a small segment of our society. I do urge you to find solutions for the problems I mentioned above. They are, by far, more important issues for the Eastern Shore.

Of course, if you continue to pursue this nonsense with HB 1345, my partner and I will have no choice but to vote against you come re-election time. Yes, hold on to your seat. We’re both registered Republicans. That makes us doubly ashamed that you are supposedly representing us.

Oh, heck. I’ve been unemployed since Christmas. I’ve had a couple of job offers, but they wanted to start me out at wages I earned twenty years ago. It’s a sad statement when I turn the offers down because my unemployment pays more than what they offered. Maybe I should go for one of your jobs, instead. We need at least one representative who thinks in the year 2008 and beyond. We don’t need two representatives who think in 1988 terms and believe that is progress for the Eastern Shore.

Regards,

Mark Darien

Again, feel free to bend their ear with your opinion on the matter. They need to earn our tax dollars somehow anyways. If you go the snail mail route, which is always more impressionable on our elected officials, I provided both their State House office address and their District office address.

If none of these are your delegates and you wish to write them, you can find out who they are and contact information here.

© 2007
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article

In Search of the Elusive Stars of Toddville

A very large and diverse wildlife population lives in the Toddville Tidewaters. In the year and a half we have lived here, we have seen more wildlife than either of us have seen in our entire life. A lot of that wildlife includes animals (and plants) we never knew existed in Maryland.

In the plant line, we have saltmarsh fleabane (Pluchea odorata), swamp rose mallow (Hibiscus mosheutos), and our favorite, slender glasswort (Salicornia virginica). The glasswort is our favorite because all summer, you don’t see it. Its slender, green branches blend invisibly in the grass. When the cool weather of autumn sets in, though, it transforms into a scarlet red. The marshes appear to be dotted with colorful coral that somehow washed ashore.

While we have always loved plants and are avid gardeners, the diverse animal life is what fascinates us the most. Keith always thought pictures of wild turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) were exaggerated to make them look bigger and prettier than they really are. When he saw his first male wild turkey strutting around with his tail feathers spread boastfully, he ranked the turkey right up there with a peacock for being majestically beautiful.

We also have been treated to animals we never knew lived in Maryland, or we knew they were supposed to be here, but in all our lives, had never seen one. The list includes the spotted turtle (Clemmys guttata), sika deer (Cervus nipal – though not native), indigo bunting (Passerina cyanea), and the bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus), just to name a few. Our two favorites are the wood duck (Aix sponsa) and the Delmarva fox squirrel (Sciurus niger cinereus).

The wood duck I saw once when I was a kid. Keith had never heard of one and when I described it like a brilliantly painted decoy sitting in the top of a tree, he didn’t believe me. “Do I look stupid?” he asked. “Ducks don’t sit in trees.” I had to pull up the wood duck on the Internet to prove to him that I wasn’t making up another one of my exaggerated tales.

Unlike the wood duck, which numbers in the millions, the Delmarva fox squirrel is endangered. Once roaming the woods from southern New Jersey through southeastern Pennsylvania, and down the entire Delmarva Peninsula, its range is now restricted to four counties on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, with Dorchester County boasting the largest population.

Last year, we searched for the wood duck and the fox squirrel to no avail. We even cruised through Blackwater Wildlife Refuge’s wildlife drive several times in search of these stars of Toddville. None were to be found. (See also Friends of Blackwater)

We noticed the great blue herons (Ardea herodias) beginning to don their mating plumage with their tell-tale hippy ponytail so I figured the wood duck must be coming into his mating plumage, too. The one I saw when I was a kid was dressed in full, flamboyant gear in the second week of March. The time had to be right to start looking.

We paid our three dollars and slowly inched our way down the wildlife drive, carefully scouring the water and the trees for the elusive wood duck.

“Don’t forget to look in the trees, too,” I reminded Keith.

“Crazy birds. Whoever heard of ducks in a tree? Why couldn’t they be like normal ducks and swim in the water?”

“That’s why they’re called wood ducks.”

“Do you know how hard it is to keep my eye on the road and look in the water for this duck? Now I have to look in the trees, too? I’ll end up in the marsh trying to find this duck.”

“You concentrate on the driving. I’ll let you know if I see a duck.”

Slowly we crept along, but not a duck in sight. We stopped at the spot marked for wood ducks and walked out to the blind to check the nesting sites. No ducks. Nothing in the trees, nothing in the water, and nothing at the nesting sites.

We returned to the car. “Damn it,” I said. “No wood ducks last year and not a sign of them this year. When we get up here to the fox squirrel area, I better see one or I’m demanding my three dollars back.”

We slowly approached the wooded area where the squirrels were supposed to be. We inched along. A car passed us. Then another. And another. And one more. “These people!” exclaimed Keith. “They’re going to scare my squirrels away! Where do all these people come from anyway?”

We continued creeping along when Keith slammed his brakes. (No, I don’t know why he slammed them. We were barely moving as it was.) “There’s one!” he said excitedly.

