Hard to believe it's been nearly two years since I've written a post here. It hasn't been from lack of Deltaville fodder, just a lack of time for sitting and writing. But today I wanted to take a moment to celebrate an anniversary.
Ten years ago tonight, an F2 tornado touched down in Deltaville from Porpoise Cove Rd across Rt.33 down Jackson Farm Lane and across our little Jackson Acres community. And I bet now you're questioning my choice of "celebrate". Despite all the destruction the storm left in its path, not one person in Deltaville died. Not one person was missing. Not one person received an injury more severe than scrapes and scratches. The same goes for pets.
And in the days and weeks following the storm, the community came together. Those who were unaffected showed up and offered aid to those who were affected. Neighbors helped neighbors, people in nearby communities offered help to Deltaville.
And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is something to celebrate.
We've all had a doozy of a year.
Between riots, injustices, politics and pandemics, it seems like people are quicker to point a finger than to offer a hand these days. Despite that, I'm confident that when the chips are down, your neighbors (whether actual physical neighbors or not) will have your back.
So instead of mourning the loss of property and the landscape, I'm going to choose to celebrate the miracles that happened 10 years ago.
While at the house in Deltaville cleaning up and preparing for our party, I came across some fireworks that have been around for quite some time. These particular explosives were a birthday present to one of my kids (seriously, why didn't I ever receive explosives as a gift??). So the question was, do bottle rockets go bad?
I looked this up on the handy dandy internet and in short, no, there is no expiration date on fireworks. However, there is a chance the humidity could make them a tad unstable. So, we're going to get my dad the retired firefighter to set them off and see what happens.
Can't be worse than nearly blowing up a sailboat, or having a mortar fly straight for the audience, or have a firework fall and shoot inches from the truck hood. I'm not admitting that happened before, just that those scenarios could be worse.
This weekend marked the first time I've been back to Deltaville in a year. In my last post, I explained the family drama/crisis that had been going on since October last year. Because of it, I refused to spend time at the house on the creek for fear it was going to be taken away. Thankfully, the crisis has been resolved in our favor, the house is safe, I've headed back and there's going to be a big ass party next weekend. It seemed fitting that this return to Deltaville was heralded with a special full moon. August's full moon is known as the Sturgeon Moon because the sturgeon fish is more easily caught in August and early September than other months according to the Almanac. It was especially fitting that the full Sturgeon Moon rose this Saturday night over my much loved Sturgeon Creek. I took it as an omen of good things to come.
Stay tuned for an update on the ginormous celebration this coming weekend, and for more posts about Deltaville in general.
They say blood is thicker than water. It's a simple proverb that says the loyalties and relationships within a family are stronger than anything else.
I'm here to tell you how sometimes water is thicker.
It's been a while since I've blogged here. September 28, 2017 is in fact my last post where I said I was going to get back into regular blogging about Deltaville. Shortly after, the unthinkable happened.
Many know the deep seated love I have for our small piece of property in Middlesex County, VA. If you've been a regular follower of this blog, you may have heard mention of family history stories that go back to the time of the Civil War- or the War of Northern Aggression as my late great-great-grandmother Sissy used to say. The truth is that the property has been in the family since 1650. That's 368 years. 368 years of family history on one piece of land. In the course of those 368 years, the property was passed down and divided up and passed down generation after generation until it became the parcels that it is today. And one of those small slices of the original property belonged to my grandparents and upon their death went to my father and his 2 sisters.
All my life I have been going to Deltaville. With the exception of a few trips to Disney World, some camping trips and my honeymoon, all of my vacations have been to Deltaville. Nearly every Memorial Day weekend, 4th of July, Labor Day weekend, week long vacations and regular weekend getaways were made to the small house on Sturgeon Creek. Growing up, my cousin and I would spend weeks at a time there together. And with our great-Uncle next door, more cousins usually showed up during he course of our visit. We played epic games of capture the flag, helped haul fishing nets and crab pots, went on secret midnight prank adventures and spent time boating and swimming. It was and idyllic place and a perfect childhood of camaraderie and adventure.
And there was Pepop. (you can read a post about him here).
Really no words can come close to explaining how much Deltaville means to me. It holds some of my happiest memories as a child, as a parent and as a grandparent. I have always felt a contentment here that I have not felt anywhere else. Even in those times where life was rough or uncertain or just plain ugly and vicious, Deltaville was always there to soothe. Like the sacred Ganges River of India, the waters of the Rappahannock River and Sturgeon Creek healed.
There was an understanding from a young age that Deltaville would always be a part of our family. I can remember my grandmother explaining that as each person passed away, the house would be inherited by the children so that it would never leave the family. It's easy to think that's how things will go.
You trust your family to keep something so important, so ancient, so sacred- protected.
So not long after my last post at the end of September last year, the unthinkable happened. One of my father's sisters passed away unexpectedly. In the aftermath, my father said something I thought I would never hear, "Deltaville might have to be sold."
I can say that in that moment one of my worst fears was realized, and I went tail spinning into a depression unlike any other I have experienced. Still, there was hope that it wasn't a possibility. After all, my grandmother always said it was to be passed to each generation never to be sold. I held onto that belief.
The 1/3 share that was owned by my father's late sister was inherited by her husband and daughter equally. And to make a long and upsetting story shorter- they wanted a buy out. That seems simple enough. The house gets appraised and you offer the person an exact third of the appraisal and everyone is happy. Except people are greedy and vengeful, and they hold something you love hostage while they extort money from you. Because that's what family did here. That's what blood did. The blood that is supposed to value the family relationship above all else. Threats were made to petition the court to have the property sold at auction. It seemed bleak. I refused to go down there. We all just held our breath and waited.
Death is an awful thing for the living. It seems to bring out the worst in some. It feeds the darkest parts of a person, creating a monster that can do nothing but bring about pain and anguish to the already grieving. I'm certain there's a special place in hell for that sort of monster- a spot that lets them fester and rot alone.
On the opposite side of that coin, in situations like this you learn who really is blood. Sometimes it's actual family and sometimes it's just friends you've made there over the years. People who do what they can to help and offer assistance. This town has some really damn good people.
It's with a massive amount of relief and happiness that I can report as of this past Friday,
the house is safe.
Because when there's 368 years of history and untold happy memories, you do what you must to protect it.
As for blood being thicker than water,
the waters of the Rappahannock River and Sturgeon Creek proved to be far thicker than blood.
Give this a listen. I particularly relate to the line:
"I've been searching for something, taken out of my soul, something I'd never lose, something somebody stole"