Life According to Blue-Claw Crabs

We grew up on Cook’s Creek in North Haven- one of our favorite pastimes was fire-lighting at night for ells and blue-claw crabs. Round and round we circled the marsh, propelled by the back end of a crab net – in ready position. Soft-shell crabs -those that had recently molted, were rare-but my mother’s favorite-pan fried and eaten whole. Hard-shell crabs were boiled and very carefully ‘picked’ with your fingers along with a distinct knowledge of crab anatomy. And I began to wonder today if that wasn’t a valuable distinction in life. If you’re soft-shell, you’re eaten whole. If your hard-shell, you’re carefully picked around.

We grew up knowing our five senses-through them we experienced our world. Now they’ve exposed seven or eight-this internal network that makes us who we are and how we experience the world. I think there’s an inner knowing that must be part of this - and a shell that wraps around us to protect us from this sometimes harsh and brutal world.

Some are born with a tougher shell-somewhat impermeable-easily deflecting hurt or pain. To protect ourselves from their possible wrath, they are carefully picked around. And some with a softer shell, that if not careful, can be eaten whole. They contain an inner sponge absorbing too much, feeling too much-easily offended not, easily understood. Some might see the soft shell as heightened sensitivity, weakness, empathy and the hard shell as tough, resilient, strong. On the surface the harder shell doesn’t let too much of that pain in- a softer one - porous, sensitive, at times eaten whole.

Oh yes, of course-we may not be born that way-we may develop harder shells after molting, when life knocks us around. It seems a benefit at times to have that tough attitude, to let things slide, to not let the pain in. Easy to take on conflict and be fully present, the folks with tougher skin are often out in the world. And those who may have been born extremely sensitive, often retreat into the quiet-home-books-birds-music. Avoiding sensory overload and conflict, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing - home becomes a shelter -the same deep mud that houses the blue claw crab- a quiet, protected, sanctuary.

No right or wrong- oversimplified perhaps- blue eyes-brown eyes- just two different ways to experience the world-but perhaps a way to acknowledge and understand our differences. I’m wondering if that is the line of delineation between introvert and extrovert. And maybe not just a line segment with two distinct end points but rather a continuum – a range where we might find our own unique place and level of tolerance - helping us to understand ourselves and others.

I absorbed a lot of soft-shell crab from my mother along with a bit of hard-shell crab from my father- I imagine we all have a bit of each as we figure out how to make our way through this complex and often challenging world. For me, the most important lesson is to understand and acknowledge how unique and different we each are-without judgment. We’re each a mosaic of genetics, upbringing, and life experiences.

The muddy creek waters were alive with life stunned by the sudden appearance of our kerosene light. The incoming tide was high, the night was quiet, and most of the world was asleep. Each peaceful fire-lighting night would end with my father saying, ‘just one more loop around the creek.’ -I’m not sure, but I think he may have been looking for that singular elusive soft-shell crab – a gift for my mom.