Aging a Step at a Time by George Merrill


There was a time in my mid-fifties when the idea of aging seemed as remote to me as the concept of a ‘quark,’ something I’d heard about, but didn’t comprehend. I first grew conscious of my aging when somebody suggested that I looked old by offering me a senior discount without even asking my age.

It was about twenty-five years ago when I drove to Maine to visit old haunts where I’d vacationed as a child. It was an informative trip.

Screen Shot 2015-04-24 at 11.22.42 AMI arrived at a State Park and at the entrance a park attendant greeted me cheerfully announcing that, since I was a senior, I was entitled to a courtesy discount. At fifty-five I didn’t think I was a ‘senior’ and her offer offended me. What I found more irksome was how, without even asking my age, she assumed she knew how old I was. Did she know something about me that I didn’t?

My consciousness of aging grew slowly, step by step; each incident heightening my awareness until the evidence was undeniable.

I had a vague sense of aging when my mother died. I was thirty then. My father died years prior to her and all my uncles and aunts were long gone. With her death I felt it was the end of an era. I’d always thought of myself as the child but now I was the adult, the oldest surviving male in my family. I didn’t feel old, although a little lonely, a feeling I learned later often accompanies ageing.

One day I received an unsolicited copy of Modern Maturity in the mail, the popular rag for seniors. I understood that you received your first free copies when you were sixty although I learned later it was at fifty. I was miffed that the publisher assumed I was old enough to qualify for a seniors’ magazine. Again I had the uneasy feeling that people saw in me something I couldn’t.

I moved the Eastern Shore in semi-retirement, that is, I remained working a few hours a week teaching at Loyola. As most people know, semi-retirement is actually a mind game retirees play so they can maintain a familiar identity and not admit they don’t have a real job. It’s like an infant’s transitional object, that old shredded blanket the baby clings to as he’s growing older. It helps provide him with the comfort of familiarity as his world changes. Many people, more men than women I suspect, have trouble with retirement and don’t like using the “R” word. I continued working a few hours a week, although I had actually retired, and so when anyone asked me, “Well, George, what do you do?” I could reply, “I teach at Loyola,” thus skillfully avoided using the “R” word while not feeling as if I was lying.

I was confronted again with my aging when, at sixty-two and still working a few hours a week, I drove to Cambridge and applied for Social Security.

The office was small and above the counter hung a large portrait of the then president, Bill Clinton. He looked remarkably young, like a boy, with a cherubic expression on his face that cast an aura of youthful vitality around the otherwise sterile office. Soon a beautiful young woman (I want to say girl) appeared, introduced herself cordially and asked how she might help. “I’d like to apply for Social Security,” I replied. She nodded while asking me, ” How old are you Mr. Merrill?” I told her sixty-two.

I remember the moment vividly. Her eyes remained on the form as she wrote. As I answered my voice sounded hollow to me, distant, the way people describe the sound of their own voice shortly before they pass out.

The number sixty-two sounded much too old for me and I expected the young woman to protest and say something like, “Oh, no, I would have thought fifty.” Instead, she treated my disclosure with a professional nod, as though she had no reason in the world to think otherwise and then she looked up at me, and smiled. Her face revealed not a hint of erotic interest but only of respect and perhaps, even sympathy. The large portrait of Clinton hung just above where she was standing and I thought at the time that this pretty young woman and the portrait of President Clinton in his prime, an attractive man whom women found interesting, both conspired to be for me a sign from heaven. As the Book of Ecclesiastes says, “There is a time for everything under the sun,” or maybe Yogi Berra put it even more succinctly: “It ain’t’ over ‘til it’s over.”

I understood that day that my youth was over. Narcissistic wounds help us cut to the chase like nothing else.

I think of myself now as an elder. I like the thought. Elders are old, but they are also eager to learn new things. Near sunset, when the sun is low on the horizon, I can see the landscape in far greater detail than I ever could at high noon. At the latter days of my life, I see the world in sharper relief and what I’ve seen can sometimes be of use to others who know the world only by the light of the noonday sun.

Columnist George Merrill is an Episcopal Church priest and pastoral psychotherapist.  A writer and photographer, he’s authored two books on spirituality: Reflections: Psychological and Spiritual Images of the Heart and The Bay of the Mother of God: A Yankee Discovers the Chesapeake Bay. He is a native New Yorker, previously directing counseling services in Hartford, Connecticut, and in Baltimore. George’s essays, some award winning, have appeared in regional magazines and are broadcast twice monthly on Delmarva Public Radio.

