According to the Wikipedia Columbia, Md. is “a planned community that consists of ten self-contained villages.” “Opened in 1967, Columbia was designed to not only eliminate the inconveniences of then-current subdivision design……” According to the Google listing, “The Mall in Columbia Offers Columbia’s Top Shopping Experience.”  This is where “we” decided to make our public debut.

   Now, if I had seen what those lubbers in that parking lot saw as we began our trek, I would have immediately wanted to know what they were doing and….. can I do it too? Nope. It amazes me still how the vast majority in this town would rather take their chances in traffic in order to get across the street (or the other side of the bay) before they got too close. If they did have to cross our path, there was no eye contact, at all. They wouldn’t have a chance of tripping over their own feet cause their eyes and half their body would be bent down looking at them rather than having to look at us. It still happens today, even though our dress is a bit more convincing. We now carry pouches, haversacks, cutlasses, black powder and the firearms it goes in, knives and daggers, belaying pins and treasure chests. (Note: black powder weapons are not illegal to own or carry as long as they are not loaded).

  We did have an agenda. My son worked at a mobile phone kiosk which was located about 40 feet from the entrance. He was on the phone for a customer who was standing there waiting as she spotted us first. Then…he saw us. There was no controlling the reaction even though he was on the phone as I sauntered up to him in my best drunk pirate swagger, ,cocked my head to one side and said the only piratical thing I could conjure up, “you look somewhat familiar, have I threatened you before?” As he put the phone call on hold and his customer hysterically doubled over in absolute glee, mall security was approaching to escort us out on the grounds that we were “disturbing” patrons. Mmmm, things haven’t changed much.

   During all this time I of course I insisted on “practices”. This would simply mean that we would dress in our “garb” and do “piratical” things while grilling outside of our apartment that we lived in at the time. “Piratical” things included drinking rum and playing with civil war period pistols and swords purchased in none other than Gettysburg of course!

   Since we’re on  that we’re on that subject, I must say that I did find evidence that pirates did invade the town of Gettysburg a place where of course the bloodiest battles of the Civil War was fought. In a letter written by Samuel L. Holt to Governor Z.B. Vance of North Carolina, he charged that “this country has sent many & true men to this piratical war.” I thought it was an appropriate place for us. So donned in my short leather boots and our costume store wigs, we pervaded the territory again.

Ooops, you’ll have to wait now for Episode 3!

“Much Ado About Nothing”: one of the original romantic comedies! The genre isn’t exactly my tankard of cider, but they made it an excuse for our particular brand of piracy (again, no less!), so I can certainly appreciate that.

Here’s to confusing (and then hopefully entertaining) the audience by getting a little 18th century in their 16th century!

And don’t even get me started on the disrespect you get working below decks over a hot stove all day. I try to join in on a joke or a song, and they just roll their eyes and say, “Go make me a sammich.”

…And I do. Because I do take pride in my sammich-making skills.

But still – I can do more than make sammiches. I can make cookies, too. And I can pick just about any pocket in town better than the best of ‘em. Plus I can sing a pretty tune. (Sometimes.)

One of these days, they’ll see that. Until then, my spoon will continue to make the argument on my behalf.

And, admittedly, I’ll be making a lot of sammiches.

Our story begins in April of the year two thousand and five.. The same year that Johnny Depp made piracy the preferred profession for the 21st century, I was about to embark on the most ridiculous excursions I had ever conjured up. I wanted to be a pirate captain, if only in my own mind (that really shouldn’t be allowed to wander out on its own), and the fact that I was nearing 50 and most likely would not be swinging through anybody’s rigging any time in the near or far future would not dissuade me from my goal.

If some people are driven to excess, then at times I must be a Nascar driver. When the option was offered to me by my family and friends to do whatever crazy inane adventure I wanted on that day that is reserved for the most honorable of professions, the celebration of mothers, that day we so affectionately refer to as…”Mother’s Day” They knew I was prone to moments of insanity and I saw my opportunity. I said to my husband (who was not yet my husband), “Dear, I want to go down to Baltimore Inner Harbor and go sailing on this really big clipper ship they have there, and let’s take Jim (and his girlfriend at the time) … (long pause as I take stock his reaction and how I can add the coup de gras when I say) …”and I want to go dressed as pirates, and Jim can take his guitar.” Another long pause as Tim takes stock of his horror and the facts and the knowledge that we will probably do this anyway and simply says, “I don’t think so.”

