I’ve lived in Shepherdstown for 50 years. I never moved here. I just ended up here through a string of accidents, incidents, coincidences, and/or good luck, as in a few turns—wrong, left, and right—that landed me in Betty’s Restaurant one snowy morning in December 1974.
I sat alone in a rigid booth—built by sadistic Calvinists, I supposed.
Elsa poured me a cup of hot brown water that Betty’s sold as coffee. At least it was cheap. (Fifty cents.) I sipped it while observing the cheerful clientele. Methodists, I supposed.
Elsa asked whether I’d like a refill in a tone that made me think I’d better not. What a grouch. Lutheran, I supposed. I found out later that she was always grouchy. It was her trademark. Nobody in town held that against her.
Elsa was loved for who she was as were many other peculiar people in this town. Silas, the gay mayor. Hazel, the town hypochondriac. Buck, the town drunk.
I finished my “coffee,” left a small tip (more than was deserved), and wandered around town gaping at store fronts, the quaint library in the middle of the street, the charming red-brick firehouse, and the Presbyterian Church that looked like a Quaker meeting house.
I saw a man (or was it a boy?) glide down Washington Street on a blue bike with a Shepherd College Ram’s flag flapping above his head. That was Charlie Kave, I found out later.
A clock struck twelve. The firehouse horn blasted. Noon time. Saturday. The village of the shepherd.
Where am I? Is this a movie set or an actual town?
Whatever it was, I liked it, and since I was a rolling stone with no place to call home, I instantly relocated myself from a single room in Harpers Ferry to a single room in Shepherdstown.
I was alone. A stranger. But not for long.
I was welcomed.
Such hospitality makes you want to return the favor over and over. And I did. But I must confess, I’m not feeling charitable these days.
Too many houses. Too many cars. Too many strangers strangling our quaint and charming village.
Lord, have mercy. I need a change in attitude.
In the meantime, let’s build a wall, draw up the bridges on both sides of the county, and stock both rivers with alligators and cottonmouths.
Ain’t no room left for urban refugees!
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See Paula’s photo on home page. Posted August 11, 2024. Scroll down to “visual explorations.”
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We have only lived in Ashland, VA ten years. We have fewer full-time residents than a tall apartment building in Beijing, BUT farmland has been disappearing at a high rate for developments of $500,000.oo and up houses. People expect that one day the miles between Richmond and DC will be one huge suburban sprawl. I might not live to see that, but I see how it could happen. My comfort? This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through…when angels beckon me from heaven’s open door, I won’t feel at home in this world any more,” old lyrics I learned as a child in church hymn sings. Actually, Larry Norman’s observation resonates almost daily with me. “Only visiting this planet,” that idea helps me keep a more positive perspective on change.
IF YOU HAD WALKED UP MAIN STREET YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN GRANDMA PAINTER SITTING AT THE FRONT WINDOW OF MCKEE HOME WONDERING IF THE YOUNG MAN WALKING THE STREET WAS WAITING FOR THE LIQUOR STORE TO OPEN. GOOD MEMORIES. GEORGE
We used to ask people how they came to be here. There was almost always something magical or mystical about the fortuitous convergence of forces that led them to this charming, storybook village on the Potomac. And so it was with us in ’95. We joined the Presbyterian church, as you know, became your neighbor, and sat on the bench in front of the bakery with town artist/cartoonist Joe Mayer to eat a donut and watch the cars carefully swerve around the town dog in the middle of the street as it slept off a bender from the Meck. Then NCTC was built, the Peace Talks came, and the world found us. That spirit that drew us here, thanks to you and so many others who helped and are helping it to grow, is still nourishing and attracting others.
Thanks for the rewind of the history I grew up with in this magical place. Those of us who remember a more simple time and life are the truly lucky ones. After traveling and living across the country, we moved back here to raise our sons. It was a good move for all of us. I always say, Shepherdstown is as good a place as any and better than most.
This is the problem when an area gets popular. The first thing that happens that one thinks will protect it from the onslaught of crowds is property value increases. Next, taxes go up, but that only starts to price out the locals. When a location becomes trendy, the place to be, a destination, folks can’t help themselves from loving it to death. Claire and I always wanted to live in Shepherdstown, but couldn’t afford it. Jim Price always scoffed, “That’s what banks are for.” In other words, don’t let cost stop you. (Easier said than done.) Anyway, ‘gators and Cotton Mouths wouldn’t like it here; however, with climate change, perhaps the area will become more hospitable for them. As Paul Simon warbled in a song long ago, “Preserve your memories. They’re all that’s left you.”
Walch. Johnson. Blessing. Friend. govotewv.com Nov. 5
Like it or not, change is inevitable. In this very moment, for example, our bodies are changing with cells being born and cells dying. Nothing stays the same, everything is impermanent.
