The Cure for Melancholy

Sorrowful and spent from the experience of Gettysburg, I turned to my favorite mind-clearing activity--driving.  My Prius has become my sanctuary--the movement, the music, the views of a beautiful country--they work together to soothe my body and my brain.  I sing, I dance, I laugh, and I go wherever the road takes me, all with a sense of anticipation.  What lies beyond the bend?

I headed north and while crossing the Susquehanna River to Harrisburg, I quickly made exit to find a place to explore, settling in at Fort Hunter Park.

Drenched with nature, I continued on my way, passing through Hershey...

arriving in the City of Reading...

where I stayed at the Abraham Lincoln Hotel...

 and visited the Pagoda, an historical landmark atop Mt. Penn.

I drove through Allentown and Bethlehem, and I didn't even notice when I had crossed into New Jersey…probably because I was too busy taking in my surroundings. 

Dear readers, get off of the interstate highways.  I mean, they are great when you are in a hurry, and I admit that I had to use the interstate for the latter part of this drive into New York, but you can't see the towns--the houses and the people and the stores and the roads and the bridges and the schools and the parks and the American flags--when you drive on an interstate highway.

Speaking of…Agggghhhhh!  I jumped on an interstate highway and stressfully hurried my way into New York, only to come to a full stop, waiting about 30 minutes to get through a tunnel into the city at a cost of $13.  Ugh.  But I enjoyed the drive through the city and finally worked my way into Yonkers, where I spent a restful evening in the home of a friend.

Check out this backyard. 

Did I say restful?  I slept for about 12 hours…because for two days, I had been tripping…

julie

So you want to secede? Go to Gettysburg.

The Alabama cemetery where much of my Southern
heritage can be found.

A Southerner I am, from a long line of 'em.  In fact, we called ourselves Rebels, and my family would jokingly? refer to our neighbors to the north as Yankees--on the side that lost the war.  Even as I argued with my Yankee friends in elementary school that we had won the Civil War, I never knew how or why.  I merely behaved as a child without critical thinking skills, believing that my parents' teachings were correct and factually based, parroting them without reason.  (I do not know if my parents actually believed that the South won; perhaps they simply wanted me to feel like a winner!) 

Once I reached my teenage years, I began to occasionally have my own thoughts and opinions about various topics that ran contrary to those of my parents.  My mother would hurl her best insult:  "You are talking like a Yankee," she would say.  I don't think her response had the effect she wished, because as I reconsidered my "Yankee" opinions, weighing the facts and ethics involved, I began to consider that she may occasionally be wrong.  And if she was wrong on this…or that…maybe she was wrong about the war.

As a high school student, I finally learned the truth about the war's purpose and outcome and was troubled that my Christian American ancestors believed in the enslavement of others.  I wondered how one could believe in the love of Jesus, proclaim that "all men are created equal," and then support slavery.  Yes, it is true that the Bible actually supports slavery, but I was not yet prepared to complete a thorough analysis of the religion in which I was raised.  I responded to the inequity with the age-old, child-like responses:  "We can't understand God," or "It was a different time."  

At the recommendation of a friend, I circled Gettysburg on my

map as a "must see" location.  And while lounging around in Perryopolis, I watched documentaries and movies, read articles, and researched various aspects of the Battle of Gettysburg because I wanted to be knowledgeable as I toured the area.  However, I was ill prepared for what I was about to experience.

I traveled to Gettysburg via the Lincoln Highway, "the first transcontinental improved highway for automobile across the United States of America," otherwise known as US Route 30 in Pennsylvania.  It was an exhilarating drive through mountains and clouds; at times, I was overcome with awe, articulating my joy aloud with profound exclamations, such as, "Oh, man!  Oh, man!  Oh, man!"  (Yes, my high-level vocabulary is, at times, extraordinary.)

As I made the turn onto Seminary Ridge, my exhilaration and joy evaporated.  Confronted by the sight of cannons, monuments, and battlefields, I was beside myself with sadness and began to cry. Hours upon hours of internet research had suddenly become real; I was driving on land where Americans had pitted themselves against one another--brother versus brother, father versus son, friend versus friend.  My Rebel heritage had come here to fight for "states' rights" to engage in the hideous act of subjugating others. 

All around me, memorials had been erected to honor the soldiers who had sacrificed themselves in this battle.  The sheer number is overwhelming; despite my best attempts, I could not pause at each one--not only because my time was limited, but because my heart was aching and my brain was unable to make sense of it all. 

After spending my first evening poring through the various tours offered of the Battle Fields, I opted for the National Park Service Museum and Visitor Center.  For less than $40, I was able to see the film, A New Birth of Freedom; view the Gettysburg Cyclorama program; take a two-hour, air conditioned, guided bus tour; and explore the museum.  Surrounded by people, I was alone in my head, thoughts swirling, tears falling; confusion reigned.  

And then a thought occurred to me:  I am overwhelmed with war by simply viewing battlefields of long ago; how, then, do citizens and soldiers handle war in present time?  What kind of mental gymnastics does it take to survive life in a battlefield?  

I needed a drink.

So after downing a bottle of water...

I headed to the Spring House Tavern, located in the basement of the Dobbin House,--built in 1776--"where candlelit elegance, superior food in abundance, and gracious service bring back the sights, sounds, and tastes of two centuries ago."

I indulged myself with the RUM BELLIES VENGEANCE...the drink of the Dobbin House!  An absolutely incredible concoction of the light & dark rums, exotic liqueurs, & fruit juices, the potency of which mandates a limit of two (2) per customer.  Truly, a genuine bargain.  

