Tourists

I have been able to travel extensively, both on business and pleasure. Our whole family (of 25!) went to Angkor Wat in Siem Reap, Cambodia in the late 1990’s shortly after Cambodia opened its borders. For me, it was inspirational. We were virtually the only guests in a brand new Sofitel hotel and were able to wander freely through the 72 temples stretched over 400 acres. We could touch the temples, walk through them, feel their spirituality, climb the trees that grew through them. Our college-educated, English speaking guide told us the story of his entire family being massacred by the Pol Pot regime. Pol Pot feared intellectuals and our guide’s well-educated family were among the first to be slaughtered. Being in the presence of these mystical temples, listening to his stories about life during Pol Pot, and absorbing everyday life in Cambodia was an incredible learning experience. I remember asking him if the anger at losing his entire family consumed him. He looked at me quizzically.

“Oh, no,” he replied. “I have forgiven them. Our country was pillaged by Pol Pot, all of our teak trees were chopped down and sold, our minerals and jewels gone, all of the valuables that this country possessed have been sold. We have to forgive and move on. It is the Buddhist way. We want to open our country to tourism; Angor Wat is all that we have left. Living in the past just leaves us stuck in the past.”

I never forgot his words.

So, when a friend told me that she was traveling to Angkor Wat, I excitedly told her about how moving the trip was. I extolled its mysticism, the wisdom of the people. I promised her a life changing experience.

It was not even close.

She couldn’t wait to leave Angkor Wat. It was overrun with tourists, all of them jostling for the best position to snap selfies. It was impossible to move without disturbing an Instagram post. Angkor Wat and the other temples were roped off to prevent the mobs of tourists from destroying them. Far from being a spiritual experience, it amounted to seeing structures from a distance and trying not to be run over by the thousands of tourists taking pictures.

And in a nutshell, that describes what has happened to tourism in 20 years.

It is estimated that over 1.4 billion vacationers toured this planet in 2022. The sheer crush of humanity, disrespectful tourists, and fake attractions have destroyed some of my favorite places.

And social media photos have become the prime reason for those under 33 to choose a destination. Over 40% of all vacationers said they would not go to a place where they couldn’t take selfies. Instead of experiencing these sites with all of their senses, they are seeing it through a tiny lens.

Crafty entrepreneurs recognize an opportunity and now there are exotic animals (all abused) to have selfies taken with. Cruel elephant and exotic animal shows and encounters, enclosures where tourists can take selfies with drugged and tortured animals, are the new “tourism.” (In one facility, the trainers tie the elephants’ trunks at night to prevent them from committing suicide.)

Arguably, the worst is unscrupulous voluntourism. “Voluntourists” are individuals, school groups, and faith-based groups who take their vacation time to go to third world countries to help those in need. These exceptionally kind and generous people spend their valuable vacation time and money to “do good,” unaware that their presence can be causing irreparable harm. They may be building structures and providing aid that will go unused or into the pockets of the director. And they become invested and provide a source for future donations as well.

Arguably the most deceitful voluntourism destinations are orphanages, where volunteers arrive to teach and cuddle children while donating large sums of money to the orphanage. Sadly, many orphanages have been built to meet this demand. Save the Children estimates that 80% of children sent to orphanages have at least one parent, who, living in poverty, believe that this is a better opportunity for their children. Indeed, children are actively recruited into orphanages to meet the demand of tourists and donors. The psychological costs are high, attachment disorders are common, and the statistics are crushing: 1 in 3 end up homeless; 1 in 7 turn to prostitution; 1 in 5 commit crimes; and 1 in 10 commit suicide.

Suppose that you are child, and your mother or father abandons you to an orphanage. People who do not speak your language come and visit and hug you and teach you and then in a week or two, donate large sums to the orphanage and leave. Imagine this cycle repeating again and again. After learning the facts, one chastised tourist likened it to treating children like zoo animals.

The numbers are staggering; in Cambodia, the number of orphanages grew 75% in five years despite there being no increase in orphans. It is so problematic that some international travel groups have removed all orphanage visits from their advertised trips. It is now recommended that travel and tourism companies, school groups, faith-based organizations and travelers refrain from visiting, volunteering in, or funding orphanages. Until this ends, children will continue to be abused and separated from their families.

Fragile beaches, landmarks, and structures are being closed or marked off to prevent further damage. Go on YouTube and you will find videos of people destroying thousand-year-old structures, torturing harmless animals, and even one man carrying a dolphin out of the water and placing it on the sand. Recently a tourist apologized for etching his and his girlfriend’s name on the Roman Colosseum, claiming he didn’t know it was so old (his stunt was videoed by another tourist allowing the Italian government to find and prosecute him).

Since I live in two tourist towns, I have experienced tourism as both a tourist and a landowner. St. Michaels is a sedate little tourist town, with lovely hotels, leafy streets, sleepy waterways, nature preserves, a world-class museum, and a minimal night life. While our taxes are high, we benefit from the delicious restaurants, charming shops, and natural surroundings. The vast majority of the tourists are quiet and respectful.

Key West, on the other hand, is a famous international destination and suffers because of it. With multiple cruise ships arriving daily and a reputation for an exciting nightlife, Key West is a target for the wrong kind of tourism. After discovering that cruise ship travelers spend $32 per visit (compared to $550 by other tourists), leave substantial waste, and that the cruise ships are causing environmental damage to the reefs; the residents overwhelmingly (85%) passed a city referendum to prohibit large cruise ships. Even the local merchants campaigned against cruise ships.

But Florida is the land of Ron DeSantis, so the owner of the cruise ship ports donated $1 million to his campaign fund and voila, the next year the legislature passed a law prohibiting local municipalities from banning large cruise ships. So, the reefs and oceans that began to revive during COVID are being destroyed again.

On vacation many tourists leave their inhibitions behind, in Key West that has resulted in killing pelicans, chickens, and other wildlife (because its “fun”) and wandering the streets in rowdy boisterous groups. The worst is spring break, where the hotel rooms are crammed beyond occupancy rates with college students, and the city is inundated with carousing, carefree young people driving drunk on mopeds, having sex on the beaches, building fires, while consuming mass quantities of alcohol and drugs. The next day, Key West dusts off the remnants of the nights while city workers clean up the broken beer bottles, used condoms, and litter on the beaches. While each hotel has room occupancy limits, many look the other way, and the beaches, bars, and restaurants are filled with people who have left their sensibilities home. I saw a tourist in his 50’s throwing empty bottles at our chickens and extolling his pals to do the same, smiling and saying “Hey, it’s Key West, anything goes here.” Well, not exactly.

