Gwynn's Island Christmas

A few years ago I wrote this poem about Christmas time on Gwynn's Island, enjoy.

                             Gwynn’s Island Christmas

by

Renee' Callis

T’was the night before Christmas In Gwynn’s Island Town 

Not a creature was stirring no one was around 

 Mr. Tweetie had locked up his store Tight as a tick 

And everyone was looking For ole Saint Nick 

 Florence had handed out The last Christmas card 

Connie and Jackie had Rain Deer in their yard 

 Scrooch and Rodney had Turned off the light 

And Virginia was home Ready to turn in for the night 

 Jr. and Elwood had Secured the dock 

Won’t be any more fishing 

No more catching Rock 

 Aunt Ethel had just finished Her chocolate cake 

Aunt Minnie was through Her fruitcake bake 

 Uncle Piggy had finished Mending his crab pots 

And Uncle Willis was visiting 

People others had forgot 

 Mama had baked her Cookies with cherries 

And made her muffins Full of blueberries 

 Daddy had refused To do any shopping 

But, boy he knew How to keep us all hopping 

 Aunt Hazel had fed Everyone at four 

Dean, Lillie, Annie and Willis, Jr were looking out the door Waiting to run and  find someone to tell 

If they heard the sound of a faint little bell 

 The jingle of bells On Santa’s sleigh 

Would mean he’s On his way 

 If we were good we didn’t worry Santa would be 

Here in a hurry 

 Just about seven Bunk, Dee and Thel 

Would come by for a visit Those times were sure swell Marlene and I dreamed of presents As we lay in our bed 

Our room was so cold We had to cover our head Then we’d all wake up On Christmas Day 

Visit our presents then go to church to pray 

 To hear Miss Tootie give thanks for this day 

Listen to Mr. Broughman tell the story right 

And hear Thelma Sing “Oh Holy Night” 

 Get a hug from Miss Myrtle Miss Lottie and Miss Ruth 

Hear the Christmas Story Learn the Bible truth

Dee, Marsha Leigh and I Would go on stage and sing 

Silver Bells through the church ceiling would ring 

 Later on that afternoon another voice would appear  

Aunt Teenie had come in from Newport  News 

Having her there was ever so dear 

 Mama, Mildred, and Teenie would gather 

Us around the piano 

And we all sang Christmas carols Minnie and Mama sang soprano, Teenie, alto 

 Wish you could have been there It was a magical place 

And I still can remember Every smile, every face 

 All the Christmas’s In ole Gwynn’s Island Town 

Were the best celebrations I have ever found 

 So if you are ever In our part of the world 

Stop by, take some time, 

To give our Gwynn’s Island Christmas a whirl

Found My Voice

I remember very early in my life my Moma and I singing. She taught me songs to sing for church and school. We lived in Portsmouth when I was small. Our next door neighbor had a friend that recorded people singing. One day I had a "job" recording "I'm A Little Tea Pot" with this gentleman in Mary Sawyer's living room. Talk about acoustics! There was every kind OK knick knack imaginable. The notes probably bounced off one figurine to another! For one day, though, I was a recording star. Moma dressed me in one of my best dresses, hair all done up in finger curls, white socks trimmed in lace, and black patten leather Mary Jane's. I did mention they only recorded my voice, right?

Growing up we would gather around the piano and sing. Driving in the car we would sing. In the boat, too. We always tried to sing lead by Mom and her friend Thel. It was fun listening to old hymns and favorite songs from yester year. Shine on Carolina Moon was a staple when the moon was full.



Singing in the choir at church started at a young age for me. White short robes with black bows were the uniform of the day, Sunday that is. We went to Cradock Baptist Church where I sang in the children's choir. Don't remember the songs we sang too much, but I can bet there was a rendition of "Jesus Loves Me" somewhere in our books.



