Showing posts with label Southern Maryland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Southern Maryland. Show all posts

Monday, January 25, 2010

Questions and Comments about the Coltons Point Times

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There are at least nine Bald Eagles living in Coltons Point and that is just one reason why the Coltons Point Times is published from the banks of the Potomac River. Another is because we are just 60 miles downriver from the source of all comedy, tragedy and fantasy in America, Washington, DC.



Sometimes as new readers discover the Coltons Point Times, CPT, they ask about the distribution and extent of our readership along with what makes the CPT unique. Periodically I will update the stories with the latest information.



As of January 21 we were able to determine that 125,000 people have read the newspaper in the last 12 months with readers in all 50 states, the District of Columbia, and 100 foreign nations. We believe this is indicative of the worldwide interest in America as well as in the birthplace of religious freedom in the world and the oldest continuously settled chartered community in colonial America.



The top ten nations in readership of the CPT are United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Germany, France, Australia, Netherlands, Italy, India and Spain. In terms of states our top ten readers are in Maryland, Florida, California, Virginia, Texas, Washington, New Jersey, Georgia, Arkansas, New York and Colorado tied for tenth.



It is an honor to have people from every state and over 100 nations as readers. From New York to California, Washington to Florida, North to South America, Europe to Russia, Africa to Asia and down under in Australia and New Zealand we are delighted to share our view of America and the world.



We also believe it is a statement of approval regarding our policies of not allowing any type of advertising, no banners, videos, pop ups or any other form of advertising like you find on all other news sites. It is also an indication of approval of our policy of asking no personal information from our readers and no email information through registration or other technique used by most sites to capture and sell mailing lists.



In addition we allow anonymous comments rather than personal emails to further protect your right to privacy. We will continue to resist all attempts by web sites and search engines to get us to carry their ads. This has cost us readership because big sites will not distribute and promote us if they cannot make money on us through internet ads.



We also maintain on line a full archive of all our stories so you can see if our predictions were true, watch a story develop over time or get all the background on an important issue. There are no restrictions on printing, forwarding or sending copies of our articles and we only ask that you credit the CPT when quoting our material.



Numerous reporters and news sites monitor the CPT and you may notice stories by other media that sound somewhat familiar to what we reported. We are happy to be a source of the truth for them and if stealing our information without crediting the CPT is how they view journalism, at least we are encouraging them to report the truth.



You can help us remain the only news site that does not violate your privacy, require you to register or inundate you with ads. The one site that solicits comments anonymously. You can help by telling people about us and encouraging people to follow the CPT. You can even give them direct access through the following link: http://coltonspointtimes.blogspot.com/ and you can get automatic feeds of our stories, again without registration.



Finally we encourage you to submit comments and story ideas or tell us which stories appeal to you the most so we can keep addressing the needs and interests of our readers. Your comments and encouragement is our most direct tie to you, our readers.



Thank you for your interest and we look forward to better serving you as we continue.

Jim Putnam

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Thursday, January 21, 2010

Through the Looking Glass at The Vintage Source - Another Lost Weekend

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I took my monthly outing to see the ladies at The Vintage Source, the Fine, Funky Home Decor and Social Club of Southern Maryland where nothing is as it seems and not the least the four ladies who never seem to lose their thirst for living or good wine.

Of course there were the bargains, hundreds of them, and hundreds more had already been purchased before I got there. If you are not waiting in line before daybreak the third Saturday and Sunday of every month you lose out on the best buys. I tried it once but prefer to wait until the crowd thins and I can get the latest news from the most unusual proprietor and partners on the East coast.



If you haven't made it there you are missing out on great bargains, great conversation and the opportunity to see the world through their eyes, from the back side of the mirror, and a most bizarre view it can be. You see there are no rules when it comes to creative thinking when this gang gets together.



There is Michelle, who set out on a dream to build a business from a tent in her front yard and wound up building a spectacle where people line the street before it opens waiting to get in the doors. She actually thought she could be successful being open one weekend a month and did it. Outside running the Hotdog Wagon serving the best dogs this side of Manhattan is Tyler, her husband, a vice principal during the week and dawg hawker on weekends.



