A calm sunrise over the ocean and breakfast at the hotel before heading north–through singularly unattractive, overcrowded and too-commercial development, with large houses side by side on streets you can’t park on. Not at all what I had imagined .”The Outer Banks are gorgeous! my sister exclaimed to Al. “Of course, I was there 45 years ago.”
We did see a deer on the way up to the wild mustangs, past plastic statues of Misty and her mother. Couldn’t stop by the beach close to the sanctuary that gives 83 wild horses 11 miles to roam and you can see them only on organized tours (and on Fridays you can pet a gentled one)–but that was understandable. A non-profit protecting the horses in a money-making town. (We also saw colorful winged horses statues all over town–from a 2004 fundraiser for the Corolla Wild Horses organization.) We stopped at their museum and center, then at thrift stores aiding victims of domestic violence, and the Kitty Hawk Wright Brothers National Monument honoring their triumphant 12/17/1903 flight, with pictures of aviator heroes, models of the plane, hangar, and cabin, markers of the distance of the three attempts. The brothers chose this area for their flight because of the wind, sand, and solitude. Now grass is stabilizing the area. We had lunch at Pigman’s bbq and tried another NC bbq sauce, tomato-based. Almost as good. Also tried Brunswick stew, which had veggies, pulled pork, and potatoes, the east Carolinian version of this southern stew, which seems to be a staple for church fundraisers–we saw signs for them at a couple of Methodist churches. We went to the Jockey Ridge State Park, the tallest natural sand dunes on the east coast, saved in 1975 by locals refusing more development there. In their center I learned that when my sister was there, the area population was about 7,000 and then around 23,000 in 1990 and who knows now–we figured it was about double that.
Then we drove south, to the end of the Hatteras. Except for a few dense towns like Avon and Frisco, it was all sand dunes and marshes, national seashore and lighthouses, pelicans and wildlife refuges, stretching for miles. More like what I had been expecting. In Frisco we went to the Native American Museum where I learned about the three basket-weaving types–plaited, coiled, and twined–and that the local Indians favored blue trade beads, the color of the sacred Father Sky, which they couldn’t get in natural ingredients. On the way back we stopped at a couple of beaches for shells to add to my collection. We got back just after sunset, tired but content with our full day.
On our way up to Williamsburg we stopped at Virginia Beach for breakfast at The Baker’s Crust with some young friends from Boise who are trying a new venture there. A little rain, vibrant fall colors, leaves on the ground, the feeling of fall. We found our motel where Edith (“Cookie”), a seventy-something woman from Virginia we met at Ground Zero in NYC, had made reservations for us. She’d told us to come to Colonial Williamsburg and then when we kept her informed of our plans she told us we had to come on this day because she was speaking at a “Another Kind of Slavery” conference on the Jim Crow era and the eminent domain seizure of vibrant black communities. The conference was held at the Wren Center (the oldest college building in the US, built in 1694) at William and Mary College, a very pleasant campus of handsome old buildings. Cookie hugged us when she saw us, liked the pashmina shawl from China I’d brought for her. She’s a union organizer and historian, raised six children (one son is now the police chief in Selma, had fallen in love with the Deep South and so moved there), got her BA in her forties.
It was a momentous afternoon, stimulating, intense, wonderful. We learned about black churches being razed and the Great Migration and how W + M College relied on slave labor (college slave building those handsome buildings slept in the basement of the Center) and segregation, and resisted changes, as did other universities. Great story about how the KKK gave the college a flagpole in 1926, now half-missing and in disrepair, and about how blacks became oystermen so they could have their own businesses and not be cash sharecroppers. Land and towns were taken for a naval weapons site, national parks, and Colonial Williamsburg. The president of the college, historians from the college, and local historians and activists all spoke. (Al especially loved the stories about the grandparents and great-grandparents and how some of them refused to sell or relinquish their land until they were paid what it was actually worth.) Cookie spoke about growing up in Charles Corner (where there were a lot of strong families and an emphasis on education), one of the disbanded communities, and started out by reminding everyone that before it was a black community, it had been a Native American site. History repeats itself. Now the problem is not so much eminent domain as it is property taxes, rising land values, and no good, sustaining jobs in the community; historic landmarks require too much money if designated as such–you need a vision but then the revision is money. At the end of her presentation Cookie said she had friends from Idaho in town. We stood up and everybody applauded.
