MIHU

We moved to Maryland with the idea that we would not be here long. I was going to school, and once I finished, we expected to move who-knows-where to find a job. But school led to more school, and part-time job became full-time. We started having kids, and before we knew it, ten years had gone by, and we weren't going anywhere. With our second child on the way, we were hoping to find more space than the two-bedroom condo we were renting. We also figured it was about time to buy a place, if we could afford it.

Howard County is a nice place to live--good schools, plenty of shopping and services, and not terribly far from Washington or Baltimore--but it's very expensive. We chose to live on one income, which almost inevitably meant that we couldn't afford to buy much of anything--especially in 2007, at the height of the housing bubble. Our one real shot was the Moderate Income Housing Unit (MIHU) program:

The MIHU Program is an inclusionary zoning program that requires developers of new housing in specific zoning districts to sell or rent a portion (generally 10-15%) of the dwelling units to households of moderate income. MIHUs are sold or rented through the Department of Housing & Community Development at affordable prices and rents set by the Department. Any person or family can apply to buy or rent an MIHU, provided their household income does not exceed [80% of median income to buy, 60% to rent].

We were deemed eligible for what I think was the second drawing they conducted. As units become available, they are put into drawings. Any approved applicant who wants to participate can put their name in. If you get picked, you enter into a contract with the seller. You buy the unit outright--the county just sets the rules and prices. We were picked first for a batch of three-bedroom townhouses in Elkridge Crossing. They weren't what we considered to be ideal homes, but given the market conditions, we didn't have much choice. We signed a contract and tried to make the best of it.

Since this was our first time buying a home, we did not immediately think of everything to ask. But we were initially surprised at the difference in price between the two sets of townhomes in the drawing. We were also concerned about resale of the unit. They try to keep units in the program, so when you're ready to move on, the County sets the pricing and holds a new drawing. Without knowing how they had come up with the price in the first place, we wondered how we would know whether they were setting a fair price years later.

Once we received the price breakdown from the County, we had even more questions. The builder had apparently been very thorough in identifying markups to the base price set by the County. They didn't get everything they asked for, but they still got a lot--more than $20,000 in markups on a $200,000 house. Some of them seemed reasonable, but many raised red flags:

• $5000 for a garage--not a bad price, but the unit also lacked a basement
• $3000 for nine-foot ceilings--nice to have, but they serve no real purpose
• $150 for an ice maker, and $500 for a larger refrigerator--really? a markup for both?
• $2500 for a deck off one of the kids' bedrooms--not very functional, and there was no reciprocal adjustment for the absence of a fenced-in backyard
• $300 for a hardwood foyer--the foyer was vinyl
• $1000 for taller kitchen cabinets--nice to have, I'll admit, but is it really worth a markup?
• $150 for a gas water heater--the water heater was electric
• $500 for upgraded carpet--I can't even fathom what would be lower grade carpet than that
• $2000 for brick trim and landscaping--they changed the landscaping on our row of buildings so that it barely conformed with the minimum standard, but the markup remained
• $500 for a Roman shower--i.e., no bathtub in the master suite
• $300 for a garage door opener--yes, a garage door opener

We went back to the County and questioned several of the markups. It took a year to complete our building, but the only adjustment was a $500 refund for the obvious errors of the hardwood foyer and the gas water heater, and we didn't receive that until after we moved in. The landscaping change we didn't discover until shortly before completion of the building. The County accepted the builder's excuse that we were paying for the overall landscaping of the whole community, not necessarily what was immediately in front of our house. The other issues they completely ignored, explaining that we had no cause for concern. The resale pricing would be based on what we paid when we bought the unit.

In 2010, we contacted the County to ask once again about how resale pricing would be determined. We were told that the county kept on file the details of how our unit was originally priced, and the resale price would be comparable for the current economic conditions. Based on that, they provided a ballpark estimate that our unit would sell through the program for around $250,000. We asked for, but never received, a more detailed estimate. Building in the community had re-started, and new units on the open market were selling for less than the program pricing on our unit. We were told that, if such were the case when we decided to sell, the County would extinguish our covenant, and we could do what we wanted. But with new units available at competitive prices, we decided to wait.

A year later, building in the neighborhood ceased again. We followed up on our earlier request for a detailed price estimate, and this time they sent back a breakdown of the current pricing on new units. Instead of basing our resale price on what we had originally paid, they used a much simpler list of adjustments, including the original markups for garage, laundry, and extra half-bath, but offsetting with a $5000 cut because there was no basement. The base price was significantly lower, but there was a substantial markup to adjust for differences in the cost of homeowner's fees and other regular expenses. The total was a little over $220,000--almost $30,000 less than they'd estimated a year earlier.

Our apprehensions were fully realized, but we chose not to argue the point, because given the market conditions, we felt we'd be better off with the current pricing. They weren't likely to find a buyer through the program if they charged much more than that, and if we had to sell the unit ourselves, we'd incur a realtor commission, additional preparations to show the house competitively, and probably have to pay the buyer's closing costs. Better to take our chances selling through the program and still come away with enough return for a substantial down payment. We decided it would be better to wait out the winter and sell in the spring, so we arranged to contact them again after the pricing was reset in January.

Their response was a long time coming, and when we finally received word, we understood why. They had discovered a mistake in their calculations. The $14,000 condo fee adjustment should have been subtracted, not added. So even though the base price went up slightly, the newly recalculated price dropped to a little over $205,000. At that point we had no choice but to contest the whole pricing structure they were using. Fortunately, our earlier questioning had produced enough written documentation that they had to address the earlier set of markups. They still insisted on applying the condo fee adjustment, but even so they determined that the resulting price was too high to sell the unit through the program. We considered getting out and selling on the open market, but by that point there were too many short sales and foreclosures in the neighborhood to expect that we would walk away with enough money to buy the kind of house we really wanted. Our four months of optimism had been shattered, along with any confidence we might have had in the county program.

The MIHU program was great to have available at the time that we needed to buy our first house. It may not be as useful now, with lower market rates, but it will probably be just as helpful to others in the future. But the County seems to have got off to a bad start. Between the two builders with units in our drawing, one seems to have got away with using a downgraded unit for the program, while the other inflated the price with every markup it could get. The County should have called them on these tactics.

In the first case, they shouldn't have let them use a downgraded unit at all. From what I understand, it was a converted two-bedroom model with the basement adjacent to the garage serving as the third bedroom. Any family that needed three bedrooms would be faced with the choice of which child to put on the ground floor by themselves. The units were also visibly smaller than those sold on the open market, which would easily identify program participants for anyone who was looking. If they did allow it, they should have enforced a significant price cut for the lack of a distinct basement.

In the second case, the County should have cut the price for lack of a backyard or basement and omitted some of the petty markups requested by the builder. They also should have forced the builder to refund the markup for the landscaping when it became apparent that they had completely changed it in the newer rows. It was nice to see that in the most current breakdown they seem to have adopted a better strategy (still no backyard), but the change highlights a bigger problem--that there really is no good system for ensuring that unit owners will get a fair resale price, consistent with what they paid in the first place. We were assured repeatedly that the County would use consistent standards in determining the resale price, but it only took three years (not the 30 that I was envisioning) for them to replace the original pricing scheme with--albeit one more sane--but radically different nonetheless.

I like to think that our input had some positive effect on the program--it seems, at least, that the new pricing breakdown has incorporated some of our recommendations. But the process was more often frustrating than not. We sometimes waited months for a meaningful response to some of the simplest questions. We got our most important answers only by involving our County Council representative. If they did adjust the pricing structure in response to some of our advice, they never expressed any intention to do so or any appreciation for our input. So the other area I would recommend for improvement is definitely communication with the unit owners. I have little expectation that any of them have been made aware of any of these issues, unless they have done the work themselves to demand some answers.

buying local, locally

As I expressed in my post on overthinking footwear, I consider it a top priority to buy products made and sold as locally as possible. This presents an inherent conflict--what happens if locally made and locally sold products are mutually exclusive? Case in point--I couldn't find the boots that I needed at In Step Leather, which was pretty much the only independently owned supplier in Elkridge. I settled on buying boots from L. L. Bean, which is at least an American-based company with strong community ties (in Maine), and which has a retail store in my area. But there's rarely a good solution.

I recently needed to buy new underwear. There aren't a lot of American-made options (let alone anything truly local to Elkridge or Maryland). You can pay $100+ for boutique briefs, or you can buy something that's American-made for the sake of being American-made. I respect that, but it doesn't always equal quality. And neither kind is easy to find on a local store shelf. For that matter, locally owned clothing stores are few and far between. So I settled for Campbellsville Apparel, which makes underwear for the U. S. military. I'm not a big supporter of the military-industrial complex, but economic reality is what it is. To make relatively inexpensive underwear in America and stay viable, I can't imagine there are many options that don't involve a government contract. Plus, in this area military is local (sort of). Instead of ordering them online, I got a friend to pick up a couple of packages on base.

I'm also trying to find some dress socks--the thin kind that you're supposed to wear with dress shoes. I don't use them so much that I go through them quickly, but right now I have only one pair, and it doesn't look like it's going to last much longer. I found one locally-owned men's store, but they didn't sell anything American-made. I found a few suppliers online, but I don't know enough about socks to order with much confidence that I'll get the kind I really want. Since it looks like I'll have to buy from a chain store one way or another, it occurred to me to check back with L. L. Bean. Their products are hit-and-miss. I think they genuinely try to contract American when they can, but many of their products are made overseas as well. I think I may be in luck--I found several styles that look right and are designated USA-made. It's probably worth another trip to check them out.

