Columns - Maryland 20878 - A magazine of Archetypal Towns and Villages of Country and City™

Quarterly

Jersey – A Channel to the Past

By Graceann Macleod

I recently had a short visit to the beautiful island of Jersey, one of the Channel Islands between England and France. It’s actually much closer to France than it is to the UK, and the advertisements for travelers tout Jersey as being “Europe without the Euro.” It’s a stunning place, steeped in history and easy to navigate. There is so much to see and do there that I know I’ll need to return several times in order to see all that calls to me.

Some Background

The Channel Islands are British Crown dependencies, but they are not part of the United Kingdom in the way that England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales are. The islands have been inhabited in some form or fashion for 250,000 years now. Wars have been fought over who could plant their flag in the pristine sand, and they are the only part of the British Commonwealth to have been occupied by the Nazis during World War II. Reminders of the Occupation still exist all over, and the more senior residents carry memories that make our “problems” seem very minor, indeed. It’s very difficult to maintain a sense of outrage over being made to wait at the airport when you are sitting next to someone who came within days of starvation.

The Reason for the Trip

I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know anything about the Channel Islands in general, or ... click to continue

Quarterly

Poachers, Melons, & Crayons

By Marie O’Donnell

Kentland was posted, "No Trespassing" and "No Hunting." Once in a while someone would sneak in poaching deer. One evening, not too long before sunset, Uncle Otis called and told my grandfather that he'd heard gun shots in one of the fields. Uncle Otis had purchased an old military weapons carrier, and, this incident was not too long after he got it. My grandfather took a truck started off to see who the intruders were. My grandmother and I went up to the mansion to wait for him. Uncle Otis, not being one to be left behind, and, also not knowing how to drive, talked my grandmother into us all starting off in the weapons carrier to see what was going on. We piled into the vehicle, which was a typical, stripped down military vehicle, and off we went! The seats weren't padded, and, if the darn thing had shock absorbers, you couldn't tell it. This was before the roads were paved, and they would get full of ruts and potholes until my grandfather would use one of the tractors to grade and smooth them out. Unfortunately, our little sojourn happened between scrapings and the road was a mess. To add to that, it's getting dark. So, here we are bouncing down the road, hanging on for dear life to keep from being thrown out of our seats, my grandmother grasping the steering wheel with both hands to keep the thing on the road, and Uncle Otis madly searching the dashboard to try and find the switch for the lights. He found it just about the time we pulled up at the farm truck, where we found my grandfather and Charlie Hughes, who lived at the back gate, and who he had called to help chase the poachers. My grandmother hit the brakes, ... click to continue