Duval Street is known for its colorful history and its pub crawl, which could include up to 43 bars, although the traditional pub crawl is fewer than 10 in a single night. Needless to say, this does not produce the most respectful guest. Most permanent residents live far away from the bacchanal on Duval.

So, what’s a tourist to do? Well, definitely not stop. Tourism accounts for one in nine jobs globally. And developing countries depend on tourism revenues.

But we now need to do our own research before we travel. If you are one of those amazingly generous individuals who wants to do voluntourism, do your research. Make sure that you are working with an organization that has a stellar record. Verify that the money is going to the residents and not some unscrupulous tour operator. If you are traveling to a developing country, make sure that you are leaving your money with the locals. Today, many tourist locations have open markets where the money goes to the makers. Locals rarely benefit from the money spent by cruise ship travelers. Cruise ships direct tourists to vendors from whom they get a percentage of the sales.

And do your research about when to go. My daughter and I assumed (and you know what assume means…) that September would be the best time to visit Rome, thinking that the children would be in school. Research would have made us aware that it is the most popular time to visit. The crunch of tourists made it difficult for us to spend meaningful time in the places that we planned to see.

And please remember, you are visiting is someone’s home…please be a respectful guest.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

I was raised to be a racist, by kind, generous, well-meaning parents who didn’t know any better. When the schools were integrated in my 5^th grade year, it took less than a year to realize that everything that I had been taught was a lie. My parents had been taught the same lies. But exposure made the walls tumble down.

I cannot fathom the bravery and courage it took for those black students and teachers to move to the oppressor’s school. But their presence caused most white students to wake up to how we had been indoctrinated and misled. Yet, some of our parents tried to keep those walls up; even protesting (wait for it) the school electing a black homecoming queen. Parents demanded that the homecoming queen be white, so for several years, we had the ridiculous solution of separate black and white homecoming queens.

The segregationists got it right, race mixing is thriving. And now, I see more and more different colors in America. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the 4^th of July!

But I never heard my parents’ views on homosexuality. Our family had no “funny” uncles or spinster aunts. Our large family was pure cis (for those who don’t know what cis means, it is a person whose gender identity aligns with the sex at birth).

I was a bookish, introverted, scared teenager. I was afraid of the opposite sex and concerned about not fitting in, especially not dating. I never learned the language of extended eye gazes, winks, smiles, and flirtatious body movements. I didn’t even know that I was pretty until my college roommate informed me of it. I believed that she was an idiot, but I wasn’t going to dispel her of her uninformed opinion.

To deal with my insecurities, I mostly “dated” gay teenagers who were also hiding. It was a perfect solution for both of us, no pressure for sex, just two people having a good time, serving as each other’s beard. One summer I went away to an advanced Spanish program at the University of Kansas. I immediately latched onto my gay “boyfriend.” We enjoyed each other’s company so much and developed such a trust that he took me to an illegal gay bar. In the 1960s, surreptitious illegal bars catering to gays and lesbians were known among the LBGTQ+ community. The police knew about them too and periodically raided them, arresting the patrons and printing the names of arrestees in the newspaper. The famous Stonewall uprising that occurred on June 28, 1969, in Greenwich Village served as a turning point for those mass arrests. The LBGTQ+ population fought back, and the world was never the same again.

Going to that illegal bar was a life-changing experience. In my wide-eyed naivete, I must have insulted them in every way possible. But they were gracious, and each told me their stories. I kept saying (cringeworthy, I know), “But you look so regular!”

Fortunately, they were entertained by my innocence and acceptance and a maybe a little proud that they were able to conceal their identities so well. Many were middle-aged men and women; couples getting the chance to go out and enjoy themselves. I talked to a schoolteacher and librarian lesbian couple, who smiled at my naïve questions about how they could live their lives in such secrecy. A group of men proclaimed that I was going to make my “boyfriend” heterosexual. We all laughed at that. (That was back in the days of “the love of a good woman…”) Everyone insisted on buying me a drink (yes, I was underage, but that was the least of their fears). I left a convert. I adored them. I admired them. Exposure.

But what I didn’t see was the price that these wonderful people were paying. While I was enjoying myself, expanding my world, they were hiding theirs. If there was a police raid on the bar, they would have been arrested, their names displayed in the paper. They would have lost their jobs, their families, and some of their friends and colleagues if their secret was exposed. So, they had to live pretend lives. Lives that I found so charming were actually desperate attempts to “fit” into a society that painted them as evil.

Several years ago, I watched a play about Casa Susanna. American Experience recently released a documentary about this unique 1960s motel. Casa Susanna consisted of a series of bungalows owned by Marie and Tito (Susanna) Valenti in the Catskills. It was a place where crossdressing men, their wives, and transgender women came to spend a glorious weekend out of the shadows. They dressed in typical 1960s housewife attire and even put on some shows.

Casa Susanna was run by a husband and wife team. Susanna (Tito) married a progressive woman who wanted to help this community. They met while he was trying on wigs in her wig shop.

In the documentary about Casa Susanna, American Experience profiled two transgender women and relatives of men (including Susanna/Tito) who were crossdressers.

In that happy place, the lies, the sadness, the feelings of not fitting in didn’t check in. In Casa Susanna they could bask in acceptance; something that we take for granted. But after they left Casa Susanna, they had to live their lies, not lives, in the shame of not being “normal.” And those lies created a profound darkness that constantly shrouded their lives. Living in the shadows.

The documentary was meant to be upbeat; celebrating a place where people got to be themselves for a weekend. But the pain of their ostracism was ever present. Two transgender women spoke of trying to make their early marriages work (their wives married them knowing their secret). The cost of living the lives that God gave them was heartbreak. One transgender woman was never able to have children. The other had three children during her first marriage, but two refuse any contact with her. In the 60’s, it was achingly hard to live in the shadows.

Not all cross dressers became women, some feared the painful and expensive operations. Others preferred to be men in a binary world. But trying to assimilate in a world that punished them for who they were came at a high cost. One man hated himself so much that his daughter reported that he was a moody, self-loathing, cruel father and husband.

