History – Glitterchicken

Dec122023December 12, 2023December 12, 2023by Glitterchicken

Secrets of The Appalachian Trail

Posted in History, Nature, Sports & Recreation

*Benton MacKaye, originator of the Appalachian Trail*

The Appalachian Trail is iconic. You’ve probably heard of it—the 2,190+ foot long hiking trail nicknamed the “AT” that stretches all the way from Georgia to Maine? And if you’ve ever lived anywhere near the East Coast of the U.S., chances are you either know someone or know someone who knows someone who hiked the entire trail.[1] This massive undertaking, known as “thru-hiking” is a pop culture trend —there are hundreds of books detailing people’s experiences thru-hiking the AT, the most famous being Grandma Gatewood’s Walk (the inspiring story of the first woman who thru-hiked the AT alone at age 67 and who used her celebrity to save the trail from extinction),[2] Hollywood movies about thru-hikes that went wrong — both comedically (A Walk in the Woods) and horrifically (Beacon Point)[3], and at least one college offering students credit for accomplishing thru-hikes![4] And then there are those folks who love a challenge and make it their life’s goal to break an AT thru-hiking record, such as the fastest time to complete the trail (Karel Sabbe: 41 days, 7 hours, and 39 minutes), most hikes completed (Warren Doyle: 9 thru-hikes and 9 section hikes) and oldest person to thru-hike the AT (M.J. “Nimblewill Nomad” Eberhart: 83 years old).[5]

*Pinnacles Picnic Area, Shenandoah National Park, VA*

But the Appalachian Trail isn’t just about thru-hiking. In fact, Benton MacKaye, the man who first proposed the concept of the AT wasn’t thinking about thru-hiking at all. He was grieving the loss of his wife, Jessie Hardy “Betty” Stubbs MacKaye, who suffered bouts of severe anxiety and committed suicide by drowning herself in the East River at the age of 45. In 1921, MacKaye, a forester, conservationist, and community planner, devastated by his wife’s tragic death, left their home in New York City to stay at his friend Harris Whitaker’s farm in western New Jersey that was “high in the mountains…and not a soul in sight.”[6] Here, MacKaye turned to the task of finding solutions to what he called “the problem of living”— the increased stresses upon the population caused by rapid urbanization and growing economic disparities between the cities and rural areas in the aftermath of WWI. MacKaye envisioned a footpath along the ridges of the Appalachian mountains accessible to the residents of metropolitan areas along the Eastern seaboard that would not just promote economic well-being for small towns in the foothills, but also provide a form of wilderness therapy for city dwellers battling mental health issues.[7]

In October 1921, long before science confirmed the detrimentaleffects of stress upon mental health, in his groundbreaking essay proposing “An Appalachian Trail” that was edited by Whitaker and published in The Journal of the American Institute of Architects, MacKaye wrote: ”Most sanitariums now established are perfectly useless to those afflicted with mental disease—the most terrible, usually, of any disease. Many of these sufferers could be cured. But not merely by ‘treatment.’ They need acres not medicine. Thousands of acres of this mountain land should be devoted to them with whole communities planned and equipped for their cure.”[8]

Benton MacKaye’s words cut right to the core when you know howpersonally affected he was by his wife’s suicide—a tragic consequence of untreated mental illness. It’s highly likely that Benton was thinking about Betty when he conceived of a multi-state hiking trail because long-distance walking and hiking were among Betty’s favorite pastimes, along with championing progressive causes. A few years before she married Benton, Betty organized and led a walk from New York City to the state capital of Albany—a distance of 148 miles—to advocate for a woman’s suffrage bill! This feat attracted considerable media attention and undoubtedly attracted the attention of MacKaye too as it’s no secret that the MacKaye’s marriage was a partnership of political activism as well as mutual affection.[9]

But why has the origin story of the Appalachian Trail remained asecret when the AT is the most famous footpath in the world attracting 3million visitors each year? I’ve been hiking the AT for decades now, as a“day-hiker,”[10] (someone who hikes the trail all day and goes back to a warm bed at night, or maybe a local brew pub first, a hot tub second, and a warm bed third). I’ve hiked in about half of thestates the AT runs through—VT, NY, PA, MD, VA, WV, and TN. So why did I just learn the story of the MacKayes this year? On my birthday, I decided to visit the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (“ATC”) headquarters, located at the “psychological midpoint” of the AT in Harpers Ferry, WV.[11] I was pleased to meet Dave, concierge of all things AT-related, who bears a striking resemblance to Santa Claus (except skinnier). When I asked Dave about the distinction between the ATC and the Appalachian Mountain Club (“AMC”)[12]of which I’m a member, Dave gave me a detailed explanation of the AT’s origins and directed me to an exhibit containing photographs of Benton MacKaye and excerpts from his illuminating essay, including his idea to utilize the AT’s “acres” as a “cure” for mental illness. I was so touched by MacKaye’s words that tears sprang to my eyes. But I knew I had just scratched the surface; I wanted to learn everything I could about the fascinating couple underlying the myth of the Appalachian Trail.

*Dave & Me at ATC HQ, Harpers Ferry, WV*

The more I read about the lives of Benton & Betty MacKaye, the more realized why their story might have gotten left out of the AT legend. The MacKayes were socialists who lived during the “First Red Scare” of 1919-1920, which was a time when Americans feared a communist or anarchist revolution in America much like the Bolshevik revolution that had just occurred in Russia in 1917.[13] Although the folks in the MacKayes’ social circle may not have demonized them for their socialist political affiliation, people outside of that circle thought their ideas and tactics were too radical. For example, when the MacKayes were living in Wisconsin, Benton lost his job at The Milwaukee Leader in the wake of Betty’s controversial proposal for a “bride strike,” where women would withhold sex from their husbands to force them to stop engaging in violence and wars. Brilliant idea but not well received at the time. Sadly, it was after the MacKayes relocated to New York City that Betty’s mental state began rapidly deteriorating. Further evidence suggests that Benton’s theoretical differences with other Appalachian Trail Conference leaders underpinned the reason why he was not chosen to be part of the Executive Committee, despite the fact he delivered the keynote speech at the conference and drafted the constitution.[14]

In the following decades, MacKaye became increasingly disillusioned with the progress of the Appalachian Trail project because he envisioned the AT as a wilderness trail that would serve as a catalyst for social transformation, not necessarily a continuous trail that would serve as a recreational resource as envisioned by other leaders who represented the interests of the hiking community. While the AT may not be the pristine wilderness that MacKaye imagined (for example, Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park that MacKaye fought against unsuccessfully is traversed by 1.2 million visitors each year!), that doesn’t mean MacKaye’s transformative vision has gone unfulfilled.

*"Nikko" on Skyline Drive, Shenandoah National Park, VA*

I have always thought of the Appalachian Trail as a haven—a place of refuge where you can escape noise, pollution, work and family stresses, the toxic political climate, you name it. When you’re out on the AT, everything else disappears. There’s only the white-blazed trail, and the serenity and challenge it offers. The AT is notoriously rocky, so you’ve got to wear boots with good ankle support. To prevent injury, every step you take needs to be a mindful one. You’ll want to choose the pace that works for you—fast enough to maintain your momentum so that you can get to your destination and back before nightfall—but not so fast that you can’t stop to take in the beautiful scenery, eat a snack, take a few pix, and chat with other hikers. There’s an instant feeling of community out on the trail because you know hundreds of feet have trodden where yours have just landed. But you don’t think about how old those hikers were or how in-shape they were or what race they were or what gender they were. You’re immune from the “cancer of comparison” because none of those speculatory statistics will help you achieve your goal, so that self-defeating cycle of negative thoughts (known as rumination) will drift out of your mind if it ever entered in the first place. All that’s left is a sublime sense of peace.[15]

*Toadstool, AT trailhead, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN*

For me, what’s most valuable about hiking the AT is that it gives everyone the chance to engage in a single-minded physical activity surrounded by nature and free from distraction, a rare opportunity in today’s world of frantic multi-tasking in the face of an endless stream of competing demands. Some people call it a Zen-like spiritual practice, some call it "getting in the zone," but no matter what you call it, science supports Benton MacKaye’s hypothesis that walking in nature provides measurable mental health benefits, including the reduction of anxiety and depression.[16] Some of this has to do with endorphins, the “feel-good” hormones our body produces when we exercise, but it’s our reconnection with nature that’s the key to the mental clarity and freedom from rumination that distinguishes hiking from working out at the gym.[17] If he were alive today, I believe Benton MacKaye would be pleased to know there’s a non-profit all-volunteer organization called HIKE for Mental Health that’s dedicated to organizing hikes to promote the mental health benefits of hiking and raising funds for mental health research and trail conservation.[18]

*Ascent to Mary's Rock, Shenandoah National Park, VA*

During the COVID pandemic, when wewere all coping with unprecedented stressors without our usual social outlets, I started hiking portions of the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and by now, it’s become a tradition. The looming approach of these two holidays arriving in rapid succession at the end of the year never fails to fill me with a sense of dread, and I’m not the only one. “Holiday Dread” is a very real thing. Google it and hundreds of articles will pop up. According to a 2019 survey, 61% of Americans dreaded the holidays; a 2021 survey put the number at 48%.[19] An obvious cause is the fear of overspending in light of the exaggerated focus on obligatory gift-giving, which has intensified due to inflation. But there are also the emotional pangs from missing loved ones who have died or family members estranged by feuds or divorce. And what about just feeling worn-out and exhausted at the end of a long year, like a runner at the end of a marathon, craving rest and relaxation rather than overeating and incessant conversation? But I think it’s the unrealistic expectation of a month-long state of cheerfulness that’s the worst part of all, like when people tell you to smile and you just want to punch them in the face.

This year, on the weekend after Thanksgiving, I hiked the 7.1 miles of the AT from the Pinnacles Picnic Area to Mary’s Rock and back. Although it had been a year ago when I last completed this hike, it felt as if I had just hiked it yesterday. When I reached the summit, which is a special place to me that I envision in my prayers, I was thrilled to find it looked exactly as I had pictured it in my mind! On the way back down, I was suddenly struck by the idea to write this piece about the MacKayes, the origins of the AT, and the mental health benefits of hiking (there’s that cool mental clarity thing again). With Christmas just around the corner, it hasn’t been easy to carve out the time to get these thoughts out of my head and into the computer. But I felt it was absolutely necessary that I did write this now, if only to convince you that it’s precisely at times like these, where you feel the agonizing constraints of time and money and social pressure tightening like a Victorian lady’s corset that you really need to get out in the fresh air and take a hike! Not to diminish your importance here, but the world won’t fall apart if you take a day off from your daily routine. Ask a friend or neighbor to walk your dog. Leave some money for your kids to order takeout. Tell your boss you’re taking time off to fulfill some personal obligations. Give yourself the gift of hiking this Christmas because you’re worth it! Your body, mind, and soul will be eternally grateful.

