Money was scarce, times were tough, but Dick and Anne Lynam savor memories of their — and the town’s — formative years

By Chris Beakey
From the September 2017 issue

LookBackLynams Our Content - Delaware Beach Life - Results from #51Like many people who visit or live in coastal Delaware, Dick and Anne Lynam appreciate the area’s modern amenities. Yet the longtime Rehoboth residents are happy to share memories of earlier days, when tourist accommodations were likely to be rooming houses adjacent to unpaved roads, and when most residents worked long hours to afford the necessities of daily life.

One symbol of that hard work endures today in the royal blue Lynam’s Beach Service umbrellas and chairs that are rented from tidy sheds adjacent to the Rehoboth boardwalk. The business was founded by Dick’s family before World War II, one of many enterprises he and Anne each became part of when their respective families moved to the area in the 1930s.

By Depression-era standards, life in those years was good for both the Lynams and the Toppins, who rented out rooms in their homes primarily to people who came to the area in search of work. Anne remembers her mother, nicknamed “Charlie,” packing lunches for boarders who were building the Indian River Inlet Bridge. Dick remembers his father, Highland, cutting meat at Lingo’s Store at Baltimore Avenue and First Street in between his property-management chores.

Getting the best shots of surfers means getting close to the action — and sometimes dodging it. But that hasn’t deterred Lewes-area photographer Nick Gruber from taking the plunge, regardless of the season or conditions.

By Pam George  |  Photograph by Nick Gruber
From the September 2017 issue

PhotoEssayGruber3 Our Content - Delaware Beach Life - Results from #51In Nick Gruber’s world, getting clipped by a surfboard or smacked by a wave is just another day in paradise — even when he’s not surfing. Gruber is a cinematographer/photographer who captures surfers and skimboarders in action.

Doing it right comes with some risk. “The goal is not to get hit, but you have to get as close as you can,” he explains. “You need to make eye contact with them, and make sure they have control over their board.” In other words, he has to trust that they won’t plow into him as he treads water nearby.

A former tribal leader sheds light on his people’s rich past, difficult struggles, and hopeful — if tenuous — future

By Charles C. Clark IV
From the September 2017 issue

FeatureNanticoke Our Content - Delaware Beach Life - Results from #51

The Nanticoke Indians of Delaware.

Who are we?

Where did we come from?

Where have we been?

And perhaps most importantly,

where are we going today?

The following account (and accompanying commentary) offer an insider’s look into these questions.

They are from the eyes, heart and mind of a man whose family name is synonymous with the Nanticoke Indian Tribe of Delaware, and who is directly descended from 122 years of consecutive family Nanticoke tribal chiefs.