But these are only two examples of a systemic problem. It's hard to succeed in small business, especially if you're competing directly with multinational corporations. So I suspect there's a quite a bit of pressure to sell competitively priced products, which generally means stuff made overseas. Either that, or find yourself a niche like high-quality, high-end. Maybe that would lead you to $100 underwear, but it still doesn't meet the need of a thrifty but socially conscious consumer. So unless you're fortunate enough to have a local niche retailer who specializes in American-made, chances are pretty good that you won't just happen across that sort of thing.

The Internet is a marvelous invention. As far as I'm concerned, one of its greatest accomplishments is to connect people with their interests, however obscure. I might not know a single person in my community who collects used dental floss, but if there are half a dozen of us in the world, we can now find each other and form a club. If there are 50 of us, someone can figure out how to make money at it. Right now, American-made is a lifestyle choice. However much one might argue that it's economically more beneficial in the grand scheme of things, most consumers will look at the price tag and go with whatever's cheapest. So the challenge in the real world is finding enough customers who will pay extra for a clean conscience. Online, there's a much larger pool to draw from, and you're more likely to create a viable business selling this stuff.

But for me, it's not just about American-made. It's about supporting local economy in whatever way I can. I want my products made as locally as possible, but I also want the rest of the supply chain as local as possible. If more products were made right here in and around Elkridge, the rest would probably fall into place a bit more neatly. But as it is, "locally made" rarely gets much better than "made in the same time-zone." So how am I really affecting my community, if instead of buying underwear made in Honduras from the Walmart down the road, I'm supporting a business that's local somewhere in Kentucky?

Maybe I'm just too lazy for this. If I see a need, I should work to meet it. Instead of just ordering my own pair of socks, maybe I should try to become a local supplier of those socks to others in my community. Or better yet, get some training and equipment, and start making socks in my garage, and selling them at local craft fairs and farmer's markets. But in the meantime, how can I support my local economy? Is it even a realistic objective?

boots

As I mentioned an earlier post, buying responsibly requires a lot of effort. You have to become a minor expert in the product that you want. Putting in all that work, just so you can spend money (usually, spend more than you would otherwise) and then hopefully not do it again for years to come, seems like something of a letdown. There should be more payoff. For a blogger, of course, this means that surely I'm here to educate others about how they can also make more informed purchases. So now you get the gory details of my attempt to buy the right boots.

I started by searching online for boot brands that could be repaired. I identified local dealers, figuring that if they carried one or two repairable brands, they'd probably carry others. My first visit was to In Step Leather, a local biker shop. They had a decent selection, but understandably most of their stock was taller than I really wanted. Because I needed to ride a bicycle in winter, I couldn't have my boots restricting ankle movement. They offered to help track down what I needed, if I could come up with a good set of criteria; so I started a list:

• Welt construction
• Steel shank
• 6" height
• Soft toe
• Lug sole
• Waterproof
• Non-insulated
• Brown or tan leather

A logger boot would work, but I only found one brand that carried 6" loggers. For the most part, I was looking at work boots. I found four brands, each of which had one style that looked promising, ranging in price from $100 to $200. I tried other stores to see if I could try them on, but it was nearly impossible to find anything in stock. General-purpose shoe and clothing stores didn't carry the heavy-duty lines that I was interested in; industrial stores carried almost exclusively safety-toe boots.

Along the way, a friend suggested L. L. Bean, which I didn't know carried work boots. It turned out that they had one that fit my criteria, and it was made by Chippewa--one of the brands I had looked at but ruled out because I couldn't find the right style. The local store actually had my size in stock (sort of), and their satisfaction guarantee, free shipping, and no-hassle return policy were some added benefits to consider. Those factors alone would weigh heavily against most other options, where I'd be faced with ordering something online and paying return shipping if it didn't fit.

I also discovered that two of the boots were not made smaller than a size 8, which ruled them out altogether. So my list was down to three. Of those, the L. L. Bean was the most expensive (but with significant benefits, as I already mentioned). The Wolverine (it appears that the 6" is no longer available) was close in price, and both were American-made. But since I couldn't find a local supplier, it wasn't worth the small savings over the L. L. Bean. The remaining option was a Carhartt work boot, made by Red Wing. I discovered when I called about sizing that all Carhartt styles were temporarily discontinued. They had ended their contract with Red Wing and were transitioning to a new manufacturer. This explained why the Red Wing store was listed online as a Carhartt retailer, but said when I visited that they'd stopped carrying them. There were still boots out there in my size, but I would have to order them online, and the more time went on, the harder it would be to exchange them. Still, they could be had for about $50 less than the L. L. Bean, and as far as I could tell, would fit most of my criteria.

The main disadvantage to the L. L. Bean was the price tag. But the advantages were substantial. Again, I could try on the boots in the store and know what I was getting. Even if they didn't have my size in stock, I could order with free shipping and return them to the store if they didn't work out for any reason. L. L. Bean has a lifetime satisfaction guarantee, so that extends the benefit considerably. Also, they were American made, which was one of my top priorities starting out. $50 extra was still a tough pill to swallow, but in the end it seemed like the better option, especially if I could bide my time and wait for a decent sale.

It took a while, but I finally caught a 10% off everything sale for Columbus Day. In the meantime, I'd discovered that I could use points from one of our credit cards toward a $50 L. L. Bean gift card. I returned to the store, so I could try them on one more time, and realized that the medium was very snug. They came in a wide (EE) option, but the store didn't stock them. So I ordered online (knowing I could exchange them for free if they were too big) and waited an extra week for delivery. It was a good move. I don't think my feet are supposed to be EE, but they fit perfectly. The construction is exactly what I wanted, and the quality seems high. Out of my footwear purchases so far, this seems like the biggest win.

obsessing about leather

Of course, if I'm going to invest in shoes and boots that I hope will last for years to come, I also need to make sure I take proper care of them. There's no point resoling worn-out uppers. Coincidentally, we also recently bought a used leather couch. (That one was Julie's idea, but I like it.) In the process of moving it, I managed to scuff some corners, so we'd been trying to figure out what we could do about that. It all worked out nicely, because it turned out the solutions were quite similar.

I spent quite a bit of time looking online for information about leather care. One thing I began to discover was that experts tend not to advise what's popular. Products like mink oil and Sno Seal are downplayed in favor of regular conditioning. The general idea seems to be that leather is skin, and its main problem is that it's no longer wrapped around a living animal. Since it lacks a natural source of moisturizing agents, it needs regular treatment to keep it flexible, breathable, and waterproof. Greasy or waxy products that clog the pores will diminish breathability and will generally not soak into the leather well enough to keep it flexible. Instead they advise conditioners made mostly of beeswax or lanolin.

Of course, one of the problems with looking online for this kind of information is knowing how far to trust the sources. Mostly you find Web sites for leather care products, where they tell you why other stuff doesn't work right. Obviously. But I did find one or two sites run by leather repair shops that said the same thing. I also got an important recommendation in passing from a biker apparel shop. When I was looking for local boot dealers, I came across In Step Leather, which specializes in motorcycle apparel but sells a wide range of boots. Unfortunately, they didn't have the specific brands and styles that I settled on, but they were very helpful throughout the process. Since they do a lot with leather, I asked about our couch, and they recommended Outback Leather on Main Street in Laurel.

Outback does all kinds of leather repair and sells some leather care products. They specialize in equestrian, which I guess is a good idea, so close to the Laurel Race Track. The shop has loads of character, and the proprietor was very helpful. He confirmed what I'd read online about leather conditioning and recommended a brand called Bickmore. Regarding the couch, he suggested conditioning the whole thing, while emphasizing the scuffed areas. After a few applications, there was significant improvement. You can still see the marks if you look for them, but some are almost completely invisible, while the worst are just slightly discolored.

Because regular conditioning is supposed to waterproof leather, I've also become a bit obsessive about applying the stuff to my shoes. I figure I'll do this for a while, since I don't know how long they sat around before shipping, or how well the leather was oiled in the first place. Later, I'll settle into a more regular routine. So far, my obsession has paid off. I don't know if I ever would have found the solution for the couch if I hadn't been thinking so much about boots. It will take longer to determine how much it helps to extend the life of my shoes.

foreign language in elementary school

The HC school board is currently considering a proposal to pilot a foreign language program at the elementary school level. The idea is to integrate the use of computer technology into regular classroom instruction and eliminate the hour-long segment that they spend each week in a separate computer lab. (I guess they would still potentially use the lab space, but it would be with their homeroom teacher, and it would relate directly to whatever they're working on in class anyway.) This would free up two half-hour time slots each week for language instruction, which would be undertaken according to a content-based approach. The language instructor would work with the students on content they're expected to learn anyway--science, social studies, etc.--but conduct the class in a high percentage of the foreign language, so they get exposed to its various elements. Obviously, the emphasis would be on vocabulary and situational dialog; there would be little technical discussion of the grammar and structure of the language. The proposal is to teach all students in all schools Mandarin Chinese, but they estimate that they could offer two language options for about 10% more cost.