*Mary's Rock Summit, Shenandoah National Park, VA*

[1]This probability is an example of the “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” principle.See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Degrees_of_Kevin_Bacon#:~:text=Six%20Degrees%20of%20Kevin%20Bacon%20or%20Bacon's%20Law%20is%20a,ultimately%20leads%20to%20prolific%20American

[2] Veryfew people knew about the AT before Emma Gatewood appeared on TV and SportsIllustrated to shed light on the unsafe stretches of trail and issue a call toaction to maintain and preserve the trail for posterity. For more about“Grandma Gatewood” and her biography written by Ben Montgomery, see https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/18527222

[3]This article reviewing the best AT movies (including documentaries where youget a sense of reality) is featured on a blog written by thru-hikers forthru-hikers that also contains a lot of good resources and practical tips foranyone interested in hiking the AT. https://appalachiantrail.com/20140806/10-best-appalachian-trail-movies/

[4]For more info, please see this article about the Emory & Henry College“Semester-A-Trail” program at https://www.backpacker.com/news-and-events/news/emory-and-henry-college-credit-hiking-appalachian-trail/

[5] “NimblewillNomad” is Eberhart’s trail name. Thru-hikers are like an unofficial club thathas established its own trail culture, jargon, and etiquette. A well-known featureof trail culture is the use of “trail names,” which are nicknames thru-hikersuse to refer to each other on the trail. You’re not supposed to make up yourown trail name, your “trail family” are supposed to give it to you, and dependingon how sick and twisted they are, it can be based on something very stupid or embarrassingyou’ve done that will literally follow you wherever you go. For some of worst trail names ever, see https://www.reddit.com/r/AppalachianTrail/comments/wg90do/worst_trail_names_2022_edition/

[6] FromHarris Whitaker’s letter to Benton MacKaye in 1921, excerpted from TheTragic Origins of the Appalachian Trail (thedailybeast.com)

[7]For more about the life and career of Benton MacKaye, see AppalachianTrail Histories | Benton MacKaye · Builders (appalachiantrailhistory.org)

[8] Ifyou’re a hiker or a nature lover, I strongly encourage you to read MacKaye’sentire proposal. It’s beautifully written from the heart, but also incredibly visionaryand forward-thinking even by today’s standards. AnAppalachian Trail: A Project in Regional Planning | Appalachian TrailConservancy

[9]For more about the life and work of Betty MacKaye, see Biographical Sketchof Jessie Belle Hardy Stubbs MacKaye | Alexander Street Documents

[10] Fora great beginner’s guide to day hiking the AT, see https://appalachiantrail.org/explore/hike-the-a-t/day-hiking/

[11] Establishedin 1925, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (“ATC”) is the leading organization tasked by Congressto oversee the maintenance, management, and conservation of the AT andsurrounding lands. https://appalachiantrail.org/explore/faqs/.The precise geographical midpoint of the AT is inaccessible to the generalpublic, so Harpers Ferry is considered the psychological midpoint because it’s closeto the midpoint and accessible to the general public because it’s adjacent to aNational Park.

[12]The Appalachian Mountain Club (“AMC”) is comprised of many local chaptersstretching from the Northeast through the Mid-Atlantic that provide volunteeropportunities for education, conservation, and recreation along the AT. The AMCchapters up in New Hampshire and Maine are particularly robust, offering lovelyvisitor accommodations in lodges and cabins, as well as a variety of courses fromwilderness first aid to landscape and wildlife painting. Home | Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC)(outdoors.org)

[13]For more about the First Red Scare, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Red_Scare Appalachian

[14]See “Success and Failure” in this wonderful article published on the ATCwebsite. AppalachianTrail Histories | Benton MacKaye · Builders (appalachiantrailhistory.org)

[15]By extolling the mental health benefits of hiking, I am by no means suggestingthat going out for a day hike will eradicate all forms of mental illness andsuicidal tendencies, only that there is scientific evidence indicating that it mayimprove symptoms and possibly prevent suicide. Certainly, if you or someone youknow has been having thoughts of suicide or is severely depressed, contact theAmerican Foundation for Suicide Prevention at https://afsp.org/

[16] Agreat example is this 2105 Stanford study https://news.stanford.edu/2015/06/30/hiking-mental-health-063015/

[17] Thiswarm-hearted blog post written by a thru-hiker discusses 4 ways that hikingimproves your mental health https://thetrek.co/4-ways-hiking-improves-your-mental-health/and it contains a link to a scientific study showing that increasing ourexposure to nature reduces rumination and promotes mental well-being. https://www.pnas.org/doi/pdf/10.1073/pnas.1510459112

[18]For more information about HIKE for Mental Health, or to donate or volunteer,see https://www.hikeformentalhealth.org/

[19]See https://www.fox5dc.com/news/61-percent-of-americans-dread-the-holidays-because-of-spending-survey-suggests and https://www.lendingtree.com/credit-cards/study/holiday-shopping-sentiments-survey/

Sep232019September 23, 2019June 19, 2023by Glitterchicken

Annapolis Sailing School

Posted in History, Sports & Recreation

From my seat at the helm, it looked like our boat was coming in close enough to the dock, but our approach wasn’t pretty enough for my sailing instructor, a fastidious Belgian named Phil. On Phil’s cue, I tacked and we glided into the space behind the row of boats perfectly parallel to the dock with only a few inches to spare. Then, like Jehovah when he’s pleased, (not when he’s pissed-off), a deep sonorous voice called out loudly from out of the heavens: “GOOD JOB! WAY TO GO!” punctuated by raucous cheers and applause. “Could that voice be talking to me?” I wondered, “Where’s it coming from? Who could it be?"

After we disembarked, Phil showed me how to tie up and de-rig the boat; I tried my best to imitate his meticulous knot-tying techniques, but the distracting questions kept coming: “Was I having a mystical experience? Or a psychotic break?” While bending over and rolling up the mainsail, I saw 2 feet. “Oh no, it’s a visual hallucination now, “I thought as I looked up and saw that the feet were attached to legs, attached to a barrel-chested torso, attached to a round mustachioed face with a jolly grin stretching from ear to ear. I stood up, thinking: “If they’re going to take me away in a straitjacket, I might as well go bravely like Joan of Arc. It can’t be that bad…Maybe I won’t have to pay taxes….”

I was relieved when Santa Claus of the Sea started talking. Could he be a real person? “That was THE best docking job I’ve seen a student do on their 1st day all season!!” he said excitedly. (And that was saying a lot because it was the 3^rd week of Sept. and the season had started in April). “Hi, I’m John Cosby,” he said, smiling. As we shook hands, I introduced myself, saying: “I only did what Phil told me to do.” “But YOU did it!!” he said exclaimed, the word “YOU” resonating in the air like a sonic boom. It must have been the voice I heard! “That was you cheering when we docked, wasn’t it?” I asked. “Oh yeah, that was definitely me!” he said, laughing heartily before heading upstairs to his office.

Over the next 2 days, I practiced tacking, jibing, man overboard and figure 8 drills, reefing the mainsail, and heaving-to, as well as rigging, de-rigging, and docking the boat. I had a different instructor each day, and while they all demonstrated an extraordinarily high level of expertise, they had distinct personalities and individualistic ways of doing things. My instructor on the 2^nd day, Chris, was an intuitive, who trimmed the jib behind his back as he watched me steer. “How can you do that without looking?” “Oh, I can tell what’s happening from the sound it makes.” Incredible! My instructor on the 3^rd day, Island John, barely touched things and they moved in a big way. “Let the wind do the work for you,” he said calmly, like a hypnotist.

After enduring a 100-question written test that did not include 1 single question about swearing (much to my disappointment, because I have considerable expertise in the subject) and successfully tying a few knots, I had passed my Basic Keelboat Sailing (ASA 101) course at the Annapolis Sailing School, and became a certified member of the American Sailing Association. And here I thought I was certifiably cuckoo-bird crazy only to find out I’m really just a sailor!

It’s widely known that the Annapolis Sailing School is the oldest commercial ASA sailing school for adults in the U.S.,founded by Franklin “Jerry“ Wood back in 1959, who 11 years later, co-founded the U.S. Sailboat Show with Bennett Crane.[1] But not everybody knows the back story about the people behind the legend. Glitterchicken is hereto deliver the goods!

In 1961, Wood asked the renowned Olin Stephens[2] to design him a boat that would bring 3 drunks home safely in a storm.[3] Stephens sketched out the plans for an uncapsizable, indestructible 24’ sloop on a dinner napkin, which ultimately evolved into the blueprint for the Rainbow boats the school uses to train its students to this day. This isn’t just nautical myth. “It’s a true story,” attests John Cosby, who currently serves as Managing Director and Head Instructor.

Cosby began working for Woods for a mere $18 dollars a day as a junior instructor when he was 15 years old. A native of nearby Severna Park, Cosby’s father had been a U.S. submarine commander who purchased a sailboat after retiring from the Navy. Faced with the futility of arguing with his father, Cosby spent countless hours on the Magothy river as “forced crew,” wherebyhe established sailing skills that surpassed instructors twice his age. Cosby rose quickly through the ranks due to his impressive skill set and his work ethic, becoming Marina Manager when he was only 21 years old. In those days, General Manager Rick Franke was in charge of classroom instruction at a facility in Eastport, while Cosby was responsible for on-water training operations at the school’s current Bembe Beach location.

Although Cosby stopped working at the school in 1983 to pursue career goals that eventually took him out of the boatingbusiness for a spell, his connection to the Bembe beach property deepened further when he married girl-next-door Hilary Wilson in 1985. The Wilson family owned the property immediately adjacent to the school, where they had a rustic beach cottage they used as home base for summer sailing activities. Over the years, 5out of the 7 Wilson siblings worked as sailing instructors, Which is a no-brainer when you consider the fact that kids were expected to earn their own spending money back then and the Wilsons lived so close to the school they could have sleepwalked to the docks in the morning. Although it would have added adash of spice to this story, Cosby won’t admit to sharing any romantic moments on board the Rainbows with Hilary. The way he tells it, they started dating when Hilary was attending college. (Bland, we know, but Glitterchicken faithfully upholds the journalistic duty to tell the truth, no matter how yawn-inducing it may be).

