Misty of Chincoteague Story

Beautiful Days On the Eastern Shore

This is a condensed and edited version of one of my Newspaper Articles published.

Although my children are grown and gone, some of their books remain on my bookshelves.
The "Misty" books are there. "Misty of Chincoteague" was their favorite.

Whenever any one of my daughters takes time to browse my library to discover the books, they can't resist them and all have the same reaction....they say "Ahhhh Misty." Fond memories of trips to Chincoteague no doubt surface.

One of our favorite trips during their growing up years was to Virginia's Eastern shore each summer. That is the home of the famous ponies and where Misty was born, on Chincoteague Island.

The rustic Islands of Assateague and Chincoteague are one destination of the many wonderful places to explore on Virginia's Eastern Shore. Here is where time seems to have stood still. These small islands are separated from the main land and each other by only a channel. The beauty and tranquility of Chincoteague Island's National Wild Life Refuge and the wonders of Assateague Island are protected natural treasures. We love the quietness and natural beauty found there.

These remote islands received world-wide fame with the 1947 publication of Marguerite Henry's "Misty of Chincoteague." If you are not familiar, Misty is not a mythical pony. Misty was one of the "Wild Ponies" born there. We know that she actually was born at the southern point of the island. The book was the first of many "Misty" books and for children of all ages.

The history of the Islands and the resilient Chincoteague Pony is interesting. No one knows for sure how the wild horses of Virginia's Assateague Island got there. However, the theory of a Spanish shipwrecked galleon persists among the residents of Chincoteague, Assateague's sister island and is the favored story among others that exist. This story came from the Indians who once inhabited the islands.

The story goes...

"The storm raged; the Spanish ship was tossed about by tremendous waves, pushed by mighty winds of hurricane force. Suddenly the 16th century galleon, which was laden with supplies destined for Spain's colonies in the New World, broke up under the storm's wrath. The seamen scrambled to save their own lives, leaving the horses to fend for themselves. Making their way for an island which lay suspended and blurred along the obscure horizon, the horses fought the wind and the waves. With their bodies submerged, leaving only their heads above water, their nostrils flaring and gasping for air, the horses found their way to the island where they wearily clambered out of the bitter ocean. Not all survived. It is a cold and hostile shore with an environment poorly designed for the life support system of horses. Yet, in a classic illustration of the survival of species, they adapt and endure and, four centuries later, we look with awe and admiration at their descendants - the Wild Ponies of Assateague."
TRR Pony Express * May/Jun 1996

Despite commercial progress and tourism, Chincoteague has made great efforts to preserve and treasure the look and the feel of a small, intimate community while providing modern conveniences to its visitors. Many of the town's buildings have historical importance and have been restored to their original condition while transformed into shops or Bed and Breakfast Inns. Perhaps the most famous of these is the Miss Molly Inn. This B&B is a fully restored Victorian mansion built in 1886. It is best known for being the place where Marguerite Henry stayed while writing "Misty of Chincoteague."

Bicycling the island, a few years ago with my two oldest grandchildren, we came to a statue of Misty and her foal and speculated this to be the spot where she was born. We are told that her linage continues today and to own a descendant of Misty is a point of pride.

What a great time the three of us had on that special Grandmother/Grandchildren week. Jacob and Megan were ages 8 and 11 when I took them on a vacation to know a favorite spot of their mother when she was young. On that trip, it was just the three of us making memories of Chincoteague Island. A grandmother and a little boy and little girl.

Photos are from a family vacation when the dauthers were young.
June

Jane and friend Lisa crabbing~

Little sisters playing in the surf.

House we rented on Chincoteague one summer.



Waters are shallow so we took a little boat which came in handy to carry the bikes~

Beautiful Lighthouse on the island.

Young Cooks ~ Boiling Corn

One group of friends I call the "Golden Girls" because we have known each other for fifty years. We were children together and bonded early as we walked to school together. The walk was a nice long walk that put down these long solid roots of friendship.
This story is about an incident with one of the Golden Girls, Peggy.

We were in our twenties, just out of school when Peggy and I got an apartment together. Both of our Dad's went with us to buy a car as we now needed our own transportation. We selected great big Pontiac's as gas prices weren't a problem at about 17 cents per gallon.
The dealer had two cars just alike but different colors...mine was yellow and white... Peggy's was aqua and white. Our Dad's got a 'deal' was we bought two cars at the same time.

That was a great summer of our lives. We were young and totally free.

