Rockfish

Island View Marina Kent Island, MD

Rock Hall, Maryland is a small town that time has left behind, and I do not mean in a bad way. It is located on the eastern shore of Maryland in the middle of Chesapeake Bay. I have spent five days there. Once while cruising south on the bay and another time, most recently, by car. The car went there specifically to get a rockfish sandwich at Waterman’s Crab House.

I have been a vegetarian since 1978, and because the definition of a vegetarian has been corrupted the past few years, I will add of the ovo-lacto variety. There are times when I will succumb to a serving of fish. Famously, the three times I visited Japan I gave up and ate whatever sea creature was placed in front of me. I felt it was psychically easier than any benefit I might derive from not eating fish for a couple of weeks.

And then there are the times like this when I find myself in an area of the country where fishing is their lifeblood. So, while waiting for a deep fried rockfish sandwich with fries and tartar sauce, I found myself reading the placemat. This starts me thinking about how diverse a country I live in, and how a city dweller like me can feel unrelated to a village dweller like the folk in Rock Hall.

The placemat contains thirty ads of varying sizes but all are square or rectangular. It is printed in two colors not to my liking. One is a pukey green, the other a kind of varicose vein maroon. I, who used to be a printer, am thinking the printers had two half used cans they wanted to get rid of, but then there is no accounting for taste.

As I read the ads, I realize that some of them would never be seen on a Chicago placemat. An obvious one is the ad for cover crops with the catchy slogan of “Tap Into It”, whatever that means. I doubt the average person on a Chicago street will even know what a cover crop is.

Another is for a pile driving company that proudly states, “Four Generations of Marine Construction”. They will drive pilings for piers, boathouses, duck blinds, etc., etc., and they never cut off the old post, they pull them out.

There are ads for fishing charters, for a marine railway, and a motel that recommends reservations during hunting season. There is an oil heating specialist, a sail maker, and a towboat company with unlimited membership for just $158 per year.

I find myself smiling. On recent trips across the Great Plains, and up and over various eastern mountains, the just-off-the-interstate world has looked amazingly similar. The same architects, restaurant and retail consultants, and dare I say, the same politicians that approve of the former’s plans and designs must move from interchange to interchange.

It was refreshing to be in a place so unrelated to my place. It made me want to stick my head into every nook and cranny, to talk to everyone I saw, to drive down country back roads; I guess it made me want to explore the U.S.A. again. For as unrelated as we may seem, we are here in this greatest of melting pots because of our or our ancestor’s drive for a better life.

And for this insight, I have to thank Waterman’s Crab House of Rock Hall, MD for luring me back to visit their splendid town, and of course, for the best fried rockfish sandwich and fries.