Charlottesville, VA-Lexington, VA 10/5 140 driving miles; 11 walking miles

We toured Thomas Jefferson's magnificent home (Monticello), where he lived a lavish lifestyle on the burdened backs of the over six hundred slaves he owned. At the time of his death, he was so insurmountably burdened with debt, his assets, beginning with the chattel (human slaves), were auctioned off. Families were shattered. Husbands and wives were separated. Brothers and sisters were torn apart without consideration. Our tour guide, Tom Nash, made the comment that Robert Hemmings (His son) was with Jefferson in Philadelphia in 1776. Mr. Nash called it an ironic moment. "We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal and are endowed with certain inalienable rights."

I can't get it out of my head that "irony" isn't strong enough, hypocrisy isn't distasteful enough, and the passive acceptance of history as it stands isn't examined enough. Jefferson, who designed Monticello himself, made sure that he and his guests would never see the slaves who served. Out of sight, out of mind. One story our house guide took pleasure in relating was a visit by Marquies d' Lafayette, whom Jefferson had close relations with. The short of it is during the ten days of his visit 375 bottles of wine were consumed. 130 slaves, two-thirds of the plantation's population worked sun up to sun down catering to Jefferson's every want. One of the plumb jobs, making nails, exemplifies a slave's life. Nail makers worked fourteen hours a day (As did all slaves), and they had a quota of 800 nails per day. That's one nail every 65 seconds for fourteen hours. I doubt they received a duty free lunch unless it was served with a side of lash. DISCLAIMER: When I get to heaven, I'll have to stand for quite awhile in the sinners line, and my own ability to rationalize is well honed. Nonetheless, the fact that we humans are capable of such injustice not only sickens me, but it begs the question of just whose image are we created in anway. Thanfully, there's always hope (And Faith), and if you want real  irony, try this. Our server at lunch was a joy filled black woman (Denise) who treated us as if she did the cooking for us herself. She exemplifies the solution I can find: Live the Golden Rule. And to that I say, life is good, especially today.

Monticello

The vegetable garden: all kinds.

The vineyard. Trees in background were wheat fields in Jefferson's time.

Jefferson had people from all over the world sending him seeds. The variety of plants in the garden is anazing.

The skilled slaves (eight or nine per cabin) lived in spaces smaller than the storage units most Americans rent to hold their junk.

Tours on the hour.

Art shot of the day.

Lunch, however, was delightfully thin gruel.

I had one full plate. Slaw, Blackeyed Peas, Green Beans, Mashed Pitatoes, Pulled Pork, Fried Chicken (Perfectly cooked), Butter Biscuit, Corn Bread. (Ed ate a plate full like this plus three extra pieces of chicken).

I spent my extra calories on Peach Cobbler.

Denise, the best human of the day, renewed my faith, hope, and charity.

Selfie of the day. A vista from the Blue Ridge Parkway. (Even better with the sun out)

Though my past is not without reproach, my future still remains unblemished. In this lies my hope.

Front Royal, VA-Charlottesville, VA 10/3 75 driving miles; 9 walking miles

Skulking out into our sixth drippy, dreary day, we were nonetheless bouyed by the promise of a flavor change. Today, as we fraveled along the skyline drive on the stiff back of the Blue Ridge Mountains, we left the somber soldier stories behind and looked forward to visiting the iconic home of one of our most influential presidents: Thomas Jefferson. Admittedly, the skyline drive along the ridge through the Shenandoah National Park would have been more spectacular had it not been shrouded in dense fog, and we'd have especially enjoyed camping in the park if the weather had been better, but the car was warm, the traffic light, the road smooth, and the shadowy forest contemplative. We checked into to our three story tent (Red Roof Inn) because we have these plastic cards that promise people we're good for payment. Besides, at our age comfort is desirable. Maybe we'll be lucky enough to pass this way again when the sky is bird egg blue and the bright shadows chase each other through the oaks. Who knows? For lunch, we found the best BBQ in Charlottesville (Ace Biscuit & Barbecue) which did not disappoint. Fueled by its warmth and goodness, we spent the next two and a half enjoyable hours walking the University of Virginia campus. The campus, more than any I've seen, pays homage to Greek/Roman heritage. Except for the athletic buildings, one of which is a dome and another a large quanset  

hut, the entire campus is isosceles triangles atop a rows of white columns. In addition, the "lawn" area is a back to back rectangular grouping of single, highly coveted dorm rooms, one of which was occupied by Edgar Allan Poe in 1826. His room has been turned into a curio, but the others are awarded to students on an intricate system of merit. I've not seen such an arrangement before as it harkens back to a time when study was as serious as it was austere. The highlight of the campus tour for me was a visit to the University's Art Gallery. Featured was Jacob Lawrence, an African American artist who became famous at twenty-three for his series paintings depicting the migration of African Americans to the industrial North. He died in Seatle, WA after a distinguished teaching career at the UW. His work, what he called "dynamic cubism", has long impressed me for its emotive power. It was a surprising treat. The University Gallery presents art from the private collections of its alumni and changes the displays about three times a year. In short, our campus visit was lovely, just another grace filled gift of life's goodness, especially as we experienced it today.

Selfie 1: Entrance to the Skyline Drive.

The forest, dark and deep.

Our view for much of the day.

