Accosted by Mad Mary!

My Dear Lucy,

In a town as small as this, it is impossible to keep anything a secret. (Well, unless it is to be kept from my husband!) Word has gotten out that I am writing to you on a regular basis, and I was accosted (that is really the only word for it) this morning by none other than Mad Mary Teach. It matters little to her that you do not know her; she insists that her enclosed artwork be shared.

I have not dared write to you about her until today for fear that it should do the opposite of what I hope – I fear hearing this that you may decide that the Pirate Festival is no place for a fine lady such as yourself, but allow me to assure you that Mad Mary is relatively safe. She is mad – quite mad indeed, and can be counted on saying the oddest things imaginable at any time! More than one resident of our town walks the other way when they see her approaching, but most have learned to tolerate her little oddities. She can in fact be quite humorous – although she may share in a different type of jokes than the rest of us can comprehend.

She is, as you may have surmised, the daughter of none other than Edward Teach – you may have heard of him, although you more likely know him by his moniker “Blackbeard”, one of the fiercest pirates on the seas! Let me assure you – I have met the man, and “fierce” is a most apt description. He was among us just last year, and there was a good deal of discussion about treasure, and all that you might expect. As his daughters Mad Mary, and her sister Angelica do live among us for most of the year, one can never be sure when he might turn up again – for such a large man, he has an uncanny ability to appear with very little forewarning!

But, I digress – I was telling you of Mad Mary. I am including a portrait of her; that you may recognize her, and the aforementioned artwork that she insisted I include. Arguing with her does no good at all! I am sure that at one time logic ruled her mind, but what has replaced it must come from the depths of a storm. Some say that her father whispered one too many secrets into her ear, while others claim that she took one too many a spill on the decks, or spent too long trying to converse with fish. Whatever the reason, I have always found it helpful to treat her gently, and to do as she asks. Doing otherwise results in tantrums, sulks, and a Mary one cannot live with.

It is as well so few of the village can read or write – and most of all a good thing that Mad Mary cannot focus long enough to see what I have written. She is unpredictable, but is generally a nice person – and an exceptionally nice mad person. She is content to see that her artwork is enclosed in the envelope. I have no wish to hurt anyone’s feelings by my sharing these little descriptions of our village with you! I know I can trust your discretion – know that what I write, I do so for your edification, entertainment and to help convince you to attend on August 4th – 6th. Remember that the village is called Dry Bluffs, in the region of Country Heritage park, near Milton, Ontario. I shall hope to see you at the gate by ten in the morning!

Mary insists that I send you her love, and you know my fondness for you!

Affectionately,

Anthea