Today, some people are trying to bring back those times; banning books, protesting a male library clerk wearing makeup, putting in anti-LBGTQ+ laws, allowing shops to discriminate, and boycotting businesses that feature an LBGTQ+ character in their advertising. To date, there are over 650 new proposed laws that qualify as anti-LBGTQ+, many target transgender youths. In 19 states there are bans on trans youths participating in school sports. In 7 states, trans students are not allowed to use bathrooms that match their gender identity.

Why? Because these people don’t want their children exposed to them, or maybe they are even afraid of the LGBTQ+ community. They learned the lessons of integration. Exposure = acceptance.

Netflix has a series called Glamorous. The lead character, Marco, wears makeup, earrings, crop tops, jeans, and heels. It is a story of how he learns to negotiate the world and maintain his identity. In the beginning, I found his appearance a little unsettling. But by the middle of the series, when he stopped wearing makeup to appease his boyfriend, I began thinking how he didn’t look as cute without his makeup and heels. I wanted him to return to his style. That is what exposure does. (Note: the actor, Miss Benny, has since come out as a transgender woman.)

Some of the opponents of the LBGTQ+ community are Christian fundamentalists. As a Christian myself, it frustrates me when people use Christianity to punish people who are different. The Bible has over 50 references admonishing adultery, even banning adultery in the commandments. Yet, there are only 7 references to homosexuality. Which does the Bible think is more important?

Let’s face it, for all of us (myself included), the Bible is a “pick and choose” document. It tells stories of rape, slavery, polygamy, animal sacrifice, stealing a brother’s birthright, very restrictive dietary laws—and these are the good guys. Those behaviors are not acceptable today. So why decide that homosexuality is worse than say, adultery?

We know why. Adultery is something that we can relate to. We see someone who commits adultery as a good person who made a mistake (love the sinner, hate the sin). We know these people.

However, if these anti-LBGQ+ groups can keep a distance from the LGBTQ+ community, they can be comfortable legislating against them, and condemning their “sins” because they are “other.” Imagine if we had the same laws for adulterers that we are proposing against the LGBTQ+ community?

As a mother, I also understand. Some parents are convinced that these differences are a choice and are concerned that their sexually insecure teens might be influenced by exposure to the LBGTQ+ community. Science and personal histories prove that this is NOT a choice. We also have an example in our recent history that negates that hypothesis. I remember when gays and lesbians were banned from teaching; based on the fear that they would influence their students to become homosexual. That fear turned out to be just that, a completely groundless fear.

In the 1940s and 1950s, the Kinsey Institute revealed that sexuality is not as set as some members of society want it to be. In fact, sexuality is fluid for a large number of people: many are interested only in the opposite sex, others are only attracted to their own sex, many are interested in both sexes, and some are born questioning their gender identity. The only thing that has changed since that time appears to be the ability to bring it out in the open.

And listening to the stories of those transgender women made me realize how overwhelming the trans urge was and how painful it was to keep it closeted. Those transgender women had to be willing to give up everything to live their lives without torment. And despite all of their losses, they knew that they didn’t really have a choice, at all, they were women.

Hearing their stories made it abundantly clear that if we continue down this path of putting people back in the closet, a lot of people will suffer.

Let’s not go back there.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

It is summertime and some of you may be caring for another dog while the owners are away. I have been asked for advice, so I am offering unsolicited advice to all of my unsuspecting readers. My advice is based on my experience, books, and videos, not any formal training or certification.

And I can guarantee you that every dog trainer will probably disagree with some of my opinions. All us dog people are crazy.

People believe that I am a dog whisperer. I am not, but I have fostered and rehabilitated over 200 rescue dogs. My experience is with small dogs that have been surrendered to shelters, rescued from puppy mills, abused by owners, picked up as strays, or rescued from a hoarding situation. The dogs that I worked with were often fearful, damaged, biting, or insecure dogs. So, I tend to anticipate worst case scenarios.

There are different training techniques that I categorize into two groups: assertive training (e.g., Cesar Millan), and reward based training. In my opinion, both are useful for different issues. Assertive training works well for aggressive behaviors (e.g., object/leash/food aggression, biting, disrespect, anxiety). Reward-based training is effective for teaching dogs the rules of human homes (e.g., housetraining, chewing, bad habits).

First a digression. I disagree with one of the most common behaviors that I witness when people approach an unfamiliar dog. They ask the owner if they can pet the dog (good!) and then lean toward the dog and put their hand out for the dog to sniff (not good!). In my opinion, this is a dangerous and unnecessary gesture that can lead to unexpected bites. Here’s why.

By the time you approach the dog, it has already learned about you from its superior sense of smell. It knows your gender, if you have pets, your age group (e.g., child or adult), and similarities to its humans. (Most dogs are not able to generalize, and insecure dogs can be fearful of someone who doesn’t share the characteristics of their humans.) Not only will the dog not gain additional information from sniffing your hand, but the gestures of leaning over and sticking out a hand can be perceived as disrespectful, threatening, and even aggressive to a small and insecure dog.

This is what I recommend. First, ask the owner if you can pet the dog. Maintain your distance (at least 4-5 feet), talk softly at the dog, smile, and make eye contact during the encounter. Observe the dog’s behavior. If it is holding your gaze, moving toward you in a playful manner, getting close to you, it wants to be petted (tail wagging is usually playful, but not with aggressive dogs). If it stays back, hides behind its owner, avoids your gaze, growls, shows its teeth, stares in a menacing way, or moves away, it is doesn’t want contact. It is nervous, and nervous dogs are not always predictable. In this sequence you have demonstrated respect to the dog because you didn’t invade its personal space, you asked permission, and you respected its answer.

This is what I do with small dogs (but I recommend this only if you are experienced and can speak “dog”). I ask the owner if I can pet the dog. Then I squat down at the dogs level about 4 feet away from the dog. I talk softly, smile, and maintain friendly eye contact with the dog. In this simple gesture I have communicated that I respect it, and that the dog can trust me (because I made myself vulnerable). I wait for it to tell me what it wants. Since dogs are social creatures, they want a connection, but some are just too fearful, too sheltered, or too protective. If the dog exhibits any of the behaviors that I mentioned above, I stand up, compliment the owner on what a cute dog it is (have you ever seen a dog who is not cute?), make smiling eye contact with the dog and walk away.

Over time, the dog will realize that I am not a threat. One of the dogs who is now a frequent visitor at my home required several encounters before he was willing to trust me. It was simply a matter of allowing him to make contact on his terms.

On the other hand, if you are approaching a confident dog or puppy, they are usually fine with the approach of sticking out your hand.

