LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Milton's Daughters: The town not the poet |
by Shelly Blue Gravel |
Welcome to Milton! Land of corn, soybeans, Historic Register Homes and of an emerging crop of lesbians and gay men. Like many of you, my partner Brenda and I are doing the Philly/Delaware commute until we can figure out a way to live here permanently. In the meantime it's my job to introduce you to the wonders of our little community and let a few juicy tidbits slip every now and then.
We discovered Milton over two years ago when we started searching for land to claim as our very own. Since both Rehoboth and Lewes are out of our price range we headed North. A woman at a gallery in Lewes as well as our friends Donna and Joy from the former Sand in My Shoes B&B suggested we look in Milton. Our initial response wasmaybe we weren't ready to be pioneers, especially after we checked out nearby Broadkill Beach. Have you ever seen rusted Airstream trailers on stilts as beachfront cottages? Well, a year later we ventured out again and couldn't believe the amount of renovations both in the town and down at the beach. $500,000 homes next to what's left of the trailers at the beach, colorful Victorian homes in town, antique shops and a community of friendly, welcoming gay and straight women and men. We were hooked. After looking at a number of lots on both sides of Route 1, in and out of developments, we found three quarters of an acre of forest and brush. A curly haired butch came out of the house next door and offered us the opportunity to view the lot from her property to get a better sense of the size. Moments later a red headed fem emerges and within minutes we have two new best friends, Sharon and Lynne. Brenda was thrilled to have staked a claim here and wanted to find a house immediately. Off we went to see all of the manufactured homes in southern Delaware. I tried to explain to her that my poor old Jewish mother could take no more shocks. She's okay with me not being married, she's fine with me being gay and she loves Brenda, but how the heck am I going to tell her that we've bought a double-wide? Doesn't Brenda know that a Princess doesn't camp and she doesn't enter the doorway of a Manufactured Home? Well I'll tell you after seeing some of the most beautiful layouts and spacious rooms I began to be convinced. After much hunting and arguing, it was a shock to both of us when we fell in love with the same house. I won't go into too much detail here about disappearing Delaware Contractors, about the Slomin Shield alarm installer who got lost under our house and the cement contractor who left with our porch slightly cracked and the steps still raw cinder blocks. We will get over itI think. The promised 4 to 6 weeks became 16 weeks of prep and installing, taking us directly into the late spring. The summer and fall were spent at Lowe's (better than a tea dance for meeting women) picking up paint, wallpaper, grout, more paint. I used to spend Saturday night dancing and drinking at the Duchess in New York. Now I'm either asleep by ten or doing midnight shopping at the new Super Wal-Mart for bedroom curtains, bathroom accessories, little lamps, tables etc. Finally, thanks to Brenda's persistence and her magic toolbox our home is wonderful. We feel so much more relaxed down here than we do up in Pennsylvania. How did that happen? Along the way we have met incredibly warm and funny groups of women whose stories you will be hearing right here in this column. See you on the beach! Shelley Grabel may be reached in care of CAMP Rehoboth. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 12, No. 03, April 5, 2002. |