This was my last week of school for the 2024–2025 year, and to say it was busy is an understatement! Between Donuts for Dads, Spirit Week, Field Day, and the Moving Up ceremony, it was a whirlwind. Friday was spent cleaning and breaking down the classroom, if you’ve ever taught school, you know that means organizing a lot of moving parts: toys, books, centers, and supplies that all have to find a home in storage.

We also had our staff send-off parties this week at local restaurants. I have to say, I was genuinely impressed with the service at Chili’s. Our server was cheerful, knowledgeable, and incredibly attentive. She was clearly someone who enjoyed her job, and it made for a really fun and relaxing experience, the perfect ending to a very full week.

On the flip side, my husband and I grabbed carryout from Chipotle earlier in the week, and it was a major letdown. The person behind the counter was too busy chatting with friends at the register to even acknowledge us. When we asked a question about a couple of new items, the response was simply, “I don’t know,” followed by her walking away. The next staff member wasn’t any more helpful and acted like we were bothering them.

Having owned a restaurant, I can’t help but notice the contrast in service, and how much of a difference it makes. One experience left me smiling after a long week; the other just disappointed.

Kindness is now part of the curriculum at my school through a program called Positive Action. Children are encouraged to choose kindness every day and are recognized when they do. It’s a beautiful practice and a necessary one. Somewhere along the way, especially after the pandemic, it seems there was a disconnect in human interaction. Without regular, meaningful contact, people can forget how powerful simple acts of kindness really are.

Recently, I was surprised by the lack of professionalism during a visit to our doctor’s office. The receptionist was eating a bag of potato chips during check-in and the nurse was sitting in the waiting area having a very personal phone conversation. Thankfully, both women were kind and pleasant, but I was still taken aback by the setting. It reminded me that while kindness is essential, so is professionalism, especially in environments where people seek care and support.

According to some estimates, it takes approximately twelve muscles to smile and forty three to frown. It’s important to note that these are just estimates, and the actual number of muscles involved can fluctuate based on factors such as facial anatomy and the effort put into the expression.

Each morning, I make it a point to look my students in the eye and greet them with a cheerful, “Good morning!” I also try to notice and comment on something kind or joyful, often it’s a beautiful smile, and I make sure to thank them for sharing it.

We have one little boy who arrives each day with the biggest frown imaginable. But every morning, I greet him with, “I’m so glad to see you at school today.” And without fail, that frown slowly turns into a smile. It’s a simple gesture, but it reminds me just how powerful a kind word and genuine connection can be.

Sometimes all it takes is a smile to prove that kindness doesn’t need words to be heard and to make our world a brighter place.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

The first few chords of John Denver’s ballad; Rocky Mountain High have a powerful way of evoking emotions that transport me to different places and memories of my late teens. The feeling is a deep, hollow ache, a sensation of missing someone or something, grieving a moment that can’t be reclaimed.

The day Rocky Mountain High was released, I didn’t hesitate. As a devoted John Denver fan, I bought the album the moment it hit the shelves. I played it on repeat for months, not fully realizing why it resonated so deeply with me. Looking back, I now understand: my mountain had always been a part of me.

In the winter, it was my playground, I skied its slopes, rode snowmobiles through the powder, and went sledding until my feet were numb and my cheeks were pink with cold. When the seasons turned, the mountain transformed. The air smelled of pine and earth, and the song of the Meadowlarks replaced the hush of snowfall. In spring and summer, I hiked to the waterfall, had picnics in wildflower meadows, and practiced archery in the crisp mountain air. The tall Aspen trees and towering Ponderosa pines stood silently in the background, ever-present, like old friends. That mountain and that music shaped who I am. It turns out, it was home. Without realizing it, my mountain had always been part of my story.

Now, when I hear those familiar chords of Rocky Mountain High, I understand why I was drawn to it so fiercely. John Denver wasn’t just singing about Colorado, he was singing about my memories, my joy, my mountain.

As it turns out, mountains are magical places. They are often seen as sites of spiritual elevation, places where individuals can find clarity, inspiration, and a deeper connection to something greater than themselves. Mountains symbolize strength, resilience, and the enduring human spirit. Their presence inspires us to rise above our challenges, just as they rise above the land.

According to the Adventure Tourism Blog, mountains are vital components of Earth’s water resources, climate systems, and cultural heritage. Protecting and conserving mountains is essential for maintaining the balance of our planet and ensuring the well-being of both nature and human communities.