When we were back on the island, Gwynn's Island that is, I would sing in the choir at Gwynn's Island Baptist Church. Mrs Broughman was the first leader I remember from then. Our Church had three choirs then so we children didn't sing much. Special holidays and occasions just about did it. I remember going over to church to practice, of course we wanted to do anything but practice. I don't think we were the best students of music back then. A few times I was part of a trio of singers which included Dee Dee and Marsha Leigh. One year we sand "Silver Bells" for the Christmas program. Everyone said we did good.



I have always loved to sing. Radio or stereo blasting and we'd be singing along. I was in the Glee Club at my school(s) in Virginia Beach. Even in lower grades you had to try out, or audition to sing with the group. Scary, but worth it when you got to belong. I can remember sitting on the steps at my Aunt's house and her daughters and I would sing Moon River over and over until we got the harmony just right.



All through school and Church years when we had a choir or choral I would sing. Then my age came to be an adult, the adult choir was a little scary. They had been there a long time, harmonized at ease and really didn't need any new members, so I didn't try to join. I would help with the kid's choir, but they had better things to do with their life and that fizzled. Still I sang, shower, bath, inside, out, I loved to crank up the tunes and sing.



Then a few years ago, I was asked by our choir director John Lee if I wanted to be in the Christmas Cantata. I could not believe my ears, someone wanted to hear me sing again. I jumped at the chance and have been there ever since.

Now mind you I don't sing any thing alone, or solo. But I do enjoy trying my best to harmonize with our altos as we sing praises in our Church Sunday mornings. Sometimes though it seems try as hard as I may I hit a note that's just a little too high and absolutely nothing comes out! I am so glad others around don't notice and their voices more than fill the void my creates.

Maybe I use my voice too much for other things. Or just maybe it's a tad bit too old. Even so I find it difficult to throw in the towel and give up. I so love being there, being needed and having my little part of our service go to the glory of God, missed notes and all.

Speaking of Friends, I have a special one!

Well when it comes to friends all I can really say is be sure you marry one. I was lucky to have married my friend. Guess soul mate could also be a good name, but friend, that will do. We met when he moved here in the 6th grade. His parents had lived in Baltimore and they bought a house across the field from ours. Hold onto your hat cause I was quite a bit younger than he was, and as I write this "jail bait" comes to mind. But it wasn't like that. I was the little girl next door and he was the young boy that cut our grass. Until.........

Time went by. I bothered the heck out of him while he played basket ball. Always wanted to play, too. He indulged me and we'd play. Don't know why he'd put up with that. His Mom was a real nice lady that enjoyed having a girl around. I'd sit on a stool in the kitchen and watch her cook. When I got older, I'd help. Moma never let us into the kitchen except to wipe dishes so that was a treat. Never paying much attention to him except in passing. Until..........

We moved away in my 6th and 7th grades. Lived in Virginia Beach. Would come home on weekends, but not a whole lot since I got involved with stuff there. When we returned for me to start 8th grade he had graduated high school. I remember buying him a graduation present, English Leather Cologne, that was the thing then. Something for my friend. Until............

He went away to the Apprentice School in Newport News, and was good to see him now and then when he came home. Mostly in passing. I still enjoyed spending time with his Mom. His dad was away months at a time and she was lonely. He and I would talk from time to time and catch up on what was happening in our lives. Until...........

Guess when I turned 16 things changed a little. Mom let me start dating at 16 1/2 why the magic number I don't know. I dated a guy from here that also was in the Apprentice School thus the interesting ties. He was a nice enough person, but not quite for me. I remember him telling me he liked my long hair, the next weekend I'd cut it off. I remember Sunday's riding around the dairy freeze and my friend would show up after his flying lessons, that never took off. There was always a group around and we'd all sit and chat. Until.............

After a while he'd let me help wash his car. When it was finished, we go for a ride. My pay I guess. Soon on Sunday's we'd ride out to get ice cream, innocently enough. After I stopped seeing the other guy, it seemed our friendship got closer. Until...

One Sunday night, my cousin and I were at the movies. My friend and another friend came in and sat by us. Afterwards we went to the Dairy Freeze. On the way we shared our first kiss, innocently enough. Things were different, until.... then.