It is easy to miss the cues a dog is giving. Before I began rehabilitating dogs, my toddler daughter and I were visiting some close friends and their Airedale bit my daughter in the face. It was our fault.

The Airedale had never encountered children and my toddler made him nervous. My daughter was fascinated by him, didn’t touch him, but followed him when he tried to move away. Frustrated, he eventually growled. His owners continued to assure me, don’t worry, he loves everyone. Frustrated by our unwillingness to help him, he finally bit her, but he didn’t break skin (this is a sign of a fearful or frustrated dog, an aggressive dog breaks skin and can be VERY dangerous). The purpose of the bite was to get her to go away. Nonaggressive dogs bite as their LAST resort, after they have tried everything to get you to listen.

Immediately she looked at me to learn how she should react. I smiled and praised her and explained that the dog was cranky, and it was his way of saying he wanted to be alone. Then we created a game about what cranky people and animals might do. By downplaying the incident, she never developed a fear of dogs.

Now, back to that canine visitor. Prior to the visit, put all dog toys and treats out of reach. Once you can ascertain that your dog isn’t jealous or aggressive, you can put them back. Next, imagine what is going on in the canine visitor’s mind. She (I am using a female pronoun for the canine visitor, but this applies to both male and female visitors) believes she has been abandoned, into a world where she doesn’t know the rules. She might be stressed or anxious.

Begin by gently teaching her the house rules (treats can be helpful); reward her for going to the bathroom outside, show her the dog cushions, etc. Every time you reward the visitor, reward your dog as well. If you have another dog, put away any of the visitor’s dog toys until the dogs get to know each other. For the next three days, your canine visitor will probably follow you everywhere because you are her only link to her previous life. If you have a dog, give affection, treats, and food to your dog first. This sets the rule. The new dog must learn her secondary position in the pack.

If your canine visitor is an only dog, she is used to being the queen of the castle. She will behave as she has learned to behave in her home, namely, she is the top dog. But not in your home. I use a petting technique to teach visitors their position in the pack. I put my canine visitor in a sit while she watches me pet my dogs first. Then I put my dogs in a sit and pet her, giving her a little extra affection for waiting so patiently. I repeat this until all dogs learn their place in the pack.

Your dog will teach the visitor the rules of the house. But if your dog becomes jealous, you need to pay close attention, especially if you have a bossy (alpha) or older dog.

Dogs typically have a disciplinary progression with other dogs. In the first progression, they turn their head away or move away. If the visitor doesn’t respect your dog’s space, your dog will make a low, soft growl. Each time your dog makes a proper correction, praise him. (A common mistake is to discipline your dog for growling, but in dog language it is a perfectly acceptable and respectful way to communicate.) If the visitor refuses to listen, the next correction is a louder, more menacing growl…this is an acceptable and routine escalation, so do not correct your dog. But, it is getting tense, and you need to act. Move the canine visitor away, put her in a sit, speak gently, give her a single pet, but do not try to comfort her, she is learning.

The next escalation by your dog should be a snap, not a bite. Now you are approaching the danger zone, the next correction is likely to be an attack.

Make eye contact and speak sternly to the offender (your dog or the visitor) then immediately separate the dogs and keep them apart until both dogs relax. (Remember, comforting a dog is actually rewarding it. Be stern and confident but don’t yell, they need to settle themselves down.) Sometimes it is safer to put them in different rooms, but that can sometimes take them longer to settle.

This is the normal correction/escalation process in dog language, if either dog jumps to the “triple dog dare,” act quickly to avoid a fight.

If the visitor becomes aggressive, remove her immediately from the situation. She is trying to set the rules. (There are exceptions, of course, if your dog is a “chill” dog, it may not mind if the visitors runs the show.) Each time the visitor shows aggression, show your displeasure (by gazing into her eyes reproachfully), and remove her until she calms down.

Sometimes the stress of being in a new home can cause visitors to have accidents and your dog to mark (both male and female). This is annoying, but normal, the visitor may feel nervous and either dog may wish to mark their territory.

As for sleeping arrangements, that depends your dog’s current sleeping habits. If you have more than one dog, treat the canine visitor the same as your pack. Putting the visitor in a crate while the others are walking freely can cause the pack to gang up on her.

We have a saying in rescue: three days, three weeks. In three days, the situation will settle and work well. In three weeks, the visitor is completely comfortable in this arrangement. (But don’t worry dog owners, as soon as your dog sees you, she will go bananas, and a joyful homecoming will ensue.)

If you follow these rules, by Day 3, all should be calm. As you can see from this picture, my bossy 15 year old Maltese-mix, Gus, is sharing his space with an adorable, super high energy puppy visitor. It took the full three days, because the sweet, stubborn, little visitor wanted to play and both of my elderly dogs’ preferred to nap.

If both dogs are young, play with the dogs together. Play fetch, run, take brisk walks, all of these will bond the visitor to your pack. Use these games to teach them their status in the pack. (But avoid aggressive games such as tug, this can cause redirected aggression—where one dog transfers his excitement/aggression to the other dog).

These are just a few of the lessons that I have learned. I can assure you right now that there are dog trainers, dog owners, and dog behaviorists right now that are shaking their heads and proclaiming me a moron.

After all, all dog people are crazy.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

This column, like many, is inspired by a documentary. I am an avid consumer of documentaries. The plethora of streaming channels make more available, especially those that did not get their due when they were first released. Tim’s Vermeer is one such documentary. Released in 2013, it is now available on Hulu.

While the title seemed silly, the first five minutes of the documentary grabbed me. An inventor, Tim Jenison, announced that he was going to attempt to paint a Vermeer. His only drawback—he wasn’t a painter and had no artistic training. Instead, Jenison was an inventor whose interest was in making machines work and inventing devices for television and movie graphics.

It sounded like the height of hubris.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: I know little virtually nothing about art, so without art history education, I can easily be misled.

Johannes Vermeer was a Dutch painter in the 1650’s. His works are simply magnificent, with images that appear to pop and feature brilliant details and perspective. (He is my favorite artist.) Unlike most painters of his day, his subjects were primarily women and girls, which seem to give his paintings an inherent sweetness. His detailed backgrounds, clothing, furniture, and facial expressions allow me to imagine what life was like back in Delft, Netherlands. I can feel how stiff and scratchy their clothes were, how plain their everyday objects were, how hard life was. Sometimes his subjects are working (The Milkmaid, The Lacemaker, The Art of Painting), others (Girl with a Pearl Earring) are wearing enigmatic expressions that inspire our imaginations.