I have no objection to them studying a foreign language, and I'm reasonably sure the integrated approach to technology could work, though I'm not at all certain that it will. I guess my main question relates to the language selection. Now, I'll readily admit that as someone who has studied several different languages, I'm probably biased by not being personally interested in Chinese. I understand why it was chosen--the number of people in the world who speak the language, the role of China in the world economy, and the length of time and effort required to achieve some level of fluency (which makes it more beneficial to get an early start)--but I still think an argument can be made against it.

It's certainly sensible to learn the language of our new overlords. China produces the goods we buy, and loans us the money to buy them. When our politicians bicker us into default, it is China that will be first in line to repossess our country. History is filled with examples of major powers whose languages became the common currency of trade and government--Akkadian, Aramaic, Greek, Latin, etc. English is one of the more recent examples, but we're probably not far from the time when the sun really will set on the British/American Empire. China is a logical choice for the next big thing.

But I wonder if it isn't morally superior to change tactic, especially if we're not quite ready to admit defeat on the world stage, and instead reach out to those who live within our borders in ever-increasing numbers and will likely surpass English-speakers in the overall population. I'm talking about the Hispanic population, with whom we share this half of the world, and many of whom have one way or another made their way to the United States. Learning the language of those who are powerful, because we must, is one thing; but learning the language of those who are not, because we can, is something altogether different.

I also wonder if we aren't missing an important aspect of language learning. It used to be standard to learn Latin, not so much because of all the Latin-speakers out there with whom we could converse, but because of what it teaches us about our own language. I'm not so naive as to think that we'd return to that any time soon, but doesn't this other purpose of learning a foreign language apply to some degree when we learn any other language? It helps us to think about similarities and differences, and with good instruction, we can understand how those connections arise. But the further two languages are removed from one another, the harder it can be to find informative connections. Especially when we're talking about language taught at the elementary school level, they probably won't draw many conclusions about grammatical structure by experiencing two languages. But cognate words are much easier to discover and can be very useful in building vocabulary in one's own native language. It seems to me that students would gain more insight about English by learning one of its closer relatives.

The point about needing more time to learn Chinese was one I didn't think of until it was specifically brought up in discussion. There is a great deal of sense to it, but I wonder how realistic it is. A lot of the point of how this program is designed is to make it something that will work for all students. But do we seriously think that all, or even most, students will continue their study of Chinese once they have other options? And don't the same factors that make it a longer enterprise to learn Chinese also make it that much easier to lose in a summer what they've learned during the school year? How much benefit will they retain over time?

Consider writing, for instance. I don't know if there is any intention to teach Chinese writing--I would assume there would be, but maybe it's considered too complex to bother with. Either way--if they don't cover writing, students have missed an area of learning; if they do, the struggle will be long and hard, and most of them will probably forget everything they ever learned. On the other hand, a language like Arabic would also take substantial time to learn, would have quite a bit of relevance in today's world, and would challenge students with its writing system. But here, "challenging" does not mean "inaccessible." Arabic writing is difficult, but it is still an alphabetic system (technically, it's an abjad, but I'm trying not to be technical) and therefore involves a relatively small set of characters. Even if some information is lost over the summer, the task of reviewing and re-learning at the beginning of the next year is much smaller. But if we're talking about a language program for all students, it's probably better to go with something that uses the same basic Latin characters students are already familiar with.

I also like the argument that teaching English-speaking students Spanish will help them interact with their fellow students whose first language is Spanish. If it is true that Spanish-speakers typically have more difficulty adjusting to American schools than other immigrant groups, anything we can do to help bridge this gap and make the transition easier will likely save the schools money they might otherwise spend on special assistance programs.

For these reasons, I think Spanish is the better way to go. I say this as someone who has never formally studied Spanish, who doesn't speak Spanish, and who has no Hispanic heritage. But if we're going to teach one foreign language in all elementary schools, I think Spanish wins as the most useful and attainable option.

singin' "this'll be the day that I die"

I guess I'm what you would call a historical drinker. I have no inclination to get drunk. I don't drink because I'm in any particular mood. I don't have much of a taste for many types of alcohol. I only drink socially sometimes. But most of my significant motivators have been historical.

In Akkadian class we learned about how Mesopotamia and Egypt were beer cultures, while Palestine was a wine culture. We read an article about how someone actually followed an ancient Sumerian recipe to brew a modern equivalent, and I remember thinking that it would be interesting to sample.

Sometime later, I was exploring Christmas traditions--actually trying to give more meaning to the season--and got interested in wassail. I never did come up with a good recipe, but I gave it a shot--that might be the first beer I ever bought. (Well, I think Julie bought it, but at my request.)

I reacted to the low-carb craze with indignation. Bread in one form or another has been a staple of just about every culture on earth. For most of human history, meat was too expensive to eat very often. I wanted nothing to do with a diet plan that reversed this trend. Drinking beer (liquid bread) was one form of rebellion.

More recently, I was looking up the differences between types of spirits out of curiosity. (Yes, that's what a serious drinker I am--three months ago, I couldn't have told you the difference between bourbon and brandy.) I noticed that several were tied to specific locales--bourbon to Kentucky, vodka to Russia, and of course scotch. I began to wonder--was there a spirit indigenous to Maryland?

Well, as it turns out, there is--or was. Before Prohibition, there were two main variants of American rye whiskey--Pennsylvania and Maryland. There was a minor revival of the industry after the ban was lifted, but over the next few decades labels went under or were sold off. Eventually, rye production--what remained of it--moved entirely to Kentucky. As it happens, the Pennsylvania variety survived almost exclusively. To my knowledge, the last rye to be produced in Maryland, and the only authentic Maryland style rye being distilled today, is Pikesville.

Yes, "rye" is an actual drink, not just a delicious kind of bread. It makes a good deal more sense, now that I know what "them good old boys were drinking" with their whiskey in "American Pie" (the song, not the film). And appropriate, too, that the drink is featured in a song about death and memories. The Free State, where Governor Ritchie thumbed his nose at Prohibition, now has some of the toughest liquor laws in the Union and trucks its favorite drinks from elsewhere.

Anyway, lucky for me the stuff is cheap. At $13, it wasn't too big a risk to buy a bottle and give it a try. (And speaking of cheap, I've already figured out that, matched drink for drink, it's a good deal more economical than beer.) So, how has it gone?

1. I figured I ought to start by trying it more or less unadulterated. I wasn't quite ready to start pounding shots (don't even own a shot glass), so I had it on the rocks. I don't know enough of the terminology to say what I didn't like about it, but I decided pretty quickly that I'd need to mix it somehow.
2. My next attempt was a rye sour. That looked pretty simple to make and didn't require any ingredients I didn't already have. Success. The concoction was much more palatable.
3. I'd seen somewhere that rye was the traditional base for a Manhattan. I didn't have vermouth or bitters, and I didn't want to buy them before knowing what I was getting into, so I ordered one while we were out for dinner. Maybe Red Lobster just doesn't make a good Manhattan, but it tasted almost exactly like cough syrup. Guess I'll stick with the sour.
4. I also ran across a description of a hot toddy, which is essentially a whiskey sour served hot. Tried one of those the other day--that wasn't too bad either. OK, so now I have a couple of options for using up the bottle.

Well, the other night I was killing some time in the liquor store while waiting to pick up a prescription for Julie. My beer of choice actually is brewed in Maryland (a microbrew, of course--Natty Boh moved away years ago), and I was looking for something to have on-hand. (You never know when you might want to bring something to a party, especially around this time of year.) I decided to pick up a six-pack of imperial stout. I'm not a big fan of hops, so I lean more toward darker beers. I was looking up online this morning to see exactly what makes something a stout (again, you see what an expert I am), and somehow I came across a reference to Diageo, the parent company of Guiness.

What? Diageo makes alcohol? Well, yes. As a matter of fact, they make Smirnoff, Johnnie Walker, Baileys, J&B, Captain Morgan, . . . they make a lot. But the reason for my double-take is that there's a Diageo plant just up Rt. 1, on the other side of the river in Relay. I've driven by it countless times--on the way to church, on the way to Walmart, on the way to get pit beef, etc. Pretty much everything around here sends you up or down Rt. 1, so odds are pretty good I'm going past the Diageo plant. I had no idea what they did.

I put up a comment on Facebook, and a friend who grew up in the area says it used to smell like whiskey driving Rt. 1 through Relay. Apparently it was once Maryland's largest distillery (including rye), back when it looked something like this:

After Prohibition, Seagram's bought Calvert Distilling Company. Diageo bought Seagram's somewhere around 2000, but before that happened, the distilling operation in Relay shut down. I haven't discovered exactly what they do there now--distribution, and probably bottling? It doesn't smell like whiskey anymore, so I assume they're not distilling. They do, however, turn up here and there in lists of environmental violations, including something about radioactive materials--no idea what that is.

From Maryland rye to miscellaneous alcohol--the story of a state, the story of a town. Sometimes being a localist is just depressing.