Art Review: “WaterLines: RiverBank” at the Chestertown Bank Building by Mary McCoy

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Last Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, something extraordinary happened in the vacant Chestertown Bank building. As darkness fell each evening, a watery, bluish glow emanated from the double glass doors set into its dignified Neo-Classical façade. Inside, the familiar, staid lobby had become a world of rippling light and sublimely meditative sound.

Screen Shot 2015-04-23 at 9.05.08 AMSometimes it takes a stranger to show you what you have. In this case, it was four strangers: architect and installation artist Ronit Eisenbach, dance artist and choreographer Cassie Meador, composer Aleksandra Vrebalov, and biologist and visual artist Jenifer Wightman. Invited to Washington College by the Sandbox Initiative, these interdisciplinary visiting artists have spent this academic year getting to know the area, its environment, community, and history. Along the way, they gathered information and insight from many local sources, along with videos and sound recordings, all of which led to “WaterLines: RiverBank.”

Involving members of the community throughout, the three-day event included the multimedia installation in Chestertown Bank and a dance performance on Thursday evening, preceded by a morning gathering at the foot of High Street to collect water to be used in the performance. Although I missed the performance due to a prior commitment, experiencing just the installation in the bank was unforgettable.

Its darkened lobby, strangely stripped bare of the tellers’ counters and desks, was filled with a shifting tapestry of light and sound. Tinkling bells and wind chimes wove in and out along with the sound of a ship’s horn and the muffled calls of ducks and herons as something akin to the singing of souls came cascading from all around. Spilling high across two walls, videos of light flickering on the Chester River’s gentle waves were projected through a tall side window and through the gauze curtains of the 2nd story French doors overlooking the lobby.

Another video streamed across the tiled floor, its patterns of earthy color sweeping forward like waves rolling up the shore, then turning slightly sideways to wash back. Although the rhythmic motion brilliantly captured the calming, hypnotic movement of lapping waves, the images were not of water but instead showed a time-lapse sequence of Wightman’s mud paintings, multicolored panels of Chester River mud on view at the Sandbox gallery since February. The organic abstractions created by live microorganisms in the mud have been slowly changing as colors bloom and fade with the growth and decay of the minute organisms.

Whether or not you know the story behind the mud paintings, the evolving sequence was inspired. Although the video documented the interconnecting life cycles of microbes, it just as easily called to mind the forming and dissolution of galaxies. Either on a microscopic or cosmic scale, what mattered was that you were seeing nature at work, creating, evolving, transforming.

Skimming over the tile of the floor, the organic imagery made a distinct contrast with its setting in the orderly, institutional building. A bank is meant to be a stable, trustworthy place. Siting “Waterlines” in a bank that has gone out of business conjured the uneasy feeling that there is nothing whose permanence can ultimately be relied on. Given the watery reflections shimmering in every direction, there was even a feeling that this might be how the building itself will look in a few centuries if sea level rise continues unchecked.

Screen Shot 2015-04-23 at 9.05.29 AMThe inevitability of change was underscored by stepping into the bank’s open vault. The rows of safety deposit boxes were in disarray, some of their doors locked, some left ajar. Instead of deeds and precious family jewelry, some held small bowls of river water or tiny videos, all shot locally, pointedly inferring that these things may well be even more valuable.

The videos presented familiar scenes of Chestertown’s waterfront geese and ducks and its docks, drainage pipes and marshes, the banding and release of birds at the college’s Foreman’s Branch Bird Observatory, the dreamy underwater movement of swimmers, and close-ups of gesturing hands shot while the artists were interviewing community members. In the intimate space of the cramped vault, these modest, local subjects were brought into sharp focus, provoking thoughts about their significance and how they too are changing.

For those of us who have lived in this area for many years, “WaterLines” was saturated with memory and love—memory of the buildings, businesses, people and seasons that have come and gone, and love for the river and its marshes, shorebirds, shifting tides, and halcyon days of sunlight on the water. Such feelings are warm and joyful but also fraught with anxiety as the ecological challenges to our beloved home become more obvious.