The next day was sunny and perfect for exploring the countryside, the mill ponds, creeks, broad rivers, marshes and reedy areas. Virginia is lovely, woodsy, more northern-looking. We went on the Colonial Highway to Jamestown, a pretty dive with red brick bridges and tunnels, historical plaques about old plantations, how the isthmus disappeared and became an island, where Powhatan’s village was located, where the male colonists first landed in 1607 on College Creek. At the entrance to the historic settlement, the first permanent colony of the English colony, the birthplace of America, we saw a bald eagle on a bare tree. We learned a lot about the colony and how Powhatan, a crafty ruler, thought these Englishmen would be like other subjects of his–marry many of his daughters off to them and they would be his, but it didn’t work–how Indians (who also favored blue trade beads) helped out with corn and sassafras during the “starving times” but lacked food themselves, how the colonists chose the island (fertile land but no fresh water so many of them died from brackishness) because it was more defensible from the Spanish. The first export they tried was glass (we saw the remnants of their glass-blowing set-up) but ended up with tobacco, for which they needed slaves. As the years went on, the laws enacted by the “General Assembly” became more and more restrictive towards African slaves–at first they could be indentured and baptized, then they remained slaves, then their children, too, then they were considered as “real property.” Fort James, not excavated until 1994, was the capitol of Virginia until 1698 when it was moved to Williamsburg. Now there are only remnants of walls and church.
We headed up to Yorktown, pristine and well-to-do, once a busy center, then a sleepy town basically destroyed, now a tourist attraction. After scallop and crabcake sandwiches we drove around, saw the Victory monument and a video reenactment of the naval battle between French and British ship at Chesapeake Bay during the Revolutionary War, the retreat of the Brits, GW’s ploy to get them down from NY to VA where he was joined by Lafayette and other seasoned French officers and their soldiers (would we have won that war without the French?), the earthenware blasting and taking of the redoubts, how the Brits couldn’t escape across the channel because of a storm, the surrender. (Although two more years of war and Clinton still held NY, Yorktown was the decisive battle.) We saw GW’s tent.
Then back to Williamsburg to stroll through the historic, colonial district and period-costumed people, beautifully restored homes and stores, cobblestone streets–nicely done, not schlocky. Then we met Cookie at Food for Thought for dinner. A wonderful visit with her. She really wants to come see us in Idaho this spring with her Portuguese gentleman friend. I told her that if she came to Idaho, I would give her a pearl necklace from China. And wonderful food–pot roast, meat loaf, fried oysters, with bread pudding and apple nachos for dessert.
Too stuffed to sleep and a food hangover the next morning as we headed off to Richmond (Cookie calling us on our cellphone and announcing, “I’m coming!”) We stopped at the Dobbs House on the way there, which Robert E. Lee first used as his war office, now an information center. Richmond turned out to look more like a gritty, northern, urban city than southern, almost intriguing, a little funky, densely populated, known for Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty or give me death” speech, and the capitol of the CSA, strategically moved there from Montgomery because it was an industrial with ironworks. We saw the “White House” of the confederacy and the Museum of the Confederacy, that ha ad different slant to the war. Many supported the CSA without owning slaves, as state secession to them was a question of rights and liberty, and slavery was allowed in the Constitution; to them, it was a “second Revolution.” By the end of the war, there were more “colored” troops in the north than troops in the entire confederate army, many of whose superb officers from the Citadel and West Point were killed in the war. I didn’t know that Lincoln shouldn’t have won the election–got a minority of votes and he was not on the ballet in the south; or of the campaign in Arizona and New Mexico to get them into the CSA; about all the confederate flags, some so close to the USA flag, there was confusion on the battlefields; or that in the beginning neither side could seem to take advantage of the other’s weaknesses–why the war lasted so long and so much blood was shed. Afterwards, we went to the Poe House, our third in the last year, the oldest house in Richmond, 1737, but Poe never lived there (although he lived longer in Richmond than anywhere else), but it has the largest Poe collection in the world. He was described by a friend as imperious with generous impulses but “not steadily kind or even amiable.” (Could have been bi-polar, too.) And he made more money from his forward to a seashell book than on his books of poetry and short story combined. He loved hoaxes of sci fi and mesmerism and had a lot of fiancées who all thought they were Annabel Lee.