So, why did Jenison think that he could paint such a master work of art with no training? Well, because two men, one an art historian, the other a famous artist, have posited that Vermeer and other great painters used optics to assist them.

In 2002, David Hockney, arguably the most famous living artist, wrote Secret Knowledge, a book based on a year of study that convinced him that in the mid 1400’s there was an inexplicable artistic leap in paintings that could not be explained. This was a sea change in art from two dimensional to detailed three dimensional paintings. To explain it, he hypothesized that some of these artists, especially the Dutch, used lenses to help them. A year before, Philip Steadman published books to “prove” that Vermeer used optics.

Hockney’s argument was that this giant leap in painting realism in the mid-1400s stretched credulity to accept that artists somehow made such a major leap in talent in a short time period. He posited that in the mid- 1400s some artists were using optics, specifically Van Eyck, Carravagio, Campin, and van der Weyden. And if you look at those artists through that lens (no pun intended), these paintings do appear similar to camera or video images.

Most art historians disagreed, believing that the use of lenses was a “cheat” of sorts and diminished the talents of the artist.

But it does seem possible that Vermeer used optical lenses. There are several “tells.” First, there are no preliminary sketches of his paintings, many artists sketch before painting (e.g., Van Gogh). X-rays of Vermeer’s paintings reveal no painted over sketch marks either. Secondly, Vermeer painted few paintings in his lifetime (36 confirmed works) compared to other artists. The optical technique that Jenison proposes is very time-consuming. (Although, it is also believed that Vermeer only painted part-time.) Another fact to fuel this hypothesis is that there is no evidence that Vermeer apprenticed with an artist or had artistic training. (Although little is known about Vermeer.) One of the facts that is in evidence is that the Dutch were experts in lenses and optics. It is also known that Vermeer lived next to a prodigious and skilled lens maker who produced very high quality lenses and mirrors. In addition, all of Vermeer’s works were roughly the size of a camera obscura painting (more about that later). Finally, scientists who are experts in human perception have proved that due to image compression in the brain, it is impossible for the eye to see the kind of detail on walls that Vermeer produced.

Vermeer is said to have “painted with light.” His portraits captivate us, his scenes inform us, and his love for each detail renders everyday living in the Netherlands conceivable. Of course, video is projected light.

Many art historians now accept that in order to paint large scenes in perfect perspective, some artists may have used a camera obscura. A tell-tale sign that a camera obscura was used can be the size of the paintings, which tended to be small (30 square centimeters).

A camera obscura (Latin for dark chamber) is a darkened room with a small hole or lens that lets light in and projects a reversed and inverted image on the back wall. It provides artists with perfect perspective and size.

After reading Hockney’s work, Jenison decided to test this hypothesis by creating a Vermeer. He chose The Music Lesson, which is owned by the British Windsors. The first challenge was to design an optical configuration that Vermeer could have used. Jenison invented a method of projecting the image from a camera obscura with a 4-inch lens onto a 7-inch concave mirror. Then the image from the concave mirror reflected onto a 2-inch-by-4-inch mirror. This made the image brighter and sharper and also allowed Jenison to put this mirror in front and directly above the canvas. Jenison simply painted a copy of the image on the mirror and used the edge of the mirror to determine when the image and color were perfect. Clearly a perfectionist, Jenison built the set, ground the lenses to the level of precision that Vermeer would have been able to access, formulated and mixed the pigments, everything to make it authentic to the time of Vermeer. It took over 220 hours to paint Vermeer’s The Music Lesson. (His daughter, who attended the Rhode Island School of Design, taught Jenison basic brush strokes. All total, the project took almost 8 years; and it looks remarkably like the original Vermeer.)

The point of Jenison’s obsession is what scientists and technologists call “proof of concept.” Vermeer could have used this method.

But while Vermeer could have used these techniques, there are no records that he did. His beautiful compositions, his super realistic details, his enigmatic models, and his graceful style are what make his works so beloved.

And if he developed such a technique to do this, that makes his work, to me, even more impressive. So, this week, I am taking time to marvel at each of his paintings. They make me smile, they make me think, they awaken my imagination…and isn’t that the purpose of art?

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

There is a new documentary about the “19 Kids and Counting” family. Not surprisingly, this document opens the curtains on the Duggar family to reveal it to be as real as the Wizard of Oz.

I wonder if anyone is surprised. I am not. I had been told about this show when it first aired (and was “17 Kids and Counting”). People marveled at how well behaved the children were and how everyone pitched in without complaining.

I knew better. I grew up in a large family. Well, not 17+ kids; but I was one of six children. And I learned one thing. Normal children bicker, cry, have temper tantrums, lie, manipulate, compete, and refuse to do chores. The behavior the Duggar children exhibited could only occur under strenuous and punitive authoritarianism.

The goal of the IBLT Christian cult to which the Duggar’s belong is to produce a large army of God-fearing children. Their mission is for the children to work, vote, and run for public office with the goal of building an impenetrable Christian nation.

It was clear to me that these children’s spirits had been broken. They were harshly punished with spankings for any deviation. Sometimes implements were used, and they were spanked more if they cried. After a spanking, the child was required to thank the parent for the humiliation and promise to be better.

One of the more egregious punishments was called “blanket training.” At 6 months of age, Mommy Duggar placed her baby on a blanket with their favorite toy just outside the blanket. Each time the baby tried to reach for the toy, he was smacked. This would continue until he stopped trying to grasp the toy. It was repeated until the child finally learned to follow orders and stay away from his favorite toy.

Once a baby was weaned, it were assigned to one of the girls, who would be responsible for its care and training 24/7. They were all homeschooled in Bible teachings.

By modern standards, this seems like a harsh way to raise a child. Modern parenting is focused on giving children freedom and opportunities to learn about the world, other people, and themselves.

But while Duggar’s methods are harsh, they do not deviate much from childrearing in the past. A hundred years ago families were much larger. The unavailability of birth control, the need for child labor, Catholicism, Orthodox religions, and culture dictated these large families. Children were a vital part of the family unit: girls had to care for babies, boys helped their fathers, farm children worked in the fields, and some city children worked in factories.

I am grateful that I grew up in a large family. We had a lot more responsibilities than children in smaller households. My sisters and I learned cooking, sewing, canning, gardening, and homemaking.

