I wish I had taken a picture of this slogan outside the Methodist Church in Cedar Island when we stayed there last week. “Common” is frequently used in the dialect of the area (where my family has lived many generations, since the early decades of the 18th C, as far as I can tell) to mean “despicable, contemptible,”—which I’ve always found curious given our uncommonly modest background.
I fished a lot while I was there. An undersized flounder, many small croakers, and pinfish—but what is it that bites the common grub in half?
Blue fish? Black drum? Crab? Skate? Shark? Happened three times, and I felt only the slightest tug each time.
I also intended to kayak across the bay to Hog Island, but the wind was blowing steadily from the northeast most of the time. An average-sized man can walk all but about ten yards across that bay; but it was surprisingly difficult to paddle the kayak with the current. I sprained my wrist doing so in fact.
Clancy had a great time, as she loves the sea and everything in it.