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The one that got away

Perhaps at birth I got an extra dose of the hunter-gatherer gene. Maybe it was early exposure to a rural life with family and friends who thought fishing a desirable skill. Whatever the reason, I have a strong affection (perhaps compulsion) for the sport.
    As a result, I will be troubled, sometimes relentlessly, if I’ve experienced angling failure.
    Such is the case after a misadventure three long months ago, affected nothing of any significance and involved no witnesses other than myself, but it lingers in my subconscious, haunting me.
    I was fishing off Podickery Point on a sultry summer day under ideal conditions: calm water, still winds and a nicely moving tide. Chumming is not my first choice of angling, though I find it pleasurable and relaxing to cede success to the whims and appetites of the fish.
    The rockfish action had been good at that location. I expected no less that day, despite an occasional plague of marauding cow-nosed rays. If they showed up in any numbers, hooking and releasing these powerful but undesirable creatures would be a nuisance.
    There was no sign of rays, but the rockfish bite turned out slow. After three hours, I had only one fish in the box to show for my efforts. At 26 inches, it was a nice fish but not all that I was seeking. Refreshing the baits every 20 minutes on my four-rod setup, I decided to make a change.
    I replaced one of the baits, cut menhaden, with the biggest of the heads I had removed from the baitfish. The head is not usually good bait, being hard, large and offering little meat. But sometimes big stripers prefer these baits.
    Nothing much happened for almost a quarter of an hour. Then the outfit baited with the head began to sound off with the chatter that announces a slow and determined run. After a fair pause, I slipped the Abu reel in gear and set the hook.
    The result was a solid resistance; no run, no headshake, just firm resistance. Then the fish moved off steadily, as if hardly concerned. I tightened up the drag and leaned into it, bending the medium-heavy powered rod down to the corks and straining the 20-pound mono until it started to hum.
    That only caused the critter to hasten its down-current run. After some 50 yards, it turned and headed back and off to one side. I’d had visions of a real giant on my line; now I experienced a sudden doubt and disappointment, recalling similar encounters before — with big rays.
    Yes, it had to be a ray. Then it made a run like a ray move, virtually cementing my conclusion. Some 100 feet off the starboard side, a wingtip, I thought, broke the surface, followed by a heavy splash and a renewed run against my stiff drag.
    I tried to horse the thing toward the boat, but to no avail. The fight was nearing 20 minutes before I regained any amount of line. Heaving and reeling, I brought it ever closer. Then, as it approached, the devil crossed behind the boat, tangling with two of my three lines remaining in the water.
    Disgusted, I snubbed the run, dropped the rod down beside me on the deck and grabbed the monofilament with my hand, taking a half wrap and pulling the beast and the entangled lines up toward me at the stern. That’s when I finally saw it.
    It wasn’t a ray at all. It was a great rockfish with an eye the size of a half-dollar and shoulders as thick as an old dock piling. My heart stopped as the fish turned and took the accumulated lines directly into the motor’s submerged propeller. I barely felt the tug as they parted and the giant swam free.

Know where your oyster comes from — and howOysters in Season

Oysters are Maryland’s catch of the season. Oystermen and women are tonging, diving and dredging for Crassostrea virginica in a season that runs October 1 through March 31.
    Last year saw 393,588 bushels harvested with a dockside value of $17.3 million. “The second highest total in at least 15 years due to healthy oyster reproduction in 2010 and 2012,” according to DNR Secretary Mark Belton.
    Nowadays, however, the oysters we eat are increasingly coming from farms rather than wild harvest. Oyster aquaculturists lease sections of water and bottom, plant their own seed and, a couple of years later, harvest their own crop.
    Those oysters keep oyster eaters happy while wild oysters are nurturing a healthy Bay, filtering gallons of water and — given a chance — raising reefs where countless other creatures dwell.
    Ask where your oysters come from, and you’ll be doing good for the Bay.

Letters home from a new soldier, drafted to fight World War I

November 11 brings us once more to Veterans Day, our nation’s day of remembrance of all our veterans, living and dead. The 96-year-old commemoration began as Armistice Day, celebrating the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, when soldiers of the Allied Forces and of Germany, the enemy, laid down their weapons.
    The war to end all wars began in Europe on July 28, 1914. The United States joined the conflict as an Associated Power on April 6, 1917, promptly drafting 2.8 million men. By the summer of 1918, 10,000 American soldiers a day were shipped to France to fight.
    One of those drafted was A.L. Dixon, an Illinois country man who described his experiences in regular letters to a schoolteacher in a tiny Illinois village. The teacher was Miss Cora Smith, my first cousin twice removed, whose papers have descended to me.
    Inspired by the Maryland archivists who I interviewed in anticipation of Saturday’s Family History Festival, I opened and read his long-forgotten letters, transcribing (as exactly as I could) one for you to read here.
    I suspect Dix, a sergeant in the Quartermaster Department, never reached France, for his letters continue from Louisville through April 17, 1919. What became of him I don’t know but shall have to discover.

December 13, 1917
Dear Friend:
    When you want to know how good homemade candy tastes, just join the army for the candy was sure good, a sergt” here stoled some of it and when I bawled him for it he said that I should be satisfied to know a girl that could make good candy.
    I know you have a hard time making out my writing and you know how hard I worked in school, gee — but we never thot them days that all of this war would spring up and get some of us shot.
    When anyone trys to tell you that Ky is a warm state you tell em that its all wrong for we have about one foot of snow here and some cold.
    Miss Cora I am making good here nowdays and I am acting Sergt” seems with good luck I will have my stripe some day but don’t tell this for one is never sure of a thing here and I may get fooled.
    I have had charge of the QMC wagon train for over three weeks am boss of 22 mules, 30 men & 25 wagons and you should see my head swell when I line these men up and yell ‘tention’ squadron right boys march, am such a bear on that & they can hear me all over the camp.
    Who is your best ever now days? and does ‘ma’ let him stay late on Sun night? The girls swarm this camp on Sundays but I stay clear of em some of them are kids and I sure would like to spank the ­little fools.
    We had a fine thanksgiving dinner here and I was invited to a home in Lville but I was on duty & missed out.
    Come down and I will take you to a show at our new theater its some play house and will seat 4,000 of us boys and we have the best of shows here, in this barracks we have lawyers – Drs – artist – school supts – and most any kind of trade but all are soldiers now, and we hear better singing here than at a show.
    Me thinks we will soon see France and I hope so, just to get this over with.
    I have taken out $500 insurance and Mother may find herself rich some day soon, sure was pleased the way old Calhoun [County] helpt us boys she is a good old Co that’s sure.
    Some how I have been afraid of you ever since you called me a 2 face and laughed at me when I took that hard fall at the barn gate remember how you laughed at me?
    Must go to work so please write until you get all the news to Camp T — and many thanks for the candy and good letter.

Friend Dix [A.L. Dixon]
Utilities Branch
QMC Dept.
Camp T, Ky

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher;

The Forest of Arden magically becomes Cumberland Gap in the 1930s with country music and dancing

The Annapolis Shakespeare Company bills As You Like It as a bluegrass take on the Bard, offering a neighborly snoot to audiences that perhaps see Shakespeare as too snooty. Less bluegrass than traditional Americana, though, it features costumes straight from The Waltons, lively contra dances and such familiar old-timey tunes as I’ll Fly Away and Down in the River to Pray. There are Shakespearean lyrics set to melodies. You’ll recognize The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond, and a touch of Stephen Foster (Hard Times).
    The music is a pleasant diversion, but not all the performers are experienced singers because As You Like It is about the plot. Typical Shakespeare, this story relies on royal intrigue and comedic contrivance with villains and exiles, love at first sight, a fool, a love triangle, disguises and summary resolution with redemption.
    Brotherly rivalries are the catalyst for action as young Orlando (Jonathan Feuer) resents his older brother Oliver (James Carpenter) for denying his birthright. When Orlando beats court favorite Charles (Reed DeLisle) at wrestling, envious Oliver plots his destruction. Happily, Orlando’s servant Adam (Richard Pilcher) warns him, and they flee to the Forest of Arden, where deposed Duke Senior (Carpenter) has already taken refuge. Unhappily, flight means Orlando must leave behind the woman he fell in love with that very day, Rosalind (Teresa Spencer), Duke Senior’s daughter.
    Rosalind, as cousin and best friend of Celia (Renata Plecha), the daughter of wicked Duke Ferdinand (Pilcher), has been allowed to remain at court for Celia’s sake — until the duke has a sudden change of heart and exiles her. The girls flee to Arden, taking the court jester, Touchstone (Gary DuBreuil). Rosalind disguises herself as a man (Ganymede) and Celia as a shepherdess (Aliena).
    In the forest, they meet a lovesick shepherd, Silvius (DuBreuil) who pines for the disdainful shepherdess Phoebe (Plecha). Touchstone pursues the lovely goat-herd Audrey (Megan Morse Jans), and the girls encounter the hermit/philosopher Jacques (pronounced Jayquees) and lovesick Orlando, who is living with the good duke’s band and has papered the forest with love poems to Rosalind.
    Rosalind (as Ganymede) offers to instruct him in the art of love, even as the shepherdess Phoebe pursues him. Through Rosalind’s machinations and the divinely inspired reformation of the wicked brothers, everyone reunites and four weddings ensue: Rosalind and Orlando; Celia and Oliver; Phoebe and Silvius; Touchstone and Audrey.
    With most actors portraying three characters — some not named here — the story is beyond confusing at times. To wit, three women play four brides simultaneously with minimal wardrobe adjustments.
    There is also something odd about characters dressed as simple country folk addressing each other as Duke This and Sir That. Three performers, however, rise above these limitations. Philchern shines as a unique persona in four central roles and delivers a memorable All the World’s a Stage speech.
    Feuer has a unique talent for infusing venerable lines with modern interpretations, and he also plays a mean guitar. The chemistry between his Orlando and Rosalind’s Spencer is palpable even as she swings from ingénue to pants role and back again. Also notable is Jans’ splendid mezzo, evident in her solo Under the Greenwood Tree, a Shakespearian lyric.
    Another hallmark of this professional troupe is its ability to transcend set, performing on an empty stage with lighting suggestive of foliage against a simple forest backdrop decorated with picture frames and Orlando’s many love letters.
    Shakespeare lovers will appreciate this thoughtful new interpretation of a classic. But if you’re unfamiliar with the play, brush up on plot to have any hope of following. This is a fast-paced, sometimes humorous and sad, two and a half hours with ­intermission.

Director: Sally Boyett. Choreography and music: Megan Morse Jans. Scenic designer: Mariana Fernandez. Fight choreographer: Casey Kaleba. Voice and dialect coach: Nancy Krebs. Lights: Adam Mendelson. Sound: Gregory Thomas Martin.
Playing thru Nov. 15 FSa 8pm, Su 3pm, Studio 111, 111 Chinquapin Round Rd., Annapolis, $40 w/discounts, rsvp: 410-415-3513;

Mermaid and Bride of Frankenstein top Homstead’s Critter Crawl

Critters pranced, bolted, held back and had to be dragged, but — despite the name — none crawled at the Critter Crawl at Homestead Garden’s Fall Festival. Twenty-nine costumed dogs were strutting their stuff, as were their owners, often wearing pared costumes. A terrier wore prison stripes for bad behavior, a shepherd sprouted reindeer horns, a pit bull turned into a frog.
    In the end, judges from Homestead Gardens and Bay Weekly gave top honors to cuteness. Bella the Chihuahua, costumed as a mermaid by human companion Holli Lawler, won first place and a basket of dog goodies. Runner-up was whippet Havana, dressed as Bride of Frankenstein by human companion and Southern High School grad Ingrid Horton, a costume designer and seamstress by trade.

Runner up Havana with companion Ingrid Horton.

A cover crop of winter rye is the ultimate in nutrient recycling

Planting a cover crop in your garden is good for the soil. It also contributes to improving the quality of Bay waters. Soil should never be exposed to rain and wind. Most of the brown, muddy water you see while boating on the Bay is colored by soil that has washed from adjoining lands or streams.
    As soon as you finish gardening in late summer and fall, plant winter rye in your garden. Winter rye is a great scavenger plant because it absorbs all available nutrients and stores them in roots and stems. Since it is deep-rooted, it absorbs nutrients that have leached down in the deeper soil, and its roots help to fracture the hardpan soils created by repeated plowing or rototilling. Its roots are rich in lignins, fibers that are slow to decompose and that improve soils making them more friable, thus more suitable for growing plants. Then, when the roots, stems and leaves of rye plants are plowed or rototilled into the ground, they decompose, providing nutrients to the plants in your garden next season. In other words, cover crops, often called green manure crops, are the ultimate in nutrient recycling and the best in preventing the loss of soil and nutrients by wind and rain.
    The complaint that I hear most often from gardeners who have tried winter rye as a cover crop is that it is difficult to turn under in the spring because it makes very dense vegetation. This is a self-inflicted problem because those gardeners have applied too much seed. The application rate of winter rye seed to establish an effective cover crop is one to one and a half pounds per 1,000 square feet. This information is often printed on the package, but who reads directions?
    Mow the winter rye before plowing or rototilling the garden, and you’ll achieve good incorporation of the chopped stems and roots with one or two tries. 
    It takes approximately two weeks for the decomposition to start releasing nutrients, so I advise preparing the soil two to three weeks in advance of planting. The soil will be exposed during this short period, but the roots will help retain it. What’s more, microorganisms will actively be fixing any available nutrients in their effort to decompose the new organic matter.
    Topsoil is a precious commodity and natural resource. Keep the soil where it belongs and out of Bay waters.

Ask Dr. Gouin your questions at Please include your name and address.

If you don’t love this show, I will personally refund your money

What do you expect from an iconic musical winner of five Tonys, a Grammy and an Oscar? A show so revered it cemented the careers of Shirley Jones and Robert Preston, and launched little Ron Howard to stardom?
    At 2nd Star Productions, expect the perfect delight of screen and vinyl.
    The Music Man tells a story as old as human nature about opportunism and naiveté, exceptionalism and jealousy — with humor. It’s nostalgic and sweet without being sappy, it’s upbeat and colorful, and it’s delivered in spectacular song and dance. If you don’t love this show, I will personally refund your money.
    E. Lee Nicol strikes just the right chord as Professor Harold Hill, the Gilded Age flimflammer who revolutionizes a parochial town with his bogus vision for a boys’ band he knows he can’t deliver. Yes, Ya Got Trouble right here in River City. Even prim and lovely Marian the Librarian (Emily Mudd) can’t resist this dynamic, quick-witted huckster, especially when Hill helps her little brother, Winthrop (Andrew Sharpe), overcome debilitating shyness.
    Hill transforms the quarrelsome school board through rich barbershop harmony with, in order of height, Nathan Bowen’s anchoring bass and David Merrill’s soaring tenor bookending Brian Binney and Kevin Cleaver’s mid-range voices, parrying each of their inquiries into his qualifications with the suggestion of a song: Lida Rose or Goodnight Ladies, the last performed in duet with the gossiping Pickalittle Ladies (Allison Baudoin, Victoria Rose Brown, Rosalie Daelemans, Kirsti Dixon, Diane Schwartz) as they justify their unwavering scorn for Marian.
    This provincial town is full of unforgettable characters. You meet the self-important Mayor and Mrs. Shinn (Martin Hayes and Jeanne Louise) and their ditzy daughter Zaneeta (Abigail Wallen), who is secretly dating that wild kid Tommy Djilas (Daniel Starnes). There’s Marcellus Washburn (Brian Mellen), Hill’s former accomplice turned upright citizen; Marian’s plain-spoken mother, Mrs. Paroo (Carole Long) with the brogue; and teasing Amaryllis (Vanessa Daelemans) who is enamored of Winthrop. There’s even a salacious traveling salesman, whom Marian waylays in order to save Hill — Nicholas Mudd (Charlie Cowell) — played by Marian’s (Emily’s Mudd’s) real husband. As the credits attest, this is a family show both on and off-stage.
    Beautifully cast with winning leads, this production also features townsfolk of all ages and shapes. The ensemble is tight, from the percussive patter of peddlers on a train (Rock Island) to show-stoppers such as the Wells Fargo Wagon and Seventy-Six Trombones, complete with stunning dances featuring Andrew Gordon and Tabitha Thornhill. Even the pit orchestra outshines any that 2nd Star has assembled in years. There’s love (Till There Was You), patriotism (Columbia, Gem of the Ocean) and zaniness (Shipoopi). There are five, count ‘em, five meticulous sets and gorgeous period costumes in a bouquet of eye-popping colors. With clever staging, a train car appears to actually scroll past the town. Only the lighting seems off at times with low lights obscuring rather than showcasing the dancers.
    Harold Hill is a wise man. “Pile up enough tomorrows and you’ll have a pile of empty yesterdays,” he warns. Don’t let many tomorrows pass without catching this great show.

With Kaitlin Fish, Paula Farina, Maureen Mitchell, Erica Miller, Julian Ball, Madison Pyles, Aubrey Baden III, Eric Meadows, Genevieve Ethridge, Isabelle Gholl, Michael Mathes, Tyler White, Erin Culfogienis, Nicole Hoyt, Creedence H. Jackson, Snowdenn A. Jackson, Bay Moore and Aaliyah Schultz.


By Meredith Willson. Director and set designer: Jane B. Wingard. Costumes: Elizabeth Starnes and Jeane Binney. Musical director: Joe Biddle. Choreography: Andrew Gordon. Lights and sound: Garrett R. Hyde.
Playing thru Nov. 14. FrSa 8pm, Su 3pm, Sa Nov 14 at 3pm, Bowie Playhouse, White Marsh Park Dr., $22 w/discounts, rsvp: 410-757-5700.

There’s a great spy story in the middle of this bloated epic

James Donovan (Saving Mr. Banks) knows how to strike a deal. The insurance lawyer is used to haggling for his clients. Though his expertise is litigation and payouts, Donovan is asked to defend Rudolf Abel (Mark Rylance: Wolf Hall), an accused spy.
    The Cold War colors the case, and soon Donovan is the second most hated man in America, right after Abel. People threaten him in public, shoot at his home and terrify his family. The CIA tails him, pressuring him to break attorney-client privilege. On the other hand, Donovan’s dogged defense of his client grants him some cache with the Soviet Union.
    The USSR reaches out with a deal: trading a captured U.S. pilot for Abel. The CIA thinks it’s a great deal but can’t be involved in brokering it. They ask Donovan to travel to Berlin, where the U.S.S.R. has just finished constructing its wall, and engineer the trade.
    In Berlin, Donovan is on his own once he crosses the wall. He navigates international politics uncertainly, never sure whom he’s speaking with or what he has the authority to bargain with. He is unnerved by the violence around as he tries to stick to the deal: One spy for one pilot.
    Simple, right?
    Not quite. It seems the German Democratic Republic, eager to impress the Soviets and gain status as a world power, captured an American student who had the misfortune of being on the wrong side of the city the day the Berlin Wall was constructed. He’s not a spy, but the East Germans are holding him and demanding an audience with the CIA. Donovan wants to save the kid, but the CIA is interested only in the soldier.
    There is a fantastic thriller somewhere in the middle of Bridge of Spies, but you’ll have to slog through 50 minutes of a boring, heavy-handed setup to get to it. Director Steven Spielberg (Lincoln) is an icon, but his latest effort is a bloated, rambling mess.
    The American action is a Frank Capra-esque tale of a lone man fighting the just fight. Hanks sleepwalks through his Jimmy Stewart knockoff, while around him everyone snarls about communists and the A-bomb. The bright point is Rylance, who gives Abel interesting pathos.
    In Berlin, the movie wakes up. Scenes are tighter, with higher energy; the cinematography plays off of long shadows and harsh lines; Hanks comes alive as he negotiates with dangerous men. It’s Spielberg at his best, meticulously weaving tension and theme into each scene. It’s a shame, then, when the film returns to America for an unnecessary, lifeless coda.
    If you’re interested in a moody spy thriller with gorgeous cinematography, Bridge of Spies should have you enthralled. Arrive about 30 minutes late and dawdle at the concession stand.

Fair Thriller • PG-13 • 141 mins.

Perfect your cast to battle with autumn’s big fellas of the Bay

Our skiff was slowly drifting off of the Western Shore, just below the Bay Bridge, pushed by a light northwesterly wind along with the beginnings of a falling tide. My eyes were glued to some strong arches on the fish-finder indicating we were passing over a pod of good fish holding close to the bottom in about 20 feet of water. Bending on a 3/0 Half and Half (a Deceiver-style fly with a Clouser-type head) in chartreuse and white, I lifted my stiff nine-foot rod and started to cast.
    Beginning with a roll cast directed to our rear and about 60 degrees off the line of drift, I worked a short length of the 350-grain, sink-tip fly line out. Just as it touched the water I cast again, working a bit more line out, and yet again, until I had the full 30 feet of black, high-density line extended. Then, as that heavy line touched the water one last time, I made a hauling, sidearm backcast, shooting the dark tip and about 25 feet of running line to the rear.
    As the cast straightened out behind me, I changed the plane of my forward cast to almost straight overhead and began a strong forward haul. As the line leapt out in front of me forming a narrow loop, I made a circle with the index finger and thumb of my left hand and guided the rest of the pile of line (about 40 feet of it) laying on the deck, sizzling through the guides and out over the water.
    The weight of the sink tip took the fly deep as I stripped off another 10 feet of line from my reel and fed it into the drift. Allowing a full 10 count to let the line get close to the bottom, I began a slow strip-jerk retrieve to impart the motions of an injured baitfish on my streamer. About the time I imagined the fly was reaching the area behind us where we had marked the pod, the line came tight. I cinched the fish up hard, and another autumn fly rod battle was on.
    Usually, the long rod is associated with sweetwater and the more pleasant months of the year. Casting a tiny Adams upstream in May to tempt a dimpling trout or working a small popper in June along the spawning beds for bull bluegills are more usual pursuits.
    But the less comfortable chill of autumn sends another signal to the long-rod enthusiast of Chesapeake Bay. This is just the time to break out the eight- and nine-weight saltwater rods, tie on a 20-pound leader and do some serious battle with the big fellas of the Bay, our rockfish.

How to Do the Chuck ’n’ Duck
    Casting a heavy-taper floating line over shallow water (six feet or less) with big, bright streamers and poppers can be a relaxing and especially enjoyable saltwater tactic. But the window of opportunity is inconveniently short, usually lasting only an hour or so after first light. As the sun climbs, the light-sensitive stripers tend to move to a deeper stratum until evening. Unless a fly angler can find large stripers actively feeding and breaking on the surface, fishing a floating line is no longer an option.
    If you want the bigger rockfish you’ve got to follow ’em deep, and that means using a high-density sinking line. Sink-tips, as they are called because only the first 20 feet is heavily weighted, can work depths of 15 to 25 feet.
    Sink-tip lines come in various weights, usually measured in grains (1,000 grains to an ounce). A 350-grain line is intended for eight- and nine-weight rods, 450 grains for 10- and 11-weight rods, etc. The heavier the rod and the heavier the line, the deeper you can reach and the larger the fly you can throw. Keep in mind the axiom, bigger fish want bigger baits.
    Casting these lines requires some adjustments to your normal casting stroke. It is wise to prepare by lawn casting before taking your show on the water. The technique of throwing sink-tips is sometimes called the chuck ’n’ duck, you’ll understand why the first time you try it.

Is this “Reefer Madness”?

We’re looking forward to fields of marijuana amid the corn and soybeans in Southern Anne Arundel County.
    That’s one implication of the semiannual survey Anne Arundel County opinion just released by The Center for the Study of Local Issues at Anne Arundel Community College.
    Medical marijuana is riding a high, according to the survey, with 69 percent in favor of allowing its planting, processing and sale in Anne Arundel.
    Approval comes “with restrictions,” In survey wording, that position is “in keeping with the stance of some county council members but originally opposed by County Executive Steve Schuh.”
    State law newly allows medical marijuana, but Schuh wanted none of it for Anne Arundel. Now he’s said okay, under the council’s strict rules on marijuana as a crop and product.
    Farming and processing the leafy plant are targeted for South County, on operations of at least 10 acres that are guarded but don’t show lights at night.
    Under those rules, you don’t have to be smoking pot to imagine marijuana as Southern Maryland’s new tobacco.
    From colonial days, tobacco was Maryland’s cash crop. Until just a decade or so ago, farmers could make a good income off tobacco, though it took a lot of work that fewer people were willing to do. Now a tobacco field is a rarity.
    Tobacco was laid low after the federal government won an enormous settlement from the tobacco industry for hiding the health risks of smoking. Maryland used some of its share to buy out tobacco farmers; they had to promise never to grow the sot weed again.
    More settlement money was spent on finding new crops to replace tobacco. Broccoli, fancy greens, flowers and grapes were all candidates, but none as good as marijuana.
    Hemp, the cannabis kin of marijuana, is as old as the colonies. Colonizing nations wanted hemp for cloth, thread and rope and required its cultivation. Nation-builder Thomas Jefferson preferred it to soil-depleting tobacco because hemp took less and gave back more, including cattle feed.
    As a specialized hemp product, medical marijuana will take more cultivated growing conditions than hemp grown for fiber and fodder. But both like soil rich in organic matter, so our soils stand to benefit, along with our farmers.
    From farmer to people in pain, marijuana has a broad future with us. Like hemp, it has policy and politicians on its side. That assures a series of open doors. Broccoli, even grapes, were never so lucky.
    Production and sales rules are written into the law, and mostly expressed in the negative. Marijuana dispensaries may not be located closer than one mile apart, for example, and window and counter displays will not be allowed. Look at the other side and you see invitations to an industry, even to special exception zoning.
    Before long, I bet there’ll even be agricultural advice centers teaching best management practices to marijuana farmers. Processing the crop for best medical consumption is a developing science — and art.
    Americans are more favorable than ever before to legalizing marijuana for fun.
    In 2012, Colorado and Washington State made pot legal. Oregon, Alaska and Washington, D.C., followed.
    By 2013, 58 percent of Gallup’s national survey told pollsters that marijuana should be no crime. That number held steady in this month’s Gallup Poll, conducted October 21.

The Anne Arundel County Public Opinion Survey
    In its 20th year, the survey is a project for college students, who learn survey techniques and analysis. Conducting the study is the Center for the Study of Local Issues, headed by Dan Nataf. This year, 589 county residents 18 and older were surveyed by evening phone calls to landlines and cells, with an online panel also contributing.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher;