THINGS I MISS
Often, as I get older and I can't speak for others, I reminisce about people, places and things that I have met,done or visited. For some reason I just get all soft and mushy with nostalgia. OK, maybe it's not macho to speak of things soft and mushy. My liberal friends tell me I have to get in touch with my inner self and become a metro sexual. WELL! I can no longer stand the metro(I'd rather drive) and as far as sexual is concerned.....I think I remember that but am not sure. I'll stay after and clean the erasers.
I miss blue crabs. Having spent some fifty years on Maryland's eastern shore I have caught enough of the critters to become some sort of proficient non commercial crabber. I have also eaten enough to know that they taste pretty darn good.
You all have seen this photo of the "Cranky Crab" before. It sells pretty well. It was made on a neighbor's dock a number of years ago. We were sitting on the dock hanging bait (Chicken Necks) over the side and catching a Mess of them. The crabs would also attach themselves to the pilings of the dock and we could dip them with a long handled net. The colors on the image just popped because it had rained and all the wood was looked as if it had just been oiled and cleaned. Of course we could, (as kids, explorers, fishermen, watermen, and all around pains in the butt to the adults) take my fourteen foot boat out into the Chesapeake and catch all sorts of sea food. But crabs were our staple source of great food and money. Back then, we could catch a bushel of crabs and take them to the fish house and make money. If we had the time, meaning if our parents didn't have chores for us, we took the boat down the bay to a place called Eastern Neck Island. There were flats (shallow water) there. We would wade the shallows and dip crabs that would flee from the net held in front or our toes. Tough duty. Often we would come back with treasured soft crabs, which brought a real premium at the market. Bear in mind we were in our mid teens when all this was going on.
This crab was made to create a poster used to promote a printing company.
I caught him during my supposed adult years on my dock on the Chester River in Chestertown.
The commercial fishermen, "Watermen" as they are know on the bay, caught the crabs in any number of ways. Primarily they preferred setting out pots, which they would check and bait each morning.
Theirs is a fiercely independent life style. They are their own boss and success or failure lies totally on their own shoulders. They fish in all weather, catching whatever is in season on the bay in order to make a living for their families.
No matter how they are caught, there are not many treats in this world that can beat a couple dozen steamed crabs on a table covered with brown paper, some potato salad, cole slaw, and a pitcher of beer or ice tea. I can almost taste it now.