Who I'm voting for and why

Election Day is coming, and I've been trying to sort out my votes. I present my choices and reasons here mostly for entertainment value. I don't consider myself a model voter, but my shortcomings are probably normal. I don't pay nearly enough attention to the specifics of what's going on in government. The election rolls around, and I don't even know whether I like the job most of the incumbents are doing or not (and those on whom I have an opinion, it's probably not for very good reasons), let alone what their challengers have to offer. I do what I can to inform myself--I watch the forums sponsored by the League of Women Voters, look at the candidates' Web sites, and try to pay attention if I see anything relevant in the local news. But in the end I'm probably just as bad a judge as anyone else of who should be elected. It's part of the reason that I lean monarchist, but when the day arrives, I still feel like I ought to vote. I may not have much idea why, but I want it to be something better than randomly punching the screen, or voting a party line.

Here, then, are my choices as they stand right now. I might still change my mind before the day arrives:

Governor: Eric Delano Knowles (C). Last time around, I voted for O'Malley. It seemed to me that Ehrlich couldn't speak for five minutes without promoting the legalization of slot machines in MD. He was (and probably still is) the rare Republican candidate who could win in MD--fine. But if he's going to make state-run moral corruption his thing, I'd rather have a bleeding-heart liberal. O'Malley wasn't any better, so I'm going with a third party. I can't really get on board with the Libertarian candidate's scheme to sell the Bay, and if I'm voting conservative I'd rather have someone who's pro-life. Knowles just seems like a better fit to my ideals. Not that I think any third-party candidate has a serious chance of winning, but I live by the assumption that I'm throwing away my vote one way or another. May as well do it with a clean conscience.

U. S. Senator: Eric Wargotz (R). I've never been a fan of the Mik. I'm not voting for him--I'm voting against her. Besides, Wargotz is just a cool name.

Congressional Representative: Jerry McKinley (L). I don't care much for Sarbanes either. He's Greek Orthodox, but sorry--that doesn't seem to make him a good representative of my views. He voted for TARP, which got him on my bad side, and I haven't seen anything to change my opinion since then. I was going to vote for the Republican candidate (who probably can't beat him anyway), but in the LWV forum he came across as angry and hypocritical. He kept attacking Sarbanes for being a lawyer, a career politician, and the son of a career politician. But his idea of bringing in someone from the private sector is a guy who went from the military to defense contracting. Nice try. McKinley had similar views on the issues but sounded a lot more comfortable and level-headed.

State Senator: Edward J. Kasemeyer (D). I've had a few opportunities to hear Kasemeyer answer questions, and he seems to have his head screwed on right. I don't follow state politics all that closely, so I don't have much to go by, but I haven't had occasion to object to any stance he's taken. The Republican candidate, as with the guy running for Congress, is just way too emotional. I dunno--maybe it's the Tea Party thing. Do Republicans think they have to seem perpetually outraged to show they're hip with the times?

State Delegates: James E. Malone Jr. (D) and Joe Hooe (R). This one was a tough call. For those who don't know, we elect two delegates in our sub-district, and my inclination is to go with both parties for the sake of balance. I didn't find much about Hooe's views that I disliked, and he doesn't try to paint himself (at least, not on his Web site) as a big Ehrlich supporter. Plus, he has a cool name and a slogan to go with it. It was kind of a toss-up for me between the incumbents, but I do like Malone's constituent service. If both my picks got elected, at least they'd have in common their love for rhymes.

County Executive: Ken Ulman (D). As far as I can tell, Ulman has done a decent job. In any case, I'm not convinced of the Republicans' argument, that the current budget situation is mostly due to the poor management of the Democrats. We've obviously had a bad economy to deal with over the past few years, and we're doing a lot better than many local governments.

County Council: Courtney Watson (D). Possibly the only candidate I have a serious opinion about is Councilwoman Watson. I've tried to follow the actions of the council, and in general, I've been impressed both with her competence as Council Chair and with her thinking on issues. She's been responsive when I've contacted her about concerns, she seems to have a good understanding of what's important to her constituents, and her politics are generally balanced between left and right. I can only laugh when the Republican candidate accuses her of being a tax-and-spend liberal and part of the entrenched Democratic control of the county.

Circuit Court Clerk: Jason Reddish (D). I read an article the other day about the races for Court Clerk and Register of Wills. Both offices are currently held by Republican women well beyond retirement age; both are being challenged by Democratic men in their 20s. The main reason I even have an opinion is that jobs are hard enough to find these days. I didn't get the impression that either of the incumbents really needs the income, so I favor giving the jobs to the younger challengers, who are of an age when they should be employed. Beyond that, the article mentioned that the Court Clerk's office is badly in need of automation, and if this guy has ideas for making that happen, I say, let him give it a shot.

Register of Wills: Byron Macfarlane (D). See above.

Board of Education: Robert D. Ballinger II, Leslie Kornreich, Brian Meshkin, and David E. Proudfoot. This is a difficult category for me. None of the candidates really stands out, and I'm supposed to vote for four of them. I don't care much for the two incumbents. Aquino seems too arrogant, and French is a Communist who wants to take children away from their parents and brainwash them 24/7. (I'm kidding--but I definitely disagree with her view that we need longer school days and fewer breaks. There are plenty of activities for students who want to (or whose parents want them to) spend all their time away from home, but for parents who still want time to educate their own children in skills and values that they won't get from public school, there needs to be a limit to institutionalization. Ballinger seems to care very genuinely, not only about doing a good job with our kids' education, but also about listening to the voters for their input. Kornreich's platform is far too narrow, but I'm not convinced she'd be worse than any of the others, and she is from Elkridge. Meshkin seems to have some decent ideas and experience on advisory committees for the school board in the past. Proudfoot works in education and seems to have a good handle on the issues. Plus, it's hard to resist the name.

Constitutional Convention: No. This seems to be a formality. The state constitution requires that they ask every 20 years whether we want a convention. Since I'm not at all convinced that we could craft a better constitution today, I say "no."

Jury Trial Amendment: No. The current limit on a civil trial to request a jury is $10k. The amendment would raise the limit to $15k. I don't have much to go on here, but since jury trials are a basic right in our society, I'd rather not see the minimum increase unless someone really convinces me it's necessary.

Baltimore Orphan's Court Amendment: No. Currently there is no requirement in the City of Baltimore that Orphan's Court judges be qualified lawyers. I would guess that in most cases people will probably vote for qualified lawyers anyway (assuming they know or care), but I like the idea of leaving it open to the will of the people.

There are several other offices on the ballot, most of them unopposed, which I'm not going to bother voting on if I know nothing about the candidate. Going forward, I want to pay more consistent attention to county government and school board issues. We have the cable channels--may as well make use of them. Maybe in another two-to-four years I'll be in a better position to make some of these choices. It wouldn't hurt to keep myself better informed about state politics either, though I'm not sure of the best way to do that. National politics really don't concern me much. By the time you get to that level, I have absolutely no hope that my opinion makes any difference anyway.

progress

I've been reading Patapsco: Life Along Maryland's Historic River Valley (2008)--a collection of photos and interviews with longtime residents of Ellicott City, Oella, Elkridge, and Relay. It's a wonderful book, and perfectly suited for my interest in the local history of my adopted home. In the last interview of the book, Harold Hedeman of Avalon (adjacent to Relay) remembers:

I love trains--especially steam trains. Yeah, after the bridge went in, they had local trains that stopped at every station between Baltimore and Washington. Then they had an express train which was Relay, Laurel, Washington, that's all it stopped. And then, of course, they had the Capital Limited, as they called it, and that didn't stop anywhere. That just took you right over.

And from Washington to Baltimore on the steam train ('cause I rode it more than once) it's forty miles exactly. I would have my watch out and usually it was on time. It was supposed to get there in forty minutes--and many times it was there in thirty-eight minutes.

And I'm telling you, there are curves on this end of the line and there are curves on the other end, and there's a lot of straight track in the middle of that route between Baltimore and Washington on the B & O. And when those steam trains were on that straight stretch of track over there, they were going between eighty and ninety miles an hour, because they had to go slower on each end of the line where all the curves were.

Oh, I always loved trains. More than once, I would get over on the boulevard, 'cause Washington Boulevard is right smack alongside of that straight section of B & O track. And when you had a steam train going through there--one of these big locomotives like the Capital Limited, you know, a big long train? And those driving wheels are eighty inches in diameter on that train, three pairs of driving wheels on those passenger engines that run those trains.

And when they went by at that speed, I mean, that was a sight to see. The ground was trembling where you're standing, and you can imagine, you know, that big arm that connects those wheels? You can't believe it that piece of equipment can be going that way, but it's going so fast that you can't even see, you know, it's just a blur. I mean, those wheels and that arm are just a blur going by there.

So, you know, it's a sight to see. So when they changed to diesel engines, I thought, phooey, I don't want any part of those things. I'll take the steam train.

Today the MARC Camden line is the only passenger train that runs the route he's talking about. It doesn't have a nonstop like the Capital Limited. The fastest scheduled time is the 843 morning express, which stops at Dorsey, Savage, Laurel, Muirkirk, and Washington. The scheduled run is 1:04; I don't normally ride that train, so I can't say whether it ever arrives ahead of schedule. In my experience, they sometimes do, but not by much. More often, there are delays, including the ubiquitous summer "heat restrictions"--anytime the temperature gets over 90 degrees, CSX says it's too dangerous to run the trains over 50 mph.

Glad to see we've come so far in 80 years.

