Pokes Road

The images of growing up on Elliott’s Island are many. Putting them into words that describe a magical place that time forgot, is not easy. It was magical, with a side of insanity. Pristine beauty and simplicity, mixed with isolation and extreme poverty. 

Thinking of the Pokes Rd. street sign immediately makes me feel at home. That was the street I grew up on. These are some of the best and sweetest images I have in my life really. The home of Mr. Dick and Ms. Dessa was right next to the road sign. I spent countless hours with Ms. Dessa. I would get off the school bus and go there to eat hot rolls out of the oven, watch soap operas (“the stories”) and knit or crochet. I still have a pink blanket that Ms. Dessa made me many years ago. Ms. Dessa was part of the old timers that were my friends growing up. They were my guardian angels that always knew my location even though I thought I was roaming free. They ranged from age sixty, to a hundred and most of them lived their entire lives on the island. I roamed from house to house from sun up to sun down eating and listening.

Further down Pokes Rd on the right was my house. I would often run from Ms. Dessa’s, past their huge garden, sometimes falling and filling my knees with gravel (I remember that like it was yesterday). In front of my house were huge patches of day lilies. I loved to munch on them. Behind our house was our garden filled with flowers and so many veggies to feed the family.

If I kept running I would pass a few more houses and a wooded area on the right side of the road. At the end of the road was the pot of gold…or more accurately described, Fishing Bay. It was my “own” private beach. When I was little I remember running down the hill to the beach. By the time we moved away when I was a teenager, I had to use a rope to get down the cliff onto the sand. Erosion was a reality on the island. Which makes me really perplexed to think that years after this someone bought the property and knocked down the forest to get a waterfront view. But for me, at that time, the houses, the forest, the descent down to the beach was all part of the journey. Along for the journey was likely a switch (a tree branch) I would swish back and forth to keep the flies and mosquitoes from carrying me away. Mosquitoes really are the unofficial state bird of the eastern shore of Maryland.

It didn’t matter to me if I was eaten alive (which I often was). Playing on the beach kept me busy for hours. I remember being there alone most of the time. In later years I had my friend John, but in the early years it was just me, myself, and I. I would make up stories and games, climb up and down the cliffs and walk on logs fallen in the bay. When trees would fall onto the beach from the cliff side, they would often go out into the water. I would walk on them into Fishing Bay (which felt so very far) and make up stories. It was my own fairyland.

As a mother now, I shutter at the thought of a child unsupervised by the water. I felt alone. But in reality Ms. Dessa and probably half a dozen other ladies knew exactly where I was. The power of the phone tree on the island was very much alive. I couldn’t move very far without being tracked. If mom wanted to find me all she had to do was make a phone call and the ladies would eventually report where I was or get a message to me to come home. I knew to be safe (whatever that meant) and to be home before dark.

Before my friend John moved to the island there were no kids my age.  It was quite entertaining listening to everyone tell their stories at Ms. Nora's store (for hours and hours), but I still yearned for a friend my age. And then John arrived. He was like a dream come true to me. Now I wasn't by myself for walks on the beach, bike rides to the wharf and skating on soda cans on frozen ponds. I had John. We spent hours and hours roaming every inch of the island...at least until he got his driver's license. Then I wasn't cool anymore. That I don't remember really. It is the memories of having a friend to share the magic and the craziness of the island that lights up that time for me.

Being on Elliott's Island was like going back in time. One of my favorite quotes that someone from "away" (i.e. their ancestors are not "from" the island) said about the island was, "It may not be the end of the earth, but you sure can see it from there."