Spirits lifted, I enjoyed the Spit Roasted Chicken, tender, fresh bird skewered to a spit and turned continuously in front of a clear brisk fire until it has a delicate brown and crisp outside, and is moist and tender inside. 

I could now sleep peacefully.

The next morning, I ventured to my final stop in Gettysburg:  The Gettysburg NationalCemetery.

Again, sadness.  I walked by grave after grave after grave.

Try as I might, I cannot wrap my head around war, although, in this case, as devastating as it was for our country, I find myself glad that we had Americans who stood on the side of "liberty…for all," remembering that "all men are created equal."

Americans speak of freedom, liberty, and equality, and it seems that we must continue to fight for it.  As for states' rights?  I read in the news everyday of state governments taking away the rights of Americans--whether it be voting rights, marriage rights, or reproductive rights.  I even read of some people in certain states who threaten to secede from our Union because they don't always get their own way.  I say to them, "Go to Gettysburg." 

Yes, I am a Southerner, but today I am tripping…

Yankee Julie 

Perryopolis, PA: Life with the Jester

After several days in West Virginia, I headed to Perryopolis, PA, home of my outlaw, Dan.  I know, I know…he isn't really an outlaw, but he is my in-law, the dad of my daughter-in-law, and I don't know of a truly specific word for what we are to each other, except that we are grandparents together…but what is that?

I expected to stay a couple of days before heading out to my next stop, but something happened:  Perryopolis became my home for two weeks!  

A look down the street where I lived in Pennsylvania

The farm on which I lived

The entrance to my room

Dan--Not Working

Dan and his roommate are surveyors, a rather cool job, considering that George Washington owned a great deal of Perryopolis for a time--and HE was a surveyor.  As surveyors, they work a lot, much like the medical residents from my previous stay.  Americans work very hard. 

Six days a week they labor and on the seventh day, they experience the joys of Pennsylvania.  So, six days a week I chilled, watched television, visited public libraries, ate, drank--took a break from my own hard work of traveling--and on the seventh day, I tripped with the outlaw.

On my first Sunday, we traveled to Seven Springs Mountain Resort, where the views are expansive and we soared through the skies, zip lining.  

Pre-Rafting Photo Op

On my second Sunday, we floated down the Youghiogheny River, an experience of peace and quiet, except for the constant shouting of my raft partner, "Go, go, we are losing them!  Watch out!  The rapids are ahead!  Get ready!  Go, go!  Row, row!  Faster, faster!"

What you may not know is that there are no rapids.  

  

Good Times!

At several points, I asked for everyone (there were four of us) to be totally quiet so that I might capture the serenity of the experience for you, my faithful friends.  The first time, Dan waited two seconds before violently crushing a beer can.  The second time, he waited about three seconds before announcing, "Listen to the silence!"  Every attempt met with boisterous commentary and jokes.  I have posted my final attempt, one which ran out the phone's battery...

We had fun.  We laughed and drank and laughed and floated for four or five hours--time mattered not.  Our food supply had been left at home, so the trip had an added bliss of intoxication, the kind that brought immense joy and love for the beauty of the nature that surrounded us.  

My View - Loving my Vibrams - Great for river bottoms!

I made a vow on that day to spend more time with the trees, the rivers, the mountains, the dirt, and the sky--away from the internet, the car, the buildings, and the news.

Please enjoy the pictures and the happiness that they represent, because next time, we trip into one of the most gut-wrenching cities in America.

I am tripping…

julie

A very cool one-way bridge and tunnel; however, floating underneath it, I noticed the beams are rusted to their demise.  I can't believe I kept driving over this thing...

A little bowling at the Sons of Italy...

My hosts.  Thank you!

Just a few of the animals hanging out in the backyard

More animals

Thursday night tradition - $2 margarita night!

My good friend, Diesel

Yay!  Solar panels spotted while rafting...

Washington Square in downtown Perryopolis

I know you've seen lots of driving pictures, but I just love tripping on these roads!

Oh!  I nearly forgot!  Dan taught me how to play cribbage--one of the best things ever!  If you find the game in the store, please let me know where.  I haven't been able to find it and I want to keep on playing.  :)

West Virginia: Not What You Think it Is

People.  I need people.  

As a self-proclaimed hermit, I am astonished at how much I miss people, but West Virginia took me home..."to the place I belong..." because I have a good friend there...



and made new ones.

One of my fears for this trip was that I would have difficulty living with people.  I've been living on my own now for ten years...and liked it.  Well, surprise, surprise, surprise, Gomer Pyle, I now yearn to sleep in the homes of others, to sit at their dinner tables, to wash their dishes--to become a part of a family, if only for a little while.

Georgina made it all possible.  Lucky for me, this medical resident actually had the weekend off, a rarity for her ilk, and I was the beneficiary--living in her basement, sharing laughter, building a fire, and breaking bread together--like this spread of bison burgers, sweet potato fries, corn-on-the-cob, and homemade apple pie.  

  

A trip to the Athens, Ohio farmer's market...

 surprised me with lovely stringed entertainment: 

 

And a visit to the local theater in Parkersburg totally destroyed the media stereotype of West Virginians.  

Hillbillies?  From the laughs I heard, I would have to say that the sold-out theater was filled with highly intelligent individuals, possibly even liberal ones.

Yes, my trip is proving the media wrong, as I suspected it would.  America is not made up of individual states, wherein the population of each state is exactly the same.  No, within each state is diversity--my job is to find it.  I guess I need to get back to tripping...

julie

Thanks Georgina and Karen.