“Where?”

“There,” he answered as he pointed into the woods.

I had no clue where he was pointing and I certainly didn’t see anything.

“See it?”

“No.” I no sooner answered when I saw it move.

“Is that one or is it a gray squirrel?”

I grabbed my binoculars to get a better look. It jumped up on a stump with its back to me. It’s long, thick, bushy tail streamed out behind it. “Yup, that’s one. You can tell because of its huge tail and it’s holding it straight, not curled like the gray squirrel does.”

We ogled the beautiful animal for many minutes, slowly following it as he headed on down through the woods before it disappeared. We were thrilled at finally seeing a fox squirrel, but we continued to creep along hoping to see another one, but closer to the road.

“I want to see one of the white or tan ones. I’ve never seen a white or tan squirrel before,” commented Keith.

We kept our eyes peeled to the forest floor. No squirrel in sight. As we neared the end of the woods, a squirrel moved in the leaves alongside the road. As calm as it could be, it shuffled through the leaves looking for food. We didn’t need the binoculars to see that it was definitely a fox squirrel. It wasn’t white or tan, but it was definitely a fox squirrel. Fox squirrels are normally shy, but this one didn’t seem to mind our presence. After a few minutes, he darted off into the woods. We continued our snail-pace trek looking for the wood duck.

We left the wooded area and rounded the curve to the marsh and open water area. Thousands of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) filled the open fields, lined the shore, and gathered in the open water.

“We’ll never find a wood duck with all these dumb old geese around,” lamented Keith. “All these geese are probably eating all the food up.”

“Yeah, probably. Someone really needs to do something about this illegal immigration problem.”

“Huh?” Keith asked.

“They’re Canada geese, not Toddville geese. They should’ve kept their asses up there in Canada where they belong.”

“Oh Mark.” Keith sighed. After all these years, he still doesn’t always appreciate my humor, especially when he’s on a mission like trying to find a wood duck.

We slowly moved along. Canada geese. Canada. Geese. Canada geese. Great blue heron. Whoopee. Canada geese. Canada geese. Mallard. Double whoopee. Canada geese. Canada geese.

“Up there! What are those small birds swimming?” Keith couldn’t hide his excitement at maybe seeing his first wood duck.

“I don’t know. Get closer and I’ll take a look through the binoculars.”

We pulled up a ways and stopped. I focused my binoculars on a pair of ducks I had never seen before. “I don’t know what they are, but they are beautiful.”

Keith looked through his binoculars. “Wow. Are you sure they aren’t wood ducks? The male is so perfectly colorful he looks painted just like you said a wood duck looks like.”

“No, they aren’t wood ducks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I know what a wood duck looks like.”

“If you didn’t tell me, I’d think that was a wood duck. Look how perfect its colors are. I’ve never seen such a beautiful duck.”

“It’s not a wood duck”

“Are you sure? It’s been a long time since you were a kid. Maybe you forgot what one looks like.”

“I’m sure. It’s not a wood duck.”

“Then what is it?”

I peered through my binoculars again. They were feeding so we got a good look at their rear ends as they bobbed their heads down to the bottom looking for food. “See how their tail feathers are crossed like a pair of scissors. Maybe it’s one of those pintails.”

“Oh yeah, they are crossed. Maybe you’re right.”

That answer was good enough to convince him that it wasn’t a wood duck, but later we found out it wasn’t a pintail, either. It was the northern shoveler (Anas clypeata). Well, I never did claim to be an ornithologist.

After staring at a few pairs of these beautiful ducks, we moved on to the final stretch of wetlands before exiting the wildlife drive.

Canada geese. Canada geese. Canada geese. All the way down, there was nothing but Canada geese. Someone really needs to do something about this illegal immigration.

As we exited the drive, Keith remarked, “It’s a scam that the refuge made up to make money.”

“Huh?”

“You said there’s over a million wood ducks. I haven’t seen one yet. Not last year and so far, not this year. There’s only a few thousand fox squirrels and I saw two of them today. The numbers don’t add up. There’s no wood ducks in this refuge. The rangers made up the story so people will pay their money to see something that isn’t here, but they’ll keep returning and paying, convinced that it must be here.”

“There’s wood ducks here, somewhere. I seen one when I was a kid. We just need to keep looking.”

“Yeah, sure you did. And I bet you think because people have claimed to see big foot in the marshes, he must be around here, too.”

“Once we find this dang wood duck, that’ll be the next thing we’ll look for.”

© 2007
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article

Never Become a Car Salesman

Times are tough. They’re even tougher down here in Toddville. Unless one is self-employed, Toddville residents can expect to travel a minimum of thirty miles, one way, to get to a job that pays wages slightly above minimum wage. If they are willing to travel forty to sixty miles, one way, they might fare better with a job at wages ten to fifteen years behind the wages offered by employers in major metro areas.