A Simple--if Overly Specific--Guide to Commuting between Elkridge and NIH

When I moved to Elkridge almost a year ago and started commuting back and forth to NIH, I wasn't able to find much information online about the specifics of riding the MARC. On my first attempt, I boarded the wrong train coming home and only just missed sailing off to who-knows-where. It took time to figure out the best places to stand, the kinds of delays to expect, etc. In the interest of perhaps sparing someone such inconveniences, and at the risk of thwarting some adventure, I offer here a hopefully simple (but wordy) guide to my particular commute.

First leg: Elkridge Crossing to Dorsey MARC Station

I live in the Elkridge Crossing neighborhood, near the corner of Rt. 1 and Montgomery Rd. The public transit options include HowardTransit Purple Route, MTA Commuter Route 320, and MTA MARC Train Camden Line. The first two stop within walking distance, but neither is of much use for my commute. The Purple Route first run is at 7:00 a.m. I could catch the 320 a little after 6:00 a.m., but I'd still have to walk 15 min or more from Rt. 1 and Dorsey Rd. to the MARC station. The earliest I could start work is 8:00, which would get me back too late to catch the last 320. The last rush-hour Purple Route would get me home no earlier than 7:00 p.m., just when the kids were going to bed.

So, I bike to and from the MARC station. It takes about 20 min. each way--maybe a bit longer in the evening, since there's more uphill. As I've commented elsewhere, Dorsey is not designed well for bike access. You have no choice but to come down Rt. 1 (there are some more roundabout alternatives, but almost none of them keeps you off it for long), past the station at Rt. 100, turn left on Dorsey Rd., left again on Douglas Legum Dr., right on Deerpath Rd., cut through to the station parking lot, and lock your bike up down by the station itself. I don't know how much the lockers are. I'm cheap, so I just leave my clunker at the bike rack, and so far nothing has happened to it.

NOTE: St. Denis MARC Station is probably about the same distance away, in the opposite direction. I can't comment on getting to it because I've never tried. The train stops there infrequently, so for my schedule it would be impossible.

Second Leg: Dorsey MARC Station to Washington Union Station

I take the first train of the morning, but I haven't noticed much difference on the rare occasion that I've taken a later train. Normally you wait on the platform closest to the station to head south. If the signal is red, it may mean that the train will come in on the opposite track. There are loudspeakers, and sometimes you'll get a message indicating if there's a delay or track change. You can also sign up for e-mail notifications, which I would recommend if you carry a blackberry or some such device.

The main thing you need to know about riding the Camden Line is that it runs on CSX (freight) tracks. Freight traffic seems to get the priority in most cases, so sometimes a train will have to wait for something (never sure what) to happen. Sometimes you'll have to change tracks to accommodate a more important schedule. Then there are signal problems, switching problems, and the ubiquitous "heat restrictions," where CSX limits the speed of the MARC trains any time it gets over 90 degrees. Basically, expect to arrive late, and be appreciative if you arrive on time. Afternoons tend to be worse, but it won't be long before you spend half an hour standing on the platform in the morning, waiting for a train that's delayed for some vague reason.

The car closest to the engine is usually the quiet car. At some stations, the platform is too small, and you have to board or exit through certain cars. Aside from that, if you want to make the best time possible, identify the car that will get you closest to where you want to go. In the morning, you want one of the front two cars. Normally you can only use the rear doors in the first car or the front doors in the second car. Since they're next to each other, it makes little difference which car you actually ride in--just get as close to the doors as you can. You'll want to wait somewhere around the far end of the second bench on the platform. If you can't get a seat close to the door, you can do like a lot of people and stand in the aisle after Riverdale.

Union Station is the end of the line, so there's no danger of sleeping through your stop. One side of the aisle has two-seaters, the other has three. I prefer the two-seat side if I don't have to go far to get it. The aisle seat on the three-seat side is too short to sleep comfortably, and it's awkward to sit down in the middle seat if there are only two passengers in the row. If you don't mind sitting by the window, the side doesn't matter much. The bathroom is usually in the end car, though personally I've never used it. I usually go when I get to the train station.

When you exit at Union Station, walk toward the front of the train. Once through the doors, head right, then down the escalators, and through the turnstiles. If you need the men's room, it's straight through the doors from the platform. I think the women's room is further down to the left.

Third Leg: Union Station to Medical Center

There's good information on the WMATA site about riding Metro, so I'm not going to say much here. If you have time, head all the way down toward the opposite end of the platform. Wait along the railing next to the last escalator structure. By boarding the train there, you'll be just about in position to head right up the escalator when you get off at the other end. I usually get out of my seat at Bethesda and get in position by the door.

Fourth Leg: Medical Center Metro to Building 31

I usually walk up the escalator to save time. Keep walking straight ahead. Visitors have to go through the Gateway Center to your left. Anyone with a badge can walk down to the other end and enter through the turnstiles. Once inside, you can take a shuttle or walk. If I arrive more or less on schedule, I can usually tell by the time and the number of people waiting whether the Campus Shuttle has already come by or not. If it has, and I don't see Mid-Pike, I'll walk. Otherwise I'll usually wait. Mid-Pike is faster, since it goes straight from the gate to 31. Campus is more regular, because it doesn't have to deal with outside traffic. It also comes more frequently.

Return Trip

I take the Rockledge or Executive Plaza Shuttle back to the Metro. Campus Limited would also work. Again, I jog down the escalator, and if there's a wait, I walk all the way to the opposite end of the platform. The further you can get to the front of the train, the better. The escalator at Union Station will be just outside the front door, and it's usually mobbed. Get a seat right by the door, or stake out a spot to stand somewhere around Metro Center. Doors open on the left.

Up the escalator, through the turnstiles, up the next escalator, then straight ahead. Check the screen for your gate. This is important. There are electronic displays at the end of the tracks, but they don't always work. More on that in a bit. I usually run to the bathroom if I have plenty of time, so I don't have to again before riding home. There's also a display in the passenger waiting area, if you didn't already get your gate number. Everything's Gate A. I think that's all MARC trains--definitely all Camden.

Now, here's the tricky part. If the track displays are working, take a quick look at yours. It should say "far north end," if the trains are stacked. Sometimes they'll put one train in front of another. Unless you're super early, that almost always means yours is out on the end. You'll have to walk *past* the train behind it. Most of the time, the rear train isn't boarding yet, so you can tell by the closed doors that it's not yours. If it is, check the size of the cars. Camden trains are mostly single-decker, occasionally with one double. If you see a lot of double-decker cars, keep walking. Once you've been riding a while, you'll get to know the faces on your regular train and the conductors (though they do change). When in doubt, ask. Ask the conductor if possible; ask people around you if you don't see one. There will usually be an announcement at some point before the train pulls out, but if you got on the wrong one, chances are pretty good you'll miss the one you wanted by the time you hear anything.

This time, you want the rear of the train. I usually go for the second-to-last car, because they fill up faster, and the bathroom in the last car pushes you back from the door. If you don't get a good spot, you can move forward once people start clearing out, or stand in the aisle after Savage. Just watch where the conductor is hanging out, so he'll have room to get by. Once you exit, walk around the rear of the train and across the tracks back to the station side. If you need to use the bathroom or wait for a ride, the doors facing the parking lot should be open.

I ride my bike back the way I came, with one exception. I take Old Washington Blvd at the split to simplify turning left on Montgomery Rd. Traffic is more of an issue later in the day. You have more shoulder to work with, but don't get too comfortable with it. It will vanish into a turn lane or a curb without much warning.

NOTE: A word about MARC tickets. There are ticket machines in most stations. I don't use them, because I get a subsidy and you can't pay with vouchers. The Amtrak counter at Union Station will sell MARC tickets, but for my purposes it's very inefficient. Because I don't commute every day, I buy one-way tickets. Because I get subsidy vouchers, I buy large quantities at a time. At a manned MARC counter, this is pretty easy--they just punch in your destination and the number of tickets, and hit print. At the Amtrak counter, they have to key and print each ticket separately. Make sure to budget time if you have to buy your tickets that way.

flying Simon

I had the opportunity last night to attend the patronal feast-day vigil at the ROC chapel of Ss. Peter and Paul here in Elkridge. (As much as I would love to have a full Orthodox parish within walking distance, it is still very cool to have a little chapel nearby, like some old-world village where scrounging up a priest to come out and celebrate the patronal feast at a local, all-but-abandoned shrine is an annual highlight. Or more to the point, I would love to see a revival of the tradition where everyone goes to the church dedicated to a particular saint on that saint's feast day. My circumstances don't always allow me to do it, but getting to the only Orthodox house of worship in Elkridge for its patronal feast is definitely going to be high on my recurring priorities.)

I had two revelations in the course of the service. (Not that kind.) First, knowing how to read Greek (loosely interpreted as meaning, at least I know the alphabet and a few other odds and ends) apparently means that I can follow along in the printed Slavonic service books. I hadn't really tried before. In the past, I just relied on my general knowledge of how the services run and getting my bearings whenever they switched to English. But at some point last night I started watching the Slavonic pages as well, and although I can't put together the sounds on my own, I found that I could track in the book with what was being chanted. That was helpful in keeping my place in the service; it also gave me some hope that, even without actually learning Slavonic, I might be able to pick up the pronunciation and improve my understanding of the script just by following along.

