Today is the 200th birthday of the Lutheran congregation in Frostburg!
On Aug. 14, 1808, 24 people joined in a communion service in the New Church, a log structure on the edge of what is now called the Prichard Farm.
A note in the newspaper a week or so ago mentioned that Oprah Winfrey was looking for "the best small towns in America.'' Frostburg is the best one I know of - but unfortunately Oprah asked for photos or videos supporting the nomination.
The popular press has been devoting a good bit of space in recent weeks to the new swimsuit, introduced by Speedo, which supposedly has contributed to the record-breaking times posted in the Olympic tryouts.
I've had questions recently - not for the first time! - about William Ward and the house he built at 73 W. Main St. here in Frostburg.
Independence Day, like Christmas, is one of the few national holidays that has not been moved to Monday, to provide a four-day break for working people. It holds its own as the Fourth of July.
Last week I went to Wiley Ford to pick strawberries. I came home with enough for several packets of frozen berries, for three jars of strawberry jam, generous spoonfuls of fruit on my breakfast cereal and shortcake with real whipped cream.
The Frostburg Area Ambulance Service is currently asking for our help in raising money for the protective clothing that new government regulations require.
In a year that is not yet half over, 2008 has already written itself into the record books for extremes of hot and cold, rain and drought, tornadoes and floods and earthquakes. Our planet Earth has been in a constant state of change.
I'm not a sports person, but I like to watch tennis. During the three big summer tournaments - Paris, London and New York, played on three different surfaces - my TV is on, and I check the newspaper for details that I have missed.
Last week I had the pleasure of attending the spring concert of the Allegany Community Symphony Orchestra. The program was free, and nicely varied, and the instrumentalists were competent.
Last week I had occasion to visit a local funeral home to offer condolences on the death of a man who had been one of a gaggle of teenage basketball players when our family moved into the house on Park Avenue.
Uhl Street, here in Frostburg, is one of the town's intriguing mysteries, beginning with the question of the pronunciation of the name. Should it be Coool, or Yule? I prefer the former, but I have no valid reason for objecting to anyone's associating it with Christmas.
"You have to have a seeing eye!'' Helen Byrnes Miller told me, shortly after I moved to Allegany County more than half a century ago.
Oftentimes when properties in Frostburg change hands, the town is abuzz with speculation about the alterations the new owners might make, and memories of the people and events associated with the building. Some of what is said is history, much of it is mythology, but the stories are woven together in the fascinating tapestry of our town.
When I look out my window at this time of year I see an expanse of fresh green grass studded with golden circlets like coins spilled from a careless magician's pouch.
One of the most historic sites in Frostburg is the property at the corner of Main and Water streets occupied by St. Paul's Lutheran Church and its parsonage.
This is the time of year when I dye hard-boiled Easter eggs. It is not a necessary activity; it may even be silly since I have neither children nor grandchildren on hand to hunt them. But, like the cookies at Christmas time, they are a part of the seasonal celebration and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't conform.
When I was 8 or so, just beginning to make two-fingered attacks on Daddy's typewriter, I decided I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.
Recent speculation about whether America is - or is not - on the brink of another depression had made me aware that I am one of a dwindling group who can remember the Big D Depression of the 1930s.
When the Frostburg Historic District was established more than 30 years ago, we were told that owners of properties within the district would have the advantage of receiving tax credits and being eligible for grant money, provided that they met the criteria for historic structures.
The big house on Frost Avenue is a familiar landmark in Frostburg, still called the Frost Mansion although it is more than a hundred years since the Frost family moved out of it.
I've been playing bridge again, a couple times a month after several years of none at all. For me, bridge is like a mystery story - it takes all my attention for a while, but once I have closed the book or put the cards back in the box, there's no carry-over to get in the way of serious thinking.