But most importantly: we learned that we were not special. We were a part of a unit. We learned that if we exercised individual needs, those needs took from the other family members. We learned this not through authoritarianism but through peer pressure.

It is great training for life. It gave me empathy, helped me learn how to fit in, taught me how to love people who are different from me, taught me a higher purpose than self, and has given me lifetime friends. My family. We are best friends and a bedrock of support. When one of us stumbles, five people and their spouses jump in to support…it is a foundation like no other.

But these lessons came at a cost. We fought, we bickered, we created cabals, we argued, we lied, we yelled, we hit each other, we destroyed someone else’s property, someone stole the largest jar in the kiddie pool and when it was time to bring in the toys, tried to bring in the smaller one (my version of just punishment for that infraction was to hit her hard enough to break her collarbone). (Sis, you know who you are.)

When we heard thuds emanating from our brothers’ room, we knew that they were fighting and let them work it out. Eventually, the boys would divide their bedroom in half, one would get the door and the other window. There were winners and losers. As one of my brothers says, “I don’t know how he did it, but my brother always made me feel like I got the worse half of the room.”

The point is, our eventual closeness didn’t happen through authoritarianism, it was from learning that the price to be paid for not getting along was too high.

And our closeness has extended to our children. Affectionately called “the cousins,” they swarm together, play games, gossip, watch each other’s children, and revel in the joy of being together.

As for the Duggars, I know that raising 19 children the way that we were raised would be chaos. So, the only practical method is an extreme domination style of parenting, much like the military, which must break down its recruits to create obedience.

A disadvantage to growing up in a large family is that it causes you to have less self-regard and self-care. For example, none of us tolerate (or empathize) with illness. Because when one child was ill, everyone suffered. I was a sickly child and spent most autumns in the hospital with pneumonia. And it was a terrible drain on everyone else. Our mother would have to take precious time to visit me in the hospital. Effectively, a large family is a zero sum game, the time she spent with me, she couldn’t spend with her other five children. If I was sick, we had to cancel plans. So, we learned that illness vas verboten.

While my family was not harsh like the Duggar family, we did have to follow rules. Today, psychologists refer to this parenting style as authoritarian. Research shows that children in authoritarian situations have lower self-esteem. While they are typically obedient and proficient, they have lower scores for happiness and social competence. They are better liars, as they have learned to lie to avoid harsh punishment. In smaller families, there are more resources, parent/children relationships are more intimate, and parents can be involved in their children’s lives.

As much as I loved being in a large family, with the population crisis, it is irresponsible to have one now. Someone who wants that experience today has to be creative.

My nieces have solved the problem flawlessly. They live in close proximity to each other and whenever possible share parenting. Each has two children, and they get together frequently. Their children view each other as siblings, with all of the squabbles that come with it. Each child feels comfortable putting his or her head on an aunt or uncle’s shoulder for comfort. The three families act as a unit. And as other cousin families expand, they are welcomed into the fold. Their children will learn to play together, different ages, different genders, different capabilities. Building lifelong relationships. It is beautiful to watch.

So, it is actually better than our circumstances. There are six kids of different ages and genders, sharing, fighting, and caring about each other. Instead of two, there are six parents to wipe away tears, guide, and love them.

Everyone wins.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

This is a story about light.

After a death in the family, my husband and I took a couple of days to recuperate Key West. My husband had just retired and was looking forward to starting some crucial repairs in our new, empty retirement home.

Our plans changed the very next day when my husband tumbled from a 14’ ladder. His leg was so shattered that his tibia had broken through his skin, and he was immediately medivaced to a Miami trauma hospital.

It was also the only area hospital that had a mandate to care for the indigent, the homeless, the uninsured, and the undocumented. Yet, the city, county, and state refused to provide adequate funds.

When we entered this hospital, we left our developed country behind. All signs were in Spanish, Creole, and English (in that order). Many of the hospital staff did not speak English. The hospital was severely underfunded, under resourced, and desperate. So desperate, we discovered later, that they latched onto patients with “blue ribbon” insurance, such as ours. They plied them with pain killers and long stays to take advantage of the insurance payments.

The hospital had a fraction of the resources that it needed to meet its relentless demand. Despite running over 50 operating rooms 24 hours a day, each of my husband’s seven scheduled surgeries had to be cancelled at the last minute. We learned to watch the news, when there was a gang war, we would get bumped.

After his initial surgery, my husband was admitted to the only ward with an available bed, the trauma unit, and promptly neglected. Since he was an orthopedic patient, and the orthopedic ward was far away, no doctor came to visit.

The first week we didn’t see a single medical professional. No one came to check on his open wound (since he would require another seven surgeries, his wound was merely dressed). No one changed his wound dressing, his sheets had never been changed, and his catheter beeped incessantly.

I begged the nurses to get us clean sheets. I feared that his open wound would become a magnet for staph infections (it did) and MRSA. I asked for a blanket, as my husband was shivering in the over-airconditioned room. We piled on all of the clothes that we had and waited and hoped.

We began to fear that no care was coming, so I went into action, demanding clean sheets and a medical professional—anyone—to see his wound. I begged, I pleaded, I demanded. I got nowhere.

The head nurse didn’t bother to mask her disdain. She despised the privilege that we had been born into and our pleas were ignored.

I demanded to know when we would be moved to the Orthopedic unit so that he could get care and begin the surgeries that needed to follow. She shrugged; we would just have to wait.

I learned to peek outside the room each time I heard the sound of footsteps or wheels, or the chatter of languages, hoping that someone would carelessly leave the linen closet unlocked. I was eventually rewarded, a hospital worker was placing fresh laundry in the linen closet, and I grabbed two sheets.

A Haitian man of some prominence occupied the other bed in our room. Our Haitian nurse curtsied when she tended to him and rushed by us. He must have understood our plight and after speaking to the nurse, she tossed a blanket to the end of our bed and hurried away.

After a week and desperate for care, I called the hospital patient liaison and told him of some of the issues; how we had yet to see any medical practitioner; how my husband’s bed was covered in dried bodily fluids, how painkillers arrived sporadically, how I feared that his untended wound would become infected.

Within a couple of hours, the head nurse appeared and announced that were being moved. I caught a smirk on her face as she left. I got a bad feeling.

Twenty four hours later, we found ourselves in a new ward…not the orthopedic ward…but a ward of hopelessness.

