When we get to Joseph’s Cave the gate is closed with an unclasped padlock holding it shut. “Miss Mae?” I call out, hoping she’s there. “Yes, I’m coming!” a voice returns from inside the house/shop/inn. The door opens and three dogs come roaring out of the house headed for the gate. “Don’t worry they won’t bother you,” she says.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how I want to convey this afternoon with Miss Mae. It is an incredibly memorable few hours. It is fun, interesting, eye opening and thought provoking. It is absolutely a highlight of a remarkable week. And I don’t think I want to say TOO much about it here. I could write a lot about our time with her but I think Miss Mae is a personality of the first order and to be fully appreciated she should be met and accepted without too many preconceptions. She has led a long and interesting life and comes by her strongly held opinions out of that experience. I admire and respect her for that even if I don’t always agree with her opinions. I will, however, relate my favorite anecdote.
We have been sitting around at the bar for a while talking on a variety of subjects when Miss Mae suddenly says, “While I’m sitting right here!” and starts yelling out at the road, actually swearing a little bit. Off she shoots around the bar and is heading for the gate. We turn around to look and see a young teenage boy on the other side of the street who has just jumped a wall and is trying to scurry across the courtyard of the property. Miss Mae moves right quick, I am impressed. She is out the gate, across the road and in the opposite gate in no time and she has tracked the young rapscallion down. A serious tongue lashing follows the boy back to the wall. In my minds eye I see her dragging him by the ear but I think she is just all over him and giving him the what for as she drives him back to the wall. “Now get back over that wall!” she hollers and forces him to scale back up and over.
She returns as if not much has happened so we kind of talk around the thing for a little bit. We don’t want to pry into her business, but… Eventually it comes out that the boy is from out in Whitehall and he comes here to jump the cliffs for tips from tour boats. He, along with many other boys, hang out next to her property on the cliff and when they see a tour boat in the coves at Rockhouse they jump onto the Josephs property and try to solicit tips. Much about this situation irritates Miss Mae and some of her irritation I find disconcerting but it is her concern that will stick with me forever.
She goes on at some short length about the dangers of cliff diving. She is a somewhat animated woman and continues, “Everywhere they jump,” she says lifting her hand up shoulder high, index finger cocked upward and head tilted looking to where she’s pointing, “They die!” she says. Her arms and head drop as she says this. I know where a few have died on the cliffs and I name them. With each name comes a solemn “Yes,” and a nod. I name a few more that I am unsure of in a more questioning tone. “Yes,” comes the answer to each accompanied by that slow nod. “But not here?” I finally ask. Quick as she scampered across the road she turns to me and raising her finger again says emphatically, “Not yet!!”
Sweetie Pie and Miss Mae bond over some dog talk. Sweetie Pie talks about her concern for the street dogs. Miss Mae shares her concerns. Tarzan, Wolf and Baskill have the good life, Miss Mae loves them dearly. Her food bill for them is large she says. “Chicken, rice, cornmeal, meat,” she says, “It gets expensive.” “You cook for your dogs?” I ask with a big smile. “Of course, they need good food, not that stuff from the bag.” Those dogs eat well.