In the ever-shifting, contemplative space created by this installation, the mind quieted and breathing took on the measured cadence of the phantom shimmering waves. Gradually, the flow of light and sound began to feel curiously more real and authentic than the everyday world of computers, phone calls, cars and schedules. Simultaneously, fear of change slowly gave way to a deeper understanding that what we are called on to do is to welcome and acknowledge change and use our innate creativity to adapt to its gifts and challenges.

Photo credit – Zachary Z. Handler

Spy Profile: Geoff Oxnam on Internet Connectivity, Junior Achievement, and Leadership


It seems like everywhere you turn in Talbot County, Easton Utilities V.P. for Operations, Geoff Oxnam seems to be there. With almost bi-weekly appearances at county or town council meetings, acting as a trustee for Shore Regional Health or the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, sponsoring leadership workshops as part of Leadership Maryland, or chairing the board of Junior Achievement, Oxnam is part of a new generation of Talbot County leaders coming of age.

In his Spy interview, Oxnam talks about some of the challenges that face Easton Utilities, particularly the ever-changing nature of cable television and broadband connectivity. He also talks about his passion for the work of Junior Achievement and the role of leadership in the nonprofit section.

This video is approximately ten minutes in length

Out and About (Sort Of): Finally By Howard Freedlander

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Something amazing happened recently. The weather actually became warmer.

Comments such as “Do you think spring has arrived?” and “Wasn’t this winter awful?” have diminished as buds and flowers on trees and plants have appeared and offered a glimpse of things to come.

What’s most notable, more so than the changing of seasons, has been a changing of moods. As cold-weather clothing recede into the back of a closet, smiling about sunny, warm weather seems to have emerged. While I haven’t surveyed smiling faces in the Mid-Shore area, I think it’s a safe bet.

Now, for me, two events have somewhat soured my mood. On Monday, April 13, I appeared in Talbot County District Court to plead for mercy for a speeding ticket earned on Route 50 maybe six weeks ago. It’s been a long time since I had the pleasure of sitting in a courtroom hoping the judge would grant me some financial relief and a record without points.

I found an Easton friend also testing the patience and tolerance of the justice system. In fact, he seemed far more comfortable than I in the sparse courtroom, but also was resigned to writing a check for his transgression, though at an amount less than it could have been.

I wish I could say I learned a lesson. I would be fibbing, however. Route 50 has been my lifeline for nearly 40 years, my concrete connection to work and family. As my mind constantly wanders, I do realize the need to reduce the stress on my gas pedal. It seems a reasonable expectation.

Talbot County District Court draws enough people that my presence is superfluous—or at least preventable.

As we all know, April 15 is a dreadful day for those of us called to provide additional funding for our federal government. Though not surprised I owed Uncle Sam some money, I did find it difficult to allow the wonderful spring weather to prompt a joyous demeanor during my meeting with my accountant.
Back to more pleasant activities than a courtroom appearance and tax obligations, I recently attended the opening of a new exhibit at the Chesapeake Bay

Maritime Museum entitled Chesapeake Swan Song: From Commodity to Conservation. This exhibit, like so many at the museum, tells a story not just about birds but about the heritage of the Eastern Shore.

Judy and Henry Stansbury partially sponsored the exhibit. A fellow member of the maritime museum’s board of governors, Henry Stansbury is a renowned collector of wildlife decoys and respected historian. He has a wealth of knowledge about hand-carved decoys and birds endemic to the Eastern Shore, as well as the human history of Maryland. Henry is a former president of the Maryland Historical Society.

One other thing: the Farmers’ Market opened in Easton for the season on Saturday, April 11, drawing buyers and friends who like, in equal measure, to shop and talk. The market is truly a community gathering place not only for us humans, but also our dogs.

So, clearly spring is upon us after a very cold, unpleasant winter. Many Talbot County residents have returned from Florida and points south, renewing their ties with our wonderful piece of Maryland– and those of us who kept our thermostats in the high 60s and low 70s for a few frigid months.

Finally, we can talk about the weather in glowing terms.

A First Look: Rep. Chris Van Hollen Comes to the Eastern Shore


With U.S. Senator Barbara Mikulski giving notice earlier this year that she would not be seeking reelection in 2016, at least two Democratic candidates, Congress members Donna Edwards and Chris Van Hollen, have thrown their hats into the ring for her seat. The Spy caught up with one of the candidates on Sunday afternoon.

