I am in Cumberland, Maryland, which is two hours west and many worlds away from Baltimore; it’s significant that the local cable system has DC channels, but no Baltimore ones.
I am staying in a Holiday Inn where I stayed twelve years ago. Maybe eleven, but I think it was twelve. It’s a great story — sad and funny and odd and sad again — and I realized it’s no longer mine to tell. It’s a story that makes me think of Michael Feinstein’s version of “Thanks for the Memories,” when he lowers his voice to a whisper:
And — strictly entre nous
Darling, how are you?
And how are all those little dreams that never did come true?
Anyone else here have stories to which they have relinquished their intellectual property rights, for want of a better term? Meanwhile, I’ll check my memory of those lyrics.
Pretty much nailed this one:
So, thanks for the memory
And strictly entre-nous, darling how are you?
And how are all the little dreams that never did come true?
Sorry to be obtuse, Laura, but could you re-phrase the question? I am not certain I understand what you’re looking for…
and in other news, as I continue through The Wire, I cracked myself up when Bunk was holding up a LL book. I wouldn’t have gotten the ‘joke’ if i would have seen the original broadcast…
//karen
The joys of Cumberland include wonderful train noises through the night–great steel couplings and uncouplings that bring joy to this Pittsburgh native (by the way–talk to the locals and you’ll find some Steeler fans). For a stretch of years I drove every fall to Cumberland to run a grant-seekers workshop for the Catholic Campaign for Human Development. Lucille Fitzgerald and I would make the trek and be put up at St. Patrick’s parish, she in the convent and I in a huge rectory that might once have held 8-10 priests. Drafty lovely place with ceilings way above you. In the morning I would get up and jog–like running in a bowl–up a hill and back to center then up the other side. It is a lovely town.
I LOVE western Maryland, and I-68 is simply the most beautiful interstate highway I’ve ever travelled. If you’ve never stopped at the Sidling Mountain rest stop, you really must! There is a footbridge across the interstate, and a marvelous Visitor Center complete with stuffed animals (I seem to recall a bear in there, but maybe not) and some geological explanations for what you see at the cut…plus a truly arresting view of the surrounding countryside from up there. It’s all free, thanks to the great state of Maryland; I bought two Maryland tee-shirts there – which featured a very nice rendering of Maryland’s beautiful state flag.
My lovely wife and I travelled to Sharpsburg before we were married, and the place takes possession of you. I remember that we stopped at a WalMart in Hagerstown one evening, and there was a semi trailer in the out-lot with a refrigeration unit running, and a sign that said “SEE THE WHALE”. No kidding – I think we paid $1.50 for admission, and inside, sure enough, there was a dead whale that you could see and touch(!).
It was an altogether unique and haunting* journey, and I always wanted to go back. In years since, we’ve been back there several times, and while I still love Western Maryland (I’d want to retire there, but Pam points out that I’d hate those steep grades when I’m an elderly driver!), nothing will ever match my first experience of it. And indeed, the young folks weren’t nearly as enchanted by the Sidling Mountain cut/rest stop as I was; to them it was just a Chevy Chase/Vacation type dad-indulgence that they had to endure!
*the battlefield at Antietam Creek outside of Sharpsburg is flat-out “haunting”. Very quiet – hushed, really – especially compared to Gettysburg, which has a very different vibe. We spent the night at the Piper Farm bed and breakfast (which I don’t think is a B&B anymore) right on the battlefield (Bloody Lane was Henry Piper’s farm lane) – and at night it is BLACK as PITCH out there; you can see every star in the sky. An amazing place, altogether
Karen,
Many stories include others and there may be shared stories that people feel they no longer have a right to tell. I almost never tell stories about my sister, for example, because she’s super-private.
The Allegheny and Garrett county State Troopers work the interstate pretty hard. Must be a good revenue source. In fact, I have heard people from all over the country talk about setting the cruise control at 68 when traveling through western MD.
Cumberland is more Ohio than it is Maryland.
But I-68 is free, which beats I-70/Pennsy turnpike, by a very long way! Anyway – as a feller with a Hoosier license plate, I never push it in other states.
West Virginia is actually a bit scarey… I noticed that 4% grades get one’s attention; 5% grades compel one to have both hands firmly on the steering wheel; and 6% grades end the conversation…..but WV has lots of 7% grades!! Didn’t like those.
