Tag: martinsburg

From City to Country: Secrets Your Realtor Can’t and Won’t Tell You

My name is Jim. I am a grandfather many times over, and recently (in 2012) upgraded my status to great-grandfather, and I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland.

A true city-boy, I was born in Baltimore in 1957 and raised in the neighborhood of Hampden until 1973 when I was “volunteered” for military service at the ripe age of 16. A Christian child, I was in the same church every Sunday from infancy until a bout of family violence cut those roots free. This experience would make a few future transitions much easier, but there was no way for me to see that silver lining at the time.

As one of the many disposable kids in Baltimore I first experienced homelessness at the age of 14, and quickly became a trouble magnet.  Soon subjected to the city’s “three strikes” rule, local authorities decided that training this angry child to properly kill strangers would be far more beneficial than high school, and that the then-current “Clean Slate” program would be the platform on which I could build a new life as a productive adult, assuming that I were to survive this incarceration option, that is.  Despite the flawed logic, the end result of dropping said child into that meat grinder was indeed a responsible and rather productive adult with a solid work ethic, none the less. Go figure.

After the service I bummed around Miami for a year or so; homeless once again, but this time on warm beaches instead of cold city benches. When this vacation was over, I returned to Baltimore to find work and settle down, to begin that adult life.  Veterans had a tough time finding great jobs at the time, but I was lucky enough to eventually land a decent local manufacturing job, and I remained in Baltimore where my wife and I bought two houses and raised 6 children, mostly in the same neighborhood where we began, until 1999 that is.   That was the year that we, after playing with the idea for far too long, decided to pull up our lifelong city roots and move to Wild and Wonderful West Virginia, just an hour-or-so away via I-70, but truly worlds apart socially.

“Things turn out best for those who make the best of the way things turn out”    -John Wooden

Being a trucker at the time gave us the flexibility to move to another state without leaving all sources of income behind, and where we chose to start hanging our hats is Martinsburg, in the eastern panhandle. The unique location is within minutes of four states, and only 15 minutes from one of my company’s local drop-yards, where loads moving up and down the east coast are exchanged.

We had visited the area a few times past for the fishing and mountain views, and the small town feel had charmed us from the start.  Martinsburg is loaded with history and friendly folks, most of whom are the result of generations of hard-working farming families who had enjoyed a simple and fulfilling life in the same small town. Unlike Baltimore, houses were not sold but instead property was handed down through the generations. People were raising their family in the same inherited house that their great-grandfathers had built, which is a romantic concept of personal security that a city-boy can barely imagine. By the second Summer visit we were in love with the idea of maybe moving there one day, and in september of 1999 that one day came.

  “Your best days are waiting just outside of your comfort zone”    -Reverend JB Stran

Now, despite the vast amount of respect that I feel for the majority of the local life-long residents of Martinsburg for their work ethic and simple country roots, there are a few things that most city folks will need to prepare for and hopefully adjust to. Like I said: Socially they are worlds apart, and what most natives consider normal behavior many others could consider quite rude and even hostile, albeit unintentionally.

First and foremost is the Staring.  I was warned by a friend that I wouldn’t last a month in Martinsburg before I was locked up because, as he put it, “a redneck will watch paint dry”. I admit, this one does stir my blood on occasion, but mainly because where I come from, staring at someone is how you pick a fight. It’s widely considered a hostile gesture that will inevitably cause a violent reaction more often than not, and many a dumbfounded person has been beaten and even stabbed over this misunderstanding.

Around here however, that is simply not the case. Quite the opposite, actually…but it took me years to finally realise this.  For many locals, staring at someone is part of the social handshake. Being rather lacking in the art of greeting strangers in a genuine manner and starting a real conversation, many local residents simply stare at you and wait for you to initiate contact. They don’t mean anything hostile by this method, it is simply the way it has always been done. The lack of a smile when we make eye contact is the biggest hurdle to getting comfortable with this.

In a place of low population where everyone knows everyone else, any outsider is a potential threat to their family and stability. This is part of the small town mentality that thrives in thousands of wonderful little places throughout America, and for the most part it’s part of the charm. In many of these communities, there will inevitably be a group who are overly defensive and therefore unstable, when faced with “outsiders” who think or live differently than the local norm.  Much like the cavemen who climbed the nearest hill to throw rocks at the moon, these few will perceive a threat regardless of your intentions, and you can only hope to eventually warm them to you…but to these few, you will never be a local. Better to just accept it and move on.