Keith, for example, took a little over a four-dollar-an-hour pay cut to do the exact same job he did for sixteen years in Baltimore. His employer is a major health care supplier on Delmarva, but they pay pennies on the dollar to their employees compared to comparable health care companies in the Baltimore area on the Western Shore.

Big companies aren’t stupid, I guess. They move into an economically depressed area and think, “Hey! Look how much money we can save in wages because these dumb rednecks will be happy for any sort of income!”

Now, I know the first thought city-smart people would claim is that the cost of living in a rural area is a lot cheaper than in a metro area, which is why companies can cut employee’s wages. That’s true, to a point.

Before moving here, I calculated the cost of living difference between Cambridge, the nearest major “city” to Toddville, and Baltimore. The difference equated to ten percent. For Keith to continue earning the same buying power as he did in Baltimore, his pay cut should’ve been less than half of what he had to accept. On top of that, his benefits are significantly less than what his employer in Baltimore offered. Bottom line: he took a ten-year step backward in his career development. (For privacy reasons and because everyone on the Shore knows everyone, I will not name the company Keith works for.)

I had to quit my job in Baltimore. I knew that. I couldn’t continue paying over $500 a month in gas to commute there. The problem was I couldn’t find an equivalent job down here.

Finally, last October, Sylvan Learning Center in Easton hired me to turn around the three-year loss the center had experienced. The pay was right so I took it. Unfortunately, the owner’s health took a turn for the worse and he decided to scale back his staff and, most likely, either close the center or find a buyer. I didn’t get my chance to turn the center around by June like I had forecasted.

Since Christmas, I have been trying to find a job. I’ve had offers, but the pay was significantly less than what unemployment affords me now. So I keep searching.

Two weeks ago, I came across an ad for a car salesman at Preston Autoplex. The ad read in such a way that I figured I was qualified – no experience necessary - so I applied. Eight days later, I was let go on the grounds that certain people felt I didn’t “have what it takes” to be a car salesman.

I have to agree with them. In the eight days I was there, there was no training of any sort. I made it no secret in my interviews that I never had direct sales experience. I knew how to talk to people and, most importantly, I know how to talk to Eastern Shore natives. They don’t like to be pushed. They don’t like the “hard sell”. They want to like you first and a handshake is as valid as a signature on any legal document.

Preston obviously had a different selling philosophy. In simple terms, it is no different than the philosophy of any other car dealership, especially the ones of the major metro areas. “Get people off the lot and in the doors and we’ll sell them a car.” Of course, that means they’ll sell you the car, warranties, and lifetime service memberships. The real money made by a car salesman and the dealership is not in the selling of a vehicle. The real money is made in the warranties and dealership services even though most purchasers of vehicles need neither.

While I am making my point using Preston Autoplex as an example, in reality, they are no different than any other major car dealership. I just happen to have first-hand experience with them as a brief employee. As an ex-customer of Norris Ford of Easton, I can relate what I experienced as a customer with what I learned as an employee at Preston.

By now, you might be wondering why I’m bringing all this up and why you should even read on. I have two goals for this article.

The first is to send the message to big companies considering a move to Delmarva that we know big city ways when we see it and we don’t like it. You’ll do fine here as long as big city people follow you, but for those of us born and raised here, we’ll resent and defy your intrusion. Save your breath on cheesy commercials about how your general manager was born and raised here (That’s a Norris Ford's radio commercial) or bringing on your eight-year-old daughter to show your “family friendliness” (That’s a Preston TV commercial). We locals recognize phoniness in a heartbeat. We’re still going to do business with you. We have no choice. You big city dudes have pushed out the genuine, family-owned businesses.

The second purpose for writing this article is to benefit my faithful readers. You have to buy a car. When you do, be harder than the most persuasive salesman. Pick out your vehicle, select any options you want, and tell the salesman to give you the best offer. He’ll run it to the sales manager, who will run it to the finance manager, and they’ll come back with an offer. Simply state, “Well, if that’s the best you can do, I should shop around more.”

The salesman and the sales manager will ask you what they can do to close the deal. Simply tell them nothing because you already asked them for their best offer and, if they are willing to do even better, then they didn’t give you their best offer.

They lied. Simple as that. Ask them to hold the offer for two weeks while you visit other dealerships. Other dealerships will more or less offer you the same thing on the same vehicle, but they may offer you better rebates, service or warranties. When buying a vehicle, that’s what you are really shopping for. You’re not even shopping for better interest rates on the loan. They all use the same thirty or so lenders. Whatever lender A quotes at dealership A, they’ll quote the same at dealership B.

When you walk out, though, expect the dealership to call you with an offer you can’t refuse. At that point, you need to decide if their lie to you on their original “best offer” is worth overlooking for their “new best offer”.

My last two weeks have taught me one thing. I need to pursue a career in local politics. The Bay is dying and our farmlands are disappearing. Big city companies are moving in. The trend needs to stop. The Bay needs to be revitalized; restrictions on the family farmer or independent watermen needs to be lifted; and big city companies need a crash course on the Eastern Shore culture before they can open their doors.

© 2007
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article