Rockville's Own Arts Center Grand Opening

VisArts, the Metropolitan Center for the Visual Arts, will hold a Grand Opening Celebration at its new Town Center location at 155 Gibbs Street on Sunday, September 30 from noon to 5 p.m. Events include Dedication in the Town Square at noon; Ribbon Cutting with local dignitaries at 12:30; Education Sneak Peek 1:00 – 5:00 p.m.; building tours, refreshments, and Imagination Stations with Lola the Art Dog! For more info go to >www.VisArtsCenter.org.

Update from Frank's Pond

Everywhere I go, people ask me “>How are the fish? Was it Melvin?” So here’s an update.

First, I solved the mystery – Racoon. Caught in the act. Late one night I was sitting quietly when it came ambling out from the shadows. After a brief pause and a sideways glance my way, it nonchalantly headed straight for the pond. I had to lunge at it and yell before it turned away to disappear under the deck.

So I began to cover the pond at night with plywood – “putting the fish to bed” as I call it. That may have had an unfortunate consequence. Back when it wasn’t cooling off much at night, I removed the plywood one morning to find two fish fins-up and a third more dead than alive. In first-responder mode, I grabbed the hose and sprayed fresh water into the pond to boost the oxygen level and hopefully keep the others alive. But it was too late for the ailing one.

So after three casualties, I was down to two fish. My son confirmed that one of the survivors was in deed Melvin. Even I can tell these two fish apart. So after more than five months we were on a first name basis. Melvin and, well, I call him Howard. And fine specimens they were, each about the size of a Ball Park frank (uncooked, you know, “they plump when you cook ‘em”). So I refreshed the pond with new water and hoped for the best.

I began to notice new behavior. Melvin and Howard became very competitive. Whenever I fed them, they couldn’t be content to just eat. They had to chase each other away from the food. And that’s pretty much all they did, chase each other around. I guess it was a classic case of the Big Fish in a Little Pond. Only in this case, it was two big fish trying to prove who was boss.

Then an early cold snap, and the fish slowed down. For a few days, all they did was a synchronized-floating thing, parallel to each other and slightly offset, usually with Melvin a bit ahead of Howard. Now and then a fin would flutter. But they wouldn’t eat. I could see the flakes of food settled on the bottom of the pond. Gentle words of encouragement, even guilt trips about starving fish in far-away places who’d love to eat what they were ignoring, didn’t work. I fought the urge to show them what good stuff it was by eating some myself. Even when it warmed up, and they got more active, they still wouldn’t eat. I decided they were depressed.

I was right. Last week I found Melvin marooned on top of a bed of fake seaweed floating in a corner of the pond. He had beached himself, like those whales when they decide they just can’t take another Navy SONAR test. He must have realized that summer was coming to an end, and made a frantic attempt to just end it all. His genetic code must have hinted at his likely fate, and he didn’t want to go out that way. How could he know that I wouldn’t let him freeze when winter set in? He’d be going to my friend’s huge, heated pond where fish frolic year round, if he could just hang on for a few more weeks.

Melvin looked like a goner for sure, but I tried fish CPR. Actually, I just poked at him, and he sunk listlessly to the bottom, settling on one side. I watched, wondering if I should put him out of his misery. Then, some movement! He started doing that fish thing – the open and closing mouth action – but very slowly. I watched for a while, but it didn’t look good. Not much more than a fluttering fin, and that mouth, o..p..e..n..i..n..g, then c..l..o..s..i..n..g. Pathetic! Surely he saw that bright light at the end of the tunnel, where Moby Dick stood gently beckoning “come on in, it’ll be OK.” I went back to work accepting that my next visit to the pond would find Melvin fully checked-out.

But No! Melvin made a miraculous recovery. A week after his botched suicide attempt, he is almost back to his old self. He still chases Howard around some, but now he will eat. I feed them separately now. I give Melvin a bit of food, and then Howard some on the other side of the pond, before Melvin catches on. It’s working – Mel’s not as sharp as he once was.

So yesterday I performed what will probably be my last pond maintenance this time around. A near-complete water change, clean the pump and flush the line to get the waterfall flowing full-tilt again. If I can keep these two survivors from harm, and from driving each other crazy, for just a few more weeks, I will consider the season a huge success. But I will miss my fish. The lifeless pond in winter is a stark sight. But there should be a next April, if we humans can keep it together for a while longer. I hope so.

Contributor Opinion: Along the Lines of Peace-Making……

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Brad’s note about the value of continuing to talk – well, Brad calls it Dialogueing – when things get acrimonious amongst the citizenry, especially when we disagree on heated issues, reminds me of something that one city council candidate reportedly said regarding the trash issue. Piotr Gajewski had a simple yet compelling and insightful comment at Monday night’s Mayor and Council meeting when a proposal for appointing citizens to an advisory board by neighborhoods was vetted. “Let’s not pit neighborhood against neighborhood,” or something to that effect. Guess what? They took is advice!