DON’T STOP READING NOW! True, we can’t give you a titillating screenplay for a Rom-Com or Coming-of-Age flick, but what happens next has all the hallmarks of a great Drama: a series of cataclysmic events occurs, presenting our characters with obstacles that would have been insurmountable had they not joined forces, and at great risk, taken a leap of faith into the abyss, hoping that their innovative solutions would not only save the sailing school from ruin, but breathe new life into it, making it better than ever before! (This is called foreshadowing).

The 1st event that shook the Annapolis Sailing School’s foundation to its core was the death of founder Jerry Wood in 2003. His widow, Kathy, bravely carried on the business until her death in 2005, after which the estate sold the property, all the structures on it, and the entire fleet (which had grown to be quite substantial by that point, including 12 cruising boats) to Tim Dowling, who, like John Cosby, had started as a junior instructor when he was 15 years old and had worked his way up to GM.[4]

Unfortunately, Dowling’s plans to build upon Wood’s legacy and further his vision were cut short by the 2^nd apocalyptic event, the Great Recession of 2008 and its painful aftermath that lingered well into 2012. Like all leisure industries, “the boating industry was practically decimated,” says Cosby. For the thousands of Americans losing their jobs to layoffs and their homes to foreclosures, trying out a new sport wasn’t exactly at the top of their agenda along with food and shelter. Confronted with rising costs and drastically reduced revenues, Dowling was forced to start selling off assets little by little in order to stay afloat (Pardon the pun).

Then, one fateful day in 2012, Cosby, who was staying at the 2^nd incarnation of the Wilson family’s summer home next to the school, accepted receipt of a certified letter. He recalls the “visceral” reaction he had when he read the notice of Dowling’s intent to sell the Bembe Beach property to commercial marina developers. Not only would this spell death for the sailing school, but it would negatively impact the serene, woodsy residential neighborhood surrounding Bembe Beach road and turn it into a bustling thoroughfare, which would increase traffic congestion, speeding, pollution, and overall “obnoxiousness.”

The Wilsons held a brainstorming session to figure out if there was anything they could do to prevent catastrophe from happening. Enter Rick Nelson, investment management executive from NYC married to Hilary’s sister Jenny, who had also been an instructor at the sailing school back in the day. A plan was hatched for Rick and Jenny to buy the property and the business, including the fleet, which by this point had deteriorated to “maybe 18 decrepit Rainbows and 2 Beneteau cruising boats,” according to Cosby, who was to quit his job at West Marine to become Managing Director and Head Instructor. Faithfully executing their plan, the Nelsons officially became the new owners of the Annapolis Sailing School in November of 2014, beginning a new chapter in the school’s rich history.

I first met the Nelsons in 2018 at the bonfire party (complete with apple cider and s’mores) they hosted for KeelboatClub members during the Fall Sailboat Show weekend. I felt instantly comfortable with Jenny. She struck me as an anti-princess, who wouldn’t hesitate to chip in and get her handsdirty doing whatever kind of work is necessary to fulfill a task, instead of sitting back and complaining about the “help.”[5] I found Rick to be extremely approachable and easy to relate to because he has a bit of the dreamer in him as do I. Within minutes, we discovered we had a shared love of classic films and we were concoctinggrandiose visions of sailboat cruises for film buffs.

What Rick tells me is heartening. He points out that the school’s “primary goal” is to encourage new sailors “to have a good time while being safe” and emphasizes that the school’s official tag line is “Seriously Fun,” distinguishing it from other sailing schools in the region that focus on competitive racing techniques. In this respect, he and Jenny are staying true to Wood’s original concept. On the other hand, Rick is cognizant of the fact that times have changed. Thus, the Nelsons have re-imagined the school to appeal to the “modern sailing family.” Glitterchicken’s here to tell you how they did that.

First of all, the school expanded its fleet to better accommodate its children’s summer program called KidShip that was started back in the late 80s. Many of today’s parents want to engage their kids in healthy outdoor activities without the pressure and time commitment imposed by joining traveling sports teams. They’re delighted to see their kids “out there enjoying themselves out on the water, detached from their electronic devices,”[6] says Cosby, pointing out that there’s no other children’s summer sailing program in the region like KidShip. Sure, there are 2 private clubs offering children’s sailing camps, but they’re all about being “first to cross the finish line,” the antithesis of chillaxation.

Furthermore, the Nelsons have also made substantial improvements that enhance both the beauty and functionality of the beachfront property located at the tip of the peninsula on the south side of Back Creek Inlet, which boasts spectacular views of the Severn River. With the assistance of dedicated staff, they totally repainted and refurbished the main building, which is home to the administrative offices, restrooms, some of the classrooms, and the repair shed. Other enhancements include a sizeable tented event space that the school rents out to private parties for weddings and other events, and floating docks that are used not only by sailing school students but are leased out to the Blue Lotus Yoga Studio for their unique on-water yoga classes and festivities such as their Summer Solstice Bash.[7]

But my favorite improvement attributable to the Nelsons is the conversion of the former sail storage shed into a glass-walled Club House with a sliding door opening out onto a darling little deck overlooking the boating activity on Back Creek and the “Maritime Republic of Eastport”[8] beyond. I did not believe in love at first sight until I sawthe Club House. Now, like Davy Jones of the Monkees once said: “I’m a Believer.”[9] Here’s where instructors and students hold graduation ceremonies and Keelboat Club members gather to debrief over cold beers while watching the sun set after Monday night Rainbow regattas. Still dubbed the “Sail Shed” by instructors who have been working at the school since its barebones days, the Club House is tastefully appointed with nautical-themed décor and furnishedwith tables and chairs, sofas, a full-sized bar, Keurig coffee/tea maker, mini-fridge/freezer, an enormous TV, and musical entertainment provided by Alexsa. Although not a huge space, with all these amenities you could safely say the Club House is swank. Or if you’re a Brit, you could say it’s downright posh.

It’s noteworthy that the Nelsons have also made substantial investments to expand the school’s cruising fleet,which includes 2 Beneteaus (37’), a Catalina (30’), and a Newport (30’),which are used for the ASA cruising courses and “Evening Sails,” where the general public can charter a boat with a captain for a few hours; BYO beer or wine on board and the school will provide the hors d'oeuvres. You can ask to steer or serve as crew or just lay around on deck like a diva while your fiancé showers you with rose petals.[10]

And finally, although not as well-publicized as their ASA course offerings, the Annapolis Sailing School offers private instruction (aka “PI”) for new boat owners. There are 6 captains for hire that will take you out on your own boat, give you docking practice, or help figure out some other “bugaboo that you need to get past,” Cosby says.

Although the first 2 years after the Nelsons took over were “rough” as the school struggled to rebuild its fleet and secure its footing in the post-Recession economy, Cosby is pleased to report that the school is experiencing its 3^rd straight season of “fantastic” growth. He maintains his guiding philosophy that if the school continues to focus its efforts on “being successful with our students, the financial stuff will follow.” A humble man by nature, Cosby credits his instructors and staff as “the key to the school’s success.” Although I agree wholeheartedly with this statement, I would add that Cosby deserves a good portion of the credit for the level of excellence demonstrated by his employees. He makes 100% of the hiring decisions and when asked what’s the most important quality he looks for in an instructor, he replies that while sailing skills are an important factor, they’ve got to be “people persons” first and foremost. Cosby explains: “I’d much rather take a really great teacher and teach him or her to sail instead of taking a great sailor and teaching him or her how to teach.”

From a student’s perspective, the value placed on extraordinary teaching ability at the Annapolis Sailing School is readily apparent. Although they differ significantly in age, experience, personality, and technique, all the instructors I’ve encountered have one thing in common. No matter how dense you are, and how long it might take for your muscle memory to “get it,” they don’t treat you like an idiot or a screw-up, which would only demoralize you, thereby thwarting the school’s goal of getting you to enjoy sailing. Nor do they dwell on what you’re doing wrong, prompting you to ruminate on past mistakes, which would only cause you to make more mistakes.

On the contrary, Cosby’s sailing instructors highlight the things you’re doing right, which puts those things at the forefront of your conscious mind, where you’re more likely to repeat them. By employing this coaching method, they keep you focused on the present, where you always need to be whether you’re on the water or on land. In this way, the art of sailingbecomes a metaphor for life and if you bring a positive attitude into the boat, you just might acquire some wisdom and mental fortitude along with some cool knot-tying skills you can bust out at cocktail parties. I can honestly say that the greatest gift I’ve received from Annapolis Sailing School instructors is that they have helped me to believe in the concept of limitless possibilities, which used to sound like a cliché phrase, but now feels like an unwritten natural law I had always known but had somehow forgotten along the way.

In my estimation, the secret to the school’s success is that Cosby embodies the qualities and demonstrates the behaviors that he wants his instructors to emulate, which is the very definition of leadership. Cosby serves as the central role model for the hands-on, practical coaching method described above that is referred to as the “Annapolis Way” developed by Jerry Wood and his protégés, with the intention of luring random people in off the street and engendering in them a lifetime love of sailing. Sounds ambitious, right? Yeah, well Cosby makes it look effortless. He gleefully chuckles, bellows encouraging words, and beams with pride when he witnesses his students’ accomplishments the same way a father glows with excitement when his child takes his first steps or rides her bike without training wheels.[11] That’s why my nickname for Cosby is “Happy Pappy.” And the analogy is fitting. No matter the birthdate on our I.D. cards, all newbie sailors are babies and the powerful effect of these paternal reactions cannot be underestimated; they inspire in us an immediate sense of confidence and trust in our own capabilities. This means the world to a klutzy, uncoordinated girl like me and was always one of the last kids picked to be on anybody’s team in gym class and still walks into furniture stone-cold sober.

Another important factor contributing to the school’s success under its new management is that Cosby doesn’t take for granted the valuable contributions made by his remarkably capable staff members including the Nelsons’ amiable son Ricky, artistic Brenda Reed, and liveaboard cruiser Kara Finneren, who do all the behind-the-scenes work required to keep the place running. On top of that, I can attest to the fact that the staff are perennially welcoming and accepting of students and Keelboat Club members from diverse backgrounds and lifestyles and do their very best to answer our questions and accommodate our requests. They’re the kind of folks who give you faith in the human race.

Despite his deep appreciation for his faculty and staff, Cosby says that the school’s greatest challenge (besides the weather, which nobody can control) is finding and retaining employees that measure up to the school’s high standards of quality. Sailing instruction is a part-time seasonal occupation, and while the staff positions may have more full-time potential, they can hardly be described as lucrative either. It’s hard to pay the bills for people with mortgages, kids, and car payments, so these jobs appeal mainly to college students and retirees, making turnover a constant headache.

