"A Cranky old Man lives here, within your own Heart. How you might ask ......"

Even though I do not have the where in all to impart on to you the name of the good or not so good doctor; I can tell you something about him by the Botany he had planted, the History of the town Whiting in which he lived, and what the earth reveals to me. I will start out of the order that was prescribed above, to tell you of the history of the Hamlet of Whiting in which he makes part of the lineage.

Whiting was a good Christian town, Baptist. The local population put them selves to work collecting Cedar Poles to make channel markers in the bay, bricks at the Union clay Forge, Iron at Dover, collecting blueberries, and cultivating Cranberries. In fact Mrs. White was the first to have the locals, Pineys to be exact, show her the choicest bushes of blueberries, high and low, in which she genetically engineered to get a superior fruit which she was the first to market in the country. She also invented those little plastic baskets that all fruits we know today come within. Now being a man of education and scorned by the local inhabitants, for his lack of haberdashery, Our good doctor, which still remains in question might of sought out the conversation skills of the aforesaid Mrs. White, strictly Platonic speaking of course. Since our good doctor was married and had a small child. For he had established his own orchard of Blueberry trees that hover sixteen feet above the ground that produce blueberries as large as dimes. Each cropping surrounded by deer fencing set down in a lowered bed, fed by the swamp, enclosed in concrete with a door frame and three stairs permitting you access.

Now to show you the peculiarities and the inner turmoil of our good doctor, I will discuss his inappropriate choices of botany. Now beyond local belief, the Doc was a Christian. Most likely one facing the evil disease of Big Catholic Guilt. For on his estate was two apple trees with a lineage of Rough skinned tree snakes. Around these trees was a large field with beautiful plants and Nubian men and women. But you see we have a drawback, the field you would expect to have a large cohort of sunbathers was lacking. See the Doc had imported exotic species of Prickly pear cactus, Bear berry, and raspberry bushes to cover the field. All making it conducive to much pain if you lied down in the field. Also throughout his territory he planted Honey Locust trees, with horizontal and vertical spikes of up to four inches long covering the whole tree, and Holly trees. He even was sadistic enough to cut a hole in the branches of a large cropping of three Holly trees that was rung by a large metal hoop in which you could hang your feet of in the shade. Sadistic, because when Holly leaves, which are serrated, when dried can slice bread. If your bottom complains when it receives anything besides Charmin, what would it say when it sits on these discarded leaves? So is this the planting choices of a torn individual with his pairing of Damned if you do Damned if you don't trees?

Now with the help of pick and shovel, the earth fills in the details in which he had filled it with over the years. The Resort was a house to a large three story hotel whose side was facing the blueberry Trees. In front of the sunken garden was a series of side walks running through the Holly trees and out to the Hotel. Across the carriage road that ran parallel to the swamp that emptied into Docspond was an assortment of Honey Locust and Kentucky Coffee Bean trees. The first has large pods with seeds that can be used to make Carob which is substituted for chocolate. The other served as a coffee substitute by the Confederates, much hated. Sweet and bitter. Behind the kitchen in the back of of the hotel was a small carriage house that sat on the otherside of the road that bisected the carriage road. On the opposite side of the Blueberry trees was a small patch of woods that led to the three outhouses in a grove of sweet smelling Sassafras trees. Now if you turned left past these proceeding from the hotel you would of read a sign on a portal reading Eden. Beyond this is a trail that ran along side the private residence of the Doctor and his family which terminated at the water tower topped with a wind mill. In the cedar shack above the brick foundation sat the machinery that pumped the water to this tower which provided the pressure that fed the third floor bath in the hotel. The wind mill was removed after the fire to irrigate the local farm stand. Beyond the portal was the field where no sun bathing ever happened.

In the two garbage pits you find the daily items used in house and hotel. He was a smart man for he enjoyed his milk. But surprisingly the house and hotel was teetotalers, for only a few whisky bottles and one Chianti bottle I have found. But canned food was abundant and he had a commercial account with Virginia Dare syrups. He had two commercial plates to run people from the air base and the local train station. One of which had the Devil dressed in overalls and Goatee thumbing his nose at the locals along the way back. He had a child for his shoes and kick plate from his tricycle has been found, which later served as the shit scraper at the kitchen door. The house was powered by electricity which can be told by the rotating knob for the lights and the glass thingy that sits on power line poles. But his wife still used an iron heated on a cask iron trivet, neverless. A women's touch can be seen by the china patterns and silver plated copper cutlery. He was a hunter with an extreme hatred for the deer he fenced out of his botanical preserve. 1932 at least he was licensed to dismiss what he he had seen as varmints.

Now through folklore the doctor was a man from Brooklyn, who was one of many who had purchased lots in Whiting at the time. He toted in his local New York newspaper of the fresh mineral water, baths, and the potent energy of the sun for a good healthy long life. Hired a Gardener and brought them out including his wife to make an oasis in a barren land. He ran his resort called Nature's Rest from the 20's to the late 60's. See his house caught on fire and the local fire department waited in the bushes, like they have been doing to the great dislike of their parents as children, for the hotel to burn down. Upon reaching the point of no return the fire department rolled their truck down the sugar sand road and proceeded to get stuck. After excavating their truck they put out the remains of the hotel before the woods caught on fire. After a final meal of escargot and chicken, the plates were tossed on the top of the garbage heap one last time and they moved on never to be heard of again. No known record exists if anyone had perished in the fire. Besides a strange old man in a 1985 Chrysler New Yorker who went to that garbage pit I excavated and reburied all the tin cans I dug up, but revealing a femur of a large animal or human.

But after the Doc left, someone proceeded to burn his house and pump house down. After which the town bulldozed his house into shallow holes and covered the property where he lived with four inches of hard packed clay. Talk about having a grudge. This arson probably remained in town for at least ten more years because some one had burned the bridge down in the neighboring town leading to them burning our lakeside pavilion down.

But from what I can tell the doctor was a man on the run from what he was expected to do and the neighborhood that haunted him into a place of solitude where he could not hide from the inconsolable differences of his personality that was at odds with his family which was taken out on his confused guests and an intolerable town.

But today I am striving to bring peace to the Doctor and his resort that once was called Nature's Rest. Help by making a donation so the area can be preserved. By doing so you will save the person within you who maybe living the unexamined life of selfish pleasures of that make the individual that you call you. Walk the razor's edge and take a leap into finding your true self along with your dreams, opinion, hobbies, and feelings.

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