Your words of lament remind me of some I have heard from a few folks in my neighboring town of Boonsboro, Maryland, my current residence of sixteen years. With this area growing, some “old timers” abhor all the “invading newcomers” from places like Montgomery County, Maryland and other more “urban” counties. At times I have felt like an “outsider” as I am not an original native to these parts and have moved many times. But I make the best of it and appreciate our little town, imperfect as it is. Wayne Dyer’s words come to mind: “If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”
I came to Shepherdstown in 1976 to go to Shepherd. Was in my mid twenties. First drive down German St I fell in love with the town. It made me think of when I was a kid living in Germany. So beautiful. Started classes & loved it so much wanted to live here. Was pricey, had to get two jobs to rent an efficiency apartment. Everyone was so friendly & helpful. Si Starry was so helpful in recommendations for jobs & apartments. Growing up near Hershey, PA, in PA Dutch country (German, not Dutch. Changed from Deutsch) people were not as friendly. My heart is here. Will always want to stay here. Home Sweet Home. 🌈💖🤗
Love this piece. Your recounting of what stood out on your first walk around town reminded me of my early reaction to our town’s magic. The real magic of Shepherdstown is that we work to create and nurture community.
Deja vu – Grew up surrounded by fruit farms, on the edge of Harriman State Park, mountains, lakes, and the Appalachian Trail. My home was Spring Valley (an idyllic name), known for its Jewish resort hotels (the poor man’s Catskills). It was just 30 miles north of NYC. Residents of the county included Burgess Meridith, Soupy Sales, John Houseman, the garden editor for the NY times, the modern artist Pousette-Dart, and many others. We had the Palisade Pkwy which ran along the Hudson through Harriman State Park, and ended at Bear Mountaint (a former summer residence of Harriman, who built the Bear Mt. Bridge with his own money). Then with the Parkway and completion of the NYS Thruway it became a suburb of NYC. The rest is history and I would never want to live there now. Finding Shepherdstown was like returning to my roots and was a great place to raise kids, and the community is simply amazing and beyond words. Unfortunately, it seems like history will repeat itself and most will have to move on to find the next Shangrila. I wonder, which next small community will it be?
Great story, Randy! Reminds me so much of how I accidentally ended up in Shepherdstown myself. Just passing through town one day, stopped in a few bars and everyone was so friendly that I decided that very day I wanted to live here, too. 30 days later i moved here from Falls Church. Had no money, no job and didn’t know a single person. That was 42 years ago.
I hope you all welcome Mark and Ellen Muck in 84 Sage Place, if you haven’t already.
Rather than a moat (ha), I’d recommend wider sidewalks, a bike lane, a railroad quiet zone (which will require making the RR crossings safer, which is needed), new roads on a grid system. Find a few good developers, like Dad, don’t know how you’ll replace him, but Sage Place is a model for affordable-ish housing that could scale.
I think Shepherdstown passed Dunbar’s Number a while ago, maybe decades ago, so you need to build up many smaller sub-communities of < 200. Small-scale churches help with this. The Sage Place HOA is a civic-minded, hidden little institution < 200 also.
AMEN!!!!!
1st is it to Shep’town in early 58. First thing I really noticed was all the beautiful trees all along German Street.
Now mostly gone. Sad
I’ve had this familiar, heart-twisting experience everywhere I have lived. Beautiful places attract people and pretty soon the place isn’t beautiful anymore, at least in comparison to the way it was. By choosing to live there, I , too, am responsible for the developmental transformation. You can’t just build a wall or blow up a bridge. You’ve got the learn to love and include the new ‘strangers’ and elect better County Commissioners.
I was part of the late 1970s immigrants. Enrolling in 1976 on the GI bill at Shepherd. My experience was that of a townie/college student. Theater and history honor societies by day and by night a bartender, including stints at the 1872 Club and the Penny Postcard.
The folks and characters you list bring about nice memories. Your list of current threats represents civilizational crawl. The best bet is to create a shared will to create communities of folks that foster mutual respect and goodwill across years and generations to come. Characters and memories thrive in such. The infrastructure should support community building, not skewed to the advantage of profiteers.
Building Rockwool erased a different future for Jefferson County. The planned multi-purpose neighborhood/small town setting with a train station was pushed aside by politicians in the pocket of developers. It could have been as quaint as Shepherdstown and other threatened small towns. It could have been a viable alternative to the blueprint of building more homes with the needed infrastructure yet to be determined.
I would suggest voting is a good place to start. Elect candidates committed to the community you envision. But here’s the rub. You might have to engage those “strangers strangling our quaint and charming village.”
Sounds like Elsa rubbed off on you