Then there is Cathe, the blueblood of Philadelphia and debutant of the Pocono Mountain resorts who shattered all the strictures of the Philly upper crust and ran off and married a Sicilian who joined the Navy. This girl was so sheltered that when she got married she had never driven a car (why when you had a chauffeured limo), cooked a meal or even seen a washer and dryer. From Dirty Dancing to Navy housewife it was a heroic transition.



The third wheel of the original gang is Cheryl, Miss perpetual motion from the Texas panhandle who also married into the military and used it as a stepping stone to learn every craft there is related to furniture, homes and unusual things. Cheryl took hands on experience to a whole new dimension with a desire to understand how everything is made, repaired or reconditioned in the world of antique furniture.



Finally there is Joy, the survivor of a vaudeville family upbringing who was once lost as a child in her mother's collection of over 600 antique dolls. I have never seen her not laughing about life even though she is also married to yet another military dude. But then I had the pleasure of meeting her rather eccentric mother and I could see how Joy was so full of joy with a mother like that.



So this month it was a little like joining Alice in Wonderland as they showed me their newest marketing gimmick. There were four antiqued postcards about The Vintage Source, each with a photo of one of the ladies when they were quite young. I was supposed to match them to the ladies. Nothing is as it seems.



You try it if you think it is so easy. Match the kid shots with the grown up shots in this story. I was okay with Joy (the weird dog), then Cheryl (the red hair), and finally Cathe (who else climbs out of a Pocono Mountains resort pool with dry hair). But Michelle, now that was a stretch no matter how hard I studied the photo.



Either the ladies were playing a joke on me and it was not her, or she had been the victim of an alien abduction and they returned the wrong body to her home. Since that happened to me once between second and third grade I was suspicious. You look at these photos and tell me you don't agree.



The little Michelle looks like a midget football player in drag with a strange hair style, a large soup bowl cut, and nothing at all like the rather stunning specimen remaining today. On her worst day of the year she could not look like the little curmudgeon of yesteryear on the postcard. I know when a person was replaced and if that was her back then we need to look for her on Mars today, not at The Vintage Source. In the meantime we will keep the alien.



You really should experience the place one of these days. Maybe you will meet Michelle's mother and you can ask her for the truth about her daughter. Was she abducted and was she returned or replaced? See you at the true Source, The Vintage Source.

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Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Coltons Point in Winter - Still a Sportsman Paradise

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Chris Gass, the Marlboro Man from Coltons Point and the prodigal son of a long Gass line here in Southern Maryland, the infamous Gass family who trace their local roots back to the beginning of time, demonstrated why he came home to Southern Maryland a few years back when he moved his industrial sheet stuff business from Texas back home to Maryland.



First, it gave him an excuse to travel to China where he just spent three weeks touring Asia, mostly China, and was given a very warm reception.



Maybe the fact he was a football star in college and at 6'5" he towered over his Chinese hosts, or the fact he kept being mistaken for Clint Eastwood helped but it was quite a trip for a local boy.



Back here in the Point, Chris was trolling for Rock Fish in 35 feet of water just off shore at St. Clement's Island, the place where colonists landed 375 years ago and never left here, as the big Christmas snow storm was moving in to the Point.



Typical for the Point, he was using 30 pound test line and caught one of the biggest Striped Bass of the year.



After battling the elements and the fish for an exhausting half hour or more he went to net the monster fish only to have his net shatter from the weight. Not a problem for a football star. He manhandled the monster fish into the boat. It was over 40 inches long and over 40 pounds and he got enough fillets off that fish to feed the entire county.



Rumor has it that only Robert Kopel, distinguished grand marshal of all parades in the Point since the turn of the last century, has ever caught a bigger bass but there are a lot of unsubstantiated rumors regarding the mysterious Kopel family. Down here seeing is believing, and the photo produced by Mr. Kopel left more than a few people skeptical.



PS. Only Maryland has the audacity to change the name of sports fish, in this case calling a Striped Bass a Rock Fish.

Now that Chris has captured the biggest bass in the tidewaters of the Potomac as far as we are concerned, we are hoping he can use his sportsman skills to eliminate a bunch of the politicians polluting our nation's capitol just upriver. It is time for a change...