For most places that are subject to the small town mentality, there is a wide undercurrent of social insecurity that affects many of the residents and makes them suspicious of strangers. They tend to hold back, and wait for you to show your intentions before they extend a hand. Maybe this comes from their farming roots, and has simply been extended to people as well as strange animals, but the final result is something that we in the city consider to be extremely rude behavior. So, try to be a bit more patient with this than I have been.

There are always exceptions, and hopefully you will find a few of this type of new friend to make your transition easier. I have come to know a few who stand head-and-shoulders above the rest, and whom I consider a genuine friend.

Conversation, or more to the point the lack of it, is the second thing that will require an adjustment from most city folks. You know how it is: We spend a lifetime being real, and have no problem just speaking right up with a total stranger at a bus stop about local events, a recent news story, or whatever is on your mind at the moment. We know better than most people that communication is the easiest thing people can do: You just open your mouth and tell the truth.  This type of honest communication was something that I was known best for, and while a few expected me to choose kind words for their benefit, my friends and family have always counted on me to tell them the truth.

At least for the first few years as a stranger in a small town, this aspect of city life will likely be put on hold.  The real truth isn’t very popular in small towns, because being nice will always take priority.  For my first few years here, when I started opening up and speaking honestly with local folks, they just stared at me like I was growing a second head before their eyes. I was told, “We don’t do that around here”, meaning that I was only expected to drop some generic statement and keep moving. Another person that I was becoming familiar with told me, after a brief chat that included some honesty on my part, that I was “the meanest person he had ever met”. Clearly, a lifetime surrounded by too much niceness for the sake of nice has left many locals with virgin ears.  After a period of adjustment, I’ve put most attempts at conversation and getting to know my neighbors on hold until one of us has evolved.

When seeking new conversation friends, the first thing to watch for is those people who don’t employ “bar speak” as their primary conversational tool. Bar speak is far too common around here, and frankly I find it both rude and annoying after the second instance. Unfortunately, there are still many who are only able to not communicate with me in this form after ten years of association, which is quite sad to say the least. Truth be told, I tend to avoid anyone who chooses to hold me at bay with this tactic, since that seems to be what they are after.

Bar speak is that generic, rather pointless communication tool that one uses as they pass through a bar on the way to a seat. When you make eye contact with a stranger, you offer up some empty nugget like “some weather, huh?” or “How you doing?” as a form of social handshake. Here in Martinsburg however, this is unfortunately the primary conversational tool of way too many folks. Like superheros with a favorite catchphrase, they walk around all day throwing out the same 3-word/3-syllable nonsensical phrase such as, “Whaya think?”, “Whaya know”, “Gotta Love it”, and “Havin fun yet?” , apparently in the hope of a response of similar mindless repetition. I honestly have no idea how to respond kindly to something so impersonal and outright rude, that most of the time I just wait for them to say what’s really on their mind, or just walk away.  This is mainly because what I actually heard was “I don’t want to talk to you, but I felt obligated to speak, and now I don’t have to.”  In the interest of peace, I generally ignore this type of nonversation and respect their wish to avoid getting to know me.

“When you have nothing genuine to add to the conversation, it is always best to say nothing until you do.”    -Emily Post, the Good Manners Handbook

Should you be lucky enough to be a people person, then a third adjustment will not be required. For the rest of us however, there is one final difference that will cause some discomfort and eventually force you to alter your social methodology.  Another big part of the small town mentality is the lack of social boundaries you will see in many locals. Because everyone knows everyone else, they also know the families, and a few secrets that they protect because “that’s just the way it’s done ’round here”.

That old saying that keeps the peace in most cities, “Tend your own garden” simply doesn’t seem to apply to most small town folks, and they have no problem asking for the details of your personal life without regard for personal privacy. Privacy in fact is an illusion in most small towns.  Everything is personal, and they take everything personally, including your need for privacy. If you answer their personal questions, you violate your own code of conduct, and if you don’t answer then you have offended their way of life. It’s a bit of a no-win for a lot of city folks who are seeking the space and freedom of movement that country life is offering.

In the city, if you go to the bathroom at 2AM, you can bet that someone knows about it. Personal privacy simply doesn’t exist when the houses are mere inches apart, which is why it becomes so vital when changing to a rural location. Now again, if you happen to be a people person then you may enjoy this aspect of rural life and consider it just another of the local charms.

In summary: I have met some fine and respectable people here in Martinsburg, and they have been more than patient with my extended period of adjustment. There are still many adjustments waiting to be made, just as there are a few that I will simply refuse to make, because tolerance has to go both ways otherwise it’s little more than me being molded, and I simply don’t accept the idea that I was socially broken, and that becoming more Martinsburg will fix me.  You will likely come to a similar conclusion.

≈ Postscript ≈

Your Mileage May Vary.  Objects May Be Closer Than They Appear.  Batteries Not Included.

The above piece is based on personal experiences, and is in no way intended to become your template for a transition to country or city life.

I’ve included the first 2 paragraphs of personal data to clarify that in some ways, I am not your typical American adult, and it should be clear that  my background and personality will inevitably alter the final results of this transition to a different social setting, as will yours.

Never prejudge any group of people before taking a reasonable amount of time and effort to get to know them as individuals. Some of the finest people I have ever known started as seemingly hostile strangers, as it was just part of their defense mechanism. The kindest people are often hurt the deepest, and must therefore develop an effective defense system in order to maintain their personality.  So, be kind to your new neighbors. Nice is an option…but always be kind.

2015  JB “Pop” Stran  All Copyrights apply. No reprint without full link intact.

Plane crashes at airshow; pilot killed – journal-news.net | News, sports, jobs, community information for Martinsburg – The Journal

MARTINSBURG – An aircraft with the Trojan Horsemen aircraft demo team has crashed at the Thunder Over the Blue Ridge open house and airshow during the tribute to the Armed Forces segment, killing the pilot.

The plane involved in the crash is registered to John Mangan of Concord, N.C., and was built in 1958. According to the demo team’s website, Jack “Flash” Mangan, an alternate wing team member, is a graduate of the United States Air Force Academy. He spent 13 years in active duty, flying more than 2,500 hours in F-15 and F-4 aircraft. While in the service, he earned several awards, including three Meritorious Service Medals and the Tactical Air Command’s Instructor Pilot of the Year award. Mangan now has more than 4,000 flight hours and holds Airline Transport Pilot and sailplane ratings.

There were no other injuries reported. The remainder of the airshow has been canceled.

“We were fortunate that the safety measures put in place by the Federal Aviation Administration ensured the safety of those on the ground,” said Maj. Gen. James Hoyer, adjutant general of the West Virginia National Guard. “Right now our thoughts and prayers are with the family members of the deceased.”

The mid-20th century aircraft was part of a six-plane formation from the T-28 Warbird Aerobatic Formation Demonstration Team, which is the only such group in the world. The team, is based in Cincinnati, Ohio.

The crash occurred at 2:32 p.m. at the 167th Airlift Wing during a stunt where two T-28s were flying belly-to-belly. After the aircraft split, the plane that was heading west out of the maneuver wobbled and went straight into the ground, disintegrating into a ball of fire upon impact. The plane crashed between the taxiway and runway in front of the hangars.

via Plane crashes at airshow; pilot killed – journal-news.net | News, sports, jobs, community information for Martinsburg – The Journal.

Historic plane crashes at West Virginia air show | Reuters

– A World War II-era plane crashed in a fireball on Saturday at a West Virginia air show, officials said, a day after another vintage plane crashed at a show in Nevada, killing nine people and injuring more than 50 others.

There was no immediate word on any casualties in West Virginia, officials said.

The T-28 aircraft crashed at about 2:40 p.m. during an acrobatic demonstration at the 2011 Thunder Over the Blue Ridge Open House & Air Show in Martinsburg, said a spokesman for the West Virginia Air National Guard.

According to Federal Aviation Administration spokesman Jim Peters, the plane was part of a formation of six T-28s.

The plane, which crashed onto a runway, was registered to John Mangan of Concord, North Carolina.

via Historic plane crashes at West Virginia air show | Reuters.

Baltimore City Boy -vs- Martinsburg, WV. | The tourism dilemna

 { this is part 2 of a continuing series. Read part 1 here: http://wp.me/p1FT6d-28 }

    After spending a lifetime in the heart of Baltimore City, I suddenly yanked up the only roots we’ve ever known and dropped anchor in Martinsburg, West Virginia…Why?

 No, not the whole ‘juvenile court-system’ story with the ‘Baltimore cops perfected profiling’ twist; Why Martinsburg above the thousands of other nice little towns on the East coast that I’ve never lived in, right out of the blue?

 In a word: Riverbend.

  For the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia, Riverbend park is our Ocean City.  Tourists and out-of-state regulars (seasonal residents) pour into Riverbend all summer long for the fishing, boating, and fresh-air activities in a laid-back social environment that’s hard to beat in the world of blue collars and tight family budgets.

 As a Baltimore city resident, Riverbend was my first taste of life in Martinsburg, or West Virginia for that matter, and it was love at first sip.  We began venturing around Martinsburg when our oldest daughter Dawn moved here not long after buying a trailer at Riverbend…so when our family troubles began with the Baltimore juvenile system, and we talked about finally getting out of the city, Martinsburg was our first serious option.

 As for the scariest part, (ie: Walking away from both of our jobs and living on our savings in a rental until we can put down some roots), the plan was for me to begin driving long-haul, and my wife would take it easy for a while.  In theory at least, after the 2 weeks of class A license training and a month on the road, we could begin replacing the deep hit our savings took in moving us out here.

 This also meant that we could theoretically put down roots anywhere we liked, since driving a tractor-trailer would eventually bring me near home no matter where it was.  While we toyed with a few ideas like a town in NC where Ruth has some family, or a town in FLA where I spent a Summer, reality called our imaginations back to Martinsburg as the only one of these options that we had actually visited recently and liked.

   So, this was a choice of…Convenience? Sure.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  Let’s not rule out Fate and Karma, for those of you who believe in such things.

 Now to be completely honest, it took only two short years for me to begin telling friends and family, when asked for the pros-and-cons of moving to Martinsburg, “Don’t Do It!   …This is where braincells come to die!”

 In all fairness, it wasn’t really the town of Martinsburg that I was discouraged with, but the original draw: Riverbend park.  While the first few visits had only allowed me to see what I wanted to see, which was a tiny part of Riverbend, the ‘blue-collar family vacation spot’ side of the place, it was only after moving here that we began to see the park for what it really was:  An outdoor bar where the adults become drunken clowns within minutes of arrival, (including silly little clown-cars to ride around on) and the kids run wild and unsupervised for days at a time.  All the pointless, expensive and unnecessary dramas that come along with rampant alcoholism and free-range teenagers were the Riverbend plague, and we hadn’t set foot in the place in years…and still haven’t.

 Our favorite part of life in Martinsburg is the quiet. No sirens, no buzzing helicopters, no bus traffic (hell, no traffic at all!), and no cops flying up and down the front street every few hours.

 Visitors to Riverbend however, are apparently attempting to bring the city with them, minus the constant social pressures. They want the close-proximity interactions, without the laws and enforcement that keep people civil.  To many Baltimore residents, Riverbend is an ‘Anything goes-Open bar-Double life’  Summer Circus where they are the performers.  The park has made a few improvements to better entertain the kids and bolster the original “Family Park” concept, but the simple truth is that until they better control the adults, very little will ever change.

 My point is this:  Martinsburg is the city-conveniences small town environment that you have been dreaming about, and wondering if it really does exist in America.  *(My first few months here, the people were so damn nice it was driving me crazy! After a lifetime in the city, rudeness and indifference was expected, and when strangers started noticing me and stopping their day to say “Hi!” it raised the hairs on my neck…Where I came from, that means you’re about to get conned or robbed.)

  We have so much more to offer families looking to get more home for their hard-earned money, and take their children away from the crime and violence that is closing in around Baltimore like a biblical plague.

  Thinking of spending a weekend looking around, and want to be impressed?  Start with Harper’s Ferry for a small town experience that will blow your mind. Free access and hours of activities for the whole family make Harpers Ferry a nature-lover’s dream, and a top attraction in the area.  Need a bit more excitement, or just looking for some lights and a fine meal after walking the serenity of the river in Harpers Ferry? Nearby Charlestown is a prime tourist attraction for it’s racecourse which recently became the Hollywood Casino.

 Martinsburg Mall (near I81 & King Street) offers many family restaurants and a few nice hotels to call ‘home-base’ while you explore the area. Downtown has it’s share of criminal elements after dark, and rest assured the local police are working very hard to keep the ‘downtown Baltimore’ problems from moving to Martinsburg.  During the day however, you can feel free to walk your family through the well-preserved historic shops of downtown, and remember to stop by Patterson’s Drugstore for an real Ice cream soda at a genuine ‘soda jerk’ fountain experience.

City Smart -VS- Country clever: Are we all stupid..? (intro)

I’m a Baltimore City native, and will always see myself that way.

Born and raised in the heart of the city, in a neighborhood known as Hampden in the Northern-half of Central Baltimore, the majority of my first 40 years was spent there, except for a few years in the early 70’s to join the military (and some bumming around Florida afterwards), then back to the only home I knew.

Point is: I’m a city boy. I grew up knowing how to dodge rats (of all types) and how to read a threat in someone from a distance and basically ignore most everyone else.       Baltimore was dirty and growing more violent every year, and I secretly dreamed of snow-capped mountains and spring-fed lakes beside grassy fields.

Today, with all six children grown and gone off to add more grandchildren to Santa’s list, I’m finally living that dream.

We moved to West Virginia in 1999 as a last-ditch effort to keep my youngest from following my juvenile footsteps, a path that rarely ends well…and it worked.

In light of all of my ridiculous misconceptions, West Virginia has turned out to be the biggest surprise of my lifetime, and our time here has only just begun.

Large, beautiful homes set on grassy open lots are the norm here in Martinsburg, which contrasts sharply with my childhood cityboy visions of filthy trailers and unwashed babies playing in a puddle with their only toy, a favorite stick.

Martinsburg has undergone some sudden changes in the last decade or two; First a growth-spurt in housing, and then a sudden influx of strangers from neighboring states who came to snap-up some amazing deals on these new houses. So, while we both deal with our own growing pains, we’re also growing on each other at the same time.

Locals had their own misconceptions, I’m sure; City folks will bring arrogance and violence to their peaceful little towns, making them feel slow and stupid at every opportunity and drive a wedge into their average generation gap that will alienate their children from their small town ideals with promises of city-glitz and fast thrills…and then move on like a plaque of locusts, leaving behind ghettos, gangs, and permanently destroyed property values.

We each, the locals who have grown up here and never so much as peeked outside their own back yards, and the ‘strangers’ who have chosen Martinsburg to be home in the last 10-15 years, have our own way of thinking and of getting things done.  We tend to bump heads on occasion, partly because tolerance for the differences of others is not a priority lesson in small towns where everyone knows everyone else, and equally because cities train people to ‘cut through the crowd’ and generally ignore the toes that they step on as we’re getting our way.

We’re both right, and we’re both wrong. Learning to get along is a priority for me, and my hope is that my new neighbors will adopt the same philosophy and help me find that level ground where we can mesh.

Our differences are prominent in local traffic:  The locals enjoy the remnants of the “Stop and Smell the Roses” mindset of their grandparents that has sustained the small-town mentality of the region since it was a farming community, when waving or stopping to talk to your neighbors was the norm…and along comes all these ‘city folks’ who want to speed things up, as well as making life more expensive and a lot less friendly.

I’m trying to learn how to slow down, and I freely admit that it feels wonderful to finally begin letting my guards down for the first time in 40 years. Learning to enjoy the journey will take time, but I really do want to at least occasionally smell a rose or two…not really ready to stop for it yet, but slowing down to catch a whiff now and then is a positive first step.

The true enemy here is Evolution, and it’s a naturally-occurring phenomenon that would have caught up to this region no matter if we had stayed in the cities or not…but I don’t mind accepting my share of the blame if that will make the transition easier.