We left Richmond and headed up into the Appalachian mountains, passing App0tomax where the CSA surrender took place, through hollows, gaps, and thick woods, bare trees, some snow on the ground, on steep and narrow roads of abandoned buildings, trailers, wood smoke. Highway 60 then 39,150, 66, 28, 219, weaving back and forth, through small towns, rugged mountains, and broader, more prosperous-looking valleys, through the northern part of West Virginia, the Highlands, Alleghenies, Seneca Rocks (only true “peak” in the east) and caverns, Monogahela National Forest, walking through wild cranberry glades of reindeer moss and tundr, and at the Falls of Hills Creek. Lots of walking. Saw the Humpback Bridge and LOVE work–bridge the only covered one in the state? east of the Mississippi?–built in 1835 of handhewn timbers. The Christmas Depot. Dropp Mountain Battlefield State Park– when WVA seceded from VA during the Civil War and the Feds battlde with the CSA to keep the new state secure and in the union. The highest point of 4800 feet and a lookout tower. An old paper mill town with identical houses and company general store. Stulting House, the birthplace of Pearl S. Buck. Mostly Methodist churches, white English and Scotch-Irish, few foreigners or other languages besides English, little iphone coverage. Deep fat fried chicken with pumpkin pie. Last River State Park.
Then we headed to Shenandoah National Park and the southern half of the Skyline Drive, the idea of the park conceived of around 1929, to have a western-style park in the east, where 75% of the country’s population lives within a day’s drive of it. But the feds had to throw 500 families off the land first, said they were wild, ignorant, dim-witted, etc. and needed “civilization,” ignoring all evidence to the contrary. Splendid views of ridges and meadows. Rock barriers built by the CCC. Falling down houses and slags of rocks. A short walk on the Appalachian Trail. Wind blowing. Gorgeous sunset. Deer on road. Good pizza.
We drove through Virginia to Washington, D.C. to see my cousin, Don, and his wife, Carolyn. And the first thing I had to do when we got there was see a doctor for an eye infection. So we ended up in Walgreen’s waiting for a nurse practitioner and then to get some prescriptions filled for almost five hours, taking a break to get some Vietnamese food for lunch (but we were able to visit a lot while sitting around). Finally we got to their large, brick Colonial with a strip of woodsy park (loved by deer and foxes) and lovely gardens in the back. Don is a wine lover, does wine tastings and reviews around the world and has a blog, and is also a gourmet cook. That night he made chicken with green Dominican sauce, couscous with dried olives, a salad with grilled squash and pomegranate seeds, and a baked apple dessert, along with the appropriate wines. Carolyn is an outdoor enthusiast and accomplished pianist, just recently bought an old harpsichord she is learning to play. The next day Al and I took the metro down to the mall, realized that we had never seen the Vietnam Vet Memorial so we went there and then to the Holocaust Museum and last to the Museum of the American Indian, where we especially liked the exhibits on Indian life today. Don and Carolyn picked us up at the metro stop and whisked us away to the Great Falls National Park in Maryland where we walked along the river and enjoyed the spectacular views. That night Don made guacamole and chorizos, cod and paella, with greens and a chocolatey liqueur. They had their neighbor over too, Steven, a cellist with the National symphony, and the conversation was lively.