Nevertheless, due to the school’s highly regarded reputation and its proximity to the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area, Cosby still manages to attract stellar new talent, such as Dan Nichols, a former State Dept. employee who currently consults for non-profits. Nichols learned to sail on Lake Erie (Pt. Abino, Ontario) before honing his skills on the competitive racing circuit in Newport and Nantucket. This season, along with sailing instruction, Nichols began officiating Monday night Rainbow regattas for Keelboat Club members along with Jack-of-all-Trades Andrew Moe (you name it, he can fix it) and Buddha-of-the-Bay Art Holt (nothing short of nuclear war could harsh this dude's mellow) who have lent their own personal touches to overseeing the Rainbow regattas, maintaining the school's fleet, and caring for its students.

Nichols “agrees completely” with Cosby when he says that “it’s the people behind the school.” (He’s praised Moe, Holt, and other instructors and staff in previous conversations). But I can’t help thinking that Nichols is one of those edifying people who’s already making the school a better place. Not only does he add a touch of class to Cap’n Cosby’s crew, but he’s a devoted father who’s most likely drawing from a similar paternal emotional well when he says: “It’s such a joy to meet new students who are anxious to fulfill their dream.” When asked what he likes best about this gig, Nichols says: “Teaching here side by side with top instructors and seeing the smiling faces of our new sailors is very rewarding. And the sea is the most beautiful classroom in the world.” I couldn’t agree with him more as I sit on the deck in front of the Club House with a cup of tea in one hand and a book about nautical lore in the other. Looking up, I see a sleek cruising yacht unfurl its sails as it heads farther out into the channel towards the Bay Bridge, the horizon appears infinite, and it feels good to be alive.

[1] The first all-sailboat, in-water show of its kind, the U.S. Sailboat show was wildly popular from its inception and by now it’s become one of the largest, most prestigious sailboat shows in the world, making a significant positive impact on the local economy. Boat show owner Paul Jacobs estimates they’ve paid the City of Annapolis $20 million over the past 46 years just to lease the dock space, and that’s not counting what the restaurants, bars, hotels, and retailers rake in from the party scene naturally generated twice a year when hordes of sailing enthusiasts from all over the globe descend upon the colonial capital. See https://www.capitalgazette.com/business/ph-ac-cn-sailboat-attendance-0504-20170503-story.html.If you want to join the party, go to Pusser’s Caribbean Grille for the “breakdown” at the end of the show where everyone gathers drinking Painkillers as they watch the boats gracefully glide down Ego Alley and pivot into the harbor like runway models. For a Painkiller recipe and more info about the tropical cocktail’s link to Chesapeake Bay culture, see https://chesapeakebaymagazine.com/chesapeake-cocktail-the-painkiller/

[2]Stephens was famous for designing the best competitive sailing yachts in the world as well as amphibious vessels used by the U.S. Navy during WWII, which earned him commissions to design boats for guys with beaucoup bucks and names like Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, and Disney. See https://sparkmanstephens.com/our-story/history/.

[3]The precise number of drunks is in dispute. John Cosby says it was 3, an anonymous source says it was 6, and this article says it was 4. https://www.soundingsonline.com/news/a-half-century-of-lessons-on-the-pleasure-of-sailing

[4] For some good Dowling quotes on the subject of the school’s mission to make sailing fun, thereby turning people on to sailing as a lifestyle, not just a competitive sport, see https://www.soundingsonline.com/news/a-half-century-of-lessons-on-the-pleasure-of-sailing

[5]Case in point: for this year’s annual July 4^th party (which was a really big deal because it was also the school’s 60^th anniversary celebration), Jenny chopped by hand what appeared to be 30 pounds of fruit salad. It was delicious, btw.

[6] Children from the ages of 5 to 15 are grouped with peers according to skill level. The 11’10’’ RS Zest training dinghies are the newest and smallest boats in the Kidship fleet. There are also 16-ft catamarans for intermediate students who want to hone their skills and 12’ Lasers for competitive racing for students at the advanced level aged 13-15.

[7] I attended the BLYS Summer Solstice Bash this year, which was held on a radiantly gorgeousJune 21.^st For an admission fee of $35 for BLYS members and $45 for non-members, you got your choice of beer, wine, or non-alcoholic beverages, scrumptious food by Grump’s catering, and live music by Guava Jelly. You could shop at the local vendor tents or sign up for paddle-boarding classes taught by Capital SUP instructors as wells as yoga classes taught by BLYS instructors. The event closed out with a blissful sunset meditation and everyone was sent home with a goodie bag. What’s not to like?

[8]Nickname applied to the laid-back waterman’s neighborhood of Eastport by spirited residents who formed a tongue-in-cheek secessionist movement when the bridge connecting them to downtown Annapolis was closed for repair back in 1998.

[9] Not to be confused with Davy Jones, Captain of the ghost ship Flying Dutchman. I don’t want anything to do with that octopus-faced dude and his infernal locker.

[10]Someone told me this rose petal proposal actually happened on board one of the Beneteaus. Whether it's a true tale or a romantic fantasy or reality is irrelevant; you could totally do it!

[11] Case in point: as I was interviewing Cosby for this piece, he briefly excused himself to "hand out high-fives” to newbie sailing students who had just docked a Rainbow for the 1st time.

Oct302018October 30, 2018November 15, 2018by Glitterchicken

Vermont’s Best Kept Secret

Posted in Art & Literature, History, Nature

We knew that Robert Frost had lived somewhere in these hills, but where? As we drove westward along Vermont Route 125, my mother and my brother simultaneously commented on how perfectly situated the Bread Loaf Campus of Middlebury College was, with its sturdy green-roofed yellow wooden buildings nestled at the foot of Bread Loaf Mountain. “We have to be getting close now,” I said as we drove deeper into the Green Mountain National Forest toward the hamlet[1] of Ripton. I knew that Robert Frost had been closely affiliated with the Bread Loaf School of English, where he had taught almost every summer and autumn since the 1920s and had been one of the co-founders of the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference.[2]

About a mile down the road on our right, we pulled over at the Robert Frost Wayside. I jumped out of the car like a detective searching for clues and walked over to a sign with a large glass case enclosing laminated pages upon which thousands of words were printed. There were no touch screens in sight. Passers-by glanced up at the sign but quickly lowered their eyes and departed intimidated, but not I. Oh no, I got out my reading glasses, determined to figure out where Robert Frost had lived once and for all!

When I noticed my mother standing next to me, I excitedly shared with her all I had learned from the imposing sign. Back in the prehistoric days, Vermont had been covered with ice and the mountain range was created by glaciers. Turns out Mom had been wearing her reading glasses too; she started telling me about guys like Nathaniel Chipman and Joseph Battell who were credited with establishing the State of Vermont, Middlebury College, and nearby towns.[3] Great, so we were both tied for the coveted title of “Little Miss Smarty-Pants,” but what did any of this stuff have to do with Robert Frost?

Then I noticed something on the sign saying that the grove of pine trees we were standing under had been planted as a tribute to Robert Frost so that families could enjoy picnicking in the shade just minutes away from the rustic cabin where the great poet had once lived. “So the cabin must be somewhere behind this grove of pines,” I said, “but where?” The sign did not tell you how to get there.

Vermont is famous for its law prohibiting billboards since 1968[4], but not as well documented is the near absence of signs and markers pointing out historical sites or places of interest to visitors. I was wondering if this absence was purposeful. Could it be that Vermonters don’t tell you about things unless you really care to know them?

I pondered this question while wandering back towards the car to get my camera and join my brother who was communing with nature across the road. As I popped open the trunk, a couple of old-timers in a car bearing a Vermont license plate pulled up alongside me. I decided to try an experiment with mental telepathy. I looked them in the eye, flashed them my best toothy grin and gave them a good old “Hey, how’s it going?” all the while thinking of ideas from the Constitution like life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in the hopes that they would know what I was looking for.[5]

What happened next gave me goosebumps. The man told me (in an incredible New England accent) that if we wanted to see the log cabin where Robert Frost lived and composed most of his poetry for the last 25 years of his life, just drive out of the parking lot and head eastward (the same direction from whence we came) but don’t go too far; just a few yards away, we’ll come to an unmarked road where we’re supposed to turn left, then drive a ½ mile up the hill and we’ll come to the Homer Noble farmhouse. His wife told me (in the same incredible accent, of course) that’s where we should park the car and walk about 100 yards farther uphill to the cabin, where we could take pictures of the exterior but we weren’t allowed inside for historic property preservation reasons.[6]

After following our local tour guides’ step-by-step directions, we arrived at the white wooden structure identified by a small blue plaque as the Homer Noble Farm, which is now owned and maintained by Middlebury College as a memorial to Robert Frost[7], who used the property as his “summer home” from 1939 to 1963. Remarkably, the plaque didn’t say a word about the modest log cabin up the hill where Frost really lived.

New York Times writer Robert D. Kaplan, described the approach to the cabin with perfectionistic accuracy: ”To see the cabin itself, walk about a hundred yards beyond the farmhouse up a wide, grassy lane bordered by birch and fir trees until you see an opening on your left that leads into a mountain dell where the cabin is situated.”[8] While Kaplan’s article beautifully captures the subtle splendor of Ripton’s physical geography known as “Robert Frost Country,” what’s missing from his narrative is any attempt to describe Frost’s internal landscape. Maybe this was a purposeful omission - not unlike Vermont’s historical markers - that forces you to solve the riddle of the poet’s soul yourself?

What on God’s green earth would have prompted Frost to quit his full-time position as a Professor of English at Amherst College in 1938, purchase this 150-acre parcel of farmland, and return to this teeny tiny log cabin every year? Sure, it was close to the Bread Loaf Campus and it had a lovely view of Mount Moosamaloo[9] but there had to be more to the story. . . something profoundly emotional.

The key to this mystery lies in the unfortunate truth that great changes in a person’s life are often prompted by great tragedy. In March 1938, Frost’s wife Elinor died after suffering a heart attack while recovering from breast cancer surgery. Subsequently, the poet’s life began to disintegrate. Middlebury students and faculty whispered about Frost “suffering a nervous breakdown” and witnessed him exhibiting uncharacteristically erratic behavior – such as the notorious incident where Frost interrupted Archibald McLeish’s poetry reading.[10]

It’s not surprising that Frost would have come unglued when you consider the circumstances. Back in the day, it was customary for wives to take on the role of secretary to their husbands, and if the husband was a big shot, the wife’s job was bigger too, not unlike the role of the executive assistant in today’s corporations. Although Frost deliberately maintained the lifestyle of the humble New England farmer, there’s no denying that he was quite the big shot. With 3 Pulitzer prizes under his belt as well as a plethora of other awards and honorary degrees[11], Frost received a never-ending stream of offers to teach at colleges and universities, invitations to publicly recite his poetry, and buckets of fan mail. Who was going to take care of all these mundane tasks now that Elinor was gone?