The second revelation had to do with the content of the service. Once again, I'm stuck having to rely on a passing observation, without finding a copy of the text; but I'm positive that one of the odes of the canon referred to the confrontation between Peter, Paul, and Simon Magus, where he flew about over the city of Rome, and they prayed to cast him down. I think it was back when I was in college that I was preparing a sermon outline or some such thing on the first part of Acts 8. In looking for more information about Simon Magus (I suppose I was trying to ascertain whether his conversion was genuine or not), I came across this passage in the apocryphal Acts of Peter and Paul:

Then Simon went up upon the tower in the face of all, and, crowned with laurels, he stretched forth his hands, and began to fly. And when Nero saw him flying, he said to Peter: This Simon is true; but you and Paul are deceivers. To whom Peter said: Immediately shall you know that we are true disciples of Christ; but that he is not Christ, but a magician, and a malefactor. Nero said: Do you still persist? Behold, you see him going up into heaven. Then Peter, looking steadfastly upon Paul, said: Paul, look up and see. And Paul, having looked up, full of tears, and seeing Simon flying, said: Peter, why are you idle? Finish what you have begun; for already our Lord Jesus Christ is calling us. And Nero hearing them, smiled a little, and said: These men see themselves worsted already, and are gone mad. Peter said: Now you shall know that we are not mad. Paul said to Peter: Do at once what you do.

And Peter, looking steadfastly against Simon, said: I adjure you, you angels of Satan, who are carrying him into the air, to deceive the hearts of the unbelievers, by the God that created all things, and by Jesus Christ, whom on the third day He raised from the dead, no longer from this hour to keep him up, but to let him go. And immediately, being let go, he fell into a place called Sacra Via, that is,Holy Way, and was divided into four parts, having perished by an evil fate.

The story stuck in my head at the time, probably as evidence of how wildly fanciful these apocryphal stories were. But apparently it was embraced in the Tradition of the Church as an authentic encounter. This doesn't mean that the book itself is inspired Scripture, but at least in this instance it happens to record something that actually happened. After a few years of reading lives of saints, I like to think that my take on what's "wildly fanciful" is a bit less biased than it used to be. For some reason, Evangelical Protestants have developed a habit of accepting at face value the supernatural powers manifested in biblical narratives, while discounting out of hand anything extra-biblical that really goes no further. Does it require more faith to believe that Simon flew by demonic power than to believe that demons could give superhuman strength or send a herd of pigs over a cliff? Is it any more fantastic that Peter would pray to end this blasphemous display than any exorcism found in the New Testament? Which came first--the assumption that such things only happened in the first century, or the refusal to accept them on any authority but the Bible?

Anyway, my point in bringing this up is not to preach. I'm just tickled that, after all these years, it turns out I can believe the story really happened.

more grumbling about the Dorsey station

It feels like too long since I last grumbled about the Dorsey MARC station and Rt. 100. Apparently the engineering firm that designed the Dorsey station won an award and some honorable mentions for the project. Good for them that I wasn't on the committees handing out awards--I'm not sure they would have fared as well. I suppose it depends on your criteria. The station is designed well as a fortress. It is hemmed in on two sides by steep grades that make overland access virtually impossible. Opposite these, there is an office park and a rather roundabout route, with no real entrance to the station. Fortunately, there is a paved cut-through for foot and bike access (must have been an oversight), but coming from the north you still have to traverse a circuitous path that adds significantly to the travel time involved.

Apparently it's more important that cars have the most direct access possible. I'm not sure why, since they're the fastest-moving option, and extra distance has less effect for them; but there it is. The best access to this modern-day Masada is an air-drop from the elevated highway that reinforces beyond all reason its north-facing impregnability. An elevated highway, I might add, that like most controlled access routes is off-limits to bikes and pedestrians. So, I have to climb over it, then skirt around the other side of the station.

For the most part, this is well-worn ground. The reason for my new rant is that I thought I had discovered an alternate route--shorter distance, and more back roads--but it was not to be. Google Maps thought so, but I was skeptical. For some reason, the address it pulls up for the station puts it on the other side of the tracks. A more suitable phrase cannot be found--apparently that's the way the barbarian hordes will come. I've looked down before on that road, from the lofty perch of the northbound platform. As I suspected, there is no access between the two, designed or incidental. Nor is there anywhere suitable to leave a bike at the bottom of the hill, if one were inclined to bushwhack an assault. So for all the apparent usefulness of that route, you're still left having to travel past the station and double back, to come in the very same way that I already do now.

Now, I'll admit that the engineers and architects may have done the best they could. I doubt that they had anything to do with the height of Rt. 100, and presumably the tracks were already higher than the adjacent road before the station was put in. But surely something could have been done to make it more broadly accessible. The grading isn't as steep elsewhere--perhaps a better location, or more of an effort to create a walkable hill. Failing that, what about putting in a stairway and a bike rack at the bottom? Apparently the completion of Rt. 100 included the station in its design--why couldn't they push the access road all the way through into the industrial park on the north side, so at-grade access from the north would be possible without a car?

The real problem is how the station was envisioned, as a car-accessible enclave, with no real connection to anything beyond Rt. 100. It is surrounded by other roads, but they may as well not exist. They're already talking about mixed-use development around the Savage station; how long before the same thing comes to Dorsey, and with it presumably (hopefully) a complete redesign of the station, at least as it relates to its environment? Wouldn't it have been better to make the place accessible from the beginning?

stinkin' Yankees

Apparently one of the advantages of having preserved the Union is that Northern garbage finds its home in the South. Literally. Garbage. On stinkin' long trains (and I only had to smell it going by on a 40-degree morning), mostly hauling from NYC to various landfills in Virginia. Jeff Davis must be retching in his grave.

I'm sorry. I really am. For being from the inconsiderate North. For eating fast food that comes with more packaging than calories. Tie me to a track in a vain attempt to stop the madness. Or more plausibly, try to get through a day without generating more garbage. (One day isn't so hard--start there, and do the same thing again tomorrow.) Give a rebel yell for the poor and defeated who have more open land than money or dignity. Shed a tear with the old Indian by the road. Repent in dust and ashes before the God who made us stewards of his creation. Or at least go stand on a train platform in August and breathe deep the stench of your own death.

spa review

Um . . . yeah. That's me--your neighborhood spa reviewer. This probably isn't going to be of much use to anyone who's actually looking for a spa in the area. Well, maybe some use. See for yourself.

So, last Friday was Julie's birthday. Every year, the balancing act is to find something that will surprise her, but that she'll also like. I'm not very good at figuring out what she'll like, and as a general rule I don't shop, so my opportunities to happen across something and think, "Hey, Julie would love this!" are limited. I usually have to resort to asking her for suggestions, which seriously diminishes the surprise factor.

Well, this year I wasn't moving very quickly (probably nothing new there), so before I got a chance to get out and look for anything I heard her say something to Ian about wanting "a day at the spa." I'm not made of money (as I like to remind my kids), so an actual day at the spa was out of the question. But I figured I could probably at least get her some kind of decent gift certificate. The only question was, where? Because I know spas. I'm in them all the time, so I know the best, and I know how to pick a good one. Right.

But I do like to shop local. So, I googled something like "Elkridge MD spa" and got a list of results arranged by proximity. I wasn't actually expecting to find anything all that close by, but to my surprise, one of the top hits was something called Oriental Spa, just down the road in a little strip mall on Rt. 1. Their Web site looked OK, and they do massages, which was the kind of thing that I figured would interest her. Worth a shot, right? The first opportunity I had, I went over to ask about a gift certificate. It happened to be an occasion when Ian was looking for somewhere to go, and my answers usually involve walking somewhere or going to church. Even better, Julie was on the tail end of a nap, so we might get there and back without any incriminating questions.

I realized when we got there why I couldn't remember much about it, even though I knew I'd walked through that strip mall a few times before, checking what businesses it contained. Aside from the fact that I normally wouldn't be the least bit interested in a spa, there's not much to say about the outside. The windows are opaque and the glass door covered with blinds. When we walked in, we were faced with another door--solid, with a button to ring a bell. The only other features in the small entryway were a mirror with some kind of picture on it (I wasn't paying much attention) and a sign proclaiming that the establishment was subject to random police inspection. Before I had time to think, "That doesn't sound promising," a female Asian voice yelled through the wall, "No babies!" (I assume she meant my almost six-year-old son) and asked what I wanted. I explained that I wanted to ask about gift certificates, and she said they don't do that. There didn't seem to be much left to do, so we walked back home.

It occurred to me as we were leaving that there are spas, and there are spas. Sometimes a massage is just a massage, and sometimes it's whatever $70 gets you in Elkridge. I settled on a day spa in Columbia. They seem to have a wider range of advertised services, they sell gift certificates, and you can see through their front windows--probably all good signs.

Julie was surprised (she probably would have been either way), and likes what she got, though she hasn't yet redeemed the certificate. If anyone knows of a good spa in Elkridge, I'd appreciate recommendations--never know when I might need to buy another gift. As for the Oriental Spa on Rt. 1, about all I can say is, bring cash, leave the kids at home, and don't expect very good customer service. Maybe it gets better once you're through that second door, but I don't expect I'll ever know.

does a song scream when you emasculate its lyrics?

