I had a recent notion, to travel to a place I stopped at once many, many years ago near the water in Hurlock, Maryland. It was an occasion to pause and visit the Suicide Bridge Restaurant on the Choptank River just south of Easton.
My good friend Sharon accompanied me on my journey.
I suppose you are wondering just why a restaurant would be named Suicide after the “act of intentionally causing one’s own death,” a strange phenomenon.
Actually, you may better understand this name when you cross the Suicide Bridge, which is only yards from this eatery and is some 20 feet above the river.
It was originally built in 1888 and rebuilt several times, most recently in 2005. It has a history of several suicides occurring there.
In my college days, I studied suicide in my sociology and psychology classes. It is a very complicated subject, where people with many types of problems make a decision to end their lives.
One of my favorite authors, Ernest Hemingway, decided to commit suicide in 1961, in Ketchum, Idaho, from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
Hemingway was among the American artists, writers and musicians invited by President and Mrs. Kennedy to attend the 1961 inauguration,
There are always opinions attempting to explain that state of mind of an individual who chooses to take one’s life.
Do not render harsh judgement to suicide.
As I traveled across this bridge in Hurlock several times during my recent three-day visit there and stops at the restaurant, I thought of those many souls who ended up in the Choptank River from that bridge.
I remembered to a verse attributed to Aristotle, the famous Greek Philosopher, “It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.”
Sharon and I had lost our spouses to long-term illnesses months apart in July of 2023; they were dark moments.
This three-day venture to the Choptank water was to have an era of “comforting” elements too and a surprise for both of us.
May I continue?
While pausing at this restaurant, I inquired from a friendly attendant, Kelly, there, if there was a local accommodation for a few days stay. She recommended a bed and breakfast, Marvel’s on the creek.
We proceeded to this most beautiful place bordered on three and one-half acres of pristine grass near the creek and was quite awed by its location.
There, we met the owner Debbie Marvel who was one fine hostess. She showed us our room and accommodations and in short term we decided to stay.
It was most relaxing. We soon engaged ourselves in conversation with Debbie who each morning prepared a delicious breakfast for us during our stay.
Above her dining room table there was a framed message which read:
May all who enter as guests
Leave as friends
Soon Debbie, Sharon and I began to have daily conversations about life. The three of us had much in common.
As noted, I had lost my wife to dementia in 2023; Sharon her husband the same year; and Debbie had lost her husband in April this year. We all have very much similar stories to be told.
Our visit there was as if someone had placed us in a “serendipity” movie.
Debbie’s accommodations, tranquility there and that morning observation of two eagles flying to their nest just across the creek from her back lawn was so comforting that its peacefulness represented a most priceless moment.
Sharon and I had such fun and comfort relaxing there.
We took in the sights of local Cambridge, the Harriet Tubman Museum, the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge just south of Cambridge and the Blackwater Bakery.
A three-hour tour with lunch on the River Queen up the Choptank was also on the agenda.
But the icing on the cake was a farewell dinner with Debbie at the Boats and Hose diner and more conversation about life in her little welcoming cottage on the creek; it was most comforting.
We hope to make a return trip to Suicide Bridge one day, always remembering those poor souls who searched for a little “comfort” themselves in the end.
Thank you, Debbie; may peace and comfort walk with you.
Sharon and I left as your friends.