 The die was cast. We were going. I never doubted what we would. I must admit to the humiliating antics that I “encouraged” my husband and dear friends to endure. I coerced, blackmailed, manipulated and guilted them, explaining how unfair it would be if they denied me my Mother’s Day wish. Before the fateful day arrived, I prepared. Providing us all with such fine garb as ski pants (teal green), flowered vests (for the men), civil war belts and pinned down cowboy hats, along with a bodice and skirt I had from a renaissance faire a couple of years before. We consumed some liquid /herbal courage and advanced on the local golf course. I felt like the pied piper as we stealthily executed our attack on the 9th hole, and not the least bit concerned that we looked slightly conspicuous in our bright clothing and loud greetings of “Ahoy, avast and aye captain” (my personal favorite to this day) as we frolicked (yes, we frolicked) on the moonlit green.

 Join me next time as we take our first prize…Columbia Mall and the beginning of the pressgang…..

As I was saying, though, I visited the babies last evening. I had previously seen Alaria twice but had not yet had the pleasure of making Alaric’s acquaintence. So I ventured to Baltimore and the home of their very lovely grandma (I know where Maia gets her looks) where both babies and their mamas are staying temporarily. Held ‘em, fed ‘em, burped ‘em, talked to ‘em, and then handed ‘em back to grandma to change ‘em. She didn’t seem to mind. If there’s one thing better than beautiful grandmas, it’s beautiful grandmas loving on their beautiful new grandbabies.

Now, as anyone who knows Fast Fingers is well aware, the Ferrets’ catch phrase for him is, “Why are there always carrots?” After excessive alcohol consumption, as Faster Fingers’ body is rejecting said excess alcohol, he complains there are always carrots present, even when he’s not consumed carrots.

So the question now is whether this axiom will hold true for his offspring. I did not witness any spitting up last night, fortunately. Just standard burps and hic ups, cooing, yawning, and stretching. We’ll keep our fans updated on the carrot question. I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats.

I was the pyrate DD in my car, so I had to limit my rum intake. Taking inventory: Let’s see…there were 2 Smithwick’s at lunch (bought for me by our pal Cap’n Thighbiter from The Brigands), 3 or 4 free shots of Sailor Jerry and ginger sale passed around by our hosts at Bertha’s, then that orange juice and amaretto thingy at dinner at Bertha’s, and that orange juice crush thingy at…where the hell was that? I just remember singing until I was hoarse and being bought a drink and given a wonderful cigar by our friends Tiki and Torch.

Started off the day with greetings and a hearty “well met” between myself and former Pirates for Sail (PfS) bandmates Thudd, Poppet, Kerris, and Maria, as well as Rosie, who now comprise The Vagabonds. This was followed by a couple of beers and lunch with Cap’n Thighbiter and Stringalong Jim.

The most important event of the day was the announcement that our fiddler, Fast Fingers Bryan McCrae, became a daddy just as PfS were going on at Bertha’s. Alaria Bridget Trinkle entered the world at 2:55 pm and came in at 6 pounds even. If ever there were a good reason to miss Privateer Day, Fast Fingers, this was it. The crowd at Bertha’s drank to Alaria’s health and that of her parents and gave out a round of huzzahs.

Singing at Bertha’s is always a treat because the crowd just gets so into it. They sort of have to, because when they enter the bar, the performing area is right friggin’ there in their faces. A lot of old friends and new stopped by, and I think we set a new record for requests, with 2 for “The Derelict” and 3 for “Whiskey in the Jar.” Shout out to Kenny “The Crimson Corsair” Miller, his gorgeous wife Dianna (a.k.a. Velvet), and the infamous Blender Wench, Vicki Bokhari, who stopped by Bertha’s. Vicki and Kenny founded the Baltimore Pirate Invasion pub crawl, which, after six years, has evolved into one of the largest pyrate events on the East Coast. Huzzah!

It was great to have our old PfS bandmate Red Jack join us for drumming—mainly because it saved my poor arm and wrist from having to do it; and, as anyone can tell you, I can’t drum and sing at the same time. There are those who would say I can’t drum or sing separately either, but they don’t say it for long because I usually show ’em the color o’ their insides if they do.

Avoiding a repeat of last year’s mussels tragedy, I avoided Bertha’s signature dish altogether and discovered they make one hell of a cheeseburger (my lunch) and a completely awesome chef salad (my dinner) with homemade dressing. I can now eat at Bertha’s again and not experience that special moment when one’s body rejects bivalves.

