danajohnhill.org | Hard Times Come Again No More

In the autumn of 2008, Miriam and I traveled by airplane to Washington, D.C.  It was my first time there, and I loved almost everything about the trip: the monuments, the memorials, the museums, the fancy hotel, and the amazing day trip to Mount Vernon.  But, though we spent several days in the District, we didn’t see everything wanted to, and since we had such a wonderful time it was certain that we would return.

The last weekend of May this year marked our fifth wedding anniversary, and with no scholastic obligations weighing me down, and with the car in good working order, we set out on a long road trip that would take us across much of the southeast United States, with the nation’s capital as our main attraction, and many other places of interest along the way.

Day One

We pulled out of the driveway before dawn on Thursday, May 27.  After stopping for some last-minute items, we got underway in earnest, and were making our way north out of Gainesville when the sun was coming up.  Perhaps because I have driven the route so many times, and perhaps because of the unremitting bleakness of the towns along the way (Waldo, Starke, Lawtey), Highway 301 south of Interstate 10 struck me as about the least visually rewarding stretch of road on our entire trip.  Only Interstate 95 through South Carolina rivaled it for sheer blight.

We had already reached Georgia by 7:30AM.  In fact, I missed getting a free map at the state welcome center because it was not yet open.  We crossed the Savannah River and were in South Carolina barely an hour later.  We drove on for another hour and twenty minutes before stopping for breakfast.  Interstate 95 spans an enormous distance across South Carolina, and the drive through that state seems to go on forever, with almost nothing beautiful to look at.  Miriam drove that leg of the trip, and we got to North Carolina around 12:30PM.  That time I got my free map.  I had never been further north on I-95 than the junction at I-40, but, truth be told, there isn’t much to look at:  the fake lighthouse in Kenly houses a Wendy’s.  We were in Virginia just before three o’clock, and as we speeded toward our destination, I became excited by the highway signs: we had traveled a long way!

Richmond was our destination that first day.  We arrived at our hotel around 4:30PM, checked in, and almost immediately headed back out.  We had to choose between two activities in the city that night: enjoying food and entertainment at the botanical garden, or visiting the Edgar Allen Poe Museum.  I am glad we chose the latter, because the Poe Museum in Richmond is a little gem.  Housed in the city’s oldest building (sadly, none of Poe’s former residences in Richmond still stand), the museum holds a surprising number of authentic items, including objects once owned by the writer, as well as autograph manuscripts, and extremely rare editions of his works.  Spread among a few modest old brick buildings, the museum even houses the staircase from Poe’s childhood home, fully reassembled.  Stepping outside into a lovely courtyard, we sat and listened to a singer while enjoying a snack.  The weather was perfect, though Richmonders repeatedly apologized to us for what they considered uncommonly hot temperatures.  Miriam bought a souvenir in the gift shop, and we said goodbye to the friendly staff, having experienced a splendid little place that cost nothing that night.  Plus, we parked directly in front of the front door!

A large model of nineteenth century Richmond at the Poe Museum drew my attention to the great state house that lies in the middle of that city.  It wasn’t far away, at all, and when we arrived we found it was unbelievably easy to park our car.  We climbed the steps at the southwest corner of the capitol grounds and found the place completely deserted.  It was still quite light outside, but nobody was around, so we decided to go exploring.  We walked right up to the great columns on the south portico of the building, and peeked in the enormous windows.  I don’t recall trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if we could have just strolled right in.  The view of the city from that high place was delightful.  We walked around to the east side of the grounds and found the old governor’s mansion.  Several presidents of the United States have lived there.  It sits so close to the state house that I envied the office holder’s one-minute commute.  The mansion itself is handsome but not ostentatious.  It has a low wall in front that one could easily jump over.  Looking to the west across the north face of the capitol we saw the tall statue of Washington upon a horse.  It was beginning to get dark, but we continued to explore the grounds.  Great trees hovered over statues of famous Virginians; attractive benches surrounded lovely fountains; and gorgeous roses mocked me.

We wrung the last bit of daylight from the sky before leaving that place.  We went looking for a place to eat, but driving up and down the city streets yielded few obvious choices.  We were just looking in the wrong place.  According to our friends and Richmond natives, Kat and Harris, the area around the capitol clears out at night, while the nightlife moves to the west end.  There, along a very busy Main Street, we found the Star-lite.  It was intimate enough, though I was somewhat sad when they switched the television above the bar from the Nationals game to basketball.  I apparently had a milkshake for dinner.  On the way back to our hotel we drove down long avenues of elegant nineteenth century homes.  The entire city, it seems, was rebuilt in the 1870s, a hundred years before I was born.

Filed under: Dana Heritage Project, Geography, Musings, Transportation, Travel on August 17th, 2010 | No Comments »

Let us say that Summer began on the first of May.  That was the date this year when it turned hot.  Two days earlier the low temperature had been forty-five degrees; on May first the high was ninety-two degrees.

May first was also my graduation day.  My mother, my father, and all my living grandparents came to Gainesville and stood outside the O’Connell Center in the blazing sun for what seemed like an eternity waiting for the previous commencement ceremony to conclude.  When I was at last allowed to enter the building, sweaty and thirsty, I located my fellow English majors, and stood silently in line waiting to be ushered into the arena.  I didn’t know or even recognize anyone until the ceremony was under way, and even then, of the hundreds of names called that afternoon I recognized only two besides my own.  I had pleasant conversation with the girl sitting next to me.  She, too, was an English major, but her focus was literary theory, and mine was eighteenth- and nineteenth century British literature: our paths never crossed.  I was genuinely proud and happy to be there, and I thought the ceremony itself was dignified. Miriam captured a funny picture of me looking like Sasquatch as I crossed the stage.

After it concluded I gathered my people, and we made our way in several cars to Satchel’s.  I was frustrated by the experience, not because the restaurant was so crowded and the wait was so long; I expected that.  Rather, I was disappointed that Satchel’s made no attempt to reduce the suffering of their waiting patrons.  I knew I wanted one of the rare and desirable deep-dish pizzas–I had even reserved one ahead of time–but they wouldn’t start preparing it until we were seated, even though doing so would have freed a table forty minutes earlier for other patrons.  The lack of any real climate controlled waiting area was hard on my older relatives.  But the food was delicious, and everyone loved it.  Plus, Miriam brought a cake.

That day also marked the first time my mother and grandmother ever saw where I live.  I am sure they loved our home.  Miriam and I set our air conditioning down to seventy-six degrees to make sure everyone was comfortable, and it felt so comfortable that we decided then and there that we’d keep it that way all summer long.  I dubbed this “Summer of Seventy-Six”.

I received some nice graduation gifts: Miriam bought me new sneakers, my Grandma gave me a picture of her with my grandfather taken in the 1940s, and my Grandmom gave me a classy engraved pen.

That’s how summer began.  Just last week I received my diploma in the mail, so it’s official.  And now summer is ending.

Filed under: Dana Heritage Project, Family, Food, General, Meteorology, Musings, School on August 12th, 2010 | 1 Comment »

As a child, few occasions inspired as much dread for me as the dawning of a new school year.  August was a month-long count-down to misery, and the Sunday night before classes began–the first “school night” of the year–was undoubtedly my least favorite date on the calendar.  That date is nigh.

After a break from school that, for all intents and purposes, began last December, I am just one week from embarking on at least two grueling years of intensive study, and I am sad to see this summer pass away.  I have a great deal to look forward to, but at the same time, the uncertainties are many and the fear is strong.

Furthermore, with the commencement of autumn classes, this long, glorious summer will come to an end, and I will still not understand how it could have passed so quickly.

So, before that dreaded day arrives, I will reflect on these last few months in a series of posts that I hope will answer that age-old question: how I spent my summer vacation.

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Filed under: Musings, Nostalgia, School on August 12th, 2010 | No Comments »

Though its sonic palette doesn’t strike me as particularly æstival, The Hollies’ “Bus Stop” is, in fact, a summer song, and one I have loved for as long as I can remember.  If music is, as I believe, about conflict and resolution, then two things make the song special: first, the Picardy third coming out of the instrumental break; and, second, the vocal harmonies in the section that follows:

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And we can be glad to learn that, somewhat atypically, the speaker’s love lasts even when summer doesn’t.

Filed under: Musings, Popular Music on August 9th, 2010 | No Comments »

When I was a kid we had something called MTV.  It was great – like our favorite radio station, but with pictures.  Every big hit song was likely to have a corresponding music video, and these videos became popular in their own right.  “Take on Me”, “Sledgehammer”, and “Money for Nothing” were good songs on the radio, but their videos were amazing, and people really paid attention to them.  I recall that a “world premiere” video was a big deal, and kids would wait around all afternoon to see it.  Many of these videos still stick in my mind, even after most people forgot the songs they went to.  Do you remember “Yankee Rose”?

MTV connected with kids because it was on when kids wanted it.  Every afternoon after school, on weekends, all summer, MTV was there with videos, and almost everyone I know watched it every day.

MTV doesn’t exist anymore.  Sure, I understand that there is a channel called “MTV”, but it isn’t “Music Television”.  There may even be “MTV2″ or “MTV [Whatever]“, but videos don’t seem to matter to anybody anymore – at least not like they used to.  MTV cannot be blamed for that, I suppose, since cable television in those days consisted of maybe thirty channels, and, as the only station of its kind, it had a captive audience it cannot take for granted today.

Still, if you were a kid in the 1980s, and you had MTV, you almost certainly remember the video for The Cars’ “Magic”.  This is the MTV I miss.

Filed under: Musings, Nostalgia, Popular Music on July 21st, 2010 | No Comments »