I recall being in the passenger seat while Pam plunged down a 7 percenter, and whipped out to pass a semi – and I could see a curve coming! I was pressing my right foot firmly into the floorboards, where my brake pedal would have been!!
And the funny part? – there was an EXIT (it went past in a blur) that was EVEN STEEPER downhill – and I could see a top sign at the end of it!!! I bet people get killed there everytime it rains (and forget about it, if it ever snows there)
I mean – my God it’s beautiful out there, but I was literally sweating it, big time!!
Dear Marjorie,
I couldn’t have said it better! Lovely summation of that scene. And I always thought Bob had a pleasant singing voice. Nothing against Michael Feinstein!
Jack
Brian: Our Alabama state song, if I am remembering it correctly from fourth grade, has a line that goes “Fair thy Coosa,” which sounds dirty but is not. I think the whole line is “Fair thy Coosa, Tallapoosa.” Watch me be wrong… which is sort of what the whole Memory Project is about. Not to mention LIFE SENTENCES!
Thanks, Laura. I actually typed a rather long story, which I can’t see from either computer now–ugh–am working with Help Desk to figure out what is going on.
//kjl
Maryland has many, um, issues, that the Legislature is always trying to address. I don’t remember the line about “northern scum,” but the “despot’s heel” refers to Lincoln. Maryland, My Maryland was a protest song.
Maryland’s motto? Womanly words, manly deeds. (In Latin, I think.)
Maryland’s official state sport? Jousting. (I think it should be duckpins.)
The state flag of Maryland, which is kind of crazy looking, incorporates the Southern Cross, IIRC, in honor of those Marylanders who defied the state’s support of the union and went to fight for the Confederacy.
I could go on and on.
For anyone who still has the yen to experience it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbG-3MSJ0rY
Interesting question. I thought a lot about this issue when I was writing my memoir of my years on welfare. In the beginning, I set out to write a Nickel & Dimed sort of book: not so much about me as a series of stories of other people I’d known during that time. But I just couldn’t do it. It felt wrong to tell their stories, not just dishonorable but condescending, as though they couldn’t tell their own stories–I’d never make a journalist!
And even with my own story, the only one I felt entitled to write as nonfiction, I still struggled because nearly every part of it was someone else’s story too. I checked and rechecked with the people I could find (it’s about events of 30 yrs ago). And yes, some projected parts I abandoned as simply things I had no right to tell.
My best friend from college hails from Cumberland, so I know it well. Wish I knew you were out there, I would’ve given her a heads up (she’s in Frostburg now, just a hop skip and a jump).
Oh, Laura, can’t we just all discuss Michael Feinstein? Yet another thing we have in common, I think. I have seen him several times in concert and he is so….oh, wait, the rest of the room has begun to yawn and scrape their chairs in boredom. Okay, I will save that discussion for another time and place.
As for the actual posted topic, I am currently on the flip side of it, in an odd way. In two weeks a play will open at a major American theatre into which the playwright (need I say, a close friend) has inserted my name. There is a line that goes something like “I have to go home to Marjorie now. She is expecting me for dinner.”. What could be wrong with that? Well, the character who says it is based on a real historical person. And he had a real wife who had a real name and, researcher that I am, I checked it and it is not Marjorie, but Winifred! So this rankles me no end. This woman may very well have living relations (albeit many generations have passed) and I feel very badly for her that her name has been erased and mine (!) has been inserted. I told the playwright to take me out and put her in. He won’t and he doesn’t understand why I am not vastly flattered by this gesture. Sigh.
With all due respect to Marjorie of Connecticut, can’t we forget Michael Feinstein and discuss Bob Hope? As for the current topic I am the worst kind of bottom feeding scavenger and take my stories where I can get them. Beware, friends!
Jack,
As far as I am concerned, Mr. Hope also rates very high (even higher) and when his theme song comes to mind, I can see him and a woman on the deck of a ship (?) in a movie singing that song very simply, wistfully and beautifully.
–Marjorie
So speaking of Maryland and memories-not-our-own and music (although not jaunty Bob Hope/Bing Cosby ‘on the road’ stuff), Rachel Maddow recently reported that some folks in Maryland’s legislature might be re-thinking their state song, which calls for secession and (if I recall correctly) makes reference to ‘Northern scum’ and says (of Maryland) “She’ll Come! She’ll come!” (which might be useful, at least as background noise, in tourism ads)