Just before his first appearance at the Talbot County Democratic Forum’s annual meeting in downtown Easton, Representative Van Hollen very briefly sat down with the Spy at Bullitt House to talk about his experience in Maryland politics, beginning with his first political job as an aide to one of the state’s most respected leaders, Charles McC. ‘Mac’ Mathias Jr. as well as his impressions of the current Congress. While he quickly shifts away from talking about his opponents, Van Hollen highlights his long history of working on Maryland issues, including his efforts to protect the Chesapeake Bay watershed.

This video is approximately eight minutes in length

Of God and Gays by George Merrill


In the last several years, religious communities, especially my own Episcopal Church, have been roiling in heated controversy around the issues of human sexuality. It was particularly contentious when the Episcopal Church ordained an openly gay Bishop. Defying the decision, some parishes split from our denomination to establish their own churches. One African Bishop, when a gay man offered to shake his hand, turned his back on him. Not our finest hour.

Understandings of human sexuality vary widely and opinions run from “what’s the big deal” to “abomination.” Creationists tend toward Biblical literalism while liberals lean more to metaphorical interpretations. The issues include how we are to view lesbians, gays, bisexual and transgender persons (LGBT). Are they sinners in God’s eyes, an aberration or are their sexual proclivities a product of genetics? Is marriage a contract exclusively between men and women or might it include same sex unions? These issues are now being openly discussed.

georgeOpponents of LGBT’s sexual orientations frequently cite the Bible’s Leviticus 18:2 for divine justification: “Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind.” If a Biblical text ultimately decides this matter, advocates for exclusively heterosexual marriage have a strong case. This text is unequivocal and historically the traditional point of view in the West. Liberal interpretations point out that love, loyalty and commitment, also divine imperatives, are the essence of a marriage contract, not gender. Pew research finds that opposition to same sex marriages is greater among political and religious conservatives. A 2015 Wall Street Journal/NBC poll found that 59% of Americans support allowing same sex marriage.

The problem as I see it is that America’s spiritual roots lie in the Judeo-Christian tradition that has historically been antagonistic to any sexual expression outside of marriage. The historical context for the present controversy is essentially hostile to the emerging understanding of who androgynous people are and their rightful place in the human family.

We’ll not find answers for a long time. In my opinion, the real challenge is not so much who’s got it right about sex, but how we can remain kind and gentle with one another as we’re searching for answers. The record is not encouraging.

I read an enlightening paper on homosexuality recently. It explored how many of our own Native Americans understood it. Professor of Anthropology, History and Gender Studies at the University of Southern California, Walter L. Williams, writes about how American Indians understood their androgynous (gays and lesbians) brothers and sisters. Native American communities regarded them as persons especially blessed because they were believed to have “two spirits;” the one male and the other female. The spirit world was significant to the Native American character as their cosmology was centered around it. Gays and lesbians were consulted about matters of the heart and spirit and were sought after as teachers because of their wisdom. A male with feminine proclivities might be incorporated in tribal life by working along with women in agriculture and childcare. The women with a male orientation worked side by side with males in hunting and warfare. What’s striking to me is how gays and lesbians were extended a revered place in the life of such a strongly heterosexual culture. The Spanish and English explorers called gays, “sodomites,” clearly betraying the harsh Judeo-Christian condemnation of androgynous people we have with us today. French explorers, on the other hand, called gays, “berdache,” which means, “intimate male friend.” The French, of course, when it comes to sex, keep a laissez faire attitude.

I wonder if Christians might be kinder and less judgmental with each other by going native rather than quoting scripture.

Being kind and gentle amidst controversy isn’t easy and requires spiritual maturity.

I recall hearing of an inspired idea some Christian schools developed to cultivate in children peaceful and kindly attitudes for settling conflicts. The formula, dubbed, WWJD, stood for “What would Jesus do.” The letters were inscribed on bracelets, which the children wore and could readily see. If a child was in a conflict situation he was encouraged to look at the bracelet and ponder how Jesus might resolve this situation in his legendary non-violent and gentle way.