Besides the ruination of the practical aspects of his life, Elinor’s loss devastated Robert Frost on a deeply personal level. She started out as his high school sweetheart with an intellectual capacity arguably equivalent to his own; they were co-valedictorians when they graduated from Lawrence High School in 1892. After they were married in 1895, Elinor became more than just a spouse; she was Robert Frost’s best friend and served as the inspiration for most of his poetry. As a couple, they had 5 children together and shared a lot of memories, including an unsuccessful stint at farming in New Hampshire and living in England for several years before the outbreak of WWI, where they were introduced to contemporary British poets who greatly influenced Frost’s work.[12]

Knowing this back story, it’s understandable that keeping up a full-time job may have become unbearable for Frost while he was mourning Elinor’s death, and he might have made the prudent decision to resign from Amherst rather than risk embarrassing himself. But without a wife and a job to give him a reason to get up in the morning, why didn’t Robert Frost’s life continue to deteriorate in 1938? Instead of dying in the depths of despair, he ascended to further greatness by winning yet another (his 4^th) Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1943 and still kicking 20 years later, Frost was invited to recite a poem at President John F. Kennedy’s inauguration in 1963.[13] Was Frost superhuman? Quite the contrary, he was all too human. It took a woman to stitch the pieces of his life back together and give him the impetus to keep on writing prize-winning poems.

Kay Morrison was the wife of Ted Morrison, a poet and Harvard professor who had been the Director of the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference since 1932. Having first met Robert Frost back in 1918 when she was a student at Bryn Mawr College, Kay decided to pay a personal visit to Frost in July of 1938 when she heard that he was having a tough time coping with the loss of his wife. Kay’s goal was to persuade Frost to continue his participation in the writers’ conference, thinking that the intellectual stimulation might set him back on track. Kay’s powers of persuasion must not have been too shabby because Frost ended up smitten with her and proposed marriage, which she refused because she was already married and didn’t want to leave her husband. Kay did accept Frost’s offer to serve as his personal assistant, however, and served as the poet’s “manager, mistress, and muse” for the next 25 years of his life according to Frost’s biographer Jeffrey Meyers.[14]

Whether or not Frost and Morrison were lovers is still a matter of considerable debate, but they undoubtedly had a tight bond. Frost decided to purchase the Homer Noble Farm rented the farmhouse out to the Morrisons so that he could keep Kay close by. Although Frost slept in the log cabin and did all of his writing there, Kay ensured that he did not live a reclusive life. Not only did Frost take all of his meals with the Morrisons so that he would never have to dine alone, but Kay encouraged students from the Bread Loaf School of English to visit him. Peter Stanlis wrote nostalgically about the first time he and his classmates visited Frost at his cabin in the summer of 1939. They walked all the way to Ripton “loaded down with a half dozen bottles of ginger ale, a large bag of ice, and packages of ginger snaps.” Frost greeted the students warmly and invited them into the cabin where they sat in a semi-circle around the poet and discussed the distinction between “intellectual” and “rationalist” and other philosophical questions.[15] Kay must have had the wisdom to understand that personal interactions like these worked as an antidote to the isolation Frost was feeling, thereby staving off the depression he may have experienced had he been left to his own devices. And Frost must have appreciated Kay’s efforts because he dedicated A Witness Tree to her.

As I surveyed the landscape surrounding Frost’s cabin, I could see how this would be an ideal place to work through the stages of grief and eventually tap into the power within to create fresh new poetry like a bear emerging from its den after a long winter.

There was just enough peace and tranquility to provide solace and just enough activity going on in the natural world to provide subject matter for contemplation. It was hard not to feel a dreamy sense of lightness. While walking downhill towards the farmhouse, I watched my brother compose a photograph with a leaf that had fallen from a nearby maple tree and a baby pumpkin that someone had kindly left on a tree stump to serve as artistic inspiration, no doubt. I watched my mother wave a milkweed plant she had found growing in the meadow; she laughed like a little girl as the silky white seed strands burst out of the pods and drifted away in the wind. Suddenly my brother was Man Ray and my mother was Laura Ingalls Wilder. How did that transformation happen? I felt overwhelmingly grateful that those old-timers had read my mind and told us how to get to this magical place.

As we were getting into the car, a couple who looked like they had just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting informed us that if we were to walk about 100 feet up the hill behind the farmhouse, we would find the log cabin where Robert Frost had lived and wrote poetry. “It’s not on any of the signs,” they said, “because we only want people who are really interested to know about it.[16]” We looked at each other and smiled, feeling privileged to have been let in on Vermont’s best kept secret.

[1] In local terminology, Ripton is considered a “hamlet,” not a village. This article about neighbors concerned about people shooting guns in the National Forest is a case in point. https://www.sevendaysvt.com/vermont/neighbors-are-fired-up-about-target-shooting-on-national-forest-land/Content?oid=8501904. I’m not even going to try to explain the difference between a hamlet and a village. Ask me about the fine distinction between a shopping center, a shopping mall, and a strip mall though, and I could give you a Bryn Mawr dissertation.

[2] Established in 1926, the Middlebury Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference is considered “the oldest and most prestigious writers’ conference in the country” according to The New Yorker. For more information about what happens there, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread_Loaf_Writers%27_Conference and http://www.middlebury.edu/bread-loaf-conferences/bl_writers

[3] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nathaniel_Chipman and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Battell

[4] For more on the VT anti-billboard law, see Nathaniel Gibson’s article in the Rutland Herald at http://www.nathanielrgibson.com/yes-we-have-no-billboards-rutland-herald-article/2012/03/13/

[5] I’ll bet you’re wondering why I didn’t just come out and ask them where the hell the Robert Frost cabin was like a normal person instead of trying out this wacky experiment. I’ve asked myself this question many times and I still can’t come up with a legitimate answer. All I know is that the wacky experiment worked and I ended up with a much more interesting story to share with you just by being my decidedly abnormal self.

[6] An alternative to driving that may be preferable is to walk from the Wayside parking lot up to the cabin and back. I suspect the reason why this local couple suggested that we drive has to do with their expertise at mental telepathy. My mother is a senior citizen who has trouble walking any kind of distance, especially uphill, a fact that would have been obvious to them.

[7] In 2008, Middlebury College established a Robert Frost Cabin Farm Preservation Fund and a Writer-in-Residence position, which involves a faculty member actually living in the farmhouse. For more details, see http://www.middlebury.edu/newsroom/archive/2008/node/111607

[8] From Robert Frost’s Vermont by Robert D. Kaplan, The New York Times (Sept. 1, 1991) at https://www.nytimes.com/1991/09/01/travel/robert-frost-s-vermont.html

[9] For more about Frost’s connection to Ripton, see Allison Flint’s charming article at http://www.onenewengland.com/article.php?id=396

[10] Stanlis, Peter J., Conversations with Robert Frost: The Bread Loaf Period (2009).

[11] Frost won the Pulitzer in 1924 for New Hampshire, in 1931 for Collected Poems, and in 1937 for A Further Range. He went on to win the Pulitzer a 4^th time in 1943 for A Witness Tree. Throughout his lifetime, Frost received more than 40 honorary degrees. https://www.biography.com/people/robert-frost-20796091

[12] For more about Robert and Elinor’s life together and the British poets that influenced Frost’s work, see https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/robert-frost

[13] JFK had this to say about Frost: “He has bequeathed his nation a body of imperishable verse from which Americans will forever gain joy and understanding.” https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/robert-frost

[14] Meyers, Jeffrey. Robert Frost: A Biography. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1996.

[15] Stanlis, Peter J., Conversations with Robert Frost: The Bread Loaf Period (2009). This insightful volume summarizes discussions between Stanlis and Frost that took place between 6 consecutive summers (1939-1944) when Stanlis was a student at Bread Loaf Graduate School of English, plus additional exchanges at Bread Loaf in 1961-1962.

[16] Robert Kaplan attests to the validity of our observation that Vermonters are intentionally secretive about the cabin’s location. When he asked the manager of the Bread Loaf Inn why the cabin and the road leading there were unmarked, this is the response he got: "We only want those people who want to see the cabin badly enough that they'll stop somewhere and ask directions." https://www.nytimes.com/1991/09/01/travel/robert-frost-s-vermont.html

Aug312018August 31, 2018July 9, 2023by Glitterchicken

White Witch of Rose Hall

Posted in Culture, History, Travel

The White Witch of Rose Hall

In Jamaica, long before soap operas and reality TV, people entertained themselves by telling “duppy” stories that that evolved into legends after generations of retelling. Duppy is the Jamaican word for ghost[1] and the most notorious duppy ever to haunt Montego Bay is the spirit of Annie Palmer, known as the White Witch of Rose Hall. Her legend overflows with more treachery, love triangles, violence, and scandal than the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and it’s even more dramatic when it’s told Jamaican style, mon!

Set on a great big hill overlooking MoBay, the stately mansion called Rose Hall was built in the 1700’s on one of the oldest and largest sugar plantations in Jamaica. While Great House Home & Garden tours are offered daily, by far the main attraction is the Great House Haunted Night tour that draws throngs of visitors hoping to catch a glimpse of Annie Palmer’s ghost.[2] While vacationing in Jamaica with my extended family, I took the Great House Haunted Night tour with my brother-in-law, my 18-year-old niece, and my 11-year-old son. My 14-year-old daughter and my in-laws chickened out and thank goodness they did because this tour is not for the faint of heart! I won’t spoil the surprises but you’ll learn about 1800’s Jamaican history and culture (with a Jamaican flair) and you’ll walk away scared with some unforgettable memories.