I’m always entertained by The Brigands; they are simply one of the best live pyrate bands around, and four of the decentest pyrates you’d ever hope to meet. We were honored when they invited us onstage to do a couple of numbers with them. At dinner, they paid our own Black Dog Nate a high compliment, noting that his rendition of “The Derelict” on our CD, Band on the Rum (Have I mentioned it’s available on CDBaby and iTunes?) is the best they’ve ever heard. I have to agree; I think it’s one of the best cuts on the CD.

We missed a lot of the pub crawl (Apologies to The Crimson Corsair for not making it to the venue where I had promised to sing “Professional Pirate” from Muppet Treasure Island. I got waylaid and sidetracked on my way there. Beer, rum, and friends were calling from every tavern and public house.). But Stringalong, Flint, Azure Skye, Misty Blaze, and Skippy the Wonder Pirate (incognito for the night as Brian Hamilton) finally caught up with former Pirates for Sail bandmate Dallas Valley of The Ship’s Company Chanteymen; Capt’n Torch and his First Mate Tiki, who provided the aforementioned drink and cigar; Kyrin Krause; Katie Leonard (a.k.a. Mouse), and a bunch of other friends, old and new. Also got to sing “Barrett’s Privateers” with some of the crew from HMS Bounty.

With voices strained and our spirits lifted, we departed Fell’s Point with a vow to return and do it all again next year. Our only regret? That we always miss seeing someone. There’s just no way to meet up with all of one’s pyrate brethren in one day and night. Nonetheless, this event is a grand kick off to the pirate season for both festival pyrates and historical reenactors. Pirates for Sail have been there one way or another every year, and we wouldn’t miss it. Huzzahs all the way around!

Fire sends Maryland lawmakers rushing out of Annapolis bar
Celebration for new members of legislature ends abruptly

———-

Please tell us someone yelled “MacIntyre”..!

In any event, thus begins the Chanteyman’s Chronicles. Where to begin? Hmm. Perhaps a look back and a look forward would be in order.

Seventeen-ought-nine ’twas a proverbial banner year for Pirates for Sail (PfS). We released our second CD, Band on the Rum, to much critical acclaim (okay, there were a couple of lukewarm huzzahs), and so far Sir Paul has not sued us. Did I mention it’s available on both CDBaby and iTunes?

We made stealth appearances at the Fells Point Privateer Day in April, singing at the dock to celebrate the first anniversary of the christening of the Urban Pirates’ ship, the Fearless, and later being invited on stage to perform with our good friends the Brigands (there’s also a story about Bertha’s mussels and a very sick Gute: see below); we appeared for our second year at the Virginia Renaissance Festival (VARF) in May, an oppressively hot Rock Hall Pirates and Wenches Fantasy Weekend in August, and the cool and windy Long Island Pirate Festival in September; and we made raids on private parties on the Potomac, at Vane Brothers in Baltimore, and at the Chesapeake Maritime Museum in St. Michael’s. We closed the year by splitting the crew in half (not literally, but there’s an idea for next year) on New Years Eve, with half doing a show at Piratz Tavern and the other half performing at Oglebay Resort in Wheeling WV. (That’s a whole ‘nuther story.) Huzzah for us!

And 1710 is shaping up to be as busy. We’ll be continuing our weekly appearances at Piratz Tavern in beautiful downtown Silver Spring, MD. Please come out and see us every Friday night.

Although we’re disappointed we won’t be back at VARF this year (therein lies a long, sordid tale involving stout ale, the Queen’s greyhounds, and a midget with a very long cutlass), and we’re sad to report that the Long Island Pirate Festival will not happen this year, we do have many appearances booked, and more in the works.

First up, PfS will be skulking about the Fells Point Privateer Day once again, Saturday April 10, singing in the bar at Bertha’s in the afternoon and wherever the hell else we damn well feel like it. In March, we made the first of what we hope will be many appearances at the Chesapeake Roller Derby in Westminster, Maryland. We’ll be back there again Saturday June 5.

August 13-15, we’ll invade the 3rd annual Rock Hall Pirates and Wenches Fantasy Weekend, performing with our friends the Brigands and the Pyrates Royale. The following weekend, we’ll cruise down to the Richmond, VA, area for a gig at the Chesterfield Library, Saturday August 21. We’re also looking at returning to the Unicity Performing Arts Festival in Saulisbury, MD, in September, and possibly heading up to New York State this summer to appear at some venues with our cohorts, Ye Pyrate Brotherhood.