In one story, two boys linger at the table in the school lunchroom. A remaining piece of cake sits uneaten in the middle of the table. Both eye the cake for a minute and then each lunges for it. A teacher sees the situation and quickly intervenes. She asks the boys, “What would Jesus do.” The boys sit sullenly, and after a while one boy points to the other and asks, “Why don’t you be Jesus?”

What would Jesus think? I suspect he’d smile benevolently while patiently trusting that one day we will all eventually get it: I don’t mean the cake, but the meaning of love and generosity in religious life.

Columnist George Merrill is an Episcopal Church priest and pastoral psychotherapist.  A writer and photographer, he’s authored two books on spirituality: Reflections: Psychological and Spiritual Images of the Heart and The Bay of the Mother of God: A Yankee Discovers the Chesapeake Bay. He is a native New Yorker, previously directing counseling services in Hartford, Connecticut, and in Baltimore. George’s essays, some award winning, have appeared in regional magazines and are broadcast twice monthly on Delmarva Public Radio.

Talbot County Profiles of Diabetes: Hearthstone’s Dave Tuthill


Dave Tuthill was pretty much at the top of his game as a CFO of one of the country’s top commercial real estate firm in his mid-thirties.  A large staff, huge responsibilities, and the kind of salary compensation that few could match. But something was terribly wrong.  Frequent trips to the bathroom, overwhelming fatigue, endless hunger and cycles of depression made Dave’s dream job a living nightmare for him.

After fighting off these symptoms for years, Dave finally sought help and was informed that he suffered from type II diabetes. Coming from a family with no history of the disease, the shock of the diagnosis led to major changes in his life. He quit his high-pressure job, lost almost 150 pounds, and carefully weaned himself off the fifteen medications he was taking for his condition.  He also dedicated himself to educating his community about the severity of type II diabetes and opened Hearthstone Heath & Fitness in Easton to support others like himself using exercise as a way to minimize the more devasting effects of this affliction

In the Spy’s second of three articles looking at the impact of diabetes in Talbot County, we caught up with Dave Tuthill to talk about his battle against diabetes, and mission for Hearthstone, and its sponsorship of the annual TourdeCure bike event in Talbot County.

For more information on local diabetes programs and services at Shore Health and the University of Maryland Diabetes and Endocrinology Center, please click here.  For information on the TourdeCure, please click here

This video is approximately seven minutes in length


Out and About (Sort Of): Festive and Hopeful at Nationals Stadium

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Not many sporting events match the optimistic and festive aura that surrounds opening day of a Major League Baseball team. Add a comfortably sunny and warm spring day, and the gods of baseball are smiling as thousands of fans race through the turnstiles to enjoy the American pastime.

I watched as the Washington Nationals hosted the New York Mets Monday afternoon, April 6 in a losing effort at Nationals Stadium in southeast Washington. The result mattered little. I just treasured this annual rite of spring.

The Lerner family, owners of the Nationals, always offers a stirring dose of patriotism during any given game but particularly so on Opening Day. During pre-game festivities, a U.S. Army group sang “America the Beautiful.” As we all sang the National Anthem, members of the U.S. Coast Guard unfurled in the outfield a huge American flag, followed by a military flyover. And, then, maybe during the 7th inning stretch, a military group sang “ My Country Tis of Thee.”

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About the game—the Nationals’ newly-acquired $210 million pitching ace, Max Scherzer, could not overcome two errors by Ian Desmond, the shortstop, and lackluster hitting by his new team in a 3-1 loss to the Mets. I guess that the elusive emotion of hope represented by a highly skilled pitcher—and nearly six innings of giving up no hits– diminishes as human flaws manifested by two serious errors provide a striking contrast to pitching excellence.

Of course, this drama represents excitement in a game that suffers by comparison with the fast-moving and violent game of pro football.

Without becoming too metaphorical, I think that baseball offers a strategic chess match between two teams, struggling to outmatch and outwit the other, punctuated by bursts of activity amid often long stretches of boredom.

I realize that boredom in baseball is in the eyes of the beholder: a pitching duel is viewed as a thing of beauty by some, humdrum by others.
Spectators savor home runs, acrobatic catches by infielders, home-run saving catches by outfielders, double plays, sliding collisions at home plate, arguments with umpires—and even errors that remind us that the superior athletes we are watching are human beings, too.

As I’ve gotten older, I find it comforting that baseball draws families and friends together, demanding attention but allowing chatter and second-guessing in a comfortable setting. In many ways, watching baseball brings back memories of attending games with parents and grandparents and playing baseball in the neighborhood.

