Maryland - Fatti maschii, parole femine
1/19 '24
<< part of my continuing series recording memories to assure myself I've actually been to the places I think I've been to>>
Maryland's state motto is Fatti maschii, parole femine which generally translates to "strong deeds, gentle words". Words that date back to Lord Baltimore in the 1600s when he got his Maryland land grant from the King of England. The next King gave William Penn some of the same land in the Pennsylvania grant. This led to the little known border war in the 1730s between the two states (well, they weren't states yet) known as Cresap's War. Eventually Mason & Dixon were hired 30 years later to establish the definitive border lines. Whenever I get a chance I like to locate one of those Mason Dixon line markers - dozens still exist.
As a state that borders my homestate of Delaware I indeed have been to Maryland. I still go there often as I have family in the DC area. Growing up we'd go to Chillum Maryland (which I was told was Hyattsville, but apparently it is Chillum) like every 4-5 weeks to visit my cousins. Lots of memories of visiting the Smithsonian, or of going to theater (Shakespeare!) or Opera. Yes, my mom was one of those who dragged her pre-teen to the opera. I often fell asleep in the second act. Now that I'm a mom myself, I bring my kid to the Smithsonian and to the theater there (and elsewhere). Ok, technically some of this isn't Maryland, it's D.C. But we'd stay in Maryland. And some of the shows are in Maryland. Tomato Tomatoe.
It's less than 30 minutes to the state line between Delaware and Maryland from my house. There is a winery on the border called Harvest Ridge Winery. I'm part of their wine club, so I go there at least every 3 months for wine pickup. And yes, it has a Mason Dixon marker on the property. It's intentionally on the border so it can take advantage of both states' small producer alcohol laws. Maryland cares about bottling location; Delaware cares about point of sale location. So the bottling plant is in Maryland and the tasting bar is in Delaware.
With the border being less than 30 minutes, I'm often in Maryland to shop, or eat, or visit friends. Or hike, like to the tri-state marker on the corner of Maryland, Pennsylvania and Delaware at 39°43'19.9"N 75°47'19.0"W. I do that hike every year and so far the marker has always been right where I left it. I haven't done that hike yet this year - but putting that in my February plans.
So yes I've been to Maryland. And I'll be there again and again.
My grandmother used to spend summers in Sudlersville, MD when she was a child (back when people got out of West Philadelphia during the summer to avoid illness). She had a deep emotional connection to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Every spring, she and her best friend Hicksie would drive down to Maryland, find their favorite liquor store, and fill the considerable trunk of her car with cases of liquor.
When they exited the parking lot, instead of making a left to go north, they'd make a right to continue south and keep driving down to Sudlersville. They'd pick up my grandmother's cousins, and then continue on to their favorite Eastern Shore restaurant. They'd have a delicious crab cake lunch, fight over who was paying the bill (this often involved subterfuge, such as Hicksie excusing herself to go to the ladies' room and then slipping her Amex to the hostess), and, by the time they were ready to drive home, the Maryland state police officer would have completely forgotten about the Buick with Pennsylvania plates driven by a little old lady, with thousands of dollars worth of booze in the trunk.
Every spring, my grandmother would call all of her close relatives and friends of legal drinking age to ask what they wanted to drink for the next year. My father would always protest mightily, insisting that if the cops picked her up for booze smuggling, he wouldn't be able to come down and bail her out for at least six hours. "They're going to handcuff you to a radiator just to prove a point!"
"No they won't, Edgar. Now, what do you want?"
"oh... get us a gallon of Mount Gay Rum..."
My grandmother’s best friend Hicksie, on the other hand, probably helped her brother run his liquor still.
Lindsay’s story is wonderful.