I remember our first date came when he called home one day and I was at his house. He had called to get my phone number. When he found out I was there he asked to speak to me, and wondered what I was doing that weekend. I told him about a party I was invited to and he said there was one he wanted to invite me to go to, we agreed to go together. Our first date a birthday party at the Mathews Yacht Club.

A few weeks later he was my date for my Junior Prom. What a night. We danced and danced and had a wonderful time. Of course he was teased by his friends for dating the "little girl next door"! We dated for a while, on and off. Dating other people too, but we always seemed to find our way back together. We would talk for hours about everything and nothing. Sunday afternoons were special before he went back to Newport News. "Grooving On A Sunday Afternoon". One of our songs. Summers in the boat skiing and just hanging out we had fun.

Then the Marine Corps, drafted, he was gone. We were dating other people then, it still hurt to see him go. Letters written daily, tapes sent, then the Med Cruise...........eternity. Months away can do something to the soul. Hearing his voice on tapes helped fill the void. My parents were concerned we were getting too close, and we were. The words had changed, love and miss were ever so frequent. Yep it was good to see that face when they got off the ship. Meeting them in Carolina when he arrived back, we knew. After a few months he was out of the service, his life started getting back to normal. We were beginning to know our happiness was with each other.

Soon he asked the most important question of our lives, and I said yes. Questions came from everywhere, are you sure, she's so young, you haven't been home long..............all answered on that December day in 1971, when I became Mrs. Lloyd George Callis...........Skip that is!! On that day I married my friend. We moved to Newport News to be close to his job and school. After three years and too many stoplights we built a home in Mathews and moved in just 14 days before our first child was born!

Yep my special friend became my husband, my partner for life. This year we have been married for 38 years, who knew it would last, we did. We have two beautiful children, Beth and Jay, they are happily married. Beth has two children Ethan and Faith. Our friendship created so much, love, happiness, respect and to this day I am still married..... to my friend, the special one.

Forever Friend

Living in a small community like Gwynn's Island, sometimes fitting back in is hard. We had always had a home on Gwynn's Island, my Mom was from there, Daddy the mainland, but not living there long full time made me a "come here" in some people's mind. We returned home full time when I was in second grade. Gwynn's Island School was the only school on the Island and it housed grades one through seven. Most rooms had two classes, first and second, third and forth, and so on. Seventh grade most years was alone with Mrs Josephine Brown, principal, teaching that class. Anyway, I was in Miss Clarice Callis room. I wasn't afraid of going since most of the kids at school attended the same church I did and I knew them before............so I thought. Breaking into friend circles is hard. I wasn't the smartest tack in the box, but I did ok. Unlike most of the kids there I had been to kindergarten before first grade, but that didn't help here.

You must close you eyes and realize I looked nothing like I do today. I had long blond curls that my Moma wrapped on her finger nightly and pinned with bobby pins to make sure they stayed. Most days I arrived with a cute bow in my hair tucked to the side just right. Moma made sure I was dressed ever so properly no one knowing just how good a sale she hit when she bought my cloths. Even at a young age boys heads could be turned and I had a couple that kinda liked me. And I had the bruises on my arm to prove it.

The year before I arrived, I was on Romper Room on Channel 3 in Norfolk with Miss Anne. My friend Dickie stopped what he was doing and sat in front of the TV everyday for two weeks just to see me. He never understood why I didn't talk back to him when he talked to me. We still laugh about that to this day. When I went to John B. Dey in Va. Beach for 7th grade she was a teacher for that grade, small world.

Girls do not like their territory invaded, no sir re! So if I wasn't ignored for being the new girl, I was ignored for getting attention. During recess it was plain to see I was not the best athlete around. You see Moma never liked to see us sweat, so we didn't. Being left handed made it almost impossible to be chosen on a soft ball teams side. I was always the "oh alright we'll take YOU!" Then when I got up to bat, they called me "Stonewall Jackson" because no one could throw a ball that a left handier could hit!!!!