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Tuesday, December 15, 2009

My Life with an Irish Wolfhound - CuChulainn Deo Irie

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You know, some things just happen in life when the stars align and the Gods decide that maybe it is time to make things interesting for some lonely human. Little did I know it might be me. After years of fruitless searching for an Irish Wolfhound wherever I was traveling from coast to coast, I was about to give up.



Now I admit my standards might be a little excessive. But I had studied everything I could find about these dogs over the years although I was surprised to discover just how little was available. I mean this is one of the oldest breeds of dog in existence and can be traced back at least 3,500 years to ancient Ireland. This dog was the stuff of Irish legends.



"I will give thee a dog which I got in Ireland.
He is huge of limb, and for a follower equal to an able man.
Moreover, he hath a man’s wit and will bark at thine enemies but never at thy friends.
And he will see by each man’s face whether he be ill or well disposed to thee.
And he will lay down his life for thee.”

(from "The Icelandic Saga of Nial”)



According to Irish Wolfhound websites, The dog of kings and the king of dogs, the Irish wolfhound is a living symbol of the Celtic people. A dog from the time of heroes, it is entwined in Irish lore and legend. The tallest of dogs, the noble Wolfhound is an enormous, rough-coated shaggy-browed hound, built on galloping lines and is a member of the Greyhound family and combines their great speed with enormous power. Even as he lies by a modern hearth or romps about an enclosed yard, gallops in a meadow or along a beach, it is easy to imagine him as the prominent figure he once was in the feudal life of the Middle Ages. He was coveted for his hunting prowess, particularly in the pursuit of wolf. With the disappearance from Ireland of these animals, and the excessive exportation of the dwindling ranks of Wolfhound, the breed was allowed to become almost extinct.



Wolfhounds were, indeed, so highly thought of that only kings, warriors, nobles and bards were legally allowed to own them. They were the companions of the regal, and housed themselves alongside them. But their function was far from ornate - they were considered the guardians of their noble masters, and they were indeed bred to hunt wolves and capture wolves, and to go in for the kill. It is not surprising to note that there are no known wolves in Ireland today.



A dog of nobility, an Irish wolfhound was so valued in the 1700s that a condemned man could buy his life with one. Once upon a time the Irish Wolfhounds were used to fight wild animals in the arenas of imperial Rome. They were known to have defeated lions in battle.

Queen Elizabeth was given a pair of Wolfhounds in the middle of her reign and Lord Cromwell, in 1652, was so concerned about the exportation of Wolfhounds from Ireland and the rapidly vanishing breed that he banned any further exporting. By the later part of the 19th Century, Irish wolfhounds very nearly became extinct. An Irish wolfhound was the first pure-bred dog in the New World; one traveled with Columbus on his fourth voyage.



In spite of its size, the Irish wolfhound is absolutely trustworthy with children. All this information plus the fact my mother's side of the family was from Ireland was enough to convince me that I needed one to complete my portfolio of canine sidekicks which by this time was pretty extensive.

I determined that I must find one whose parents were natives of Ireland in order to make certain I was getting close to the original breed since cross breeding and limited numbers of wolfhounds tended to weaken the breed after too many generations away from Ireland.



Now I studied the breed standards and fully expected to find what is known as the "super breed" which refers to a throwback to the ancient lineage. These are standards that come closer to the ancient breed than modern dogs. I was not disappointed.

AKC MEET THE BREEDS®: Irish Wolfhound
An Irish Wolfhound must be "of great size and commanding appearance." He has a large, muscular greyhound-like shape, and he is the tallest of dogs, but not the heaviest. A superb athlete and an endurance runner, an old Irish proverb describes him perfectly: "Gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked." The breed’s recognized colors are gray, brindle, red, black, pure white, fawn and others.