Over a year ago, I blogged about coming to terms with my continuing life as a Marylander. At that point, things were starting to look like we'd be staying put for the foreseeable future, and I was looking for anything I could grab onto and identify with my place. Most notably, I came across the Maryland state song, "Maryland, My Maryland!" which seemed to me a surprising breath of fresh air in this state that (around here anyway) often forgets that it is more than a suburb of Washington, DC. How it got there I do not know, but clearly it needs to be preserved and sung, loudly and often.

Sadly, not everyone thinks so. Apparently, instead of teaching our fourth-graders about the complexities of life, history, and politics--and perhaps at the same time reminding them that they live in a (supposedly) sovereign state with its own trajectory, not just some ill-defined tract of a continent-wide empire--we seek to protect their tender ears by abandoning history and place. (Check their iPods to see what fourth-graders don't find offensive.) After four years of indoctrination in political correctness and the sainthood of Lincoln, what an interesting project, to let them read or hear the song and then go react to it by taking political action! Is there really any question how they will perceive it, without some kind of instruction on the context and issues involved?

I'm all for political involvement, and it's not a bad thing to teach kids about it. I would hope that at some point we move beyond teaching them the mechanics of how to make their opinions heard, to instilling in them the kind of critical thinking and values orientation that makes those opinions worth hearing. I'm sure none of this had anything to do with the opinions of the library media specialist who instigated the project, or those of the intern who salvaged the letters, or the sponsoring delegate herself. I'm guessing it had nothing to do either with the political attraction of a cause championed by kids. Perhaps all these well-meaning adults simply agreed with the compelling logic that the song "has too many old fashioned words."

But seriously, can anyone really love the proposed alternative? It has all the appearance of a downloaded state-song template, which probably contained a blank where they inserted the reference to the Chesapeake. Take that out, and it could apply (vaguely) in any patriot's heart just about anywhere. Gone are "the streets of Baltimore," "Carroll's sacred trust," "Howard's warlike thrust," and the other now-virtually-unknown state heroes. Gone are the Old Line, the neigbor-in-need Virginia, and the very historical context and conflict that runs throughout. If everything I need to know I learned in fourth grade, apparently the highlights are that poetry should be easy to read, bland, and unemotive. But don't take my word for it--read the awful specimen for yourself:

WE DEDICATE OUR SONG TO THEE,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND,
THE HOME OF LIGHT AND LIBERTY,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND,
WE LOVE THY STREAMS AND WOODED HILLS,
THY MOUNTAINS WITH THEIR GUSHING RILLS,
THY SCENES––OUR HEART WITH RAPTURE FILLS––
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.

IN TWAIN THE CHESAPEAKE DIVIDES
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND,
WHILE OCEANWARD ITS WATER GLIDES,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.
YET WE IN THOUGHT AND PURPOSE ONE,
PURSUE THE WORK SO WELL BEGUN,
AND MAY OUR STATE BE NE’ER OUTDONE,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.

PROUD SONS AND DAUGHTERS BOAST OF THEE,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.
THINE IS A PRECIOUS HISTORY,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.
BRAVE HEARTS HAVE HELD THY HONOR DEAR,
HAVE MET THE FOEMAN FAR AND NEAR,
BUT VICTORY HAS FURNISHED CHEER,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.

“SAIL ON, SAIL ON, O SHIP OF STATE!”
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.
MAY WE, THY CHILDREN, MAKE THEE GREAT,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.
MAY GRATITUDE OUR HEARTS POSSESS,
AND BOLDLY WE THY CLAIMS EXPRESS,
AND BOW IN LOVING THANKFULNESS,
MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.

And if you're still awake, compare it with the power it seeks to supplant. Then write your state senators and assemblymen and tell them what I want you to think.

The Elkridge Blessing (Part 2)

The pics are finally available from the Theophany service at Ss. Peter and Paul chapel and the blessing of Rockburn Branch. Dcn. Michael has been having issues with his site, but it's nice that at least they're up before the end of winter. I'm easier to spot in the outdoor shots with my bright green coat than the indoor.

this year's evil

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into Lent . . .

One of the things we've gained from moving to Elkridge is better proximity to some discount stores. I'll save the Super Walmart that's just up the road for another rant; this time, my beef is with Aldi. If you're not familiar with this store, I can only hope you will get to know it in the deepening economic crisis that yawns before us. Ethical issues aside (I don't know, and I don't want to know), it's just plain cheap. You put in a quarter deposit to unlock your cart and get it back when you return it. (If you don't care about the quarter, someone else will.) The cashiers just chuck your groceries back in the cart as they scan, and you put the mess in bags at a counter along the wall. They carry some name-brand stuff, but a lot of items are their own.

Anyway, my wife's better at singing their praises--I'm here to complain, so let's get down to it. Not long ago--just in time for Lent, it would appear--she discovered their fruit pies. You know the type--single-packaged dough shells filled with some kind of fruit. Since they're cheap, there's nothing fancy in the crust--flour, sugar, and low-grade vegetable oil. So . . . if your definition of "oil" for lent is olive oil, there's nothing objectionable. Nothing, that is, except the decadent, well-preserved sweetness of a dessert that I didn't need to know about. Think, a jelly donut with a long shelf-life. I've tried the apple and the cherry, and even without heating them up, I can tell it's going to be hard to resist.

Now that you know, my recommendation is to stay as far away from the things as possible. If knowing makes you go get one, we'll talk again at Forgiveness Vespers.

The Elkridge Blessing (Part 1)

Sometimes mountainbikers happen across their strange woodland rituals--it might be about a dozen people out in the snow, gathered on the bank of a partially frozen creek, speaking in strange tongues and throwing water around . . .

Honestly, I would love to know what the three cyclists who swerved around our little gathering thought we were up to. If only they'd known that half-way around the world hundreds or thousands of groups were doing the very same thing, except that their festivities probably involved a bit more "walrusing"--what the Russians apparently call a polar bear swim.

As I've mentioned before, one of the things I like about living in Elkridge is that we're about a five-minute bike ride from an Orthodox cemetery. More to the point, it's the cemetery that belongs to Holy Trinity Russian Orthodox Church in Baltimore, which has a good relationship with Holy Cross. Generally if a priest is needed in an emergency when Fr. Gregory is away, Fr. John from Holy Trinity is on call. We also use some of the cemetery space and the picnic facilities.

Picnic facilities? This is really starting to sound weird. Well, the fact is, Orthodox take very seriously the "communion of saints." Death is a real separation, but much less so in light of Christ's "trampling down death by death." We pray for our departed friends and family, and we pray to (somewhat less scandalously, with) the departed saints. It is said that the early Christians often had to worship underground, in the same caves where they buried their dead. So when the Book of Revelation talks about the martyrs under the altar, this would have reflected the usual practice. We are never very far from our dead even now, with regular commemorations and memorials of departed loved ones, various Soul Saturdays throughout the year, and one particularly beautiful tradition in the Russian Church. On Thomas Sunday (a week after Easter), they gather in the cemetery and proclaim the resurrection to the dead who lie there.

So it's not so unusual for Orthodox to combine picnic facilities with cemeteries. They also ideally maintain a chapel in proximity, if the cemetery is not already close to the church, so services like that on Thomas Sunday have somewhere to meet. Someone told me today that Ss. Peter and Paul Chapel, which is on the grounds of this particular cemetery, used to be pretty run-down and used basically once a year. Things have changed quite a bit since then. At one point, when Holy Trinity had two priests, they had a full-fledged Russian language mission, with regular vigils and liturgies. Now, they do the first vigil of the month at the main church downtown, but the other weekly vigils are held in the chapel. There are no regular liturgies there, however. So I can't rely on it as an actual neighborhood parish, but it is nice to participate when I have occasion to do so.

I visited a month or two ago for Saturday vigil (part of it anyway--I had Ian with me, and vigil is quite long). I was back again today for Theophany. That's the Orthodox name for what the West calls Epiphany--the end of the traditional 12 days of Christmas. Now, you fact-checkers are probably already calculating--if it's 12 days after Christmas, we're 13 days too late! Not so, if Christmas was in fact 12 days ago :-) Russian Orthodox still follow the Julian calendar, which was the traditional calendar of the Church down to the Great Schism and continued in both East and West until around the time of the Reformation Pope Gregory endorsed an adjustment to the calendar. Scholars had determined that adding a leap day every four years was gradually pushing the Julian calendar behind the actual solar year. They came up with the idea to skip the leap day every century year but the fourth, and to go back and re-calibrate the calendar according to the new system. This meant deleting some days and then moving forward with the new approach. Protestant nations were slow to adopt the new papal calendar; in the British Empire, it didn't take until a few decades before the American Revolution. Orthodox nations didn't adopt the Gregorian calendar until the 20th c., and even then there was difference of opinion over its use for Church events. To this day, the Russian Church retains the Julian calendar and therefore observes Christmas and Theophany 13 days later than the West (for the next century anyway).

I wanted to attend Theophany in particular for a few reasons. One is that I missed the Theophany service at Holy Cross due to a schedule conflict with Julie. (If there's any advantage to having Orthodox churches on two different calendars, it's that you get two chances to attend the major feast services.) Another is that I knew they'd have Theophany at the chapel, so it would be close by. Most importantly, they do an outdoor water blessing at Theophany, which Holy Cross doesn't do (it would be considerably more difficult logistically), and they bless a waterway that's in very close proximity to where I live.

