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January 10, 2026

Centreville Spy

Nonpartisan and Education-based News for Centreville

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1 Homepage Slider Arts Design with Jenn Martella

On Design: Farmhouse Chic

August 30, 2023 by Jennifer Martella Leave a Comment

From the aerial view, it is easy to understand the appeal of today’s feature’s location. This property’s quiet street is close to St. Michaels Rd for quick access to both Easton and St. Michaels. The street first passes pastoral views of farm fields, then enters the shade of the trees that gives privacy to the houses on this dead end street. The new house and pool were carefully sited to maximize water views to Dixon Creek that leads to the Tred Avon River. The resultant deep and wide front yard with new planting of evergreens at the side yards will provide additional privacy. 

 

The architectural style is farmhouse chic with not only the side facing garage but also the multi-gabled elevations breaking down the massing.  The mix of shake and board and batten white siding contrasts with the slim black profiles of the windows and the light colored roofing minimizes solar gain. The gable projections at the front of the house creates space for a wide and welcoming front porch. 

 

The rear elevation opens up to the water with the full height windows and sliding doors at the main level’s living room and primary suite. The dining room’s shorter windows wrap around the shed roof’s extension that not only gives the dining room the feel of a sunroom but also creates a porch off the living room and primary suite.  I especially liked how the column placement creates irregular bays that do not block the views of the water from the windows and sliding doors.  Since the pool is nearby, the porch also offers respite from the sun after a dip in the pool. The low slope of the shed roofs at both floors adds texture and a mix of color. 

 

The pair of mahogany entry double doors with full sidelights opens into a very large foyer with a direct view of the water through the living room’s rear wall of windows and sliding doors. I admired how the offsets in plan and dropped beams trimmed in moldings defined the foyer, living room, dining room and kitchen areas while maintaining the open plan concept for what is clearly the hub of this house. The beautiful wood floors contrast with the white walls and ceiling. 

 

The kitchen’s white cabinets and countertops reflect the sunlight and the black color of the island’s cabinetry is a pleasant contrast. I gave the kitchen designer high marks for the upper cabinets that rise to the underside of the ceiling that accentuates the space’s volume with some cabinets lighted for greater transparency. The spacious dining area can easily accommodate evening meals or family celebrations and the wrap-around windows provide panoramic views of the landscape and water. 

 

Behind the side wall of the kitchen cabinetry is a sliding French door leading to a combo butler/food pantry with an undercounter wine fridge and bar sink.  As someone who enjoys entertaining, I wish I had this much support space in my house! Behind the pantry is a powder room off a mudroom that is a secondary foyer connecting the laundry, garage, stairs to the bonus room over the garage and an exterior door opening to a landing and walkway to the driveway.    

 

The primary bedroom is located at the opposite side of the house next to the pool. Sliding doors lead to the covered porch and the window arrangement on the side wall was designed to accommodate a king size bed’s high headboard as shown above.

 

A large dressing room containing a walk-in closet and the primary bath located at the front of house completes the primary suite.  The vista from the bedroom ends at the free-standing soaking tub under a triple window for abundant sunlight. Plantation shutters add privacy with the shutters set an angle for both sunlight and privacy. I have specified the same tile on this floor for one of my architectural clients and setting the tile on the diagonal visually stretches the space as it does here. The bath’s neutral interiors are a blank slate for one’s colorful towels and accessories. 

 

The “U” shaped stairs end at a large family room with seating and a desk for checking email or doing homework. The box bay’s triple window floods the space with light and as a bibliophile, this would the perfect space to curl up on the sofa with a good book! 

The second floor contains another primary suite, almost identical to the main floor’s layout, for flexibility to allow young parents to be on the same floor as their children while they are young and the ability to move to the main floor later for aging in place.  Two other ensuite bedrooms and a secondary laundry  complete the remainder of the second floor.

Seeing this charming bedroom with twin beds reminded me of many happy nights of sharing confidences after lights out with my youngest sister in our twin beds. This bedroom with its serene blue and white scheme would please any pair of siblings or visiting relatives.

Another feature of the house’s floor plan is the bonus room over the garage, with access from the main floor’s secondary foyer. Great interior architecture from the end gable walls, the side shed dormers, windows on three sides for sunlight throughout the day gives this space myriad uses-teen gathering space, family room for TV nights, office, studio, etc.

Great waterfront location on a quiet street, spacious open plan living, dining-kitchen areas with adjacent porch to extend your living space, primary bedroom suites on both floors, brand new construction built to the highest level of craftsmanship, new living shoreline, professionally landscaped grounds with full irrigation for easy maintenance, large pool and new pier with water and electric-a true turn key property!

For more information, contact Tracy Higgs Wagner, who helped sponsor this article, with Meredith Fine Properties at 410-745-8060 (o), 410-310-5581 (c) or  [email protected].  Co-listed by Quin Warner [email protected]
410-739-8299

For more our photographs and pricing Warner  [email protected]

Staging of interiors by Jamie Merida Interiors/Bountiful Home, www.Jamiemerida.com ,410-819-8666

Contractor: Focus Construction, www.focus-construction.net , 410-690-4900

Photography by Atlantic Exposure LLC, [email protected]

Jennifer Martella has pursued dual careers in architecture and real estate since she moved to the Eastern Shore in 2004. She has reestablished her architectural practice for residential and commercial projects and is a referral agent for Meredith Fine Properties. Her Italian heritage led her to Piazza Italian Market, where she hosts wine tastings every Friday and Saturday afternoons.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Design with Jenn Martella

A Totally Different Drummer: Solace and Strength by Drumming at Camp New Dawn

August 28, 2023 by James Dissette Leave a Comment

For almost 30 years, Compass Regional Hospice has been helping children and families navigate the challenging journey of grief from the loss of a loved one.