There were girls that Moma didn't want me to hang around with in my school. Some were older but not by much. I could associate with them at school, but not go to their houses. Even if they asked, which they didn't. I had lots of cousins at school and we played together all the time. Guess they had too I was one of them. To her credit my friend, who was my friend from my birth, she was eighteen months old then, was always someone I could count on. We were the kind of friends you didn't have to see everyday, but picked up where you left off when you got together. We remained friends throughout our school years. Even though until the eighth grade I went to seven different schools. Our Moms were close friends. They along with Moma's sister Christene and cousin Minnie traveled together and spent countless hours riding around Mathews, sometimes looking for us!! She and I may have had our ups and downs, but our laughter and long talks have out weighed any strife. Sometimes we were like two old Indians sitting in a Wigwam recounting stories over and over. We still laughed until we almost cried every time.

Knowing I had someone I could count on made life just a little easier.  Knowing that friendship has died is hard.  Not knowing what killed it is even harder.  One can move on with the memories of days gone by.  I morn the death of our friendship but unlike a true death there is no burial, no service, just the grief that digs deep into your heart. Maybe one day we will be ok, who knows.  Until that time life goes on and I'm a big girl now and can handle it on my own.

My Ponies

You have never lived until you sleep in the parking lot of a hospital. Why do you ask did I do that? Well we had taken Daddy to bring a ship from Yorktown to Norfolk in the middle of the night, heading to Norfolk to wait for him Moma figured Norfolk General Hospital parking lot was the safest place to wait. So we slept in the car while we waited to pick Daddy up at the dock. But we were there for a special reason...when Daddy got in we were heading to Chincoteague Island on the Eastern Shore. It was July and Daddy had promised me a trip there for the pony pinning for years, so this was the trip.

After we picked Daddy up we headed to Little Creek to catch the ferry to travel across the Chesapeake Bay to the Eastern Shore. The trip seemed long but as I remember going across was better than the return. It was early morning so the water glistened in the suns new light.

Upon arriving on the shore, we headed North toward Chincoteague. Along the roads all you could see was field after field of produce. Small huts that housed the migrant workers, dotted the sides of the roads. The road leading to the island looked so much like the roads at home leading to Newpoint. Marsh land as far as the eye could see. So much like the areas near other barrier islands along the East coast of Virginia and North Carolina.

Upon arrival on the Island everything was bustling. Banners waving, people everywhere, a parade had just finished. We watched as everyone headed toward the fair ground and followed.

There we saw rides, stands with local favorites, and people, lots and lots of people. In the 60's the Island was not as built up as now, and hotels and motels were scarce. So did we have a room, heaven forbid Daddy think that far ahead. So he headed to the information booth who announced the need for a room, a room.............we had Moma, Daddy, my friend Nancy and myself, a room! After a while a small frame lady who undoubtedly had lived on the Island all her life appeared with one room. Well we took it. Soon the lady joined us in our car and away we went.

Heading to her home she had to give directions. Of course this was complicated by Daddy asking which way left or right, she did not know of such things and pointed the way to go. When we arrived is was a modest home, without paint, sans shrubs, set in a marsh area. We were guided to a room on the second floor with one light and two beds, one twin, one double. The mattresses were feather filled, and were not easy at all to keep from rolling. So Moma and Daddy took the big bed, Nancy and I took the small. Head to toe we tried to sleep. In the morning we woke up and headed out to find the ponies. We had missed the rounding up and swim the day before so now to find the pin.

Near the fair ground, was an area of beautiful trees fenced in for the ponies. They had swam over the day before from their home on Assateague Island. These ponies were descendants from ones abandoned by a ship that wrecked near the island hundreds of years ago. They survived and now thrived with the help of the local Fire Department. The monies earned from their auction helped defray the cost of keeping them and the Fire Department.

So we walked around the pin. Ponies everywhere. Mothers with their babies nestled together. All colors black white, white black, brown, paint, you name it they were there. These ponies were sometimes short in stature. Having made the trip several times most of them were used to people being around and would let you pet them and nuzzled you to get affection. It was a horse lovers dream. Nancy and I could have stayed there for hours.

