You Can't Criticize My Mother ...

“You can’t complain about my mother unless she’s your mother too, and in that case you can complain all you want.”

I’m sure you’ve heard this or similar versions of the same sentiment. And it rings pretty true about how we feel regarding our home, family and friends. In the last few weeks I’ve begun to feel a little prickly as a result of smiling and staying silent too often as a result of my .

I don’t mind when a newcomer says, “Where I come from, we…” followed by any number of personal favorites. It’s always interesting to hear about other places and ways of doing things. What I do mind is when the former pronouncement is followed by, “You should…” completed by an action that would bring the subject in line with the speaker’s hometown favorite.

I understand the issues surrounding involuntary transfers. That’s how I landed in Maryland. And that’s the story I want to share. My Dad is a lifetime railroader, starting work as a teen for the C&O and finally retiring from CSX. Dad rose from working night shift in the depot during high school to Sr. Property Valuation Accountant. In 1966, in the middle of this career, Dad got word that the C&O and B&O railroads were merging. As a result 500 jobs in the Ashland, KY/Huntington, WV area would move to Baltimore, and 500 Baltimore jobs would move to Huntington, WV. Dad’s options boiled down to two: move to Baltimore or accept a severance package and look for a new job. As most of you know, railroad jobs have always been good, solid jobs, with good benefits. And so we moved.

It truly wasn’t until a couple of hours ago as I began mentally writing this blog that I really began to catalog what our family left behind. By the end of this story you’ll understand why I’d never really considered the downside in our transfer.

Sometime in late winter 1966, Mom and Dad announced that we would be moving to Baltimore. At the time I knew that Maryland was known for “truck farming”—whatever that was—and crabs. (At the time, neither sounded real good to a Kentucky girl.)

My folks immediately subscribed to the Sunday Sun, for the real estate section. On Easter Monday we piled into the Studebaker Lark (no joke), and drove to Maryland; Mom, Dad, two kids and their Easter baskets. During that chocolate fueled whirlwind trip, we visited Edgewood Meadows and Joppatowne, since my parents had narrowed the home search to the Harford County area. Mom and Dad also made sure we saw the sights of Baltimore: marble-stepped rowhouses, The B&O Central Building (corner of Baltimore & Charles) where Dad’s office would be located, and then The Lexington Market. At the time there was a chocolate seller in the market who had chocolate covered ants for sale. My brother and I thought seeing them was the pinnacle of a great adventure.

In June, the family took the train back to Maryland, and rented a Corvair. Yup, “Unsafe at Any Speed.” We loved it! My folks met with realtor, Mr. Hebb, in Joppatowne. At some point my brother and I were asked, “Would you like a yard with trees or water?” Not being stupid children, we replied, “BOTH!” (And the realtor chuckled and found exactly that!) We were in Joppatowne for good by the end of August.

Between June and August, my brother and I were the recipients of the greatest propaganda campaign ever mounted. The schools will be better, the friends more plentiful, the opportunities greater. There are unlimited cool things to visit within an hour drive, including Washington, D.C. The beach is a daytrip. Add a wooded lot and a river in the backyard and you’ve got Paradise. And the themes running through every conversation were “The Great Adventure” and “Fun, fun, fun.”

It worked. It just simply worked. Our family moved to Maryland, and became Marylanders. We didn’t look back. I learned to say soda instead of pop, and learned to separate y’all into two words. We even learned to ice skate behind the house! And we learned to eat crabs.

There were 499 other families from our hometown who also moved to Maryland in 1966. Most of them settled in the Joppatowne/Edgewood area, or in Catonsville, since those were the up-and-coming housing developments of the time. I went all through school with kids who’d transferred just like us. And most of their parents had the same wisdom mine did—to ever look forward rather than backward, and to focus on the positives.

To all our new transplanted friends, welcome. Some of us grew up here, others of us are transplants like you. But it’s “Home Sweet Home” to all of us, and we cherish it. So, even though you just left an amazing place, give Maryland a chance to win you over. After all, Maryland’s been called “The Land of Pleasant Living,” and we can’t wait to help you fall in love with it.

Welcome home! (Oh yeah, now carries Taylor Pork Roll!)