Every August, Camp New Dawn holds a four-day, three-night bereavement retreat on the grounds of Camp Pecometh outside near Centreville, where children and families attend

therapeutic workshops, age-specific grief support groups, and may participate in supervised camp activities such as swimming, fishing, and arts and crafts. 

“Grief is isolating in itself on a very natural level. When they show up here they’re all of a sudden in this amazing community of people who are on a similar walk.” says Camp New Dawn Director Rhonda Knotts. 

A haven for those learning how to cope with grief, the camp experience offers a combination of therapeutic activities, group discussions, and individual counseling, as participants are guided towards embracing their emotions, sharing their stories, and learning coping mechanisms.

This summer’s retreat hosted guest artist Josh Robinson, a professional percussionist and drum facilitator, who led an afternoon of drum-making and synchronized drumming. 

Robinson, a percussion teacher and member of the Philadelphia-based “Alo Brasil,” a 14-piece Samba group, has spent 20 years teaching the therapeutic benefits of drumming to groups and businesses nationwide.

At Camp New Dawn, Robinson guided children and families through creating and personalizing their own drums out of 20-gallon plastic containers and colored tape. Each unique drum carried a specific message of encouragement or positive wish as reminders of the experience throughout the year. 

Robinson sees the drumming experience not only as a physical outlet and stress reduction exercise but as a way to express emotions. Drumming provides a non-verbal means of expressing emotions that might be difficult to communicate through words. The intensity and rhythm of drumming can help individuals convey their feelings of loss and grief.

The Spy visited Camp New Dawn to watch Josh Robinson work his percussion magic and offer a new language to express grief, courage, and a sense of accomplishment.

This video is approximately four minutes in length. For more about Josh Robinson, go here. For more about Compass Regional Hospice, go here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider

Smarty Pants by Laura J. Oliver

August 27, 2023 by Laura J. Oliver Leave a Comment

My introduction to the world of education was this: my older sisters had hiked up the lane to catch the school bus, and since I hadn’t started school yet, my mother was only now brushing my hair to make a ponytail between sips of coffee. Yank, whack. Mom approached everything with grim determination. She was 38 at the time of this recollection, and if, for instance, she glimpsed a silver hair in the mirror, she didn’t use a rinse. She yanked it out. So, I had fronted up for the morning hair ritual with eyes squeezed shut when she yelped, “Oh no! You’re supposed to be at the school today!”

Minutes later, we were racing up Eagle Hill Road to Lake Shore Elementary so I could be tested for class placement. And here began a long history of intellectual uncertainty because I didn’t get assigned to Mrs. Bush’s class. I got assigned to Mrs. McFadden’s.

We all knew which class was the smarter one, just as we all knew the difference between the Red Bird and the Blue Bird reading group. Sorry, Blue Birds. You know who you are. (And God help the outliers who had no group at all.)  If you are reading this and you were in Mrs. Mc Fadden’s class too, I’m sorry, Blue Bird. You were not smart either. 

In Mrs. McFadden’s class, we sang about clean fingernails, which even at the age of 6 struck me as inappropriate, creepy, and a bit bizarre. We even had to spread our little hands out on the desk for inspection as we sang. I didn’t think my relationship with Mrs. McFadden warranted that level of intimacy. After we sang, we learned to count to ten in French because those two skills would be highly useful someday. On the plus side of this experience, Mrs. McFadden was very pretty. She had been married for 5 minutes and a teacher for about 30 seconds. 

My sense is that my mother found out I was in the second-tier class and drove up to the school to plead my case. I don’t know if that’s what happened, but about two weeks into the school year, I brought in a praying mantis for Show and Tell. With my dad’s help, the insect had been placed in a cigar box, the lid replaced with a screen for air and observation, behind which it stared out with bulging eyes. If it wasn’t praying before, pretty sure it was praying now, as Ms. McFadden suggested I take my show on the road to Mrs. Bush’s class. I took off down the hall, clutching my cigar box, anticipating the big reveal, when I heard scuffling footsteps, turned, and discovered Billy Burns heroically huffing along in my wake with my desk and chair. Mais non! I’d been reassigned.

 Au revoir, mes amis! 

Weirdly, the minute I entered Mrs. Bush’s class, I knew I was home. It was as if I’d been fostered by very nice people, but my real family had come for me. At least, I hoped this was true because there was a level of comfort such that occasionally, when super-excited about letters becoming words, I’d humiliate myself by calling out “Mom” instead of the teacher’s name. It also meant being proud to be included and aware of being different. For instance, my mother wanted me to have a hot lunch, but we couldn’t afford to buy, so she’d boil a hotdog, tie a string around one end, and submerge it in a thermos of hot water with the end of the string hanging out of the closed lid, then send me to school with my dog and a bun. Genius. But when the kids at the lunch table recoiled at the sight of my homemade bread pudding in tin foil, I threw it away.

Likewise, when my personal trainer looked at my shoes the other day and remarked that only old ladies and kids wear KEDS, I threw them away, too. The need for approval has not evolved much because if you suspect you may not be as bright as advertised, it’s important to be popular. 

So, by 5th grade, I was solidly in the ‘smart ’ class track, warranted or not, and my teacher and I had in common that she was divorced and my parents were divorcing. We made eye contact a lot. If I appeared well adjusted, she could feel better about her own child weathering her change in status. We understood one another with a maturity not shared by the other students. Case in point: in a moment of empathy, she invited me and my best friend to her wedding when she remarried that spring but was probably astonished to see two teary ten-year-olds beaming from the 4th pew as she walked up the aisle. 

One day, she asked me to stay in at recess to enter my classmates’ grades into her gradebook. I was happy to do it but as I was turning a page, I saw my name and my I.Q score. 

So, to see if that number at the age of 10 was the same now, I just spent a half hour taking an exam that tested spatial recognition, logic, language skills, math, and cognitive reasoning. I think I did pretty well being tested this time—you know why? Because at the end of the test, the site wanted my credit card—and genius that I am, I put in all the numbers, the secret code, and THEN, noticed the word “subscription.” I tried to back out. This caused my bank to text me a fraud alert. 