Irish Wolfhound Breed Standard
General Appearance
Of great size and commanding appearance, the Irish Wolfhound is remarkable in combining power and swiftness with keen sight. The largest and tallest of the galloping hounds, in general type he is a rough-coated, Greyhound-like breed; very muscular, strong though gracefully built; movements easy and active; head and neck carried high, the tail carried with an upward sweep with a slight curve towards the extremity. The minimum height and weight of dogs should be 32 inches and 120 pounds; of bitches, 30 inches and 105 pounds; these to apply only to hounds over 18 months of age. Anything below this should be debarred from competition. Great size, including height at shoulder and proportionate length of body, is the desideratum to be aimed at, and it is desired to firmly establish a race that shall average from 32 to 34 inches in dogs, showing the requisite power, activity, courage and symmetry.

How could you not want to experience sharing a home with an ancient member of Irish royalty? These gentle giants were the stuff of legends and at long last my search for the perfect Irish Wolfhound with genetic ties directly to Ireland came to a conclusion in northern Maryland.



When I moved to Maryland a few years back I discovered a breeder in Northern Maryland with puppies meeting the exact qualities I required. A male, first generation removed from Ireland and with all the classic standards the American Kennel Club expected in a show quality dog though I had no expectation of ever showing him.

Unfortunately the breeder said all pups were taken and she would call me when the next litter came along. I was disappointed having come so close for the first time in several years. But a week later she called me back and said the buyer of one from Georgia had been diagnosed with cancer and could no longer devote the attention to the dog necessary so she cancelled her order. He was mine if I wanted him.



When I got to the breeder two pups were left to pick up, a male and female. They were the cutest, most innocent looking little wolfhounds resting in their cage. About 7 weeks old, there was absolutely nothing about this little guy that foretold of what was to come. So I sat down and waited to see if he would come to me. The male made the first move then along came the female. But the male crawled up on me and parked himself. I was surprised at how small and delicate it seemed at seven weeks old compared to the vision I had of the full sized warrior.



So I walked away with the little critter and on the journey home he started whimpering, maybe he wasn't quite ready for adventures. By the second night away from mamma he was sleeping with me curled in my arms or sprawled across the pillow above my head. It was quite cute. Six years later he is still sleeping with me although now I am the smaller one, but that gets a little ahead of the story.



His first week he inhaled some strong flea and tick spray and literally died, seizing up and suddenly stopped breathing with no heartbeat. I grabbed the little guy and ran into the bathtub and shoved him under freezing cold water and somehow the shock jolted him back to life.



It was then I decided he was a fighter, having already faced death and come back so I named him CuChulainn Deo Irie, Gaelic for CuChulainn, warrior spirit of Ireland. Since no one in Coltons Point spoke Gaelic I just called him Coolin, or Cu for short.



I had no idea what I was getting into with this unusual little creature. He grew in spurts, in about six week intervals. He would eat like a horse during that time, grow a couple of inches and a lot of pounds, then stop growing for six weeks. Every time his color seemed to change.



I waited a year to start exercising him as I knew large breed dogs face their most dangerous period the first year when most people over-exercise them when their bones and joints are still in fluid. Then we took two walks a day of approximately 2 miles total. I knew he was allergic to flea treatment because of his near death experience so I had to find some natural way to fight fleas and ticks since he did like to romp through the woods and along the shore.



After two trips he refused to go to the vet and I had to find a most unusual vet in Southern Maryland who would make house calls. Dr. Guyther and her Vet-A-Pet traveling show became one of Coolin's great friends and admirers. The doc treated horses so I knew she could handle Coolin.



As he continued to stretch out at an alarming pace a few things became obvious. First, he could never be left in a kennel because he simply would not fit in a cage. His idea of a cage based on my raising him was the living room. Second, he did not like dog food as he did not consider himself a dog but a far superior being.



From day one he insisted on sleeping with me and for the first year it was on the bed. It was the genetic breeding, I could tell. Slowly but surely a host of mysterious habits came from Coolin as he grew into his royalty genetics. Once he got too big for the bed he would only lie down on his own bed. Since he liked to hang out with people some of the time and stay out on a porch there had to be two beds, one inside and one out, with about five comforters each.



This was a most peculiar dog. He like having a light cover on him even though he had a fur coat. Then there were the pillows. He insisted on a pile of pillows. These I moved from bed to bed. When he moved to the bed he would arrange them under his head or push them to the side so he could lie on them.



As he grew and surpassed the breed standards I began to wonder. You see, AKC said the Wolfhound male should get about 32-34 inches high and weigh an average of 125 pounds. Occasionally a genetic throwback would come along more like the ancient breed and could weigh up to 175 pounds. They also said he should stop growing at 4 years old.

Coolin shattered the breed standards. He now stands nearly 39 inches at the shoulder, and measures over 7 feet 3 inches from nose to tail. As for the weight, with no fat whatsoever he still weighs in at about 250 pounds. That makes him much more like the ancient super breed.



Concerning the things no one told me about Wolfhounds, where do I start? No one mentioned the two beds, or that he liked them clean. If the top blankets and pillow cases were not regularly cleaned he refused to lie down on the bed. And my little Lord demanded he get baths, toweled and brushed weekly. What in the hell was that all about? I never owned a dog that demanded baths.



Then there was the eating. As for the diet, forget it. What I ate he ate unless he ate better. Hands down peanut butter sandwiches are his favorite, along with sushi, salads, hamburgers, hot dogs and on and on. He prefers variety, as in a different meat each day. Some days he refuses to eat what I serve and will not touch the food until he gets what he wants. He just won't have a bad chicken day.



For breakfast his Irish breeding makes him love crescent rolls. After breads or rolls he expects a small bowl of milk to wash down the food. He may be the slowest eater I've ever seen. One small bite at a time and chew it 25 times, then swallow. Then wash the legs and feet and eventually he will get back to the food. Half hour meals are the norm.

When he eats, which he does lying down, the food must be no closer than 3 inches from him. Too close and he moves away. Too far away and he waits for you to move it closer. When he eats half the plate he expects it to be rotated so the food is close to him. Don't rotate and he don't eat. If he is getting several different things for his meal don't dare mix them. I may give him meat, wet dog food, dry dog food and bread for a meal. He gets up and changes position before he will eat the next course of his meal.

Are you beginning to get the idea that Coolin thought he was moving in with the Rockefellers or Rothschilds, not me?

A people person, Coolin wanted to hang out with the humans but did not like being touched unless he gave you permission. If people approached him and didn't follow directions a low growl would rumble across the room. It would stop anyone.

Acutely aware of his size and the hazards of being huge, Coolin was very careful. He would not walk on wood floors. Of course my whole house has wood floors so he only went where I put rugs. His long, gangly legs kept him from attempting to walk up flights of steps. He knew better. He would never enter a room he could not safely back out of.

Most astonishing of all, in spite of the fact he looked down on most tabletops, he never knocked anything off a table or knocked over any furniture. And we never caught him stealing food off the table. We had been warned the Wolfhound was entirely capable of snatching a steak or roast but only when you were not looking. He didn't.

Coolin has a variety of voices he uses to communicate with you. There are different tones and sounds when he wants food, wants out, wants you to come play with him, and wants to be left alone. If you study them you develop a whole new way of communicating with animals. His mysterious eyes are also used to communicate. If I ask him what he wants his head continues facing you but he shifts his eyes to what he wants, like the water bowl if it is empty, or dirty. He might want his towels put down over his bed when coming in from the rain. If he is hurt he will show me where so I can fix him.



Other dogs are inferior creatures to Master Cu but he did make friends with an abandoned Irish Setter named Holly and shared his home, food, bed and masters with Holly. He is the most unselfish animal you will meet. He also saved birds that were hurt and brought them to me to fix. When lying on the front porch little birds would fearlessly hop around him as his eyes followed them picking up crumbs of his food.



He really does not like being around small dogs as he is afraid of hurting them accidently, they move too fast. Nor does he like being around small children for the same reason. If a Wolfhound is raised with the children they are exceptional guardians and playmates.



The Irish Wolfhound is a sensitive, meaning they have a mystical sense of the character of a person. It was why they were favorites of the ancient Druids and were often used as Demon chasers to protect Celtic villages from evil. If he senses evil or something wrong with someone he will not let the person near you.



Mostly they are gentle giants, incredible companions, lovable bears and amazing athletes. Loyalty is inherent, protecting you is a given, nursing you when you are sick or hurt is automatic and knowing how to read your every emotion is commonplace. You could not find a better friend. But you better be ready to provide your Little Lord with royal service. They do not stay little for long.

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