To continue with the nostalgic children's-books-about-animals theme, here is what I always think of when I think of the Chesapeake Bay: Jim Kjelgaard's books about irish setters: Irish Red, Big Red, Son of Irish Red, Outlaw Red, Son of Big Red, Rebel Red, Outlaw's Half-Cousin-Once-Removed-Who's-Really-Pa
What I don't remember: the Chesapeake Bay being a mystical location apparently far removed from the much dingier body of water known as the Atlantic Ocean. She's like the Chesapeake Bay's tawdry older sister. Why go for the broader continent-spanner that everyone's charted when you could have her trimmer, peninsula-hugging counterpart? Poor Atlantic. It's okay. You and I both know she would be nothing without you.
