A week ago I wrote about a statue of a lady in Chestertown, MD. This entry deals with that same steel lady...but in not so delicate of a way. I'm a geocacher. 170 finds today. According to my friend Gene (YowzaPA), 167 finds makes you officially no longer a rookie. As a now credentialled cacher, I now feel qualified to share the good and the bad. To share the depths a man will go to find that hidden treasure, to grab that cache, to log that find... I feel terrible. What your about to see violates everything my mother ever taught me. But then, to plagerize Dr. Seusse, 'A cache is a cache, no matter how small."
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Only in the back woods of Upstate NY, or somewhere in KY, WV, or the Carolina's...! Actually, I guess you could see this in so many places, but this happens to be Magee, NY. It's the sign that creates the humor isn't it? FOR SALE BY OWNER. The local VFD is selling it's firetruck to the highest bidder...should I be afraid? Either way, I had to turn around to snap the photo...
Back to the truck... It's bright and shiney and looks new. I mean, who wouldn't want spiffy firetruck to park in their driveway? Out for a sunday drive, great for parades, or just show it off to your friends. With competition like this, it's no wonder I can't sell the 88 Lincoln Town Car parked in my front lawn!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Chestertown, MD is filled with such wonderful history. It's an old town with beautiful old bricks and slate and iron fences. It's a step back in time in a modern way. Part of the charm of this old town are wonderful surprises in architecture, monument or art. When I was first in Chestertown, I met a girl. She caught my eye in an obscure alley, sitting casually on a circle of bricks. She's was young, beautiful and quite disarming as she gazed at a cannonball. I was immediately enchanted by her steely gaze. Though she's never spoken to me, over the years, we've become friends. Everytime I'm there I stop to see her. I wonder always what she sees. What she's thinking. And what's the meaning of the cannonball?
I know I could look it up with little trouble. I'm sure there's a story - but I don't want to know. I like to wonder. I like to ask her each year. Her answer is always the same...she simply smiles and looks on to places I cannot go. Her face is too happy for tragedy. Not joyous enough for play. It's something else that brought that cannonball, and the wonder is in the not knowing, isn't it. In the immagining. I make up a new story each year and now I'm afraid to know because the reality will be dull in comparison to the world I've created for her. And to think...I don't even know her name.
I hope my wife doesn't check my blog, because she definitely will not approve of this posting. In fact, when I took this photo her first reaction was to say, "that poor guy is going to end up on your blog isn't he." It wasn't really a question, but rather, a disapproving statement of fact. I took the fifth. Me, I don't own a Harley - wish I did. But there's Harley blood in our family of the rough tough kind. Leather and spikes and bandannas. Sturgis and going weeks without a shower. So, as the bike pulled up beside me, my first reaction was, 'nice sound.' Followed quickly by a, "What the...?" Must be a flood coming 'cause I see high waters. The velcro sneakers are classic biker and go perfectly with the light weight blue pants covering the frog like physique. Yes my friends, these are the cowboys who made the classic cast iron heads famous...wanted - dead or alive!
I love my kids. I will admit, they're trying at times...but I love them. In fact, the thought of really ever getting rid of them has never crossed my mind. But I'm from NY. In New York I guess we do things a little differently. You see, we were recently in Maryland and Maryland apparently has a way of dealing with difficult children.
You can even park in the rear!