Now, I need to explain something about the water blessing. Each year at Theophany, every Orthodox church performs the Great Blessing of Waters, at least inside the church building, but often outside as well. Western Epiphany has come to revolve primarily around the Three Wise Men, but in the East, Theophany is about the baptism of Jesus. This is the point of the name, which means "revelation of God." While Jesus's birth was heralded by angels and witnessed by Jewish shepherds and Gentile wise men, it was a more or less secret affair. It was not a public announcement for everyone to consider. But when Jesus reached adulthood and officially began his ministry, he started with being baptized by St. John. At this point, John proclaimed to his followers that Jesus was the promised Messiah, and the Trinity was revealed with the voice of the Father from heaven, and the Spirit descending in the form of a dove.

But why baptism? John was baptizing people for repentance, but Jesus was without sin. When John himself balked, Jesus said it was to fulfill all righteousness, which the Orthodox Church interprets to mean that his baptism was part of God's redemptive plan. He brought human nature into the water of repentance, but this was also a moment of redemption for the created world, which also suffers the effects of our fall. The water didn't cleanse him--he cleansed the water! And as water is integral to pretty much everything that lives on this planet, a cleansing of water extends to everything else. When we celebrate Theophany, we call on the Spirit to perform anew this miracle of redeeming the natural world. It works to do it indoors, with a big tub of water, but the connection is much more apparent when the blessing takes place at a natural waterway. In our case, the blessing flows from Rockburn Branch, into the Patapsco River, out to the Chesapeake Bay, and then to the Atlantic Ocean.

I didn't have much clue what to expect when I went. I wasn't able to find out until last night when the service would start, and even then I had no idea how long it would last or exactly when the outdoor blessing would take place. The liturgy started at 10:00 and was on the long side at something like two full hours. Then there was the indoor water blessing, so people could fill up jugs to take home. I kind of liked how this part worked. Perhaps it was by necessity because there's no plumbing into the chapel, but most people came in with jugs of water to dump into the containers for the blessing. Not that water is much of an offering, but still--the idea that we bring our fallen, contaminated water, and God gives it back to us made whole. After the blessing, several people left, while others stayed for a light lunch (which had to be set up, so that took more time). Then we got everything together and 13 of us went off to make our way through the woods, down to the creek. Fr. John said this was the first time they'd done it when the creek was significantly frozen, so it took some time to determine the best spot where we could get at the water. With the walk back up to the chapel, it was after 3:00 by the time I got home.

Taking the outdoor blessing in isolation, you couldn't have asked for a better setting--the woods, the light snow falling and just covering the ground, the iced-over creek, the bite in the air. It was exactly what such an outdoor winter sacrament should be. Though I must say, I was a bit relieved to find that they do not observe the custom of throwing the cross into the water, so those who choose to do so can jump in after it. The rest of the day was good as well, though a bit longer than I was hoping. I didn't really want to spend so much time away from my family, but it was nice that I had a chance to meet some of the parishoners and experience the services in both Slavonic and English. I'd probably be pretty lost if it were all in Slavonic, but between having a decent familiarity with the flow of the service and following enough in English, I usually knew right where we were, without once looking at a service book.

A lot of pictures were taken. I'll watch for them to go up on Holy Trinity's site, or more likely, that of Dn. Michael Bishop, and post a link if anything is available.

four hills, and turn left

I'm not a big fan of the GPS craze. (Go figure.) Although I must admit, it is nice to have resources like GPS and Google Maps available (I use the latter quite frequently on my Blackberry), I would much rather explore the terrain and the routes around me, and get to know them at a human level. (Of course, now Google Maps brings us Street View, so you can do just that from the comfort of your desk or couch.)

There was a running joke, back when I lived in "the sticks" (if only), about giving directions like: "Turn left where the old barn used to be" (like I know where things are by landmarks that existed 20 years ago) or, "Watch for the driveway when you see cows" (they're always standing right where I need them to be?). There are still plenty of places around this country where route numbers and street signs are scarce, where you're better off knowing the general direction you need to head and keeping a sense of where that is as you go. Places where the main topics of discussion at family reunions are, "Which way did you come?" and "How high's your corn?"

Of course, it helps too if the roads run in more or less definable directions. In the flat wilderness of Western New York, most of the roads run north to south or east to west, with a few notable diagonals. So if you know the major routes and you can remember which direction you're heading, you can usually figure it out. In Grand Junction Colorado, where I lived for a while in fourth grade, roads are actually named on the map grid. We lived on F Rd., which of course was equidistant between E and G roads. There was also F-1/2 Rd., and running perpendicular were numbered roads. There's an artificiality to it, but it's very easy to navigate. At the same time, I have a romantic attraction to more curving, less predictable roads that are shaped by the hills, valleys, and waterways of the land. They require more familiarity with the place where you live. And of course they're infuriating to newcomers and those passing through.

Riding bike in and around the settlement of Elkridge has given me a new perspective on distance and direction. As I always like to mention, Elkridge is situated on the Fall Line--the boundary between the outer Piedmont and the Atlantic Coastal Plain. This location put Elkridge on the map, because it was at one time the furthest point inland on the Patapsco River where tobacco casks could be loaded onto ships and sent across the ocean. It also gives it a very hilly terrain, which makes for a great workout and a somewhat more grueling commute than I would really ask for.

These hills are a rather prominent feature of my rides back and forth to the train station. There are four main hills on my route. I live at the top of one hill, so heading out in the morning, the first leg is the easiest--downhill to Rt. 1, a level stretch, and then a long downhill to get me well on my way. Then comes the first uphill of the morning, past the library, and then another good downhill. That one always gets me breathing hard, but I'm still fresh, so getting over it isn't too much trouble. Thankfully, the second uphill, which crowns just past Ducketts Ln., isn't bad at all. I can conserve some energy for the last, long hill, running up to Rt. 100.

I think in theory I could make it over that hill without stopping, but in practice I never have. There's a bit of shoulder that widens out not too far before the stoplight that precedes the ramp. The road will widen enough at the stoplight for cars to get over and prepare their entrance to the ramp, even though there are no lines marking out a separate lane. I know that if the light is green, they'll want to come hurtling through it, changing lanes to the right, and already speeding up to the 55 mph that they know will apply on 100. I like to get over to the middle of the thru lane as soon as possible, but that means I'm chugging uphill while tying up a lane, with cars passing on both right and left. I want as much energy as possible, so I don't take too long getting past the ramp and back to where I have good shoulder to ride. Even then, I still have to get up and over the bridge. So, I always pull over before I reach the light, take a breather, and check the time to see how I'm doing. Once I'm up the hill, it levels off and even drops down a bit before I reach the station, so I can take it easy, coasting much of the way, or push a little harder if I'm short on time. I make my left turn at Rt. 103, not far beyond 100, and then I'm on pretty quiet roads for the last stretch before the station.

Really, I must say that Rt. 100 is the major landmark on my morning commute and the bane of my existence. If I didn't have to get over Rt. 100, that last hill wouldn't be so bad. For that matter, if I didn't have to get over Rt. 100, I'd have a shorter ride to the station. Even worse, it wasn't until they finished Rt. 100 that the Dorsey station opened, with its practically car-only design. Before that, there was actually an Elkridge train station, which would have been a much shorter ride and more accessible and friendly to biking. I suppose I should be glad I didn't have to experience its closing. It was long gone by the time I had to worry about it.

The return trip is harder for a few reasons:

• The traffic is always heavier, which gives me more to worry about. Fortunately, there's some compensation for this. There are some long stretches of real shoulder heading north, and I've come up with a route that makes my only left turn pretty safe and easy. Of course, even the extra shoulder has its problems. It's all well and good to get over on the shoulder, especially when I'm crawling up a long, steep hill; but getting back off the shoulder when it becomes a turn lane isn't always easy.
• Even though the ride between the station and Rt. 1 is mostly level, it does have an overall grade that's generally uphill heading home.
• Maybe it's just my imagination, but the intermediate uphills seem if anything a bit steeper heading north.
• It also seems that the places where I have no shoulder to work with are at the crowns of hills, particularly the second to last hill.
• That nice, long downhill that I have first thing in the morning is a nice, long uphill in the evening.
• Also, because of the heavier traffic and the long uphill at the end, I have a tough choice to make. If I stay on Rt. 1 all the way, it's more direct and the hill isn't quite as steep. The drawback, however, is that it's heavy traffic, and there's no shoulder for a good bit of the hill. Plus, by the time I get to the end of the climb, I have to get over for a left turn, crossing two lanes of thru traffic. I've opted for the alternative, which is to veer off on Old Washington, take the little bit longer ride and steeper hill but much less traffic and only one lane moving each way. There's a similar problem with shoulders, but with fewer cars it's not such a big deal. I usually have to stop at least once for a rest on the way up (sometimes more than once), but the left turn is much less harrowing. Also, if I luck out, I get a little bit of a downhill to build up some speed before the final push up Montgomery to our development.
• Which reminds me--there's also that steep uphill from Rt. 1 to our development entrance. It's a short stretch, but almost inevitably coming from a stop and at the end of the ride so I'm already pretty worn out.

But then I'm topped out on the fourth hill, and I'm home. And that's always good.