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.
In our family birthdays have always been red-letter days. We don't celebrate with big parties, and gifts have never included automobiles or heirloom jewelry, but the birthday child has always had special status, consulted about the menu for the birthday dinner and excused from kitchen duties, from table-setting to drying the dishes afterward. The day was always crowned with the cutting of the birthday cake.
Next Wednesday, Feb. 6, is marked on our calendars as Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the solemn 40-day period that leads to Easter Sunday.
A museum in Frostburg? - There are still some people who are surprised to discover that the old Hill Street School building is now the official repository of the town's history, and that it can be visited - free of charge - five afternoons every week and by appointment at other times.
When I glance up from the typewriter I can look through the window to watch snowflakes drifting softly to the ground. It's a pretty scene, reminding me of all those years when a snowfall was an invitation to joyous activity.
By now, a week and a half into the new year, most of us are beginning to feel comfortable writing 2008 on assorted documents.
With all the hoopla of Christmas shopping, the special concerts and ballets and programs that crowd the calendar between Thanksgiving and the last day of school before the holidays, we tend to forget that the true Christmas season comes after, not before, the 25th of December. The 12 days of the carol extend to Epiphany, the celebration of the coming of the Three Kings.