As the summer season approaches, I find myself reflecting on just how deeply meaningful my experiences with the mountains, lakes, and oceans have been. Without fully understanding the power they held at the time, I was always drawn to these natural places, and I made sure to share them with my four children as often and as early as I could.

There’s a photo I treasure: I’m holding my eldest as a tiny infant, bundled up against the cold, surrounded by towering snowbanks at the base of the Snowy Range with Mirror Lake in the background. Years later, I remember my toddlers walking barefoot through icy mountain streams in the hills of Southern California, squealing with surprise and delight.

These places were more than just beautiful backdrops, they were teachers, sanctuaries, and playgrounds. And looking back, I see how they shaped both me and my children in quiet, lasting ways.

The phrase Rocky Mountain High is often used to describe the sense of euphoria that comes from being surrounded by the beauty of the mountains. For me, it’s more than a song, it’s a feeling I’ve known my whole life. It’s the joy, peace, and deep connection I’ve found in nature, and the gift I’ve been able to share with my children. That’s the true high the mountains give.

I found a photograph of my mom, my two middle children, and me at the peak of Diamond Head on Oahu. That hike is roughly one and a half miles round trip. There are any water bottles or snacks in sight. My eldest was taking the picture with my Kodak Instamatic camera. It was 1982.

My mom wore a flowing muumuu, carried her Louis Vuitton bag, and held a cigarette with her usual flair. I was wearing purple and white striped Dolphin running shorts and a matching purple Merona sweatshirt. We were both wearing leather strapped sandals.

In that moment, at the top of Diamond Head, we were the very definition of Hawaiian fashion—1980s style. My Mom fully embraced the muu muu, saying that it was the most comfortable dress she had ever worn. We had quickly made a stop at Liberty House (Honolulu’s premier department store) on the way from the airport to get my Mom “geared up”.

While living in Coronado, California, my aunt, my mom, and my grandmother came for a month-long visit. I was pregnant with my third child, and they had come to help.

Mom had impeccable taste in clothing, except when it came to her casual wear, particularly her shoes. She brought along a pair of white, beaded Minnetonka moccasins and some unfortunate-looking slide sandals, both purchased at K-Mart for less than ten dollars a pair.

My aunt and grandmother arrived at the San Diego airport impeccably dressed in Chanel suits and Ferragamo flats. At dinner that evening, the main topic of conversation became my mom’s questionable footwear.

Despite their teasing, my mom defended her shoes fiercely, insisting they were the most comfortable things she had ever worn. By the end of the meal, after trying them on, both my aunt and grandmother had decided they needed the exact same two pairs.

Our shopping expedition to K-Mart was a bust, so we headed to Saks Fifth Avenue in La Jolla, a family favorite. My grandmother had seen a Mouton coat at the Saks in New York City that she thought would be perfect for the chilly San Diego evenings.

As we wandered through the store, we passed the shoe department and there they were. Both the Minnetonka moccasins and the infamous slide sandals, proudly displayed… at a much higher price than what my mom had paid at K-Mart.

For the rest of the month, I walked around Southern California with three elegantly dressed older women, each wearing the same shoes. One of them, my mom, was especially smug. Her “comfy shoes” had turned out to be fashion-forward after all.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

Wind chimes are a type of percussion instrument made from suspended tubes, rods, bells, or other objects crafted from metal or wood. Their origins trace back to 1100 BC, when an ancient Chinese emperor cast the first bells, known as Fenglings. At the time, only members of the royal family and honored dignitaries were permitted to enjoy the heavenly luxury of musical entertainment through chimes and bells. Even today, there’s a mystical quality to wind chimes—an unspoken magic in their ability to capture the wind, harness its energy, and transform it into something meaningful.

The morning I checked on my father-in-law and discovered that he had passed away peacefully in his sleep was both heartbreaking and strangely serene. My husband, Matt, was in the shower when I gave him the news. In the hour that followed, as we waited for the Hospice nurse and the funeral home to arrive, we quietly prayed and said our final goodbyes to John.

Feeling the need to step away from the heaviness of the house, we decided to spend the day at the beach, bringing our two dogs along for comfort and company. We had a quiet, delicious lunch at Blacksmith Restaurant with a bottle of wine to toast John. After dining alfresco, we then wandered through the charming streets of Berlin. Along the way, we stopped at an antique shop where we were drawn to a set of bamboo wind chimes displayed in the window.