Although there are several versions of the legend of "Annee Palmer," our guide told us that she was born in Haiti to an English mother and Irish father and she spent most of her life in Haiti.[3] After her parents died of yellow fever, Annie was adopted by a nanny who taught her witchcraft and voodoo. At the age of 18, Annie moved to Jamaica in search of a rich husband and married John Palmer, owner of Rose Hall plantation. A cruel mistress, Annie ruled with an iron fist and was feared by her slaves not just because of her extensive knowledge of voodoo but also because she sadistically whipped, tortured, or put to death anyone who disobeyed her orders – it’s even been said that Annie had her basement refurbished into a dungeon where she tortured her prisoners.[4]

Brazenly unafraid of committing cold-blooded murder, Annie reportedly killed her slaves’ infants to harvest their bones for black magic. And her bloodthirstiness didn’t stop there; Annie allegedly murdered John Palmer,[5] her 2 subsequent husbands, and numerous male slaves rumored to have been her lovers. Suffice it to say, Annie was extraordinarily cunning and hid her tracks very well, often with the assistance of her slave/lover named Takoo.

Although versions of Annie’s death vary, they’re similar in that a slave (or group of slaves) murdered Annie out of revenge; many of these stories name Takoo as her killer. Annie‘s body was purportedly buried in a tomb on the Rose Hall property that you will see on the House Haunted Night tour. Legend has it that when Annie’s body was interred, a Voodoo ritual was performed to try to prevent her spirit from rising from the grave, but someone botched the procedure because her tomb has crucifixes marked on only 3 sides; whenever Annie’s ghost wants to get up and take a midnight stroll around the grounds, it can always hop right back into the grave by entering the 4^th unmarked side.[6]

While considerable debate abounds on the validity of the legend of the White Witch of Rose Hall,[7] there’s no debating that the Great House Haunted Night tour is a heart-pounding adventure full of excitement and surprises that’s well worth the cost of admission.

[1] Originating in Central Africa, the duppy is part of Bantu folklore. A duppy can be either the manifestation (in human or animal form) of the soul of a dead person, or a malevolent supernatural being. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duppy

[2] The 45-minute Great House Haunted Night tour is offered nightly from 6:30 pm to 9:00 pm and costs $25 USD per person. Not recommended for children under 10 years old. For more information, see https://rosehall.com/tours/rose-hall-great-house-night-tour

[3] There’s also a Parisian origin version of the legend that’s noted, among other lurid details, in this Paranormal Folklore blog at https://ghostlyaspectsfolklore.wordpress.com/2012/07/11/the-white-witch-of-rose-hall-montego-bay-jamaica/

[4] Here are some fun facts for all the music fans out there! The owner of Rose Hall estate, John Rollins, converted Annie’s old dungeon into a tavern where his good buddy Johnny Cash used to hang out with Bob Marley (our tour guide showed us a picture to prove it). In 1973, Cash wrote and recorded a song called "The Ballad of Annie Palmer" inspired by the legend of the White Witch. Enamored with Jamaica, Cash bought a home called Cinnamon Hill on the former Rose Hall plantation grounds that turned out to be haunted (you can take a separate tour of Cinnamon Hill). In his autobiography, Cash wrote candidly about his benign paranormal experiences: “We’ve never had any trouble with these souls. They mean us no harm, I believe, and we’re certainly not scared of them; they just don’t produce that kind of emotion.” http://mysteriousdestinationsmagazine.com/close-encounters-at-the-johnny-cash-house

[5] Annie allegedly murdered John Palmer by poisoning his coffee. Makes you think twice before taking that first sip of morning Joe. For a first-hand account and great pix from a visitor spooked by her tour of Rose Hall, see https://maryloudriedger2.wordpress.com/2014/02/10/a-great-house-haunts-me/

[6] Researchers doubt whether Annie’s remains were ever buried in the tomb on the Rose Hall plantation grounds. For gory details on various accounts of Annie Palmer’s death and burial, read this post on the intriguing blog That Hoodoo You Do, http://www.jesterbear.com/Hoodoo/WhiteWitch.html

[7] See paranormal blogger Stephen Barnes’s well-written post on the creation of the White Witch legend, which appears to have been partially based on H.G. de Lisser's 1928 novel The White Witch of Rose Hall, https://exemplore.com/paranormal/The-White-Witch-of-Rose-Hall-A-Jamaican-Ghost-Story

Jun302018June 30, 2018July 9, 2023by Glitterchicken

North Carolina Baseball Museum

Posted in History, Sports & Recreation

Photograph by Keith Barnes

Although it does not have its own Major League team, North Carolina has a rich baseball legacy and its own Field of Dreams – Fleming Stadium in Wilson. With a 3,000 seat capacity, it hosted several Minor League Baseball teams over the decades[1], and is currently home to the Wilson Tobs, a wood-bat collegiate summer league team in the Coastal Plain League.[2] What some visitors might not know is that just inside the stadium gates, along the left field foul line is the North Carolina Baseball Museum, where you’ll find a treasure trove of artifacts and memorabilia that will melt the hearts of baseball fans young and old.

Open Thursdays through Sundays, the museum is staffed entirely by volunteers.[3] I can’t express how fortunate I was to have Eddie Boykin greet me at the entrance. The admission fee is a nominal $3.00 for people 18-65 years old but when I told him I was a lifelong baseball fan, he let me in for the kid’s fee of $1.00 with some smooth line about how I couldn’t be more than a few days over 18 anyway. I felt kinda guilty stepping into a sacred baseball site for only a buck, but I couldn’t argue with a solid guy like this.

Then, much to my surprise and delight, Eddie took me on a personal tour of the museum. The first room is devoted to Major League Players who originally hailed from North Carolina. Lining the walls are seven personal showcases for each player inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame– Luke Appling, Enos “Country” Slaughter, Rick Ferrell, Jim “Catfish” Hunter, Gaylord Perry, Hoyt Wilheim, and Buck Leonard. Mr. Boykin pointed out that Leonard was known as “the Black Lou Gehrig.” He played for both the Negro and Mexican Leagues and was offered a Major League contract in 1952 but turned it down because he thought at the age of 45, he was too old, and was likely to injure and/or embarrass himself, thereby hurting the cause of integration.[4]

The cases in the center of the room display mementos such as autographed baseballs, news articles, photographs, and vintage trading cards honoring a collective cadre of over 400 North Carolina native sons who spent some time in the Major Leagues – from current notables such as 5-time All-Star and 2010 ALCS MVP Josh Hamilton and 2014 World Series MVP Madison Bumgarner to old-timers like Archibald “Moonlight” Graham, who made only one appearance on a Major League playing field in 1905 and would have faded into oblivion had he not emerged into the American consciousness in the 1989 film Field of Dreams.[5] “Oh yes, Moonlight Graham was a real guy,” Mr. Boykin told me as if he’d known him all his life, “and he really was a medical doctor and his wife’s favorite color really was blue, just like in the movie.” And I, always the eternal skeptic, ate it all up like Winnie-the-Pooh eats honey. This guy could have told me they played baseball on Mars and I would have believed him.

The second room features a conglomeration of local baseball history that should be commended for recognizing the accomplishments of high school and collegiate athletes as well as the pros. What stands out immediately about this room is its remarkable tactile component – you’re invited to hold a hand-carved wooden bat [6]and collared woolen uniform from the 1800s and sit down in a row of wooden seats removed from Fleming Stadium during renovations. Mr. Boykin pointed out the section on women in baseball as well as the showcases of celebrated athletes who had played at Fleming Field, such as Rod Carew (who used to play in the Carolina League), Johnny Bench,Trot Nixon, and 2011 AL MVP and Cy Young winner Justin Verlander (who used to play for the Wilson Tobs).

Of course, there’s a display commemorating a particularly exciting day at Fleming Stadium in 1956 when an MLB exhibition game was held between the Boston Red Sox and the Philadelphia Phillies. Who wouldn’t want to see Hall of Famers Ted Williams, Richie Ashburn, and Robin Roberts hanging out on your hometown field? People still talk about how the neighborhood kids lined up early to watch Ted Williams take batting practice.[7] As a Pennsylvania native and Native American cultural history enthusiast, I was thrilled when Mr. Boykin told me that Jim Thorpe[8] had played at Fleming Stadium and directed me to the corner where his memorabilia was displayed. Touching his uniform gave me goosebumps.

As I was about to leave the museum, Mr. Boykin gave me a bracelet made by a local resident strung from red and blue beads with white baseballs intermingled throughout. I offered to pay for it, but again, he wouldn’t let me. He encouraged me to stay for the Tobs game and check out the BBQ cook-off fundraiser beforehand, which I was tempted to do, and probably would have done had not the clouds darkened the sky overhead, threatening the imminence of thunderstorms.

Yes, it would have been wonderful to watch the Wilson Tobs play wearing my red-white-and-blue baseball bracelet at Fleming Stadium, where families from Wilson and neighboring communities go to spend summer evenings together enjoying America’s Favorite Pastime. And there couldn’t be a more perfect setting for the North Carolina Baseball Museum collection. An architectural marvel with landscaped terraces, grand entryway, and polished marble floors wouldn’t do it justice. Each ballpark is believed to have a soul that’s an amalgamation of the souls of all the players and fans that have co-mingled over the years like drops of water in an ocean. The strength of that soul is dependent upon fan support.[9] Fleming Stadium is where the soul of North Carolina baseball resides and that soul infuses this precious museum collection, which was amassed in large part by local citizens.[10] You can find their names engraved on the brick “Walk of Fame” leading up to the museum entrance. Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye, I offered them my sincere gratitude and jumped into my car just before the sky opened up and poured buckets of rain down upon Wilson. A few hours later, the sun pushed back the clouds and a rainbow appeared just in time for the Tobs game to start.

[1] During its Carolina League days, Fleming Stadium was home to the Minnesota Twins/Washington Senators for 10 years and the Baltimore Orioles, Pittsburgh Pirates, and Philadelphia Phillies for 1 year, respectively.

[2] The name Tobs is short for Tobaconnists, which makes sense considering that Wilson’s economy revolved around the tobacco industry for decades and is currently in the process of reinventing itself. For a schedule of Wilson Tobs games, see https://www.wilsontobs.com/sports/bsb/2017-18/schedule. For more about the history of Fleming Stadium, see https://www.wilsontobs.com/fleming-stadium/History

[3] For more details on hours of operation and directions to the North Carolina Baseball Museum, see http://ncbaseballmuseum.com

[4] Buck Leonard was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1972. Sporting News ranked him No. 47 out of the 100 best baseball players.

[5] The character of “Moonlight Graham” was Burt Lancaster’s final role and was largely based on real life ball player turned physician Archibald Graham, save for a few minor details changed for artistic reasons. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Field_of_Dreams

[6] In the earliest days of baseball, they used sticks to hit the ball. Eventually, players started whittling their own bats. There was no restriction on size, shape, or what kind of wood you could use until 1859, when the first regulations were put in place. For more information, see Bernie Mussill's delightful piece on the evolution of the baseball bat at Steve Orinick's umpire resource site. http://www.stevetheump.com/Bat_History.htm

[7] Well, wouldn’t you? He played Major League ball from 139 until 1960, with interruptions only for service time in WWII and the Korean War. He finished his playing career with a .344 batting average, 521 home runs, and a .482 on-base percentage, the highest of all time. That’s some badass dude!