And I’ve gone nine paragraphs and mentioned nothing about food. That’s almost heretical. The standard hot dog—yes, it still exists among a variety of gourmet concessions– still certifies that you are in a ballpark and enjoying an experience that would be incomplete without this baseball staple and all the stuff that covers it on a soft roll. Other choices now enhance the culinary experience.

I mentioned optimism at the outset; it’s almost a cliché associated with the first home game in a season that has 161 other contests. Every team is equal at that point though that circumstance won’t last long.

The World Series is every team’s goal, a hope and dream that dominates every player, coach, and owner. It’s a new season. Why not?

The festive atmosphere is nearly perfect for flights of fancy. The ballpark is filled with enthusiastic fans eager for the home team to withstand a lengthy season—and at least achieve the playoffs. Anything is possible.

Nothing matches Opening Day, a brief holiday from all our other concerns.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland.  Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He  also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer.  In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia. He holds a bachelor’s degree from the University of Pennsylvania, majoring in political science and journalism and a master of science  degree in strategic intelligence from the Joint Military Intelligence College.

The Web of Addiction: Mary Valliant on Families and Recovery


Eternal vigilance is standard issue with parenting. Add to that DNA script a child battling substance abuse addiction, and you have the kind of emotional trauma that can cripple a family.

From midnight phone calls to missing household money, plummeting school grades and behavioral changes, substance abuse, and addiction can play out in ways that challenge our experience and our role as parents. The sudden realization that we are dealing with the possibility of a fatal disease sends us reeling into self-recrimination, blame, anger and fear. The stakes are high, and we often don’t know where to turn.

We wait for the call from the police or the hospital, and we dread the next installment of the disease pattern.

Many are lucky to find a pathway to long-term recovery as others are lost in the undertow. In Talbot County, the Eastern Shore and Maryland, in general, heroin use is on the rise, along with widespread suffering and loss of life.

Aside from the tried and true 12-step programs, treatment services are becoming more available and a new openness about the problem is evident with families talking to families.

Oxford resident Mary Valliant is familiar with the painful odyssey of being the parent of an addicted child. What she has discovered about “long term recovery” is a lesson for all—addiction is a family disease and that despite the wreckage it leaves in its wake, each day forward in recovery is another day of healing and the renewal of healthy family dynamics.

Holding true to the idea that “long term recovery” should focus on the issues at hand and what it takes to rebuild a relationship between a parent and child, Valiant talks about her journey, and her hopes as her son enters his third year in long term recovery.

Her message is clear. Reach out now for help. Professionals await—physicians and counselors, peer support, recovery facilities and encouraging family members and friends are available.

Here, Valliant talks about her journey, its hardships and the healing she hopes will continue for her son and family.

Spy Profile: Fiona Foster on Tred Avon Players and “The Dining Room”


It is one of the great ironies of small-town life that someone can find a lifelong career in the theater in a community of approximately 800 people, but that seems to have been the case with Fiona Foster and her more than 30 years of working with the Tred Avon Players Theater Company.

After spending the first part of her adult life in the Philadelphia suburbs raising children, Fiona abruptly changed her world by moving to Oxford in 1980. In fact, the Tred Avon Players performed their first production the same evening that she moved to town, which set the stage for her second life as theater director.

In her interview with the Spy, Fiona Foster talks about those early years, her love of live performance, and the special family of actors, (including her late second husband, David Foster) backstage volunteers, and members of the audience that make up the special world of community theater and the Tred Avon Players.

Fiona also talks about A. R. Gurney’s comedy of manners “The Dining Room” set to be performed by the theater group on April 23.  This is the second time she has directed the Pulitzer prize-winning portrayal of the decline of WASP culture.

Opening night on April 23, is “Thrifty Thursday,” featuring two-for-one tickets. The other performances are scheduled for Fridays and Saturdays, April 24 and 25, and May 1, 2, 8 and 9 at 8 p.m. Sunday matinees are also scheduled for April 26, and May 3 and 10 at 2 p.m. Tickets are $15 for adults and $5 for students with ID. Visit to buy tickets online or contact (410) 226-0061 to reserve “your place at the table,” in The Dining Room.

This video is approximately seven minutes in length