Finally, Saturday October 16, we’ve been invited to raid the Toms River Pyrate Festival in, surprisingly, Toms River, New Jersey, where we plan on joining with the crew of Captain Charles Black and Valhalla’s Pirates for a day of plunderin’ and music.

Before I close this long-winded epistle, let me urge you to attend the Ft. Frederick Market Fair, April 22-25 (that’s Thursday thru Sunday) at historic Ft. Frederick in Big Pool, MD (near Hagerstown). You’ll find tons of fun stuff if you’re into living history and historical reenactment during the American Colonial period, French and Indian Wars, Revolution, age of pyracy, etc.

Eat Bertha’s Mussels
They’re the best there is, by far
You can eat them in the dining room
And throw up beside your car
Whenever you’re in Baltimore
And you’d like to throw up in the street
Eat Bertha’s mussels
Just don’t throw up upon your feet

To perform this most righteous ritual, you will need:

• Something green
• A church
• Irish soda bread
• Atlantic Salmon or lamb stew
• Guinness
• A 4-leaf clover

When morning rises on St. Patrick’s Day, dress yourself accordingly.  Put on something green!  Not everything green, or some plastic bowler hat with “kiss me I’m Irish” emblazoned all over it in large, bold letters.  A simple touch of green- a green tie, or pin, or ribbons dangling from what was once a woman’s shirt, tied around your right arm.  I wouldn’t recommend cutting said shirt from the woman’s body at Tavern, though, there’s a rule against that (now).  The green is meant to be a subtle homage, because in Ireland, green is everywhere you look!  Outside of Ireland, it tends to show itself on the envious faces of lads admiring the bonny contours of an Irish colleen latched to the arm of another man.  It also shows itself on the faces of the non-Irish who claim Irish blood as an excuse to drink green-tinged beer, but I’ll get into that later.

Once dressed in appropriate attire, your first stop should be morning mass.  After all, this is a Saint’s holiday, and Patrick was rather known for his habit of preaching to the unconverted pagans of the Emerald Isle.  While Patrick was not the first Catholic to set foot on Irish soil, he was among the first to bring the message to the “unwashed” masses.  If you can’t make it to morning mass, at least pop into a church and say a prayer for family and friends.  If you’re pagan like myself, take a moment out from your day to remember those who came before, and give your thanks for those who are yet to come.

While out and about, be sure to greet everyone you see with a heartfelt “beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh! (buh-KNOCK-tuh na FEEL puh-DRAYG ar-RAY),” which means “St. Patrick’s Day Blessings to you!”  Also, bear in mind that giving a wee pinch to anyone not wearing green on this special is a time-honored tradition in Ireland.  Just keep in mind that decking people who pinch you is also a time-honored Irish tradition.

Going to mass and doing all that pinching while you’re out is sure to work up an appetite, so reach for the corned beef and cabbage, right?  No!  Make yourself a pot of lamb stew, with plenty of potatoes and carrots, or a make a meal of an unsuspecting Atlantic Salmon or Whitefish.  Any of these three are far more Irish than the American tradition of corned beef and cabbage.  Be sure to eat your meal with a bit of Irish soda bread, but make it yourself- the stuff in the stores is far too sweet and confectionary to pass muster.  Wash it down with a good measure of a fine brew- a nice, dark stout.  Guinness is ideal.  What about green beer, you ask?  To make beer turn green it has to be pale enough to take food coloring, which automatically makes it unworthy for an Irishman to drink.  Granted, an Irishman will generally drink whatever’s poured for him, but when toasting “slainte (SLAUN-cha)” to St. Patrick, use real alcohol to honor a real man.  Speaking of which, toast with “slainte!” instead of some terrible overused drivel.  You’ll be saying “to your health!” and wishing any and all within earshot a great many happy returns.

Last but not least, if you can find one, adorn yourself with a four-leaf clover.  If you eat one, it’s sure to bring you luck and love.  Put one in the heel of your left shoe and you’ll marry the next person who comes in the room!  Just make sure it’s not your cousin.  Or Jim.

So, this St. Patrick’s day, do something right.  Show your true Irish pride, be your blood green or orange.  And do it at the Tavern, where we’ll be performing in accordance with our own St. Patrick’s Day traditions!  Come out and hear some good Irish fiddle, folk songs, and let me drink you under the table (or on it)!