Violet tea and bagels for breakfast the next morning and a pleasant drive through Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania to the Brandywine River Art Museum, a beautiful area, can see why all those artists painted it. Al especially liked Burchfield (who influenced the Wyeths) and the egg tempera paintings. I liked all the Wyeths, including Carolyn and Henriette and the in-laws, but Andrew is still king. I especially liked the exhibit of all the studies and sketches he did for his major pieces. Humbling. Then we drove on interstates and turnpikes to NYC, through familiar sights and neighborhoods to Livia’s house in Ridgewood, Queens where we stayed for the next five nighs, and got a parking place right in front of her house (the high point of the entire trip as far as Al was concerned) where the car remained while we took the metro. We went to our favorite Polish restaurant just down the street, talked a lot with Livia, who is looking buff. Her mother came from Romania for her first visit to America and NYC, and loved both. We fell asleep to the sounds of traffic.
Brisk and sunny the next day as we took the ferry to Ellis Island–finally open–the last thing on our NYC to-do list. We spent three hours walking through the buildings, seeing the videos, taking pictures of maps of how many immigrants came from wherever and went to wherever once they got here. An amazing story, a unique dispersion, another stirring history we’ve learned about on this eastern/southern trip. We also learned about the slave and Indian dispersal, the orphan trains, the other points of arrival, the climb up the stairs that determined who would stay and who would go, the six second exam, the chalk marks, separations, children dying of infections, corruption and vendors and the preying upon of young women, china and linen in the dining room (food plain but the immigrants quarantined gained weight–the ship paid for steerage back and the quarantining so they did their own check-ups before allowing potential immigrants on board), the $25 each immigrant was supposed to have upon entry, that Germans were the earliest and largest immigrant group, the instruments, like the banjo, that were brought over and the music made, the graffiti. 1894-1924 were the busiest years for the island, then the facility held soldiers, POWs as immigration laws gradually changed. Got back to Queens and went to Rosa’s for our favorite pizza.
Old stomping grounds, 63rd in Rego Park and hair done at Lucy’s, Jamaica Boulevard for chicken at Dona Maria’s and candy from Schmidt’s and the musty, dusty bookstore. Then the rehearsal dinner on MacDougal Street at an Italian restaurant for Ivan and Alanna, with all kinds of pizza and tiramisu. The next day, the wedding (at which Al officiated and I did a reading) at One If By Land, Two If by Sea Restaurant, a charming old building with great paintings and a little garden in back. Champagne and wonderful food, moving toasts, a special Bulgarian singer and guida player with much hora dancing, other dancing, chatting with Alanna’s family and Ivan’s Bulgarian friends. Much fun. And the next day–my birthday–a very nice birthday in Queens, despite the constant rain. An early lunch at the Bukharian restaurant, our favorite lamb and side dishes as delicious as ever; the bus to Kew Gardens and a movie, “Whiplash,” then to Flushing for dumplings and another free concert at the library, three Japanese women playing the shamisen, different styles and pieces; a long bus ride home through Corona, Maspeth, Ridgewood.
Breakfast at the diner around the corner and back into the car–an hour to get through the city and onto the highway. Back through woodsy and rolling and snowy New Jersey and Pennsylvania to Somerset, famous for the 9/11 crash of Flight 893 into fields, for a cheap, cold motel room and the Pine Grill for rib-sticking meat loaf. Then we rolled into the Midwest, big old two story houses, snow on the ground and cold, to Cleveland where Jake, another former Borah student now in medical school, was our tour guide for the day. And what a tour guide! First to Grilled Cheese for lunch, for grilled cheese sandwiches, soup, and salad. Old neighborhoods and funky institutions, between Detroit and Pittsburgh in terms of rust beltiness–down but not out. To the very impressive Cleveland Museum of Art, with its huge atrium, stargazer bronze and Renoir painting, Islamic art, ceramic, American. We were there for three hours. Drove around downtown and Lake Erie. Then dinner at another local institution, Happy Dog, for microbrews and customized hot dogs–I had one with sloppy Joe sauce, cheese, caramelized onions and house-made ketchup. After that we went to see the movie, “Birdman.” We took over Jake’s bed while he slept in the living room, nice guy.
