On Baltimore Street

Sitting on a cheerful green bench in downtown Cumberland, Maryland yesterday morning while Ryan was at play practice for an upcoming performance was a most pleasant way to fritter away a few hours. I don't come to Cumberland often and this week, with three practices, I decided that I am rather in love with this street known as Baltimore Street. With brick-paved streets lined with historic buildings and accented with an abundance of trees, shrubs and splashed with color as the day-lilies, petunias, and roses bloom, what's not to love? This is not a street to drive upon, but a street meant for meandering, with stops along the way to peer into shop windows with summer-clad mannequins, a plethora of antiques, and original artwork.
 

Cafe Mark and Jennifer's Desserts beckons with a myriad of signature latte flavors. German Chocolate Latte? Why, yes I will, thank you very much! Caramello Latte? Sure, why not? I stroll. I sip. I savor the coffee and the sights around me. Buildings from another era stand proud: an Art Deco theatre with a facade that makes you think of marble, and many brick buildings of Italianate, Beau Arts, Romanesque, and Georgian Revival styling in shades of burgundy, burnt orange, rust and yellow that house investment firms, art studios, jewelers, insurance and financial services, collectibles stores, a pawn shop, a music store, restaurants with outdoor seating areas, and The School of Hospitality Management and Culinary Arts.

I may even admit to people watching. There are women in yoga pants with earbuds in place as they go up the avenue. They keep pace with the business women with suits and heels that make a staccato rhythm on the bricks as they step out into the sunshine to grab a bite to eat from City Lights or maybe the Cafe. Some have slipped on running shoes that completely mismatch their business attire and yet looks completely normal as they take a quick stroll up and then back down the street before heading back to work. There is a man with jeans worn-out to a comfortable softness and a t-shirt moving a variety of items in and out of The Embassy, and yet another gentleman with biker's gear and a racing jersey headed to the C&O trail-head. A barefoot, gray-haired man in a motorized chair zips by and he tosses a cigarette. A man with a group of other suit-clad men looks down at the cigarette before returning to his conversation and lunch at the Baltimore Street Grill.



A nearby fountain is shooting plumes of water into the air and if the breeze picks up just enough, a fine spray cools sun-heated skin. I wish for an excuse to dip my hands and then my feet into the fountain. Up the street a little farther is an assortment of vegetable and flower plants and some look like they wish they could dip into the fountain too. I stop and make of few selections and soon a variegated sage with purply veined leaves, a green bell pepper plant and another pepper plant (boasting to be both hot and sweet) are in my possession.
 
Occasionally the city quiet, which isn't technically quiet at all, is punctuated with an exclamation point as sirens wail and fire trucks head towards I-68 from the nearby fire station. Traffic is a constant hum with only a brief comma pause in the seconds between lights changing simultaneously from yellow to red and red to green. A few seconds to take a breath before forging ahead.

As a girl growing up in rural western Maryland in the 1970's, going to the big city of Cumberland was an adventure and a treat. School shopping and Christmas shopping meant a road trip on Route 40 and then later, Rt 48 (and eventually I-68). I always felt a little like Laura Ingalls Wilder when they would load up into their wagon and go to town from their home in the Big Woods.  Shopping at Hills, Ames or Murphy's was on the agenda and we'd walk out with notebook paper, folders, pencils, a new book-bag, and new socks and underwear. We'd stop at Goldsmith Black Inc and Mom would pick something from their selection with points she had earned. (I thought this store was boring!). At least that's how I remember it.

Being on this street makes me nostalgic. It reminds me to slow down and take some time to read, to write, to walk slowly and take in my surroundings, to smile and say "Hello" to a passing stranger. It reminds me to take a breath before forging ahead.

Love,
Dianne