Did they mean the company? Or me? 

In the spring of my first-grade year, I awoke to the news there had been a deadly car accident on Mountain Road about a mile from school. It was Mrs. Bush. I never saw her again. The administration said she was to stay home the rest of the year. I accepted that then, but as an adult, I have wondered if she died. I recently made contact with another Red Bird who assured me Mrs. Bush lived into her nineties. 

If you are smart, you know how easy it is to become who you are told you are. For instance, I know for a fact that only Red Birds read this column. Compassionate, generous, highly intelligent Red Birds. And that, my beloveds, means you.   

Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Laura

Food Friday: Back to School 2023

August 25, 2023 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

This is the Spy Test Kitchen’s favorite time of the year – when we pull out our annual sandwich ingredients list. Have an excellent school year!

I always loved that first day of school: new shoes, new notebooks, new pencils, and a pristine box of still-pointy, aromatic crayons. I always forgot about my crippling anxiety about remembering my locker combination over the summer. I never thought about the social implications of lunchroom seating during those leisurely hours, either. As a responsible parental-unit, I loved shopping for school supplies, and shoes, and new lunch boxes. It was only the night before school started that I confronted the horror: the woeful lack of organization in our lives.

While the young ’uns were setting out their new sneakers for the morning, and frantically paging through books that should have been read weeks before, I was peering into the fridge and taking stock of our jumble of foodstuffs. What nutritional and tempting combinations could I conjure that would actually be eaten? Once, when Mr. Sanders had been out of town for a very long business trip, we attempted to set a world’s record for eating pizza for every meal, for many days in a row. I understand that that sort of tomfoolery doesn’t set a good example nowadays.

Now everyone has cute, eco-friendly, bento box lunch boxes, Mr. Sanders included. They have cunning little containers for vegetables, for fruits, for proteins. Some people cut vegetables on Sunday afternoons, and put them in the fridge for easy access on school mornings. They roll up lettuce wraps, dice carrots, prepare tuna salad, bake muffins and stack little cups of applesauce. These people also involve their children in the lunch assembly process. The despair I often felt in those dark, early mornings racing to get lunches made before the school bus arrived no longer exists, because now people are organized and thorough. And you can be, too.

While we are still leftover-dependent in this house, these folks know what to do about school lunch organization: Make Ahead Lunches

A handy guide to Sunday night preps: https://www.realmomnutrition.com/lunch-packing-stations/
And at Food52, the ever-clever Amanda always has some really fab lunch ideas. Amanda’s Clever Lunch Ideas

And now, with shameless drumroll, is the Spy Test Kitchen lunch list, which I haul out, shamelessly, every fall. Feel free to make your own spreadsheet, Google Doc or PowerPoint deck so you never have another moment of lunch ennui. The Test Kitchen came up with this flexible list of ingredients for packing school lunches a few years ago.
It is just as timely today:

Luncheon Variations
Column A
Let’s start with bread:
Ciabatta bread
Rye bread
Whole grain breads
Hard rolls
Portuguese rolls
French baguette
s
Italian bread
Brioche
Flour tortillas
Croissants
Bagels
Challah bread
Crostini
Cornbread
Naan bread
Focaccia bread
Pita bread

If storing overnight, layer bread with lettuce first, then add the spreads, to keep sandwich from getting soggy.

Column B
Next, the spread:
Mayo
Sriracha
Ketchup
Dijon mustard
Honey mustard
Italian dressing
Russian dressing
Cranberry sauce
Pesto sauce
Hummus
Tapenade
Sour cream
Chutney
Butter
Hot sauce
Salsa
Salsa verde

Column C
Cheeses:
Swiss cheese
American cheese
Mozzarella
Blue cheese
Cream cheese
Havarti cheese
Ricotta cheese
Cheddar cheese
Provolone cheese
Brie cheese
Cottage cheese
Goat cheese

Column D
The main ingredient:
Meatloaf
Turkey
Chicken
Corned beef
Bacon
Crumbled hard-boiled eggs
Scrambled eggs
Corned beef
Salami
Italian sausage
Ham
Roast beef
Egg salad
Tuna salad
Ham salad
Crab salad
Shrimp salad
Chicken salad
Turkey salad
Lobster salad
Tofu

Column E
The decorative (and tasty) elements:
Tomatoes
Lettuce
Basil
Onion
Avocado
Cucumber
Cilantro
Shredded carrots
Jalapenos
Cole slaw
Sliced apples
Sliced red peppers
Arugula
Sprouts
Radicchio
Watercress
Sliced pears
Apricots
Pickles
Spinach
Artichoke hearts
Grapes
Strawberries
Figs

Column F
Finger foods:
Cherries
Carrots
Strawberries
Green Beans
Broccoli
Celery
Edamame
Granola
Rice cakes
Apples
Bananas
Oranges
Melon balls
Raisins
Broccoli
Radishes
Blueberries

And because we live in a time of modern miracles, there are even apps for your phone so you can plan lunches ahead of time. Ingenious! LaLa Lunchbox and Little Lunches are among many apps.

“ ‘We could take our lunch,’ said Katherine.‘What kind of sandwiches?’ said Mark. ‘Jam,’ said Martha thoughtfully, ‘and peanut-butter-and-banana, and cream-cheese-and-honey, and date-and-nut, and prune-and-marshmallow…’”
-Edward Eager

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Food Friday

The Sunflower Man by Val Cavalheri

August 23, 2023 by Val Cavalheri Leave a Comment

Here’s the thing I learned today: You can’t be sad standing in a field of sunflowers. No, seriously. There must be some sort of karmic law that makes you smile when surrounded by these happy plants. I experienced it when I went to visit the sunflower farm on Oxford Rd in Oxford. For our interview, owner Bill Eason, aka Mr. Sunflower, had set up a table outside his home where a vase of sunflowers and zinnias took center stage. How could you not smile?

