Here are some more shots from Sunday morning's saunter around an old homestead over near Glenns in neighboring Gloucester County.
There are I-don't-know-how-many acres associated with this place. The original property, according to my friend Alda, included land that went all the way to Freeport Landing.
In case you haven't heard, one of my German American ancestors hopped off the boat at Freeport after what I'm sure was an enchanting final leg of the trip up the Piankatank River. Every chance I get I mention that, and today marks about the 568th time I've done so!
In other genealogical news, we're also kin to Wayne Newton, although we don't
(The Chesapeake Bay Children need to know these things, it's important. Or, as my father says, "It's somethin', all right.")
Chesapeake Bay Mother, not at all lacking in the singing and showmanship department, can provide further details of the Wayne Newton Connection.
Let's move along now to another subject, such as our blog post, which--last time I checked--has nothing to do with lounge singers or Red Roses for a Blue Lady .
In some strange twist of fate which always seems to wrap itself around Chesapeake Bay Woman, I happened to be sitting at a stoplight last night on my ride home from work, when I heard someone hollering at me from the adjacent car.
This happens on the Route 17 corridor from time to time. You can be in your own little world, running down your mental checklist of who needs to be where, when, and what's going on tomorrow, and what's for supper tonight, and how one gets last year's pollen off this year's dashboard, and who is going to let the dog out, and how you're going to get the smell of musty, mildewed laundry out of your room since you left a wet load in there for a week--when all of a sudden you're interrupted by a friendly holler at a stoplight.
It was my friend Alda's husband, Lawrence. Or Lawrence, my friend Alda's husband. In other words, it was Lawrence! His family owns the property photographed above.
He was on his way home from work too.
I rolled down my window and in the amount of time it took for the light to change from red to green, we had a nice conversation about how he's been, how she's doing, and how life was going in general. He filled me in on their recent vacation, and I completely forgot to mention my visit to his property the day before. (She told me a while ago I could take pictures there, so I knew it was OK.)
When you're sitting at a stoplight in the middle of Route 17, trying to work your way through mental checklists that involve mildewed laundry, sometimes it's hard to focus on anything other than
Anyway, the light turned green, windows were rolled back up, gas pedals were depressed, and all eyes returned to the monotony of the commute home.
I love those mid-highway conversations. Of course, I also have to be prepared to have people tell me they saw me talking to myself when alone in my car on the Trans Canada the other day. I wasn't talking to myself, I was singing along with The Stray Cats. You'd think people would be able to tell the difference, wouldn't you?
Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie's Guide to Adventurous Travel
My Family Tree
Kay Indeed you would, which is why whenever I am singing I make sure I am tapping something or moving my head just enough so they hopefully can see the difference. BTW, it's a very rare occasion that I'm singing on my way home from work unless it is the last workday before a week-long vacation...
mer - Once again you have hit the nail on the head. I recognize some of those family members, we may well be related.
Have a great Tuesday, all. I have a feeling this is going to be the longest week in history since it already feels like should be Thursday.
Ah, we have those around here, in the immediate vicinity. My favorite is when you run into someone at the grocery store, and you recognize them but you can't quite place them, so you say hi, then you wait till you meet in the next aisle to remember WHO they really are!
Wow, your ancestors have been here for longer than mine! All of mine were here by the mid- to late-1700s.
No one but Wayne Newton's kin would be able to sing "Sex Machine" quite like your mother.
good morning...I hope you don't mind me saying but I think Wayne has done a terrible thing to himself...his face just doesn't look right...
Have you ever been to Vegas, oh it is sooo much fun there, really different than AC, really can't compare the two.
if you get a chance check out my blog, my puppy Zuzu gave me a black eye, its bad, really bad, and it looks like it is getting worse before it is getting better...It hurt like the dickens, when she did it...
wv: whirkit: I would love to see the Chesapeake Bay Mother whirkit to James Brown's "Sex Machine"!!
Mornin' glory! Thanks for the giggles, laughs and one big snort.
wv: imatop: CBW says imatop of this situation
I love riding down country roads. Windows open, singing, old homesteads. Your Mother and Wayne Newton singing in Vegas. Oh would that be fun?
I love running into people at various random places and having those little conversations. However, it's never happened to me at a stoplight and the only communication I seem to get from other drivers is sign language involving the middle finger. Am I doing something wrong? :)
Rte 17 is such a charming road ... and I am sorry Kate's on holiday and not getting to see her cornfield again .. oops ...
There is definitely strange fruit on my family tree. I am undone by my genes. And all you people know for sure I don't even know "Sex machine,' so who was that woman and why was she impersonating me? Was there wine? Qwah again.
CBMumma (aka wild on waverly lane): Your stage persona bubbles just below the surface and requires only a strong beat and a soul-reaching song to summon her forth. James Brown seems to do the trick, even if it's Popcorn. Qwaa.
We need to schedule another evening of dancing, singing, music and camaraderie. We may even convince Middle Sister to join us this time...
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