As it turned out, the wind chimes were from Southeast Asia, fitting, as it was the same region John had flown missions into during the Vietnam War. Of course, we brought them home. They now hang in one of John’s favorite rooms: our kitchen. He used to love sitting at the island with a glass of wine, chatting with Matt while he cooked dinner.

The wind chimes, suspended at just the right level, ring softly many times a day. Each gentle sound brings us a comforting reminder of John—and of the quiet, sacred memory of his last day on this earth.

Considered sacred objects believed to attract kind spirits, wind chimes have maintained their enchanted status throughout history. They are often thought to ward off negative energy, purify the atmosphere, and enhance the flow of positivity within a space. With each gentle sound, wind chimes are said to offer protection, balance, and a sense of peace, bridging the seen and unseen in subtle, soothing ways.

With spring in full bloom, we often find ourselves opening windows to welcome the cool, refreshing air. The gentle tinkle of wind chimes dancing in the breeze is believed to invite positive energy into the home. For centuries, these enchanting sounds have soothed our spirits, dispersing negativity and creating a sense of calm—whether we’re relaxing on the porch or enjoying a quiet moment in the garden. I’ve always loved the peaceful melody of wind chimes outside my window; it’s a small, beautiful reminder to pause and breathe. Their calming presence and energetic benefits make them more than decor—they’re a comforting companion to the rhythm of everyday life.

The healing effects of wind chimes have been recognized for a long time. Their soothing background noise from the natural breeze can help relieve stress, anxiety, and mental tiredness. The harmonious sounds can aid breathing, quiet racing thoughts, and promote relaxation. The soothing sound waves of a wind chime are great for settling down at the end of the day or before bed.

Whether bamboo or wooden wind chimes, their sound vibration and the number of their rods have a purpose. According to wind chimes Feng shui, the five rod metal wind chimes are incredibly optimistic. This wind chime benefits the five elements of nature, earth, metal, fire, wood, and water. Such wind chimes help establish synchronization between people and the elements of nature, thereby suppressing all negative energies and bad luck. The sweeter the sound a wind chime produces, the more significant the good luck it brings to the inhabitants.

Wind chimes should be hung indoors where energy is stagnant, and therefore, needs an energy cleanse. Inside bedrooms, they should be placed near the windows from which a gentle breeze blows throughout the day, producing enchanting chiming sounds that usher in positivity and peace. Bamboo wind chimes are popular bedroom choices, their soothing effects help fight insomnia and stress.

Wind chimes are more than just an attractive piece of home decor. “Chi” in the word chime stands for positive energy as per Feng Shui. After seeing them in friends’ homes, I bought my first Capiz shell wind chime while living in Hawaii. With louvered windows and the trade winds blowing, the Capiz shells made such a magical sound. Many people believe that Capiz shells are symbols of good luck and prosperity. It is also thought that Capiz shells bring balance between the physical and spiritual worlds.

Tones have a healing effect on our bodies, calm our minds, and awaken our spirits. The resonance and vibration of sound releases stress and emotional blockages in the body. Sound connects us with our environment, nature is never silent. Sound stimulation can nurture behavioral changes and emotions. Positive sound can ease the feeling of loneliness and isolation. The gentle sound of wind chimes can greatly help to create positive energy. Wind chimes can correct negative, harsh, or dulling sounds in the environment such as the sound of traffic.

Wind chimes help enhance the mind/body/spirit connection bringing us a sense of peace and well being.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

Last week, my students participated in activities and discussions about safety, at home, in school, and the community. From reviewing how to safely cross the street to understanding what to do in an emergency, the children gained valuable knowledge to help them stay safe and confident in various situations. This program is designed by the Talbot County Health Department and is an important and effective tool for helping children face serious situations.

This year, the program went a step farther than the usual “stranger danger” warnings. A new addition focused on internet safety, including the impact of online games, cellphones, and social media. Students learned about the importance of protecting personal information, recognizing unsafe online behavior, and knowing what to do if something makes them feel uncomfortable.

As part of the safety lesson, students were asked to raise their hands if they know a “trusted person’s” phone number. One child out of twenty six knew that important phone number. Forty years ago, memorizing important phone numbers was a rite of passage and a requirement for kindergarten readiness. I can still recite the phone number from my childhood home, it has stuck with me all these years.

By 1994, my two eldest children had began driving and my husband and I thought having a cell phone would be valuable. It was a Motorola “Brick” flip phone. Making phone calls was its only capability. The phone number that belonged to that original phone was transferred to subsequent phones until just recently and every family member had that number memorized.