86-year-old Eason has been a lifetime Eastern Shore resident living in the house on Oxford Road since 1959. With farming in his blood (his dad and brother were farmers), he and his wife, Rose, started a produce stand at the site, first selling corn and then including tomatoes, beets, and other vegetables. They were so successful that they expanded to a new building and stand also on the property. Besides the produce, the Easons had also been growing sunflowers because they seemed to attract people to the stand. That, too, expanded when Rose got him interested in zinnias.

And then, in 2012, Rose passed away, and Eason stopped growing vegetables and closed the stand. He didn’t want to do it without her, he said. 

Bill Eason

But he continued to cultivate sunflowers because he loved watching them grow. So much so that they began to encompass most of his 3.5-acre property as years went by. The zinnias also began to take on a life of their own and took up some space on his field. They became a way to honor Rose’s memory. “I’m really proud of them,” he said. “I’m sorry my wife is not here to see them, but maybe she’s looking down on them because they’re doing great this year.”

Anyone traveling to and from Oxford is used to seeing Eason’s sunflowers in various stages of bloom throughout the entire summer and deep into fall. That’s because he has a staggered planting strategy that takes him past what most people think is too late to sow. “It’s about 65 days for the shoots to come up, and I plant them about the middle of September,” he said. “And they’ll come up in late November or early December if the weather doesn’t get too cold because they can even handle a frost. But I’ll take a chance on the late ones every year.”

That’s not to say there aren’t challenges, including hungry deer, which have sometimes ruined a plot or two. But not all wildlife is destructive, and watching his sunflowers sustain the bumble, honeybees, and birds brings him enormous joy. He also never tires of taking pictures, estimating he’s amassed around 5,000 on his phone, he told me, flipping through photos of customers holding his sunflowers, bees with their legs heavy with pollen, and birds landing on the flower head picking out seeds.

There’s no typical day for Eason, who, for obvious reasons, is enormously proud of his plants. As we spoke, he walked among them, pulling up a weed, cutting off dead bent-over flower heads, or selecting blooms for his stand. Today, like many others, he’s trailed by his calico cat Ava. It’s all in preparation for the steady stream of customers who usually drive through his lot.

At the self-serve stand, you can buy either a $5 or a $10 vase of flowers (vase included, which you can bring back or keep) and the dead flower heads, which he called ‘nature’s bird feeders.’ Eason enjoys being able to provide this service, and the only complaint he ever gets, he said, is the mess made by the pollen released from the massive sunflower heads, although he’s heard there may be a solution—hairspray.

I asked if there was a secret on why his fields were so prolific, especially since I learned he doesn’t use fertilizers. Does he sell his super seeds so we can recreate these beauties? Actually, Eason buys his seeds yearly from Talbot AG Supply in Queen Anne. “It’s a hybrid small seed that grows well and is treated so insects don’t eat them.” Probably the best secret is hiring Eason to plant them for you, something he does as a side business. 

Despite everything I was learning, I was anxious to share what I thought I knew about the flowers. He set me straight: Sunflowers don’t follow the sun. No matter how you plant them, they always face east. And if, like me, you’ve aww-ed over how sunflowers turn toward each other when it’s cloudy, prepare to be disappointed, “I’ve never seen that happening,” he said.

The one thing I was right about is that his flowers bring others joy. Said Eason, “I take sunflowers around and donate to the hospital, doctor’s offices, restaurants, churches, and homebound folks,” he said. He reminisced about bringing sunflowers to a friend’s wife battling cancer. It deeply touched him how his simple gift brightened her final days. Recently he brought a couple of dozen flowers to a church and told people to take them home. “That was my pay–to see happy faces. I probably donate as many or more than I sell.” 

Beyond bouquets, Eason extends his generosity and community spirit through parades, festivals, fundraisers, and more. His decorated trailer is a familiar sight, whether for Waterfowl Festival, strawberry festival, Christmas parade, or a cancer benefit. On October 21, he’ll help Oxford Community Center’s (OCC) Harvest Moon Dance fall gala. OCC’s Director, Liza Ledford, said, “Bill has a smile like no other. His generous nature can be seen in all of his flourishing sunflowers! We are so lucky he shares his flowers to support many Oxford organizations, including this fundraiser where his beautiful flowers and tractors will be the main decorations.” 

Before I left, Mr. Sunflower handed me an armful of sunshine and zinnias. Pollen or not, many days later, they still make me smile.

Bill Eason’s Sunflower Farm is on Oxford Rd, approximately 4 miles from the town of Oxford. 410-924-3486

Val Cavalheri is a writer and photographer. She has written for various publications, including The Washington Post.  Previously she served as the editor of several magazines, including Bliss and Virginia Woman. Although her camera is never far from her reach, Val retired her photography studio when she moved from Northern Virginia to the Eastern Shore a few years ago.. She and her husband, Wayne Gaiteri, have two children and one grandchild.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Spy Highlights

Qlarant Foundation Profiles: Rebuilding Together in Queen Anne’s County

August 21, 2023 by Val Cavalheri Leave a Comment

In 1994, a group of concerned individuals in Queen Anne’s County recognized a pressing need within their community – homes in disrepair and families struggling to maintain them. This realization led to the current Rebuilding Together, a national non-profit organization dedicated to repairing homes, revitalizing communities, and rebuilding lives. Recently, the group received a $3,500 award from the Qlarant Foundation, a private non-profit organization focused on enhancing the quality of life for vulnerable populations in Maryland and the District of Columbia.

Larisa Thomas, President of Rebuilding Together of Queen Anne’s County (RTQAC), shares how this grant and the partnership with local businesses and organizations impact the lives of older adults, low-income, and disabled community members.

Originally known as ‘Christmas in April,’ Rebuilding Together was started by a group of volunteers in 1973 in Midland, Texas, who, on the last Saturday in April, gathered to help low-income homeowners who were struggling to repair and renovate their homes.  The beneficiaries were primarily the elderly and disabled, trying to make ends meet on fixed incomes. In 1988, the organization expanded to other cities and changed its name to reflect what had become a year-round effort. Today, Rebuilding Together has over 100 affiliates nationwide and has helped repair and renovate over 200,000 homes.  

The critical importance of the organization’s work cannot be overstated. Thomas shared a staggering statistic that highlights the urgent need for their services: “Nationwide, 76% of households served by Rebuilding Together have a resident over the age of 65, and 51% have a resident with a disability, many of which have mobility issues that make it difficult to remain safely at home. And that also tends to be true in Queen Anne’s county,” she said. She describes how the domino effect of neglect can escalate from a simple roof leak into damaged floors and compromised structures, adding to the financial burden of homeowners who are already struggling to make ends meet. 

(L-R) Jonathan Olsavsky, Project leader and board member Wendell Carr, Perry Bird (right) Sr. Director, Network Advancement for National Rebuilding Together.

At the heart of RTQAC is its Safe and Healthy Housing program. It follows eight principles that ensure homes are: dry, clean, safe, pest-free, contaminant-free, well-ventilated, maintained, and thermally controlled. They also use a detailed 25-point checklist to assess homes and fix potential issues that homeowners might not know about.

The best illustration of the impact of RTQAC’s work is through the stories of transformed lives. Thomas recounts an instance where grandparents were raising grandchildren in a home where the pipes were freezing in the wintertime. “We came in and made it safe for this grandmother who was doing her best just to make a difference in her grandkid’s lives.”  At another home, we fixed a leaky roof, plumbing that wasn’t working, and holes in the floor. These were all safety issues that need to be addressed.”

The process of identifying eligible homeowners for the free program involves a multi-faceted approach. Collaborations with local departments and agencies, such as the Department of Aging, ensure those in need are connected to available services. Word of mouth also plays a significant role. Once identified, applicants can either call or submit an online form. The organization also participates in community events and employs various outreach methods to spread awareness and attract volunteers.

Of course, volunteers are the backbone of this program. Those who work with RTQAC come from a variety of backgrounds. Some are retired professionals with experience in construction or home repair, while others are community members who simply want to give back. All volunteers receive training and support from the organization to ensure that repairs are completed safely and effectively. There is also funding available to do home repairs through contractors. Thomas said, “This is the new direction that Rebuilding Together can do, which allows us to have a bigger impact.”

Looking ahead, Thomas envisions a brighter future for RTQAC. More board members, an expanded volunteer network, increased community engagement, and sustained funding are on her radar. There are diverse sources of financial lifelines that power RTQAC’s efforts, including individual donations, government support, and grants from organizations such as the Qlarant Foundation. She envisions a self-sustaining organization, making an enduring difference in the lives of those they serve. “Our goal is to complete eight projects this year and then double that number to 16 next year,” she said. 

—–

For more information and see how you can help Rebuilding Together Queen Anne’s County, please go here.

For more information about the Qlarant Foundation, please go here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Spy Highlights

I’ll Become the Sea by Laura J. Oliver

August 20, 2023 by Laura J. Oliver Leave a Comment

They tell me I can’t stay with him. They are going to do their best to heal my son. He is four years old and getting weaker by the minute. 

“Please!” Andrew calls out as the medical team in their scrubs forcibly restrain him. “I’m not ready!” As if blond hair matted with fever, and not even in kindergarten, he is marshaling his resources and can get ready if they will just give him time.

The surgeon stops on his way to the operating room to explain what this emergency operation will entail and to suggest we wait up in Andrew’s room on the pediatric floor. The doctor’s surgical mask dangles limply around his neck. He is handsome and very young. We could have easily been in the same AP biology class at Northeast High, a public school in a working-class neighborhood.

Upstairs in Andrew’s room, my husband and I sit awkwardly on two straight-backed chairs, afraid to touch anything, as if by being very good waiting parents, we can somehow help our son. An infection has lodged in his elbow that could move to his brain or heart at any time. The doctor says the result would be “unacceptable.” Down the hall, I hear the muffled sounds of a child crying, and for a moment, I picture my life without Andrew. I turn to his father. “Do you ever think about losing one of the children?”

“Of course not,” is the immediate response. I marvel at his unpreparedness. His brazen assumption that the universe is a place of abundance. This will be the difference between us for a long, long time. 

Hours pass, and the door opens. The surgeon stands silhouetted in the frame. “Your son did great,” he reports. “He’s in recovery and should be waking up soon.” Relief floods the room like light from the hall. For the next six weeks, Andrew will require intravenous antibiotics around the clock, but with a port left in his slender arm, we can be taught to administer them at home. My husband is jubilant. Once again, his expectations have been rewarded.  

The door bumps open, and strangers lift Andrew from a gurney onto the waiting bed. He is incoherent, eyes closed, and over the next several hours his face crumples into silent, waterless tears in his sleep. It is almost as if it is not his pain they anesthetized but his ability to communicate it. I fight an impulse to slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed to cover him, healing his body with my own. Gratitude so intense I understand it is joy, makes me believe that I can.

Twelve years later, my husband and I are outside stacking the woodpile. It is a blue and gold fall afternoon, unseasonably warm. I want to take off my work gloves, but the gleeful dog will run off with them.

Andrew slept late and has been in his room most of the day. Occasionally I hear the bathroom door open and close, but no Nirvana blasting down the steps, no telephone. Still, he is home and that means safe, so I go about my chores until suppertime. 

Climbing the stairs, I see there is no light on in Andrew’s room even though the sun has sunk beneath the horizon. There is a soft groan from the bed. He doesn’t feel well he says, and I am shocked to see he is actually under the navy spread. His head hurts; he was up all night, that’s why he’s been trying to sleep. I’m the mother of a teenage boy and skeptical. His father and I went to a movie last night. Maybe someone came over. Cheek to forehead, I feel for fever, bring him ice water and Tylenol, straighten his covers, and go back downstairs, worried about all the wrong things.

I’m scrubbing the pan in which I caramelized pork chops when an apparition appears. Andrew, his face white, squints in the painful light. His head hurts so badly, he says. He grasps the back of a kitchen chair and utters an explicative that is so out of character it breaks the spell of doubt. There are no longer skeptics in the room, only one very sick boy and two suddenly terrified parents. 

We ease Andrew into a chair to ask more detailed questions. When his father asks him to touch his chin to his chest and he can’t, I run for a blanket and the keys to the car. I’ve just reviewed the symptoms of spinal meningitis, and Andrew has all of them.

In the emergency room, he is in so much pain he can barely stay conscious. The pediatrician on duty is a tiny young woman with barrettes in her long dark hair whose shoes must be the size of our seven-year-olds. Andrew lies on the table while she attempts a spinal tap, and my husband grips Andrew’s hands in his own. Every wave of pain that crosses Andrew’s face sweeps across his father’s a second later. He has the position I want in the small room, but I was delayed registering our insurance information. Also, my husband has so rarely been home that there is something sacred about my exclusion. I stand mesmerized, watching as if I don’t know them when in this moment, they are all that I know. 

Again and again, the doctor attempts to get the needle in Andrew’s spine. Her face is flushed; it distresses her to hurt him. She swabs Andrew’s spine, her small deft hands puncturing him again and again. She’s a pediatrician, a children’s doctor. My son, an adolescent, is as tall as his father–a boy in a man’s body. “Stop! It’s the needle,” I say. “The needle must be too small.”

Things go quickly, then. The tap complete, Andrew is admitted. He does indeed have spinal meningitis.

Over the next week, Andrew is kept on intravenous antibiotics and painkillers. His sickness is viral, excruciating, but non-fatal. We bring him pajamas, flowers, and photos of Kaya, his dog. His little sister comes along delighted with the drama and envious that Andrew gets tapioca on a tray. Red Jello. He offers her both with a smile.

We visit every day. Totally present. While Andrew sleeps, I listen to a mother across the hall reading to her child. Her voice is soft with a Japanese accent. “And if you become a boat, I’ll become the wind, and blow you home to me.”  

To pass the time, we recount Andrew’s exploits as a boy– the raft made from detergent bottles, the racing go-cart he designed with the cinderblock brake on a string. And we laugh, touching each other lightly on a shoulder or sleeve, then hush ourselves as if we’ve spoken aloud in a library.

We recall the sleepless nights of the intravenous IVs when Andrew was four, and as the days wear on, the room fills with such tenderness that I’m afraid to acknowledge it for fear it will disappear. 

The day Andrew is discharged, I take down photos taped to the cupboard doors, throw out flowers that have withered. In my exuberance over his recovery, I have to keep myself from talking too much; from repeating the discharge instructions more times than necessary. Parental love is different from other kinds, I think as we drive home. There is an intensity born of gratitude, an element of faith, or at least hope implied in its endurance.

And then you let go. The grand design of the universe requires relentless relinquishment. Your kids move about the world, create families, dream new dreams, and life becomes an effort to stay off stage but in the auditorium. To witness without wanting. They tell me I can’t stay with him. 

If you become a boat, I think, I won’t become the wind, trying to blow you home to me. I’ll become the sea, carrying you wherever you need to go. 

Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here.

 

   

 

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Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, 3 Top Story, Laura

Food Friday: Cream Puffs

August 18, 2023 by Jean Sanders Leave a Comment

During the last summer before COVID we took a memorable trip to New York City. It was July, and it was hot. We pretended that we could keep up with the speedy New Yorkers, striding along the melting sidewalks, jogging in the full sun along the High Line, muscling into the Metropolitan Museum. It gave us plenty of excuses to seek out ice cream, or tall cool drinks. I have never enjoyed air conditioning more than I did that summer.

Near Washington Square, where we caught some nostalgic whiffs of pot wafting above the chess players and skate boarders among the folks fully occupying the park benches, we found a nearly empty restaurant in the afternoon lull between lunch and dinner. We sat at the polished wood bar, dangling our hot feet over the smooth black and white tile floor, drinking restorative Italian beer. It was dark and cool and almost quiet, with muffled clinks of silverware as tables were set for the dinner service, and distantly Frank Sinatra was singing. It was another era.

We met friends for dinner at a restaurant with poised apron-clad waiters, white table cloths and many, many courses. We saw other friends and so enjoyed their neighbor’s pot luck that we missed the Fourth of July fireworks. We went to the theatre. We went to museums. We ate bagels and street vendor hot dogs and New York pizza. On our last night I wore pearls. We strolled through the plaza at Lincoln Center, watching the people milling, and others sitting near the sparkling spray from the fountains while the sun set. We walked through the golden summer evening to a restaurant where we drank frou-frou cocktails and giddily eavesdropped on our closely-packed fellow diners. Dinner proceeded: moules frites for Mr. Sanders, steak frites for me. And then there were the profiteroles. Divine.

As it has been stinky hot here, there and everywhere this summer, I decided last weekend to heat up the kitchen yet again and spent an afternoon attempting to recreate the dessert experience we had had in New York City, back in the before times. I wasn’t going to attempt profiteroles, because I didn’t want to deal with melting ice cream. I thought cream puffs might scratch the itch. And yes, they were everything I had hoped for. I hope you enjoy them, too.

Cream Puffs and Éclairs This is a straight forward recipe; it is just methodical and time consuming. I didn’t need to go to the store, for once: flour, butter, salt and eggs. The basics for choux pastry. I baked 2 dozen cream puffs and froze half of them, which feels like money in the bank. On Thursday morning I still have a plate of 5 filled cream puffs sitting in the fridge; such tempting riches! There will be 4 remaining after my lunch.

I abandoned the King Arthur website’s filling and icing recipes after I baked the choux puffs. I have much better solutions. One of the best cooking secrets I have ever stumbled over is about whipped cream. I am pretty sure the Brits are onto this, because they have Bird’s Custard Powder. We, plucky Americans, have instant vanilla pudding mix. I took 1 cup of heavy cream and whipped it until it was stiff, and then added 1 tablespoon of instant vanilla pudding mix, and 2 teaspoons of powdered sugar. The result is richer than regular whipped cream, but it is lighter than pastry cream. From now on I will be using this lighter homemade-ish pastry cream. Vanilla pudding mix and whipped cream

The icing that the King Arthur site suggests I think is too sweet. The crisp, eggy pastry and the cool, creamy filling deserve a snappy, sophisticated dark chocolate shell. I melted 3 ounces of good bittersweet chocolate (Ghiradelli, thank you very much) with 3 tablespoons of unsalted butter, and a tablespoon-ish glug of cognac. (You can use bourbon.) This was enough chocolate icing for generously dripping over a dozen cream puffs. Here is my Instagram of pouring the chocolate.

Be careful out there. COVID is roaring back. Stay home and enjoy your own cream puffs, and wait for the weather to cool down.

“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life—and travel—leaves marks on you.”
-Anthony Bourdain

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Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Food Friday

Mid-Shore Arts: Something a Little Off the Menu at OOTF

August 16, 2023 by Val Cavalheri Leave a Comment

Gail Patterson is not a typical doctor, just as Out of the Fire is not your typical local restaurant. What these two have in common, though, is what makes them so unique. And it’s a pairing worth exploring.

First, the doctor: Patterson is a year away from retirement after a long and distinguished career as an anesthesiologist. Beyond her regular responsibilities, Patterson devoted more than two decades to volunteering in low- and middle-income countries, providing anesthesia and medical relief. Her global travels, undertaken alongside her profound commitment to her profession, led her to amass an impressive art collection, primarily focusing on Haitian and African pieces.

Gail Patterson

“There was war, poverty, and degradation all over the world,” she said. ‘But the opposite of that was not peace and contentment. It was creation. Art seemed to be the most hopeful and powerful – the opposite of soul-crushing.” 

It became something Patterson knew she wanted to share with others. 

Holly Jackson

In 2012, Patterson established her online gallery, Spiralis, and was accepted into prestigious art fairs such as Art Basel in Miami and the Outsider Art Fair in New York City (‘the’ premier fair dedicated to self-taught art). “I was very lucky,” she said about being selected so early on in her new endeavor. But running an art gallery while working 80+ hours a week in ORs soon became an overwhelming challenge. Although she continued to collect art, she temporarily put her gallery idea aside until it could be a full-time pursuit. 

With her retirement around the corner, Patterson is now ready.

As before, Spiralis focuses on Afro-Caribbean works and ‘outsider’ self-taught artists. “I’ve always felt that there’s something special about self-taught, honest art, without the confines and conventions of classical art teaching. It is just something that comes out of an artist’s soul and has to go into the world,” said Patterson.


Enter Out of the Fire, known for its wood-fired cuisine, fresh ingredients, curated wine list, and welcoming atmosphere. Its walls have also served as a canvas for local artists to exhibit their artwork and for diners to experience while enjoying their food. Patterson, a long-time customer of the establishment, had always appreciated the ever-changing art, which brought “new and vibrant energy to the restaurant.” 

It was restaurant owner Amy Haines who suggested a collaboration—given that Spiralis Gallery didn’t yet have space in Easton, how about doing something at Out of the Fire? Patterson invited Hines to view her collection, and that made it happen for both. “When I saw her art work, I was immediately taken by it and thought this could be really powerful,” Hines said, adding: “This is the first time I’ve hosted a gallery and have had art done by other than local artists.” 

The collaboration works. “Amy has been lovely and incredibly kind. She’s deeply supportive,” said Patterson.” And that support has extended to patrons of both art and the restaurant. Patterson was gratified and surprised at the sizable crowd attending the opening night of the Out of the Fire Spiralis exhibition, titled Things Fall Together. Word-of-mouth has further fueled interest since then.

Running through October 1st, the exhibition features works by Haitian artist Mireille Delice who incorporates sequins and beads in his designs; Haitian impressionist Desarmes; oil painter Gerard; Liberian artist Leslie Lumeh; ONEL (aka Lionel Paul), whose work is highlighted on the postcard; and others.

The display also showcases pieces by local creators represented by Patterson, including Holly Jackson, a young fiber artist who uses centuries-old embroidery techniques to address modern issues such as climate change and women’s rights. Their partnership surprised Jackson: “When you are self-taught and make something really different, the gallery route usually seems reserved for those with formal art school education. But with Gail’s selection of artists, there is a shared commonality that I can’t name, but it’s there. There is also a message that she wants to make it easier for me to continue to do exactly what I’ve been doing and it feels right.” 

But it is not only the artist whose lives Patterson wants to touch or change through the works she chooses for her gallery. “I want to be able to spark meaningful conversations through story-driven art,” she says. “You can love, hate, understand, or not get it at all, just so it starts a human conversation.” She also hopes to build connections with underserved groups in Easton, including the local Haitian population, by teaming up with Chesapeake Multicultural Center. “I would like to create some community where maybe none exists.” Lastly, she hopes the gallery can be a spiritual experience, echoing the sentiments expressed in a quote by Haitian artist Denis Smith (translated from Creole): “It’s not really me that travels the world. It’s my spirit through my artwork.”  

For now, these and other spirits can be seen either at Out of the Fire or on the Spiralis website. There you will also find some helpful features, including ‘View it in a Room,’ where you can visualize a piece you’re interested in above a bed or bench or an augmented reality function that allows you to project the art onto a wall in your home. And that’s important for Patterson, who emphasizes the sensory and organic nature of art appreciation: “Art is an experience that should bring joy and connection.”

Patterson is grateful that Easton, including the art community, has been receptive and welcoming, and she looks forward to bringing some new voices into the Easton art scene. She may be retiring from medicine, but her next chapter is just beginning.

Spiralis Gallery: https://spiralisgallery.com

Out of the Fire: 111 South Washington St., Easton, MD. https://www.outofthefire.com

 

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Edward’s Pharmacy: 60 Years of Trust, Loyalty, and Community Service

August 14, 2023 by Brent Lewis 2 Comments

In 2024, Edward’s Pharmacy, right in the heart of Centreville at the corner of Commerce and Water Street, will celebrate its 60th year of providing health care services to our community.

Some readers might be surprised to find out there’s been a drug store at that location even longer than that.

J. Thomas Holland operated a home goods business there before the dawn of the 20th century. Dispensing medicine was part of his trade. He started training a young Centreville native and aspiring druggist named J. West Thompson in 1909. Thompson worked at the store for 30 years before buying it from Holland when he retired. Jim ‘Doc’ Edwards purchased the business in 1964. After the devastating downtown fire of 1968, Doc rebuilt and rebranded.  The Edwards kept the store in the family until selling it to pharmacist Shalendra Anil Cherukuri in 2007.

Dr. Cherukuri, Anil to friends old and new, earned his bachelor’s degree in pharmacy at India’s Sri Ramachandra Harvard Medical International and his master’s degree in the U.S. Active in various professional pharmaceutical associations and nonprofits, Anil also owns several other pharmacies, of which he considers his Centreville location a model store – particularly with regards to customer service. He says, “I want all my pharmacies to provide the level of engagement, the Eastern Shore style of interacting, that the staff at Edward’s has.”

Some folks on that staff have been there for more than 20 years. QACTV personality Mandy Leager is one of them. Hired in 2000 right out of Queen Anne’s County High School, Mandy has done a little bit of everything at Edward’s from the one hour photo and passport duties to delivering prescriptions “from the Bay Bridge to Rock Hall.” She says the type of service Anil refers to comes from striving to “build relationships, build trust. We work hard to really know our customers and what they need.”

Anil agrees a key factor in the long standing good reputation of Edward’s Pharmacy is loyalty, the loyalty he gets from his staff, the loyalty the staff provides their customers, and the loyalty their customers have for Edward’s. He says, “We have customers who drive from Kent Island, from across the Bay Bridge, who pass by seven or eight pharmacies to come to Edward’s. Imagine that. There must be a reason. I stress to my team that our job is to make life happier, not more miserable.

Dr. Anil Cherukuri

“And” Anil continues, “the town is always so supportive. It has been such a great experience in my life. For example, they had to work on the street outside. For two years our customers couldn’t get to our parking lot. But they didn’t abandon us for an inconvenience. In Centreville it feels like our customers care that we’re here. Our customers show up. They’re there for us. That’s not always the same everywhere else.

“So you have to do what you can to give back. To return that loyalty. We try to always support local organizations, charities, churches, schools. We support our community. We want to make a positive difference.”

Combining traditional service standards with modernizing the store’s technology and infrastructure to dispense prescriptions more safely and efficiently is an ongoing goal. To meet those efforts, Edward’s not only provides in-house compounding and lab facilities, but has implemented such services as prescriptions-by-mail and medication synchronization so that all of the customer’s medicines can be renewed on the same day instead of the staggered dates of the original prescriptions. Home healthcare products available include walkers, wheelchairs, recline chairs, shower benches, and a variety of medical supplies. Beds and lifts can be rented.

Part of Mandy Leager’s somewhat ambiguous job description at Edward’s includes stocking the store’s Hallmark Gold Crown Card and Gift Center. Aiming to always offer a selection of carefully curated items to go along with the exclusive Hallmark gifts and cards offered as a Gold Crown store, Mandy says she seeks out merchandise “you can’t find anywhere else. When someone buys something, we want them to remember where they got it.” This would include all kinds of home décor, jewelry, books by local authors, candles, ornaments, celebration balloons, toys and plushies, Queen Anne’s, Maryland, and Chesapeake themed souvenirs, and gear for fans of the Orioles, Ravens, and QACHS Lions. Among the many unique items currently showcased are handcrafted custom collectables from Rowe Pottery and local honey from the Eastern Shore’s own Lazy B Apiary.

Back in the pharmacy, an important part of Anil’s approach to his business is “no finger-pointing.”  When it comes to the complexities of working with doctors’ offices and insurances companies and customers who might be in pain or despair, Anil says, “When there are problems, discuss solutions, not what happened. It can be hard for the patient. Their health might be in serious danger. I tell my team, “Treat every person like they’re your mom.”

Mandy provides further insight: “Edward’s fills up to 400 prescriptions a day. We have 17 full time employees. It’s non-stop and a big part of our job involves medicine. That means the pharmacy is responsible for people’s health, their lives. It can be intensely stressful. The hardest part can be dealing with the complicated decisions and situations outside of our control but we always try not to let that affect how we treat our customers.

“Because what they want to know is that we care.”

Edward’s Pharmacy, open Monday-Friday from 8 am to 6 pm and Saturday from 8 am to 2 pm, is an EPIC-affiliated independent pharmacy located at 102 S. Commerce in Centreville. https://www.edwardspharmacy.com

Brent Lewis is a native Chesapeake Bay Eastern Shoreman. He has published two nonfiction books about the region, “Remembering Kent Island: Stories from the Chesapeake” and a “History of the Kent Island Volunteer Fire Department.” His most recent book, “Stardust By The Bushel: Hollywood On The Chesapeake Bay’s Eastern Shore”won a 2023 Independent Publishers award. His first novel, Bloody Point 1976, won an Honorable Mention Award at the 2015 Hollywood Book Festival. He and his wife Peggy live in Centreville, Maryland.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 1 Homepage Slider, Spy Highlights

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