Neither one of us knew how to cook and didn't own a cookbook.
One beautiful summer day, I went for groceries and decided we would enjoy corn on the cob.

Preparing dinner, I asked, "How long do you boil corn?"
Together we decided since most thing take about 30 minutes, that was it. We put the corn in and brought it to a boil and turned it a few times during the 30 minutes of cooking.

Well, that corn was hard. Under-cooked we decided ...so next meal...45 minutes...still wasn't done...
We boiled it a full hour...we were amazed corn took so long to cook.
We were now on a quest to have tender boiled corn.

Next corn attempt, we wanted to boil it about two hours, we decided.
Peggy reminded me to
"June, remember to put the corn on to boil as soon as you get home today."
After an afternoon of boiling and failing, we finally asked someone...

"How long should you boil corn?"
"About 6-7 minutes"

Peggy got engaged almost immediately after meeting Charles, thus ending our apartment living and cooking.
June

Another Mystery~ The Saw

How about writing about the saw you kept hearing one night? Peggy T, Buda, Tx

Yes, I remember this Peggy.

Many years had rolled by since the Hampton House Mystery. My children were all grown and gone. Husband was on a business trip. I was alone, which I enjoy from time to time. Had made a simple supper for myself and taken it on a tray to my favorite chair in the Master Bedroom. I invited my favorite TV show to keep me company. Shortly after settling down, I heard a saw buzzing and wondered what my neighbor could be building.

My supper and first TV show were over and my neighbor was still sawing over there. The saw would run, then would stop. As I cleared away the tray and started a movie, I glanced out to see what he could be building and to my surprise, their house was quite. In fact, it was getting dark and I could tell they were not at home. So~ therefore, it had to be the neighbor across the street.

I settled into a TV movie and put it out of my mind. However, whoever it was, continued to saw...stop and saw more.
This went on for the entire movie...and now it was totally DARK and been dark for some time.
The sawing and stopping was still going on.
WHAT THE HECK?

I went to the front door and there I discovered there were no lights on at any of my neighbor's houses. Everyone seemed to be gone.
I went to the deck and to my surprise, the "sawing" sounds were not outside! I went back and walked out on the front stoop and the noise was not out there either. THE SAWING SOUNDS WERE ONLY INSIDE THE HOUSE. WITH ME!!!

I went from floor to floor listening to try to pinpoint the sound. I checked everything, water, toilets, air conditioner, heat, stove, dishwasher, computer, phones. It was simply a sound that couldn't be pinpointed. I listened to walls and soon had to admit, the sound was more of a screeching noise. Was someone trying to frighten me? Why would this happen when I was alone with no neighbors at home?

I thought of the isolation of the house. I thought of the large lake and woods. I thought I should be concerned and with these thoughts, I phoned the police.

Two young officers responded and I apologized profusely for calling, but I just needed to know if anyone else could even hear this and of so, maybe solve the problem.

They searched, listened, re-checked everything, inside and out. I did notice they stayed together, but then I stayed with them too. They stayed about 45 minutes before saying they had never encountered anything like that before. THEN, the noise just stopped and didn't go again. We were standing downstairs, looking around, and waiting for something to happen.
Silence of the night was all we heard.

One of the Officers said that if he believed in Ghosts, he would entertain that concept.
With this comment, they both put their flashlights away which to me said, "We are done here."

"GHOST?" I said.
They smiled. I didn't.
They left, I didn't.

Another sleepless night. I kept thinking in case I disappeared during the night, that policeman could entertain his concept of what might have happened.
We have NEVER heard that noise again. It remains another unexplained mystery in my life.
June

What Is Meant by "Well-Written"?

"Your writing about writing in this a.m. email set me to thinking about what makes good writing. So often at our book club the hostess/leader comments that a book is well-written and that always sets me to thinking about what they mean when they say that. Are they really dealing with the style, vocabulary, turns of phrase, uses of figures of speech, etc. or do they simply mean it is a good plot?
I would be interested in your views on what is meant when someone says a work is well written." Jane M.

Yes, lets talk about that.

For me, I enjoy falling in love with the characters, or the place and enjoy the story unfolding for me. So now, how is that done?

I would say with lots of "good writing" by placement and timing of information. Style and timing are critical for a fiction. Correctness is critical for a non-fiction.

What do you think? Comments please.

June

Mystery in the Hampton House

My husband had an unexpected promotion to the Pentagon leaving me in Hampton with the children in school and the house to sell. The first few weeks went well as expected. Then a strange thing began to happen although it started so innocently.

One afternoon about 5 PM a phone call which was a wrong number. The woman had asked to speak to George. The following afternoon she called again and we went thought the same dialog. We checked the number and she was dialing our number. Still, why would I think anything of this? Just a mistake on her part, right?

I couldn't have been more wrong. Only a few days went by before the same woman would call AGAIN. This time, she took a different tone when I asked her why she was calling back. She became rude, irritated and demanding,"I KNOW he is there and you tell him to come to the phone and talk to me.

""Look, I don't know what more I can tell you but George doesn't live here. What's your problem?"

"You're lying, you tell him I know he is there....." she insisted.

"Sorry, I don't even know a George. He gave you the wrong number." and hung up.

The phone rang right back and she told me not to hang up on her and repeated "I know he is there WITH YOU....."

"I don't know why you can't understand there isn't a George living here, so please don't call again, " I told strongly informed her.

Now I was irritated and being alone with the children, it sort of unnerved me a little too, to have a confrontation of sorts with a stranger, but no calls came in for a full week. That was good, however, when the next call came, it set me reeling.

This next call she came on strongly. Her words were quick and to the point. She said she was calling to tell me she knew where I live and that if George didn't call her, she was coming over and would kill me when I answered the door.

A detective responded to my official complaint by coming to the house, which they do when a death threat has been made. I explained to him I was fairly sure she didn't know who I was or where I lived and/but I can't imagine why she would continue calling.

We discussed a phone tracer I agreed to immediately. On my part I had to agree to bring charges when the person was located AND I could tell NO ONE at all that the phone was tapped for a trace. Not even my husband.

They put the tracer on the phone immediately. I was to keep records of all calls to pin point a call from this wacky woman.

Interestingly, she stopped calling. Two full weeks went by. I kept my phone log. Nothing happened. How did she know, I thought? It was sort of embarrassing to me. I kept thinking...HOW DID SHE KNOW NOT to call? That truly puzzled and concerned me.

The house sold and now a move out date was imminent. I called and talked with the detective. It was decided the tracer would be removed the day before we left the house.

The last night we were to be in the Hampton House was a night to remember. My husband was there, of course. Everything was in order. The tracer was off the phone and the movers would be there at 8 AM...and the phone to be disconnected and we would leave the next day. We would be off to your next adventure. We had all gone to bed that night and all was quite.

It was almost midnight when the ringing phone broke the silent darkness of the our pretty little Hampton house. I reach for it in the dark.saying 'hello'....I was greeted by the unforgettable voice of the mystery woman caller.

This time, she was different. She had a soft sadness to her voice as she said softly, "Mrs (real name)",
I bolted upright ~ She had called me by my NAME My heart seem to skip...as now I knew she really KNEW who she was talking to all this time.
She continues, "I know George is there with you tonight," she was calm and sounded so, so sad. "Would you please tell him that if he won't talk to me, I am going to put my head in the oven and end it all."

I was sitting up hand over heart...my mind racing. SHE KNEW MY NAME...SHE DID KNOW WHERE I LIVED....I had truly been in the wake of a psycho. "Who are you?" was all I could think to say.

In the saddest tone that made me believe her ... she said, "Good Bye."

I sat there looked into the buzzing dial tone. My husband had no sympathy. He said, "Maybe she will carry out her threat and end the world of one whacko woman."

Sleep didn't come to me the last night I spent in the Hampton House.

June

Hampton House Story

We moved to Hampton, Virginia from Sumpter, South Carolina where Katherine had been born at Shaw AFB.
She was 8 mo old when we made this move. The house we bought was under
construction therefore we were there in time to select all the carpeting and flooring.

We loved the little Cape Cod style home as it was near the Chesapeake Bay which offered so many fun things for the children. We learned to crab which was always entertaining. The area has beautiful waterscape views in almost any direction.. It was there that I overcame my fear of crossing bridges...why? There were bridges to cross many times each time we left home. They were everywhere, so the fear just went away.

We were there only 18 months when my husband
got an early promotion to the Pentagon. This cut short our time in this wonderful area. I regretted that, of course. The house sold quickly to two women who were in the Air Force, and we moved on with our lives.

Over
the years, any time we were traveling, we always enjoyed driving 'down memory lane' and seeing houses we had once owned and
lived in
...and especially this one.

At one point, years and years went by before we were in the area to visit the Hampton House...
An aging Volvo was sitting in the driveway. The house was sort of sad looking. The lawn unkempt. shrubs growing wild and flowerbeds empty. It was apparent that no one was there and of all things, the house looked totally abandomed.

Another few years went by before we went back...and there...of all things, the same car was still there in the same spot, rusting and the tires were flat from rot. This was too much for me as clearly something had happened in our once beautiful and lively home.

I went knocking on doors to find the answer.

They neighbors didn't really know. They said the two women stayed for only two years and sold the house to a young couple. They were there a few months and then
packed for a Florida vacation and never came back. Over the years, the neighbors had pitched in to keep the grass cut for their neighborhood appearance and picked up any random mail, etc... for now about twenty years.
"Did you report this to anyone?" (I would have.) They said that they had not.

I wanted to call "Unsolved Mysteries"...but alas, once we left, I stopped fretting over it...until the next time we were down that way after yet another few years ...

Again, I would talk to the neighbor...
The years rolled by and the situation went unchanged for a total of 30 years. Can you believe it? THIRTY YEARS !!!

We had left Hampton some 32 years ago, the women lived in the house only 2 years and then the young couple bought it and drove away, never to return.

Now, we couldn't wait to see if anything had changed as we were down that way again on our way to Nags Head Beach.

WELL! This trip, we were happily surprised...someone was there...workman...they were working on the little house.
I couldn't wait to see what was going on.
The new owner was there and had the house underway to be restored, inside and out. He invited us to go inside....

My~ the house was small. I couldn't remember the foyer and rooms being so small.
He had not taken up the flooring and carpet yet...all I had selected was still there. Visions of my babies being there flashed through my mind.
For sure, my hand was over my heart by this time and I uttered my thoughts...but only to and for myself. I was walking through a dream...or nightmare. It was weird. there are no words to represent the feeling I had. I could see my furniture there and my, my...what a small kitchen where we even had a family table. I was amazed that the same appliances were there and looked brand new. Of course, they actually hadn't been used since we were there.

My camera came alive but I didn't know what to shoot. There was no way to photograph my thoughts and feelings...my memories.

The best part is...
He had the rest of the story ~ he had bought the house from an elderly couple ( the people who had abandomed it 30 years ago when they were young.)
He had the whole story.

...First photo is how the house looked when we left it 33 years ago....then the rest were taken the day we were asked inside....


The new owner told us THE END OF THE STORY~:

The couple who abandoned the house went to Florida where he had another job and also had another house there and just left this one to return to one day. Why they never, ever came to check on it remains a mystery. They even left the furniture.

We have to assume or guess life went by too quickly for them....
when they returned, (30 years later) she had cancer and lived the remainder of her life in one of the upstairs bedrooms in a wheel chair and had only a hot plate and small refrigerator...and bed. She took care of herself and died in that room.

Her husband did nothing to the house and as soon as the wife died, he sold it, which turned out to be the month before we were there. He returned to Florida ...

The new owner said he left behind on the kitchen counter an album of photos the woman had taken pf the house the one and only summer they were there...He showed the album to me.

The photos were of nice beds of tulips she had planted in front and back flower beds. They also had painted the shutters red...was so cheerful and pretty ~
to me, it was so sweet to see that she had actually loved the house and brought life to it before leaving it to the elements. What in this world would make them leave their furniture and house unattended for thrity years? What were they thinking? Or is there part of the story we don't know?

These last three photos are the house under construction.

~How fortunate we were there at this very time in history as a month earlier or later, we would have missed this heartfelt experience.

Was bitter-sweet.
June

Pratical Joke~The Piano Story

It seems a hundred years ago now, when freshman in college, we learn many very useful things~

We learned that after long hours of study and classes it was PLAY TIME After a string of funny practical jokes, we decided we were masters at the art of premeditated humor. We also learned that not all jokes end well. That was a hard lesson to learn as when a practical joke goes bad, it can takes a turn leaving the players in the role of victims.

On a bright and sunny Saturday morning, while sitting in the dorm waiting for Ann’s mother to come to drive us home for the weekend, we became bored. This was when my roommate and I cooked up what is known today as “The Piano Story.” That day and the Piano Story lives in infamy.

Our joke was well planned~ it had a beginning, middle and an EXPECTED ending. This was just something to do to pass the time ~ being young; we even thought our plan quite clever. I really can't remember thinking it would be funny...just clever. We never imagined the situation would take a life of its own ~ becoming worse with each passing minute that turned into hours and into our worst nightmare.

THE BEGINNING~Being a stranger to Ann's young cousin who had just moved to the big city from a small town in the state, I was the one to call her to set up the joke.

"Miss Smith? I am Ms. Wright from (name of a well known) Piano Co calling to let you know you have just been named the winner of beautiful (name brand) Piano you registered for at the 19?? State Fair." She was excited beyond words.

I went on to add the conditions she had to meet in order to claim the piano. She was to present the stub of the ticket from the drawing (we thought this impossible as the Fair was eight months ago. She happily told me she still had it...(RATS, I thought and quickly came up with something I thought would be totally impossible... she would have to have someone pick it up that very day by 3 PM...the store could not deliver.

That gave her only a few hours on a busy Saturday morning for most truck owners...Thought we had the perfect stipulation….and WHO keeps stubs for eight months???

THE MIDDLE~We learned that the reason we sat waiting longer was because Joy had to find a person with a truck to pick up her prize piano before 3 PM that day.

We learned the horror of having to sit in the back seat of Ann's mother's car to witness our victim's joy, knowing we had our hands on the rug that soon would have to be pulled out from under her. After an hour of circling for a parking place, while we kept kicking each other to "TELL"..."NO"..."YOU TELL" "NO"~~~

We were finally just dropped off as no parking spot was found and it was almost 3 PM. One of the stipulations was that she had to claim the piano prize by 3 PM. We walked with Joy into the Piano Store, whispering to each other to "Tell" ~ "You tell." We went with her up to the Manager who had been called to talk with her. We stood there, wide-eyed as Joy happily introduced herself in a tone that implied her name was well known and added "I am the winner of the piano." The manager looked puzzled. He read the stub and then explained it wasn't his store that had the piano prize, it was the OTHER store on the other side of town. AH...another hour in that back seat.

The entire day was almost over and there we were...awaiting execution for sure when Ann's Mother found out we were behind this.

The only way to end this nightmare would be to confess; we were mortified at the thought. In utter fear, we allowed it to run....and longer it went, the more horrified we were to admit it was meant to be a joke. We were in a Catch 22.

In the second store, we decided the jig had to be up...trying to stop her and explain that it was a joke was impossible. That sad news had to come for the manager when he said, "Honey, we gave that piano away the day after the State Fair closed.

"THE ENDING~

We were scared silly that we were going to have the daylights beat out of us. (Actually, we deserved just that.) Had we been really smart, we would never have admitted knowing anything about it. We were not so smart.

When we told Joy it was US who called, it was a joke...She burst into tears and ran out of the store as we ran after her, lamely attempting to explain how funny it was, "wasn't it? HA, HA HA," we said over and over.

Her tears won't stop as she now ran trying to get away from us. We let her go. The jig was up and this wasn't good, it was awful. Now we had to face Ann's mother who had wasted a day and a tank of gas..and some man by the name of Mr. Jones was on his way to get the piano at the wrong store. WHAT A MESS. We were dead for sure, we thought.

Joy was in the front seat crying hard when we got to the car. Ann's mother was looking at Joy and then looked at us...guilt, no doubt was written all over our faces I assume or motherly instinct, she knew~...

"WHAT HAVE YOU TWO JACKASSES DONE TO THIS CHILD???" She yelled.

She drove shame into our hearts with her words as she continued. "She was home, hand washing her sweaters to be ready for work on Monday when you called. This child works hard all week and has almost not time off and the two of you have nothing better to do but sit and dream up something like this", she went on. "Ann, when I get you home, I am going to tear the hide off you and June, if you don't tell your parents, I am going to call them."

I worried the rest of the weekend that a phone call would come. If not, for sure, I wasn't going to tell.

When we got back to school Sunday night, Ann reported her mother didn't punish her and I felt off the hook.

We didn't talk about this for a long time; however, the incident remained very much alive in our memories. Of course, it was destined to surface. That came many, many years later.

When in Vegas on a girl trip and driving over to in Death Valley, for entertainment, I decided to tell the story. The story brought roars of laughter; Ann's laughter brought tears that streamed down her face. Why? Because the idea was so downright stupid.

We have since told the story perhaps a hundred times~ laughing each time as stupid stunts are funny

The lesson learned?
We learned how to turn an otherwise boring weekend into a very memorable event. Right? We also learned the value of a friendship.Here we are, some thirty years later...Friends forever~
June