There is something so comforting about the memory of landline phones. The familiar ring throughout the house, the long, coiled cord stretched around corners, and the way conversations felt more intentional. If you missed a call there wasn’t any caller ID, just a bit of mystery.

Back then, children were actually taught phone etiquette, as if answering a call was a sacred duty. The polite response went something like, “General residence, this is Jenny speaking,” delivered with all the formality of a receptionist at a law firm. The phone was strictly off-limits during dinner, heaven help the kid who dared to reach for it between bites of meatloaf. If the phone rang after 10:00 p.m., everyone froze. It could only mean one thing: an emergency. No one let it go to voicemail (which didn’t exist yet anyway), you always answered, heart pounding, prepared for anything.

It was an exciting day when our clunky old rotary phones were finally replaced with a sleek, futuristic push-button model. No more spinning that dial like we were cracking a safe just to call Grandma. No more misdialing on the last digit and having to start all over again. The push-button phone felt like something out of Star Trek, you just pressed the numbers and boom, connection! We strutted around like we were living in the space age. It was progress, one satisfying beep at a time.

Years later, we called it progress when we finally ditched our last landline phone. We convinced ourselves that we didn’t need it anymore now that we had a new family mobile plan. Everyone had their own cellphone and the old landline, the kitchen phone, once the heart of our household communication, was unceremoniously unplugged and tossed aside like a relic from another era.

According to CNN Business, In recent years, there’s been a quiet but growing trend of people returning to landline phones, drawn by their reliability and simplicity in a fast-paced digital world. As cell phones become increasingly cluttered with apps, notifications, and constant connectivity, many are seeking the calm and clarity of a dedicated phone line. Landlines offer a kind of peace—no updates, no distractions, just a steady dial tone and the joy of undisturbed conversation. For some, it’s a nostalgic return to the days when phone calls had a sense of presence and intention. For others, especially in rural areas or during emergencies, it’s about practicality, landlines still work when cell towers go down or power cuts out. Whether for nostalgia, security, or the desire to unplug, the humble landline is making a quiet comeback, especially in Gen Z homes who are drawn to landlines for their vintage aesthetic.

There is a certain love for a landline phone, a deep, unspoken affection for its steady presence, its familiar ring, and the way it connected us not just to voices, but to moments, memories, and the comforting rhythm of home.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

In 1979, a group of Iranian militants stormed the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and took fifty two Americans hostage. It happened at a time of major upheaval in Iran after the Shah was overthrown and the new Islamic government took over. The hostages were held for 444 days which was a major source of tension between two countries that were once close allies. Despite efforts by President Jimmy Carter, the hostages were finally released in January 1981, just as Ronald Reagan was being sworn in as President.

The 1979 hostage crisis left a profound mark on me; for the first time, I felt a deep, personal anxiety about the state of the world and began to grasp how global events could ripple into my everyday life.

My father, a World War ll Navy veteran, often remarked in discussions about global affairs that he believed that a Third World country would be the catalyst for World War lll. I was a very young Navy wife with three tiny children, living in Coronado, California whose husband was deployed to the Persian Gulf. The Iranian Revolution, the hostage situation, and the oil crisis required increased U.S. military presence. I carried the weight of everyday life alone, as part of the sisterhood of Naval Officers Wives, we were constantly hoping and praying for the safe return of the men and women aboard the ships of the Seventh Fleet.

The fluctuation of gas prices and availability became (and still are) my barometer for the broader condition of the world. It is a fact that political instability in regions rich in oil resources can lead to concern about the security of oil supplies, triggering price increases. I passed my driving test in 1972 in Wyoming, very aware of the impact of gas prices. Wyoming is a significant oil producing state, ranking as the eighth largest crude oil producer in the United States. Living in an oil boom state felt like being swept up in a wave of prosperity. There was a sense of motion-new jobs and a buzz of opportunity in the air. Gas was cheap, 36 cents per gallon and people felt optimistic about the future. The economy seemed to be thriving and there was a great sense of possibility. It was a time when abundance seemed endless, and the energy of growth touched nearly every part of daily life.

To manage shortages during the gas crisis of 1979, California Governor, Jerry Brown implemented an odd-even rationing plan. Drivers with odd numbered plates could only “fill up” on odd numbered days and even numbered plates on even numbered days. What had once been a quick routine task turned into a lengthy ordeal. Fear hung in the air as we waited in endless lines, uncertain if there would be enough fuel to get through the week, or even the day.

I was in charge of writing the USS Ranger’s Officer’s Wives monthly newsletter. I would get first hand, de-classified information from the Captain’s wife about the movements of the ship and its crew. Learning about the six American diplomats that escaped capture and took refuge in the homes of Canadian Embassy officers made me very grateful for our close neighbors to the North. I was grateful that Canada took a huge risk by hiding the Americans in their homes and then granting Canadian passports to the Americans. The six Americans, posing as a Hollywood movie production crew scouting for a suitable filming location in Tehran, managed to flee Iran without a hitch. While the “Canadian Caper” improved Canada’s relations with the United States, it significantly strained Canada-Iran relations. The Canadian embassy staff were quickly evacuated from Iran, and the embassy was closed in 1980, due to fears of Iranian retaliation.

If history has taught us anything, true friends show up in a time of crisis. They don’t hesitate. They step up because it’s the right thing to do. Canada has been that friend to the United States for decades. Canada was the first country to send disaster relief to the U.S. after Hurricane Katrina and Canadian water planes have flown to California to help put out the wildfires.

Lately, I find myself feeling anxious about the state of the world. It seems like everyday brings new challenges; political unrest, economic uncertainty, and environmental crises. The constant barrage of bad news makes it hard to see a clear path forward. It’s as if the world is teetering on the edge. I am an optimistic person so is my f.e.a.r. (false emotion appearing real) just that, false?

I’ll continue to focus on positive thoughts, avoid the news, read great books, garden, walk my dog, ride my bike along the Choptank River, and increase my daily dose of Ashwagandha.

In a world that often feels overwhelming, filled with stress and uncertainty, finding comfort and stability can be difficult. For me, that comfort comes with four legs, a wagging tail, and unconditional love. My dogs have always been more than just a pet — they are a lifeline, a source of emotional strength, and true companions through life’s ups and downs. The bond I share with my dogs has had a profound impact on my mental health, teaching me valuable lessons about patience, love, and the importance of connection.

Our little French Bull Dog, Fanny is going on sixteen years old, she’s the final member of our “four pack.” We had Chuckie, an English Bulldog, Bogey, a Boston Terrier, Ruthie, a French Bulldog and Fanny. After Ruthie’s death, we talked about bringing a new puppy into our family but we had concerns about the impact on Fanny. Would another dog be a good idea? Time passed and we became comfortable with having just one dog. Then one day last fall, there was a photo on the Dorchester County Animal Control website of a little black dog. This dog “spoke” to me. Without delay, we made an appointment to meet this dog.

The “meet and greet” was as expected, the dog was very excited and nervous. I knew immediately that this little girl was going home with us. She sat in my lap with her head on my chest in the car on the drive home. We learned that she was 3-4 years old and had come from a “hoarder” breeding situation in the D.C. area. Her skin and ears were a mess and she hadn’t been fed properly. Her once floppy ears had been cropped, crudely, with stitches protruding in several spots and she had just weaned a litter of puppies. Every experience for the first few months was new to “Cookie.” Her skin has healed with a wild salmon and sweet potato diet and she loves her healthy blueberry and apple training treats. “Cookie” has become a treasured member of our family, her exuberant personality is a daily source of joy.

One of the most powerful aspects of having a dog is the unconditional love they offer. No matter how hard my day has been or how low I might feel, my dogs greet me with excitement and affection. Their love is pure and without judgment, providing a sense of acceptance that is often hard to find elsewhere. This consistent emotional support creates a feeling of safety and reassurance, knowing that I am never truly alone.

Scientific studies have shown that interacting with dogs can increase levels of oxytocin — the “love hormone” — and reduce cortisol, the stress hormone. Simply petting my dogs or sitting quietly beside them helps to calm my racing thoughts and lower my anxiety. Their steady, calming presence reminds me to breathe, slow down, and be present in the moment.

Perhaps the most profound way my dogs have supported my mental health is through difficult moments. On days when sadness, stress, or loneliness feels overwhelming, my dogs are always there. They sense my mood, offering a gentle nudge or curling up next to me without needing words. This quiet, steady companionship provides a grounding presence, reminding me that I am not alone and that healing takes time.

In a world that often feels chaotic, my dogs have always been my anchor — a constant reminder that love, companionship, and healing can come from the most unexpected places.

Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling.