At the March 28 Cape Meares Potluck residents of the community enjoyed good food and conversation and also had a chance to bid adieu to one of the long-time residents, Merilee Sommers.
Merilee had lived in the area for 24 years and left on Sunday, March 19, for the long drive to Maryland and her new home.
Social chair for CMCA, Deborah Neal, prepared a cake for the occasion as well as a poem that she read to the enjoyment of everyone who attended the potluck, including the guest of honor.
Below is the poem that Deborah Neal wrote for the occasion.
Epistle to Merilee Sommers
Upon Her Leaving Town Before the Rupture
with apologies to Alexander Pope
Just as the first ship anchored in our bay
Made its historic mark, then sailed away,
So Merilee enlisted on our Board,
Her laptop proving mightier than sword.
I’d never known who owned that Camelot
Beside the lake, but I had often thought
Who hoists that giant flag, flaunts that Martini?
Who lights three Christmas trees and drives a Mini?
Whose torch from yonder lighthouse seems to flicker?
Whose porch all year is decked in spotless wicker?
Then she showed up to join the Board, and sat
Across the Spence Round Table. That was that.
No shrinking violet, Merilee took notes,
On every topic we discussed, with quotes.
Her tactics put the NSA to shame.
At potlucks she extorted every name
Converting your address, and mine, in order
To a data base backed up with tape recorder.
This Dynamo, Our Lady of the Cape
This legendary slayer of red tape,
This Martha Stewart of the building trade
Whose decorations rival an arcade,
This Madame of the house with well trimmed lawns
And men who come to live there- mostly Johns,
This Mother of The Cape Meares Holy Cloister
Who extracted testimony from an Oyster,
This archivist who, like a mother hen
Presides over her midden, guards her den,
Retains her mystery, commands respect,
And at her door, we all still genuflect.
Whether we know her well is not the point.
We value all she’s done around the joint.
When she bids us farewell, she will be missed,
but for myself, I must say, I am pissed.
This Queen who reigns is anything but frail-
She advertises with a piece of tail.
She’s well prepared, her attic, unlike mine,
Is stacked with life preserving vintage wine.
Sure, Baltimore’s a thriving artsy city
But it’s easier to park outside Miss Kitty.
The Chesapeake has nothing on our bay,
They both have crabs, and rain most every day.
They host tall ships with tourists fore and aft.
Our Bay’s too shallow for a rubber raft,
But we’ve got mud and quicksand full of shit,
And in the end, thank God, we have our Spit.
Why should she leave? Her Cape House has it all,
Those summer sunsets, morning mists in fall.
Her new place trumps the old in one regard:
A stream of navy boys jog past her yard.
But even rosy cheeked cadets in white
Don’t thoroughly explain this lady’s flight.
We all know why she’s out of here so fast:
She’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.
She’s listened up. Our Merilee is smart.
She’s used her head and overruled her heart.
We know why her best furniture is gone:
Cape House is in the inundation zone.
We plan to let her flee to Maryland
On one condition: that she understand
It’s likely that she will escape the Quake,
And maybe the Tsunami, and this cake,
But she may only go homesteading yonder
If she agrees to be our First Responder.
-With Love and Admiration
March 28, 2015
Cape Meares, Oregon