Soon came time for the auction. I wasn't as interested in the sale as I was just being with the animals. Why would I want to go to a dumb sale, I wasn't going to get a pony. We didn't have a place to keep a pony. But after a while, we headed off the see what was happening.

Ponies were brought to the stand, babies ready to be weaned from their mothers. Beautiful. Soon the bidding began and I didn't understand a thing that was going on. People were nodding their heads, touching their nose and ear, holding up their hands what in the world was going on. Then the gavel was hit and sold rang out among the crowd. It was a frenzy. As I watched it seemed Daddy was getting more and more interested. On a few occasions I thought he was coming down with a cold, oh but no he was bidding, touching his nose and bidding..........what a pony. I couldn't have a kitten but he was buying a pony???????? Moma looked at him in amazement but only said "David"! Next thing I knew I had a PONY!!!!! A beautiful chestnut and white girl, a pony. Now what to do with a PONY. Our 61 Old's wouldn't take a pony home.

So off to the U-Haul dealer, yes there was one there wonder why??? We returned to the auction just in time to see Daddy buy another pony, a male, black and white to be named Duke, a name fitting to go with the Dutches. Oh my, Daddy was in for it now, where are we going to keep them was Moma's first question. He just grinned and said I'll take care of it. So after paying $91 a piece and loading our ponies, we saw some friends from Newport News, yes leave it to us to see people we knew and they had bought a pony also. Daddy offered to carry theirs home. Three ponies in tow, my smile so wide I could hardly get into the car, off we went back to the ferry and home to Mathews.

Now the ferry ride back was not quite as much fun as coming over. We spent too much time below with the ponies where it was hot and the fumes were awful. This along with looking over the stern of the boat watching the churning water, made my stomach churn even more. I had never been seasick but boy was I that day. It was a horrible end to a wonderful day.

Back at home on Gwynn's Island, we were living there full time then, we had fields around us, but nothing to keep them in. No barn, stable, not even a lean to. That did not stop Daddy and Uncle Coleman. He had been enlisted by Daddy to help as he always was when Daddy needed help. We boarded the ponies in Gloucester for a few months while they built the stable and fenced in the fields. The front field was fenced in with wood the back electric fence. And guess who was made to try out the electric fence...........me!

The day we brought them home you would have thought Moma had had a new baby all the people who showed up to see them. Wild ponies on Gwynn's Island. And they were wild. On to taming them, teaching them to like a saddle and then a person on top. No Texas bronc ever bucked as hard as they did while we trained them. I fell so many times it's a wonder I can even walk now. No wonder my joints are so bad in my hands. But it was fun then.

Summers were spent ridding Duke and Dutches all around Gwynn's Island especially to the beach where they would swim out and let us dive off their backs. Of course before we left the beach they would have to roll in the sand which meant a itchy ride home and a bath for us all when we got there! Nancy was there in the summer and would join us riding her pony Trigger. Winters we would have to dig paths in the snow to get to them, then we'd ride them in the snow stopping often to fall in a drift. Soon Dutches blessed us with another pony, Prince. A beautiful son who looked a lot like his father and was so playful.

Ponies gave way to cars, daydreams gave way to boys and soon I out grew them. We sold them one to a family in Gloucester one to a couple that lived on Queen's Creek. When Dutches was sick and ready to die, she swam out in Queen's Creek, we think trying to get home, back to her Island surrounded by water, her playground, her life.

Crabs, Hard

Catching hard crabs or Blue Crabs is more than a sport on the Chesapeake Bay. On Gwynn's Island it was an industry that sustained many a business and families. The Bay delicacy has been shipped to ports up and down the seaboard. Once steamed there is nothing finer to eat. No seafood can compare to the taste of a freshly steamed "Jimmy". (Male Blue Crab)

There are many different ways to catch a Blue Crab. Going around pilings of docks with a dipping net and scooping them up is one way, of course catching them when they are soft while walking through the sea grass on low tide is another, using a chicken neck tied to a string and dipping net is another, but the number one way to catch a Blue Crab is in a Crab Pot. No not the kind of pot you put on the stove, it's made out of wire, Crab Pot Wire, with a trap door where the bait, fish goes and an entry port where the crab goes into the pot to eat the fish and can't get back out. Recently they have made a hole for the too small crabs to escape!!

Early mornings before anyone else has even thought of getting up, Chesapeake Bay crabbers are on the docks loading their boats with bait and heading out into the cool morning air to retrieved their catch. Hours of pulling pot lines awaits them. Shaking their catch into barrels, and baiting their pots take up most of their day. If lucky they return to the dock, unload, sell their catch and head home for lunch around noon. Eat, mend pots, nap, eat, sleep and start all over again in the morning.

When we were little Daddy would take us to the dock chicken necks and string in tow. We would sit for hours pulling crabs up hoping to get enough for a "mess" to eat. Didn't want to cook only a few, and of course you wanted the biggest ones you could get. After an afternoon of crabbing we would return with our catch. Daddy would rinse them off and they would be placed into a steamer, with vinegar and Old Bay Seasoning, onto the stove and cooked until they turned bright red, an indicator they were done.

The most fun of eating crabs came on Saturday nights when Uncle Piggy the crabber in our family would share his catch with us. Moma would open the big table, cover it with newspapers to catch the mess, get out the parring knives and knockers, vinegar and plates. Salad and melted butter rounded out the table. Cocktail sauce was always on hand as well as ice cold beer and soft drinks. Guest, not guest, friends and family would start arriving around 6. We'd try to wait for Aunt Teenie who always came after work to spend the night. Daddy, Bunk, Piggy, sometime Willis would gather around the table first. Thel didn't eat crabs so she would sit behind the table in ear shot of goings on. Aunt Ethel would be in the nearest rocker, rocking and shaking her head at Piggy talking about how pretty she was. Moma would always have a big bowl beside her ready to receive the beautiful meat she picked from the crab. She would pick meat for those who did not know how, teaching all the while. At the end of the night she'd have enough meat for cakes or her Crab Muffins. Daddy would be steady picking and eating his pile the biggest on the table while Moma counted the beers he drank and gave him a "now David" every once in a while.

We'd join in the table after dates or going out. I loved to listen to them and enjoyed picking crabs out with the best of them. After I was married we go over on Saturday night to eat crabs. I'd put the kids to bed and we'd wait for Skip to fall asleep. Aunt Teenie figured after that we all could spend the night. It meant she got more time with us and got to play with the kids in the morning. It was a Saturday night ritual that I wished never ended.

This past summer we passed crabbing on to my grand kids. Jay got his little boat back over that he used when he was a teen to fish his own pots. Only a few in the creek, but it gave us a "mess" every once in a while to eat. He'd share them with neighbors who were on their docks on his way home. This year, Jay, Ethan and Faith baited the pots, and fished them, bringing home their catch for me to cook. Cleaned, put in the pot, steamed and cooled they enjoyed their first Crab Picking. It was fun seeing them enjoy the same pleasures I enjoyed at their age. And seeing Jay teach them about their heritage was great. Lessons passed on. Lessons learned never to be forgotten. One day they will pass this on to their children. And so on, and so on..............

Crabs, Soft

As a small child growing up summers on Gwynn's Island, I spent a lot of days in and around the Rivershore. Rivershore is the body of water that you see when you drive around the shore on Gwynn's Island, it really is Hills Bay, but it's the shallow part where we played.

On low tide Moma with dipping net in hand, her basket float, which consisted of a crab basket sitting inside an inner tube and I would hit Rivershore to go soft crabbing. If we were lucky my Aunt Christene and sometimes her grand kids were with us. We would park our car either on the side of the road or in a friends yard, put on our canvas Keds, no laces and hit the shallow warm water. Starting at one end of the Island and ending almost to Cherry Point, we'd wade through the water looking for crabs. At that time there was lots of sea grass plots that the little critters would be hiding in. Actually if they were real soft, they couldn't move. They became prey for stingrays, gulls, herons and us!!! With net in hand we'd maneuver through the grass scooping up the soft crustaceans and putting them in our basket. The basket sat low enough in the water for water to flow through it and keep the crabs cool and alive. My cousins and I would take this time to practice our swimming, behind them of course, couldn't disturb the water. Invariably one of us would get bitten by a hard crab, or stung by a stinging nettle. In places the grass was real high there was no way around it except to walk through and I hated that. In my mind I could see and feel every bad thing the river had to offer.

Slowly we would walk for what seemed like miles and probably was. Looking into that clear low water everything ever left overboard was visible. Of course we were spurred on by the tale of Cornwallis' well where all his belongings were thrown before the capture at Yorktown. A tale is true, but we listened carefully every time trying to pick out the right spot it might be located. Heaven forbid one of us would fall into it out in the water.

When we had made our return walk through, we returned to our car and headed home. At home Moma would take the wonderful soft crabs and clean them. Under running cold water she would use a sharp knife and cut the eyes off, that bothered me cause they were not dead, never eat a dead crab. Then she would carefully lift their top shell first one side and then another to remove the gills or lungs the gray finger looking stuff, then the middle to gently remove the mustard looking stuff that I don't know what to call it. Rinsed ever so carefully they were gently laid on a platter beside each other and put in the fridge awaiting their evening outing on our dinner table!!!

Just before cooking the crabs, Moma would get the cast iron skillet filled 1/2 full with Crisco shortening, shortening mind ya. Then she would fill a plate full of flour. When the grease was hot one by one she would dredge the crabs in the flour and gently place them in the hot oil. They would fry on each side for about 4-5 minutes or until lightly golden and crispy. Platters filled with hot soft crabs would grace our table and the yummy delights would disappear faster than they were caught. The ones not cooked were frozen individually and saved until the next wonderful seafood meal.

It is funny how my parents always found a way to incorporated work into an outing of fun. The outing made Mom's afternoon since we were so worn out after the crabbing trip we always took a nap and slept sound. Memories, yep they stick with us and we try hard to pass them on to our kids and their kids. Somehow, in the translation things get lost. Hard for someone to have the same feelings having not been there, that makes it even more important to share physically the things you did as a child, as much as you can.

Returning to your youth

When you are young memories are made like a picture from a cameras lens. You remember the colors, the smells and everything around you, but it changes. Unlike a picture life does not stand still. Roads are built, houses destroyed, houses built, the landscape somehow is just not what it seemed.

As a child we lived in many places. We always had our home on Gwynn's Island, but Daddy worked in the Portsmouth/Norfolk area, and we lived there in rented homes. My first memory of such a place was Williams Court. It was an apartment complex in Portsmouth, Va. Rows and rows of two story apartments stood along Rt 17 near Craddock High School. I remember it had a round wading pool, or that was as far as I was allowed to get in. Mom had friends that seemed to visit back and forth all day. I had lots of kids to play with and it was a good place to live. In the early 50's that area was full of growth. Downtown Portsmouth as well as Norfolk was a bustle of commerce. And my Mom added to the coffers of all the merchants. She loved a sale.

Wanting to see part of my roots, my son, Jay took me through the area the other day. Driving through Churchland you could tell the different growth spurts by the era of homes, 50's, 60's, etc, as the road stretched on. This was where on Sunday's we would ride through the country. Heading on High street past Maryview Hospital that was there when I was a child we headed toward downtown and then took a right heading to the Deep Creek area. On the way there it was Williams Court, a big sign noting same. But wait, where were the apartments, the planned community.......in it's stead stood a shopping center, Williams Court II. One could only have hopped that it would have survived, but after 56+ years probably not. But at one time in my life I did live there.

Then heading to Jay's home, I realized something else. We were traveling the same road I had traveled many, many times. We were heading to the bridge that took us to the Texaco Docks where Daddy worked. I had been on that road, day and night so many times with Moma picking Daddy up or taking him to work. Looked a little different, but some of the old landmarks remained the same. I had wanted to find that route to know I was in the right place. Why you might ask, well because if you travel on past where the road was to the docks you go to Jay's home. Never going that far on Bainbridge, I only imagined that was where we were. Interesting. All of this coming from the memories of a four or five years old child.

Do we have connections with our past? Do they live on? Well my son lives in Chesapeake, AKA South Norfolk, a few miles from where Daddy worked. He is working for the City of Portsmouth, he is a firefighter at Station 1, that covers the area where I lived as a child. He trained a few miles from the last house we lived in in Portsmouth. Interesting, yep. I think we are drawn to our past. How can we make our future better if we don't remember our past. Remember our mistakes. Remember lessons learned.

Thanks to Jay I am able to see parts of my past. I know Moma is enjoying the journey, oh she would so have been on that back seat, nose pressed against the window, telling us about everything she saw. She loved the ride............

Everyone has to start somewhere

My first blog. Oh my. I've come a long way baby. Having lived most of my life in a small community snuggled up to the Chesapeake Bay on Virginia's coast, I could have had a very simple life. Simple is good. We have no stop lights here, except for the ones on the bridge going and coming off Gwynn's Island, my home..........not physically now, but will always be home in my heart. Our homes, no houses mind ya, are built with love, filled with loved and the love is shared. We are a community that hurts when others hurt and laugh out loud when joy fills their heart. Our lives are deep rooted in the land that has sustained generations and in the water, without it's harvest many generations would not have survived. Even with it's bounty dwindling the Bay stills draw waterman too seek their fortunes.

My early memories consist of long days playing out in the yard of our home on Gwynn's Island. Guess we were situated just about in the middle of the island right behind one of it's two post offices, hubs of activity in our small community. Our post office was once called the Buster House. It was a small building, red in color situated on a corner of our land right by the main road. My Mom had once run a business there selling snow cones. That of course had to be before me cause I have no memories of that. I would wait daily until I saw the mail truck arrive, give Miss Florence Carney time to sort the mail and run through the field, with Moma's eye trained on my every move, to get our mail. Everyone always tried to get the mail early before Florence had time to read it all! Florence always sat in a chair behind the counter which was real high, to a little girl that is. After she leaned over the counter, and handed me the mail I'd trace my steps back to Moma waiting for me on the side steps. She'd go through the mail, and return to her kitchen and her daily chores. Me I'd return to my play, picking flowers to get married, or finding sticks to make horses out of. Running around the porches was always fun, and the hammocks made a good place to just lie around and day dream!!!

Lunch was always at noon. If Daddy was home he'd be finished his painting, there was always painting to do on that old house. We'd eat our lunch, then he would head for a hammock, I'd be put down for a nap, why is it you fight them when you are little and fight for them when you are grown!!! After lying in the bed, watching the curtains flow from the windows in the cool breeze, I'd sleep so sound, hate to admit it now, but I loved that time of the day. Wake up, Moma would have her stuff done, she'd have a snack packed and we'd head to the beach. Always love going to Bay Shore. The beach then had wide white sand and you could walk out in the water on a sandy bottom clear of debris. An occasional blue crab would scurry by, sometimes taking a nip out of your toe. The minnows would glisten as they swam by. We would play for what seemed like hours but only minutes when it came time to leave! Moma would pack us up and we would ride in the trunk of the car not getting sand or water on the seats. The oldest traveler would be in charge of keeping the top up, while we rode, feet dangling over the bumper up the road to our house. We'd wave to the neighbors and call all the dogs to follow us home! Back at the house a quick outside rinse and off the the bath to get ready for super.

Life was simple. But we didn't know it. We filled each day with as much fun as we could. By the end of the day our eyes closed sometimes before our heads hit the pillows, only to dream of that we had done that day or what was planned for the next. Simply wonderful.......