After tea and toast at 6:30 we rolled across Ohio with its tollways and lovely, snowy woods, into Indiana, where we met Al’s cousin, Barb, at Merrillville for lunch of stuffed chicken medallions in a Mexican restaurant. Then back on the tollways through Illinois and up to Racine with neighborhood bars and deer hunting ads–we’re in Wisconsin!–to our friend’s house, Lynn, that has workbenches for her stained glass and beadwork and a screened-in back porch and lovely gardens. (Now making rock sculptures, she gave me one and I gave her one of my sculptures from junk.) We looked at old family pictures, talked a lot, and she made us Colombian soup, aijaco, that has four kinds of potatoes, capers, chicken, avocado, etc.–far better than the same soup at the Colombian restaurant we took her to when she visited us in NYC. She also gave up her bed for us. Juice at 5:30 and we were off to Madison where we met Dani, a former Bulgarian student now a researcher at the university, for breakfast, caught up. Through more cold and snow to Rio to visit Paul, a teacher now retired, we taught with in Bulgaria, at his apartment filled with beautiful objects from all the countries he has lived in. A Wisconsin fish fry at a local Rio café while we continued to talk. Finally, up to Stevens Point, my home town, to the house of my best friend from high school, Chris, who was babysitting her grandson for the weekend. We picked up a pizza from Bill’s and took it to my mother’s. Really tired by this time, the visiting, so many beds, the cold and ice. Ready to stay put at Chris’s for a week.
And a relaxing five days in first fog and drizzle then lots of snow, tea and lunches with my mother, over for brats and beans and a Packer’s game at one sister’s, for chili and snowshoeing at another’s, to an antique mall with Chris, visits with old former neighbors and an aunt. While Al went north to visit cousins, I had a reunion with some high school friends. Walks in neighborhood and downtown at night to see Christmas decorations and window displays, and drives in the country and city parks. Breakfast at Al’s Diner where a couple at the next table gave us two 10 pound bags of potatoes (my job for Thanksgiving: make mashed potatoes for 14) and I learned he and I were cousins. Right afterwards we went to the musty dusty bookstore we always go to in Point, where I always buy another book on Wisconsin. The first one that jumped out at me was by my new just-met cousin (who is a writer as well as a farmer), which I bought, of course. saw “Mockingjay, Part 1,” not as good as first two. A wonderful family Thanksgiving with sparkling wine contributed by cousin Don and genealogy contributed by cousin Rick and entertainment contributed by one and a half year old great-niece, Daylin (who will be getting a brother or sister in a few months).
We left early the next morning, north through flat fields and weird weather–little spurts of sleet. Spent the night in a small, friendly town in North Dakota and ate steak at Buffalo Grill. Long ride to Bozeman the next day, uneventful except for the white-out conditions between Billings and Bozeman and the idiots trying to pass us on the highway (but the snow was lovely on the cliffs and pines and backs of sheep, and the broad skies were filled with dozens of Vees of geese heading south). Got home late the following afternoon, tired but glad to be home.
The snow was all gone in Boise. (Glad I saw it when we did but we then got enough on Christmas Eve to have a “white” Christmas.) Made Christmas sculptures from junk, had dinners, went to parties, met friends for lunches. Snowshoeing with goddaughter on Bogus, had trails to ourselves, and cross-country skiing up there, too. Weather was warm enough that we had ducks in the pond in December–first time ever. A squirrel figured out how to climb on iced slush and get up to the feeders; since this happened on Christmas Day, we let it eat. Another squirrel, tailless, has been coming around and always gets chased away by the other, fluffy-tailed squirrels, so now Al throws seed further out into the yard for it. We got the biggest, the most beautiful tree we’ve ever gotten, a blue spruce, for our living room. Started hiking again with my Tuesday morning group and one time we saw an albino doe up in the hills. Book groups and flea markets. Christmas cookie exchange and lots of movies. My charitable group meetings and an appearance at a “fiber” group where I showed and talked about my beadwork. Saw more former Borah students home for the holidays. Celebrated New Year’s Eve at an “open house for weirdos” where we managed to stay up until 11:30. We bought a new computer. Al started planning for his two month trip–he leaves next Monday for Australia and China. I will go to Hawaii in a month for ten days, with a friend. I am working on my Bulgarian book. Life goes on.
idaho2nyc 