In my opinion, this guy deserves a close look as we weed out the extraneous chatter of the election-cycle rhetoric and try to determine what kind of person each of these dozen or so candidates is.

You can tell a lot about what a person really stands for from their demonstrated record of past performance. For example, compare the records of two of the city council candidates John Britton and Brigitta Mullican who have both served on the Rockville Planning Commission and had the opportunity to cast votes to approve, deny, or modify many development proposals. These two candidates also deserve a close look as we pick who we want to lead this city into the future.

In a candidates’ forum during the last election, I asked Ms. Mullican if she had ever voted against a developer’s proposal, and she responded “no.” I have seen Mr. Britton, on the other hand, probe, question, and cajole developers into compromising for civic betterment on many occasions, and he has voted against inappropriate development that would detract from Rockville residents’ quality of life.

Editor’s Note: Rockville Central runs occasional, edited opinion pieces by contributors. Their views are not necessarily those of Rockville Central, which takes no position on candidates. To submit your opinion for consideration, contact us.

Live Tonight at Austin Grill

Thursday night around 9 pm one of Rockville’s homegrown bands, >The Slights, will take to the stage at the new Austin Grill in Town Center. Several members of the well-known Rockville band Cascade in Blue play with The Slights. What kind of music do they play? Come find out!

POTD: Secret Garden

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Christ Episcopal School’s garden, alongside the Jefferson Building, sports colorful flowers as well as corn, squashes, and melons. A worthy detour on your way into Town Center.

Wall of Voodoo?

> Wall of Voodoo? No, that was a 1980s band (Mexican Radio, Far Side of Crazy). I always confuse them with with Danny Elfman’s Oingo Boingo (Dead Man’s Party, Weird Science). But this is our always expanding international mask collection, clockwise from bottom right: Puerto Rico Alligator from Katie; Brazillian Tribal Face from George and Emily Pelecanos; Indonesian mask by way of Minnesote from Andrew; and Alaskan Woods God from Andrew.
Cool, huh?

94 degrees? Perfect!

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Good Eats in Town Center

I have had some good food at some of our new places to eat downtown. I heartily recommend these noteables>

Glazed short ribs, crab/corn soup, Stonehouse Pasta at Greystone Grill
Cedar plank salmon at Gordon Biersch
Breakfast at First Watch
#33 Focaccia sandwich (Italian cold cuts) at Primo Italiano

On the sweet side, how about …
An “O.C. Sand” donut at Fractured Prune (well, maybe 2)

But the best has been the bread pudding at Gordon Biersch – Out of this world! It is so decadent it will put you into a coma.

Face To Face With a Porcupine Killer

> OK. A bear, in Rockville, on the deck, is a bit unusual. I’ll give you that. But I had a close encounter the other day with an animal that I had never seen before. I bet you never saw one of these bad boys, either. It was quite unnerving.

I was relaxing on July 3rd up in Wakefield, Rhode Island, after morning coffee with relatives at an old country homestead. Everyone else got up from the garden table, and mobilized for the first adventure of the day. But I propped my feet up and gazed out beyond the big old maple trees ringing the lawn and out across the meadow. A big swath of the center of it had been mowed. Mowed paths led from the meadow to the right, to a break in the treeline that ringed a pond, and to the left down the hill to woods along the creek. So peacefull and serene in the cool morning breeze, just like a Lifetime movie, or a Hallmark card.

Then an odd, sleek, black creature appeared in the tree-break at the pond edge and darted out into the open meadow. It happened so fast, and was so unfamiliar, that it really startled me. Only about 50 yards away, but I had no clue what it was. About the size of a large dog, but with very short legs. It didn’t run like a dog though; it seemed to squat and then lurch, repeatedly, with its head held up high. Weird. But very fast, and in a fluid motion. It seemed uncomfortable out in the open meadow, desparate for cover, oddly streaking across the landscape.

What the heck was this thing? I called out
in vain for someone to come see it, and wondered aloud was it a seal, strayed from the ocean a mile inland? Maybe an otter on steroids? (My son Michael later said he heard me yell “What the…? a walrus?”, but I’ll deny that to the death.) Then it was gone, below the hill, and into the woods along the creek.

Finally they came to see what the excitement was. I tried to explain it to Michael and to Nick, our host and native of this part of the world for 55 years or so. I said it ran like it was “doing the worm”, but really fast. And it looked like a big dog, but had short legs. Or was it no legs? Or was it shorter back legs? Nick asked a couple questions, considered more common fauna, then said, “Maybe it was a Fisher Cat. I saw one once, but didn’t know what it was at the time, just like you. Then last year I heard guys talking about a Fisher Cat near a house farther out in the country.” So we sent Michael to the internet – here we go, Animal Planet.

As soon as we saw these pictures, I knew we had him! Not a cat, a member of the weasel family. Males can grow to more than four feet long (mine was more like six feet, well, maybe five). Very fast. Nocturnal. One of New England’s most elusive animals and very rarely seen. Chilling screams in the night like a high-pitched child’s cry. Ferocious predator of small game, eats porcupines – porcupines?. Yikes! Very spooky indeed.

So, I am sorry, but I just can’t get too excited about Boo-Boo scrambling over your deck railing looking for a picnic basket. I came face to face – well, sort of – to a porcupine killer! I felt like I had seen Bigfoot. It was the highlight of my trip. You just never know what’s coming at you….

Ivan doesn't floss…..

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In Defense of Rockville; Thanks Bill Hickman!

You might have missed a letter to the editor in Saturday’s Washington Post. Bill Hickman, a fan of >Rockville, rose to the defense of our fair city (Rockville Rocks All Year Long). Bill didn’t agree with a Post writer’s suggestion that The Fantastic Four movie was “as grim as February in Rockville.” Damn right, Bill.

Bill pointed out many cool attributes of Rockville in the dead of winter, like Upper Watts Branch Forest Preserve; music at Strathmore; taking in a Maryland Nighthawks basketball game; and artwork on display at Glenview Mansion.

I’d like to add that a visit to any snowy slope in town , mobbed by out-of-school kids and parents alike, would tell even a casual observer that February in Rockville is far from grim. Not to mention Cub Scout Pack 928′s Blue & Gold Banquet, where more than 100 scouts, family and local celebrities dine on a Rockville restaurant’s fabulous barbecue at a local church hall. We could go on and on, couldn’t we?

Thanks, Bill. And Washington Post beware – we won’t let such slander go unanswered!

Sad day at Frank's Pond

> I knew in my heart what I would find within a few seconds after I stepped out onto the deck this morning and plugged in the power cord to the pond. The familiar dribbling sound of water flowing off the old piece of terra-cotta pipe I fashioned into a waterfall didn’t rise up to greet me as expected. Around the corner and down the steps, the first evidence of the raid – a large lillypad, fake but surprisingly realistic, lay on the bricks. My fear was confirmed as I found one of my larger fish lieing lifeless, eviscerated alongside the pond, two holes in its side. Another smaller fish floated fins-up. A quick count found the rest apparently OK, but not happy about the murky water in their disheveled home.

Every Spring it is the same routine. I clean out and fill up the small, shallow pond I built years ago in an overgrown and unused side yard that I have since turned into my own little grotto. I grow attached to the fish we buy in April. My youngest son and his cousins name them. Shy at first, pretty soon they learn that I am their friend, the one who feeds them. “Who’s your Daddy?” I say to them as I watch the feeding frenzy. I try to learn their names, but my son tells me I am mistaken. My wife just shakes her head. The fish get so comfortable, they will eat out of my hand. Just like at Sea World. But unlike those protected dolphins, they are on their own out there in the wild, urban jungle of South Adams Street. I wonder, how long before….? But I brush aside the worry. And then, sooner or later, just like I knew it would happen, the predator strikes. A morning massacre.

I used to think it was the fox, or a racoon, or a cat. One day I watched a neighbor’s mostly blind cat slink down to the pond, put its front paws in, and lap up the water. Nope, it couldn’t be the cat. More careful forensics led me to suspect some big bird, like a heron or hawk. I see herons at the New Mark Commons lake; I have seen hawks perch on my deck railing. Maybe deer having fish for desert after eating all the flowers? I guess it doesn’t matter.

Like Tony Soprano when his ducklings flew out of his pool and off to the Meadowlands or someplace with more shoreline, I feel a sense of loss as I scoop up the dearly departed (one was Melvin, I think) and toss the corpses into the thicket at the back of the yard. But no panic attack and fainting for me. Nope, you got to be a tough guy to keep a pond around here. Heck, Melvin, or whoever, and his sidekick lasted longer than some of their predecessors. And I keep my eye on the prize – having a few fish survive until November when I take them to my friend’s huge pond where they live happily ever after. Unless an early hard freeze and my inattention turns them them into party-gimmick fake ice cubes.

Yeah, its tough out there. Outdoor fish-keeping is not for the faint of heart. But as with having any pet, it is rewarding. It’s hard to beat relaxing pondside with the sound of falling water, as I watch the fish frolic and the sun set, after a tough day in the office. And, none of the family are alergic to fish!