Chincoteague of the 1960s

When I was in grade school (kindergarten through 6th), someone with connections to the islands released a single (45 rpm vinyl record) that was titled "Chincoteague Sand in My Shoes."  Other than the title, I don't remember any of the lines - but I most definitely have Chincoteague sand in my shoes, my shorts, my underwear, my shirts, and my hair.  I usually end up with a great deal of Assateague beach sand in my swimsuit, as well.  If you enjoy the laid-back style of the islands, and can readily understand the local Chincoteague accent, then you're sure to fit in.
  The Teaguer accent isn't as distinct as it was - too many new people moving to the island in the past 50 years, and all the television channels available from all over the world - have changed it, to a great extent.  When I was a child - and up into the early 1970s - I knew several older Chincoteague natives who had never been across the Chesapeake Bay to "the mainland," or to any places other than those encompassed by the Delmarva peninsula. I knew four people who hadn't been off the Virginia section of the Eastern Shore - but those days are gone.  Chincoteaguers were well known for their dialect of Elizabethan English; a lot of words and phrases from the 16th and 17th centuries are still in common usage.  When I was younger, it used to take me a couple of hours to "adjust my ears" so that I understood the language; no longer, unless I'm in the presence of a 'Teaguer who has more than 75 years in his/her age tally. There is still a twang present, there are still a few words that aren't understood by visitors, but the Chincoteague dialect definitely has changed.
  I recall being able to get dressed, eat breakfast, make a sandwich for lunch (usually peanut butter), and not have to return home until dark, which was supper-time.  I spent hours walking all the streets and roads, looking at houses, creeks and ponds, gardens and pocket-sized farms.  Main Street, Church Street, Ridge Road, and Maddox Boulevard were the only paved roads - the others were covered with oyster shell, and when they were newly dumped from the shucking houses, the smell of the shells and the presence of gulls were impossible to escape.  After multiple car and truck tires rolled over the shells, the gulls would leave and the smell would dissipate in about three days.
  We had an outhouse at my Grandfather's house, and chamber pots for use during the night - but then you had to dump them and rinse them out in the outhouse the next morning.  The "honeydew wagon" came around every 10 days, or so, and pumped out what was in the outhouse hole.  I always remember how large Cap'n Walt's house (Grandpa's) seemed to me - in reality, I'd guess there was about 800 square feet, if you didn't count the attic. There was a screened-in front porch, a very small living room, the kitchen and dining area; upstairs, there was a single bedroom, with pull-down stairs to the attic.  There was a small fireplace in the living room; and in the kitchen there was a gas stove, a single deep sink, an ice-box, and a 3-foot square prep table - and the back door.  When the family finally put in a bathroom, it was placed under the stairs to the bedroom.  The bedroom held a double and a single bed and a tall chest of drawers.  The dining area, that Mom called the "big kitchen," held a table covered with oilcloth that would seat eight; there was a china hutch in the corner, and, in the opposite corner, was an upholstered rocking chair.  The rocking chair's seat was deep and comfortable, and because the floorboards were warped due to the many tidal inundations, the chair was always tilted back.  There were 5 high-tide marks on the wall-paper....   I really miss that house!