The smell of the other patient in the room was so nauseating that we both vomited. A sympathetic nurse came by with face masks. The staff routinely sprayed Lysol around the patient, who demanded cigarettes while he was awake and cried for them at night.

The head nurse of the ward arrived almost immediately. She compassionately listened to our story.

“You are being punished,” she explained. “Your bed is always left vacant.”

She explained how months ago, the patient had burned himself while lighting a cigarette in alcohol-drenched clothing. He was homeless, his mind absconded by severe alcohol abuse. He had had no visitors. The staff tried to bathe him, but his confusion and fear resulted in violence. Yet, despite his repulsiveness, she kindly spoke to him in Spanish each time she entered and left the room.

“You should not be here,” she explained to us. “I will find you a room in the orthopedic wing.” (She kept her promise and within 36 hours, we were in the Orthopedic ward.)

I learned that the ward that we found ourselves in was a ward for people who had been admitted to the hospital but had nowhere to recuperate. The hospital couldn’t put them back on the streets, and no facility would take them.

This ward was filled with people whose humanity had been stolen by abuse, poverty, drugs, disease, and mental illness. The stench of the unwashed wafted into the hallways. I could hear some patients muttering or complaining in unfamiliar languages. Others wailed, frightened, and confused by their circumstances. In other rooms, there was the silence of hopelessness and fear.

I became friendly with the head nurse. She kindly tended to each patient, addressing them in in their language. She explained to me how the hospital was severely short-staffed, and the overworked nurses were underpaid. The hospital often lacked linens, paper towels, tissues, blankets, or plastic water cups. Of all the wards that my husband stayed and would stay in, hers was the most desperate.

I wondered how she could keep working there, with such demanding and ungrateful patients, sometimes screaming invectives and curse words at their caregivers.

“How can you work here day in and day out?” I asked her.

“This is where I want to be,” she exclaimed with watery eyes. She had been there for almost a decade, and all of her nurses felt the same way. To them, working in that ward was a privilege.

“I want to care for these people,” she explained. “Each one of them could be Jesus Christ. When I care for them, I am caring for him.”

Our struggles would continue throughout our month long hospital stay. But this story is not about us. It is about the nurses in that ward, who could shine a small light every day in that darkness of despair.

I watched the nurses that day, marveling at how blindingly beautiful their light was.

Because a light that shines in total darkness is brighter than all of the suns in our galaxy.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

It started with a property line dispute and turned into a novel nine years later. When a neighboring farmer challenged the property lines of her farm, Barbara Lockhart went to the records, and discovered an amazing fact. Before the Civil War, her family farm had been owned by a free black woman named Elizabeth Burton.

That discovery commenced a voyage into the history of her farm and unearthed a buried history of African Americans on the Eastern Shore. Elizabeth Burton, aka Elizabeth Boston, owned Lockhart’s farm from 1852 to 1857. Her farm was in the middle of a significant settlement of Native Americans from the Choptank tribe. On the Eastern Shore at that time, all nonwhites were classified as “Negro” (or Negress” in Burton’s case). Lockhart was never able to determine if Elizabeth Burton was black or native American or a mixture.

Lockhart’s journey of discovery took her to an uncomfortable time that has been forgotten, neglected, and buried. She poured through auction records, deeds, and other original documents in the local libraries, trying to unearth this hidden past.

She was moved by what she had learned. How dangerous life was for free people of color during slavery. How people of color were shamefully treated during and after the civil war. How Jim Crow laws and racist attitudes on the Eastern Shore conspired to keep the non white population in a state of poverty and struggle. Lockhart’s journey of discovery inspired her book Elizabeth’s Field.

Originally from Queens and NYC, Barbara Lockhart has made her home in Dorchester County for 50 years.

Her book, Elizabeth’s Field, is an award winning work of historical fiction about free and enslaved black Americans in Dorchester and Caroline Counties. Elizabeth’s story is honed from her research into the former free black landowner of her farm. A main character in her book, Elizabeth, is a free woman of Native-American and African American descent, who owned land in 1852 and lost it in 1857.

Her book interweaves stories of the past and present. The present-day “storyteller,” Mattie, chronicles modern-day challenges for African American women. Her character is based on Lockhart’s friend and neighbor, Mary Taylor, a woman of color who died in the late 1970’s. Taylor lived a transient life under the weight of Jim Crow laws, racism, and domestic violence. And through Taylor’s oral history, Lockhart was able to learn about life on the Eastern Shore from the perspective of someone of color. Her book makes us confront how slavery and racism has left a permanent stain on the peaceful waters and graceful farmland of the Eastern Shore.

But there is much more to Barbara Lockhart than this novel. After having the pleasure of interviewing Lockhart, I realized that Lockhart has spent her life searching for knowledge. She has published both children’s and adult books.

A list of her available books are:

Young Children’s Books: Once a Pony Time at Chincoteague, Will’s Tractor, Mosey’s Field

Adult Novels: Elizabeth’s Field, Requiem for a Summer Cottage, The Night is Young, Collected Stories

She taught Kindergarten for 30 years in Secretary, MD. While teaching, she realized that her students’ parents weren’t reading to their children. She created a program where children would perform a fun activity related to the book after their parents read them the story.

But being a lifelong learner means that you listen for challenges…and she discovered that some of the children’s parents didn’t read to their children because they simply couldn’t read. She created a national program that is used today, creating fun activities associated with parents reading books to their children and helping parents learn how to read.

To celebrate Juneteenth, the St Michaels Community Conversation on Race, and the Easton Branch of the AAUW are hosting a Conversation with Barbara Lockhart on Monday, June 19th, from 5:30- 7:00 PM at Union United Methodist Church (201 Railroad Avenue, St Michaels, MD)

In my brief conversation, I merely scratched the surface of her remarkable life and accomplishments. I hope that you get a chance to meet her as well.

She has modeled the values of being a lifelong learner…to never stop asking and never stop wondering.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

Sitting at last year’s lovely New Years’ Eve party, I forgot that we were expected to announce our 2023 New Year’s resolutions. I watched as guests recited impressive resolutions for improving their minds, their relationships, their volunteer work, and projects. I created one on the spot, I don’t remember it.

Because looking around, I knew the truth was that my real resolution was probably the same as 75% of the groups’ resolutions…to lose weight.

So here I am, five months into it and miserable. I have tried all of those “happy” programs about how good I feel about eating well, getting rid of bad habits, the rest of the nonsense. The problem is that like many people, I eat pretty healthily, so losing weight means giving up my few indulgences (bread, fruit, yogurt, occasional desserts).

Because the truth is that our bodies are designed to maintain fat, not lose it.

Fat is our mechanism for storing energy; it evolved from our hunter-gatherer ancestors who had to move great distances in search of food. The ability to store food through fat meant survival. So, if I was able to avoid errant spears and viruses, I would have survived very well back then.

My body is resistant to my efforts to lose weight. I have tried on-line systems, calorie counting, Weight Watchers, Keto, no carb, no gluten…you name it…and I am miserable. I have given up desserts, even my favorite thing in the world, which is watermelon. I have become a type of rabbit, eschewing salad dressings and eating raw vegetables.

Admittedly this is a good time of the year to diet. Every Saturday the farmers’ markets offer fresh carrots, radishes, pickles, tomatoes, eggs, and whatever else I can find that has few calories. I switched to white carrots fearing that my complexion was becoming orange…but my body is holding onto its pounds as if my life depended on them. In five months of consuming fewer than 1,100 calories per day, I have lost a total of 10 pounds.

But enough about my misery…what is important is to understand is why it is so difficult for us to lose weight.

Bottom Line: Our body doesn’t want to.

Scientists learned a lot about fat and weight loss by monitoring participants in the television show The Biggest Loser. Most of the poor souls who participated in that television show have gained their weight back. Not because they are weak-willed or lazy, but because their bodies were determined to get back that weight. (Despite it being unhealthy.)

Their bodies used hormones and metabolism to achieve their goal.

Leptin is a hormone that signals our brain to eat. Low levels of leptin cause hunger. The effects of leptin have been known for some time, so the contestants were monitored for it. They began their weight-loss journey with normal levels of leptin. By the season’s finale, they had almost no leptin at all. In short, they were constantly starving.

Admittedly, better eating choices could have helped, but they faced a formidable foe, a body that desperately wanted its weight back.

And it got worse.

Their metabolism, regulated by the thyroid, had slowed dramatically as well. They now needed to eat 600 fewer calories than the average person to maintain their weight. One contestant who has been working to keep his weight down (despite initial gains); is a 295 pound man, 6 feet tall; whose metabolism has so slowed that, despite 6-8 hours of rigorous weekly strength exercise, he must consume 800 calories per day fewer than a typical male his size to maintain his current weight.

Our body uses other mechanisms to prevent us from losing weight. After losing 10% of weight, our muscles start using genes to exercise more efficiently, causing us to burn 20-30% fewer calories doing the same amount of exercise.

Scientists have known for some time that after losing weight, our metabolism slows, requiring us to consume fewer calories than we did before our weight loss journey. In fact, most of us who lose weight, not only gain it back, and end up heavier. (Our metabolism generally goes back to normal levels after 3 months with weight training or Pilates exercise.)

The combined effects of low leptin levels and a slower metabolism conspired to make the contestants regain most, if not all, of the weight they’d lost. But the truly shocking part was that their leptin and metabolism levels never rebounded even after six years. In fact, the more weight a contestant lost, the slower his metabolism became. Weight regain was inevitable.

After researching for this column, I changed my attitude about dieting. I now realize that every ounce lost is done against overwhelming odds. The genes that I inherited have evolved over millions of years perfecting mechanisms to prevent me from losing weight.

The battle continues, but my perspective has changed. I now realize that each ounce, each pound lost, is an incredible achievement.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

It was a whispered comment, a quiet exchange of pleasantries…but they heard my voice anyway. Immediately, squealing, and excited barks echoed throughout the large room. The rock star had arrived. The dogs just couldn’t wait any longer.

When the groomer let them out to the pen, one leaped over her and the other crawled underneath. Too quickly for her to put on their collars and leashes, the cute, fluffy white dogs galloped across the room, howling in excitement. When they reached the gate, they tried to climb over it, or jump over it…anything to get to their rock star.

That improbable rock star was me.

I had left them to be groomed for a full 2 ½ hours and they were desperate to touch me, snuggle with me, kiss me, and go back home to the best place in the world.

I didn’t need to bother with leashes or collars, they weren’t leaving my side.

Despite their opinion, I am not a rock star, pretty ordinary actually. A retired senior citizen just picking up my dogs from the groomers.

But to them, I am the best person in the world. I am amazing. If they are sick, I can heal them. If they are scared, I can reassure them. If they are hurting, I can comfort them. If they are uncertain, I can lead them. If they are hungry, I can feed them. Yes, I am a rock star.

In that moment I wondered, do they love me? Or do they just love that I feed them, pet them, walk them, and clearly adore them?

I certainly love them. But do they love me?

Dogs are a unique species that can connect with a human on the human’s level. But do they love us?

Most scientists believe that they do. The dog-human bond is so strong that newer animal behaviorists recommend using praise instead of treats to reinforce behavior.

Why do scientists think that dogs love us?

The most obvious is their behavior.

• Dogs are happy to see us. Their expressions can range from a simple tail wag to a full throttle welcome, filled with snuggles, barks, whines, and touch.
• Dogs prefer their humans to anything, including food (although some food-oriented dogs do prefer food; full disclosure: one of my dogs would push me in the street for a hotdog, but regret it later).
• Dogs like to physically connect with us and stay close to us as much as they can. Dogs follow us everywhere; they want to be with us. When they sleep with us, they remain alert, to protect us from possible danger.
• Dogs love to gaze at us.
• They look to us for comfort, affection, protection, security, and assurance. In fact, dogs rely on humans more than they do other dogs.

There are also clinical indicators that dogs love us.

There is chemical evidence. Dog-human eye contact produces oxytocin. It is called the “Oxytocin-gaze positive loop.” Oxytocin is a hormone that works as a neurotransmitter in the brain to produce a feeling of “love” or “euphoria.” A 2015 study in Japan demonstrated that Oxytocin is released when humans and dogs gaze at each other.

There is MRI imagery. In 2014, Emory University researchers using an fMRI scan, found that the section of dogs’ brains associated with positive expectations reacted most strongly to the scent of their specific humans. A similar study in Budapest, Hungary, demonstrated similar results with the voice of their human.

Other findings suggest dogs can interpret the emotion in our voices, dogs can read our emotions. My dogs are really skilled at appearing apologetic when they make a mistake.

So, I choose to believe that my dogs love me almost as much as I love them. And I guess that I am a rock star after all.  I just have a very small fan base.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.