[8] Where didn’t Jim Thorpe play? And was there a sport at which he didn’t excel? If you don’t know who Thorpe was, look him up. Seriously. Arguably the most superhumanly talented athlete ever to walk the earth. https://www.biography.com/people/jim-thorpe-9507017

[9]Scott Hunsicker, GM of the Fightin’ Phils, a Minor League team from Reading, PA, expressed this ethos perfectly when he said this of FirstEnergy Field, aka America’s Classic Ballpark: “There is a soul to this ballpark, a soul built on hosting three generations, all sharing great times, in the same great place. This stadium is an important part of the history of Minor League Baseball, an authentic piece of Americana, and we are blessed that fans from near and far make a pilgrimage here to FirstEnergy Stadium each summer to experience it, and to share it with their kids.”

[10] For more about the “cherished tradition” of baseball in Wilson and the individuals who founded the North Carolina Baseball Museum, see travel writer Lynn Seldon’s article at: http://lynnseldon.com/article705.html

May312018May 31, 2018July 9, 2023by Glitterchicken

Jiri Trnka

Posted in Art & Literature, History

Imagine a world instilled with curiosity, excitement, and wonder composed for adult sensibilities. It would likely be a world created from the childlike traits of play, persistence, humor, creativity, goodness combined with the adult knowledge and experience of deception, disappointment, power, and suffering. This is the world that Jiri Trnka created in his many poignantly fascinating stop motion animated films.

Jiri Trnka is not a widely known name in our current era dotted with talentless hyper-famous reality TV stars and soulless CGI movies, but his influences are undoubtedly felt and far reaching. Trnka’s creative work inspired several generations of artists and filmmakers such as Kihachiro Kawamoto, Stephen and Timothy Quay, Bretislav Pojar, Zdena Deitchova, Jan Svankmajer, and Stephen Bosustow, the co-founder of United Productions of America. Trnka was also incredibly innovative; countless children and their families throughout Europe and North America have enjoyed his films and books. But even more important, Trnka’s legacy is directly tied to the intrinsic value of artistic expression and the human need to resist totalitarian control over the creative spirit.

Trnka was a Czechoslovakian born artist and he lived and worked under authoritarian communist rule. Although he was not a political artist, he did create work with an artfully hidden political message of resistance. Through his creative adaptation of puppetry, story, and technique, Trnka became enormously famous within Czechoslovakia while walking his secretly defiant tightrope. Due to his fame, the Communist Party sought to appropriate his popularity by subsidizing his films and awarding him the dubious honor of “National Artist.” After his death in 1969, Trnka’s veiled message of resistance and liberty was discovered and his films were banned until the fall of the Soviet Union in 1993. It is believed that Trnka’s influence would have been greater if his films had not been widely outlawed by the Communists after his death.

As an artist, Jiri Trnka was extraordinarily creative and his skills and techniques were amazingly diverse. He was a wildly multifaceted prodigious creator, and he easily glided between numerous mediums such as illustration, painting, wood carving, sculpture, animation, set design, puppetry, and stop motion film; however, it can be argued that his greatest area of artistic expression was storytelling.

Trnka’s own creative story began when he was a young boy living in Plzen, Czechoslovakia. His father was a plumber and his mother was a dressmaker. Raised in a poor family of laborers, they struggled for life’s necessities and as a result, young Jiri needed to help the family earn money. His grandmother taught him to carve wooden toys and sew clothes, which inspired a robust passion for puppetry. After performing his first puppet shows for his friends, Trnka got a job when he was only 8 years old at a local theater owned by Josef Skupa, a relatively famous puppeteer. Skupa trained Trnka and later encouraged him to attend the Academy of Art and International Design in Prague.

After completing his education, Trnka worked as an illustrator for a newspaper and pursued becoming a fine art painter. Then in 1936, at 24 years old, he started a puppet theater, which enjoyed a modest level of popularity until it was forced to close due to the outbreak of World War II.

Trnka adapted by working as a stage designer and a free agent illustrator specifically for children’s books. Although best known for his stop motion films, Trnka first earned fame as an illustrator. During his short career, he illustrated over 130 children’s books, including the Brother’s Grimm Fairytales, the Hans Christian Andersen Stories, Fireflies, and The Garden, which Trnka authored as well. Several of Trnka’s books were met with international success and received prestigious awards such as the Hans Christian Andersen Award, the highest honor available to an illustrator of children's books. Trnka’s books were quite common in the U.S. after World War II, and it is ironic that a man who lived and worked under the totalitarian thumb of a brutal Communist government inspired generations of American children during the Cold War.

Trnka illustrated in pencil, watercolor, oils, and inks. According to Trnka’s biographer: “By painting the dreamlike aspects of reality Trnka was doing the same as the surrealist, but his illustrations have none of the cruelty or artistic ruthlessness of surrealism. His roaming brush reflected a child’s roaming mind, with its ability to concentrate, its tendency to fantasy.” This theme of maintaining a connection to childlike thinking and feeling appears throughout Trnka’s work, especially in his animation and stop motion films.

When he was 33 years old, Trnka entered the field of animation with short, two-dimensional hand drawn films. In 1946, he submitted three of these films – The Gift, Animals and Robbers, and The Spring Man and SS – to the first Cannes Film Festival. All three films were selected for viewing and they were each well received. In a surprising turn, Trnka’s Animals and Robbers won the short film category. Trnka also received positive reviews for The Gift, which critics from the Penguin Film Review hailed it for its “pure sense of graphic design” and a French critic described it as “the Citizen Kane of animation.”

Despite the impressive accolades for Trnka’s two-dimensional animated shorts he decided to direct his attention toward puppets and stop motion animation films. Dissatisfied with the industrial, assembly line nature needed to create hand drawn animation, Trnka also believed that the process weakened his originality. As a result, Trnka started his own studio and focused his attention on transfiguring traditional Czech folk stories using three-dimensional puppets and stop motion. The first film that came out of Trnka’s fledgling studio was the ten-minute long Bethlehem. The film was well received and his puppets were described as being full of charisma and gracefully nimble.

After his initial success, Trnka completed five more short films inspired by Czech folk stories and combined and packaged the films as a single feature-length film titled Spalicek (1947). In English-speaking markets the film was titled The Czech Years. Trnka collaborated with renowned composer Vaclav Trojan to write the score, a partnership that continued until Trnka’s death. This film won the Venice Film Festival prize and later, two segments from this film – Jaro (Spring) and Legenda o sv. Prokopu (Legend of St. Prokop) – were banned as religious propaganda by the Communist Party.

Trnka eventually made five feature-length puppet stop motion films, including the Emperor’s Nightingale and A Midsummer Night's Dream, which are often considered his best feature films. Emperor’s Nightingale was an immediate success due to its powerful message and interesting mix of live and stop motion to tell a story of a young boy who was battling both an illness and the feelings of alienation and loneliness. The narrative bounces between real life and the boy’s unconscious dreams, where his toys and other items in his room transform into fanciful characters and objects from a far-off land. Interestingly, the English version of the film was created with commentary provided by Boris Karloff. Interestingly, although the Communist censors detected an underlying theme of impeding liberty, they didn’t ban the film. In all likelihood, this is because the film was made with puppets and the story was included within the regime’s approved literary repertoire.

In contrast to Emperor’s Nightingale, Trnka’s A Midsummer Night's Dream was at first not warmly received. It is not clear why, but it was probably related to Trnka’s innovative use of film techniques and camera positioning. Later the film was recognized as a “stunningly beautiful, highly faithful adaptation of Shakespeare’s play.” The film is often described as “astonishingly beautiful” and “achingly tender” and critics also have commented on the impressive focus on design, which was rare for Czech films of that time period. Trnka shot the film with two different cameras, which means he painstakingly positioned the puppets twice, and as a consequence, two versions of the film exist. In one of these cameras, Trnka used Eastmancolor film, which was of exceptionally high quality and thus, very expensive. Trnka toiled on this film for several years, sacrificing his health to attain his artistic vision; he was immensely committed to his art and valued it deeply.

Trnka’s last and arguably greatest film is The Hand (1969), a short stop motion work about the conflict that occurs when a totalitarian authority interferes with an artist’s freedom to create. The film starts with a happy, innocent artist (a potter) who is content making pots for his beloved flowers. This nameless artist lives an uncomplicated life without the luxuries of television, radio, newspapers, or even books. He lives in a small modest room furnished with only a bed and a manually operated pottery wheel. A single window provides light and a comforting breeze. Despite his humble circumstances, we recognize that the artist has the autonomy to make his own choices.

As the film progresses, we learn that the artist spends his days making pots, which he stacks in the corner of his room, most likely waiting to be filled with his adored plants; we don’t see him filling or selling the pots, just creating them. We also see him dancing through the room, his face glowing with joy and his movements revealing a sense of optimism and delight. He is undoubtedly happy making pots and content with his life.

Soon the artist is visited by a domineering, authoritarian figure in the shape of a white-gloved hand, which tries to convince the artist to create sculpture according to its specifications. The Hand attempts to bribe the artist with modern luxury goods like radio and TV. (Apparently, the Hand’s goal is to melt the artist’s mind so that it could be easily manipulated by propaganda). Steadfast, the artist politely and persistently refuses.

Switching tactics, The Hand changes its color to black and makes hostile aggressive demands to the point of assault in order to break the artist’s will. Then, The Hand uses sex as a means of enslaving the artist’s soul, thereby transforming him into a controllable puppet. Imprisoned in a cage and forced to carve a stone monument of The Hand, the artist’s body is devoid of joy as it is pulled by the marionette strings of fear, force, and power.

Awaking from his trance, the artist briefly escapes his predicament only to end up dying from fear. Once again, The Hand takes control over the artist and his work. By sponsoring a state funeral for the artist that celebrated his association with the authoritarian power, The Hand effectively eviscerated the artist’s message.

Clearly the film is a commentary on Trnka’s life and a striking protest against the control imposed upon him by the communist Czechoslovakian government. Interestingly, when The Hand was first released it did not garner attention from the Soviet-controlled Czechoslovakian government. It was thought of as just another animated film created by a prominent Czechoslovakian filmmaker.

The Hand was Trnka’s last film and it is often described as his masterpiece. Sadly, four years after its release, Trnka died from heart disease. Ironically, he was given a state funeral in much the same fashion as the protagonist of his final film. It wasn’t until after Trnka’s death in 1969 that the government finally recognized The Hand’s message and promptly banned the film, confiscated copies, and made it illegal to own or view the film until the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1993.

The Hand is a powerful film that through Trnka’s favored medium of puppetry inspires memories of the childlike traits of play, persistence, humor, creativity, and goodness, while also communicating a deeper, more harrowing adult message of deception, disappointment, power, and suffering. Like Trnka’s life, it resonates with a message of hope and celebrates the power of creativity.

Jiri Trnka has not only gifted us with an astoundingly creative and diverse body of work, but his legacy reminds us to think critically about the relationship between government power and individual expression, to appreciate the intrinsic value of art and creativity, and to dream about a world filled with the childlike qualities of curiosity, excitement, and wonder.

Nov302017November 30, 2017July 9, 2023by Glitterchicken

Flanders Fields

Posted in History, Travel

On Thanksgiving, the national holiday when Americans are supposed to express gratitude for their prosperity (but what they really do is watch football and gorge themselves on turkey and pumpkin pie) I decided to take a tour of the World War I battlefields in Belgium and to remind myself of how fortunate I am to have been born in the U.S.A. I reserved a seat on the Flanders Fields tour led by Quasimodo Tours, a small business run by a husband (Belgian) and wife (Australian) team that have been earning consistently excellent customer reviews since they began operating in 1990.

Billed as a day-long tour of battlegrounds, cemeteries, monuments, and memorials to the brave young men from the far corners of the globe who fought (and died) along the Ypres Salient during the Great War, I could only imagine the magnitude of our tour guide’s task. How do you deliver the somber facts of war so that they enrich the mind and expand the heart without pushing people down a spiral staircase of depression that would spoil their holiday?

Our tour guide, Philippe, was up to the challenge. He’s as jaded as you would expect a local guy to be whose job it is to talk about the senseless death and destruction of his people at the hand of invading neighbors. But I couldn’t help feeling that there had to be a wellspring of hope for humanity flowing deep within him somewhere, or Phillipe would have chosen to do something else with his life.[1]

We departed Bruges early in the morning on a tour van holding maybe 10 people, and ideal number, which afforded everyone the opportunity to personalize, converse, and ask questions. I was the only American in our group, which was comprised mainly of British chaps, with some Canadians and Aussies mixed in.[2] Our first stop was the German war cemetery of Langemark, which was the scene of the first gas attacks by the German army, marking the beginning of the Second Battle of Ypres in April 1915. More than 44,000 soldiers were buried at this site; four life-size bronze statues of “mourning soldiers” watch over them from the cemetery’s border. I didn’t think that anything could have possibly made this scene any sadder until Philippe told us that he rarely, if ever, takes any German visitors here.

Next, we visited the St. Julien Canadian memorial at Vancouver Corner, also known as “The Brooding Soldier,” which was carved from a single piece of granite and stands an imposing 11 meters tall. It commemorates the Canadian 1st Division in action on April 22nd to 24th, 1915, which held its position on the left flank of the British Army after the German Army launched the first ever large-scale gas attack against 2 French divisions to the left of the Canadians. For these 3 days, the Canadians kept fighting in the face of the most horrible method of biological warfare ever invented, and lost 2,000 casualties before reinforcements arrived.

While traversing the ridge of Passchendaele, infamous for thousands of soldiers dying in mud-filled trenches without gaining barely a meter of territory, I reflected on British Prime Minister David Lloyd George’s candid admission that it was “one of the greatest disasters of the war . . . No soldier of any intelligence now defends this senseless campaign . . ." [3] What I failed to comprehend was why no one had the sense to speak out in protest at the time.

A highlight of the tour in terms of sheer beauty was the Tyne Cot Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery and Memorial to the Missing, assigned to the UK in perpetuity by King Albert I of Belgium in recognition of the sacrifices made by the British Empire in the defense and liberation of Belgium during the war. The largest cemetery for Commonwealth forces in the world, 11,956 Commonwealth soldiers are buried there along with some German POWs. Artfully designed by Sir Herbert Baker, Tyne Cot is perfectly situated on a rise overlooking the pastoral landscape, making it the most visually stunning soldiers’ resting place I have ever seen, with scarlet rose bushes dotted against the uniform markers carved from white Portland stone.

Our visit to the Hooge Crater Museum on the Ypres-Menin Road was full of surprises. Who would ever think that such a fascinating collection of First World War uniforms, displays, and artifacts as well as an interesting film would find their home in a renovated chapel? [4] For lunch, we had the pleasure of dining on delectable pâté sandwiches at the café adjoining the museum, where my British companions delighted in their red wine and I delighted in my Diet Coke, which isn’t easy to find in Europe.

Next, we walked around the preserved battlefield at Hill 60, where only a few eerie concrete bunkers still remain. The Germans made this steep hill impregnable during the war, so a steadfast division of crazy stubborn Australians decided to build a network of tunnels beneath it, where they planted a bunch of land mines that were eventually detonated under German lines, creating one of the largest explosions in history reportedly heard in London and Dublin.[5]

Our next destination was the Medical Station and adjoining cemetery nearby Essex Farm, which is believed to be the location where Major John McCrae wrote his famous poem In Flanders Fields after burying his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, who was killed by a German artillery shell during the 2nd battle of Ypres on May 3rd, 1915.

During our visit to the Yorkshire Trench, which was hidden beneath the shadow of a wind energy/biofuel plant, we learned that this original British trench was discovered in 1992 by a group of amateur archaeologists called “The Diggers," who have devoted countless hours to unearthing and analyzing hundreds of artifacts as well as the remains of 155 soldiers from the UK, France, and Germany, who were lost in battle for 70 years. An arduous and grisly task, no doubt, but hopefully one that brought a feeling of peace to the families of the fallen.

The final stop on our tour was the City of Ypres, which, after having been reduced to rubble during the Great War, was miraculously reconstructed in the Flemish medieval and renaissance styles to resemble the original pre-war city at the behest of King Albert and other far-sighted dignitaries. Unfortunately, our day trip from Bruges did not allow enough time to tour the reputable In Flanders Fields Museum, but Philippe encouraged us to come back and visit it on another occasion.[6] We did have plenty of time, however, to wander around the impressive Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing, a gargantuan archway overlooking the river that was built by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) to commemorate soldiers from all the Commonwealth nations (except New Zealand) who died in the Ypres Salient and have no known grave.[7] Incredibly, every night at 8:00 pm since July 2, 1928, buglers from the Ypres fire brigade have conducted a “Last Post” tribute to the warriors who died defending their city.[8]

For me, the most unforgettable moment of the Flanders Fields tour was not a formal battle site, burial ground, or memorial, but a brief pit-stop at a farmer’s field, where a black swan was swimming in a pond in the foreground and a windmill was spinning on the distant flat-line horizon. It looked just like a scene out of a Flemish painting except for the huge artillery casing protruding up out of the soil. Philippe told us there isn’t a day that goes by without a farmer turning up artillery shells or other potentially explosive materials with his tractor. Although most of them have been destroyed by a special Belgian bomb squad, these 100-year-old buried explosives still cause injuries and even death. In May, 2014, two men were killed from an artillery shell or grenade that detonated while they were laying the foundation for a new factory being constructed in Ypres.[9] While the history books say that World War I officially ended with the signing of the Armistice in 1918, if people are still dying as a result of it, did it ever really end? I don’t think so.

A multitude of thoughts popped into my mind as I stood there watching the swan glide gracefully across the pond. My Uncle Donald is a farmer who doesn’t have to worry about getting blown to bits on the off-chance that his John Deere tractor hits a grenade. What’s more, the U.S. has never been invaded or occupied by other nations. We haven’t endured that kind of oppression.[10] We’ve never been refugees huddled together on a raft on the open sea with a 50% chance of survival.[11] Maybe if we had been, we would spend less time complaining about everything that’s wrong with the world and spend more time counting our blessings when we ask for another helping of mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving.

[1] At first, you might think this is total projection on my part until you zoom in for a closer look. Sure, it’s entirely possible that Philippe wasn’t any good at making chocolate or beer or any other Belgian specialty that keep the tourists flocking to Bruges, and that he just so happens to excel at memorizing and recounting historical facts. Because tourism is a huge chunk of the economy in Bruges, Phillipe gives historical tours because he’s good at it and it brings in bucks. This doesn’t require any faith in humanity . . . or does it? Quasimodo Tours will not continue to operate with empty vans. Its success depends entirely upon people caring about other people who died over 100 years ago-and not just care enough to offer a passing thought or prayer-but care enough to sacrifice hours of their holiday that they could have spent eating or drinking or shopping! Now, that takes some firm faith in humanity.

[2] This ratio is what I expected in light of the fact that the Commonwealth nations did the bulk of the fighting for the Allies in this region, suffered massive amounts of casualties, and built the majority of the monuments and memorials.

[3] Lloyd George, David. War Memoirs of David Lloyd George, Vols. I-VI. London: Ivor Nicholson & Watson (1933).

[4] For more detail on exhibits at the Hooge Crater Museum, see http://www.hoogecrater.com/en/museum/

[5] If you’re into spelunking, Australians, or both, check out the film “Beneath Hill 60” that came out about it in 2010, https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/beneath_hill_60/

[6] For more information on the In Flanders Fields Museum, see http://www.inflandersfields.be/en

[7] Only UK casualties that occurred before August 16, 1917 are commemorated on the Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing. UK servicemen who died after that date and New Zealand servicemen are named on the Tyne Cot Memorial. Other memorials to fallen New Zealanders can be found at Messines and Polygon Wood.

[8] The only exception to this daily ritual was during the four years of the German occupation of Ypres from May 20th, 1940 to September 6th, 1944.

[9] For more on this sad story, see http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-26654314

[10] I’m not saying Americans don’t oppress each other, all the while claiming to be more tolerant than everyone else. We’re internationally recognized experts at that great hypocrisy, and ridiculed for it all over the globe.

[11] In the four years since October 2013, the Mediterranean crossing has claimed the lives of at least 15,000 refugees and migrants, accounting for more than half of the 22,500 refugees and migrants who have died or gone missing globally. See http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2017/09/iom-refugees-dying-quicker-rate-mediterranean-170917035605080.html

Secrets of The Appalachian Trail

Annapolis Sailing School

Vermont’s Best Kept Secret

White Witch of Rose Hall

North Carolina Baseball Museum

Jiri Trnka

Flanders Fields

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