Selfie 2: Smelling the "Ace".

Pulled Pork sandwhich, cole slaw, dill pickle slice. Pepsi made with real sugar.

Behind each column is a single dorm room. The tall section is a central gathering room. Another set sits in mirror opposite the lawn. Each section has rooms to the rear as well creating a large rectangle of student housing.

Art shot of the day.

Selfie 3: Edgar Allan Poe's plaque.

Poe's room as it was in the 1800s.

Greek Row.

Selfie 4: (That's me in the shadows). Jacob Lawrence's painting depicting Patrick Henry's speech to the Virginia House of Burgess in 1775. Henry is quoted, "Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased by the price of chains and slavery?"

  And this one. Thomas Jefferson to Merriweather Lewis in 1803. "In all your intercourse with the natives, treat them in the  most friendly and conciliatory manner which their own conduct will admit."

It's interesting to note that Jacob Lawrence, a long time social advocate and chronicler of the African American experience, completed this series of paintings depicting the Revolutionary times in the mid fifties, the height of McCarthyism in Anerica.

Let wisdom reign.

Front Royal, VA-National Marine Museum, Triangle, VA 10/3 130 driving miles; 4.7 walking miles

Today we scratched another item off of Ed's bucket list. Like many veterans I know, Ed is very tight lipped about his service.  After our visit to the National Marine Museum, the total extent of his comments: "Today was great." "Thanks for driving." "It was very moving." For me, who has not served, I can't even imagine. However, I was very impressed by the museum. I assume that all  branches of our services have pride, but the Marine culture literally breathes from each diorama. Quotes, both written and heard, still ring in my ears. From Dan Daly's cry as he led his Marines out of the trenches in WWI, "Come on you bastards, you want to live forever?" to a current Marine veteran who replied to a question (What are you fighting for?), "We're fighting for each other; it's not really about apple pie or anything like that." to a Vietnam veteran who was asked why he ran across a death zone to retrieve a brother, "He's a Marine, I wasn't going to leave him behind." to a WWII veteran's comment, "For those who fight for it, life has a flavor the protected will never know." As one of the protected, my thought is that if we must fight, thank God for the Marines. After an eventless drive back, we stopped at the local grocery store to resupply, and we spent the rest of the day hunkered down in the room watching football and munching on thin gruel. I felt safe all day, guarded as it were by a United States Marine. Please remember, those of you who protect and those of you who are protected: Life is good, especially today. 

Ed, walking tall as he enters the tribute hall to him and his brothers.

Marines aren't pushed to fight, you have to hold them back.

Marines are the first boots on the beaches.

Marines tramp undaunted through jungles.

The very flag raised on Mt. Surbachi on Iwo Jima.

While the protected huddle under cover.

Marines rush into harms way from vehicles of all shapes and forms.

If we must fight, thank God for our Marines.

Gettysburg, PA-Front Royal, VA 10/2 130 driving miles; 4.65 walking miles

The butts are flatter, if not fatter due to a couple factors. First, today was a travel day. Second, the weather, which had us muttering grateful prayers that we aren't biking, is plain lousy: cold, wet, windy-no letup in sight. We visited the battlefield at Antietam, the bloodiest battle on record during the Civil War. Although we're not finished viewing war memorials, I've enjoyed about as much of this as I can stand. I can hardly wait until our tour turns to live mountain music in a few days. I'd like to feel my toe tapping instead of my heart wrenching. We also toured Harper's Ferry, WV where John Brown, the abolitionist, was captured. The town, deep in a mountainous hollow, retains much of its Civil War ambience. The cold rain emphasized the hard living people of the area. For me, a small town boy from out West, it lived up to every stereotype I have of West Virginia. Before we knew it, we'd left the hard scrabble West Virginians in our wake as we cruised through the gently rolling hills of Virginia. Drawing from a small sample, our "best" human is the day clerk at our one star accommodations (Cool Harbor Motel), Wanda Flynn, a spunky middle aged toothless gal from Plains, Virginia. She immediately put Edward into his place, threatening to "bop him upside the head" if he didn't fill out the registration card properly. Even at that, Ed when forgot to sign the card, Wanda squealed, "Edward can't you read, as she pecked her finger on the line at the bottom of the card?" We all know Ed's hearing can be suspect, but with Wanda's scratchy Southern drawl, he could be forgiven for barely understanding her. I asked her how she got here (Meaning Front Royal) and she quipped, "From my mammy's belly, a course." Once we stopped the verbal dueling, she escorted us to our room to make sure it was done up right. I liked her right away. (By the way, Plains, VA, Wanda's hometown, has a population of 266). Its main claim to fame is that the actor, Robert Duval, has a home there. Ed chose thin gruel for dinner, but I had a craving for the best burger in Front Royal (Spelunkers). It was pure beef, charbroiled, and trimmed in what I know as California style: lettuce, grilled onion, tomato, catsup, and mustard. The fries were fresh cut, but in a fit of desperate discipline, I threw most of them away (A fat belly doesn't look so good hanging over a fat butt). Now that I'm dry, warm, and fed, I can once again acknowledge that life is good, especially today.

 My motto as we tour these military memories.

12,134 died in twelve hours at Antietam.

 A coal train crosses the river at Harper's Ferry.

Harper's Ferry as viewed from the train trestle.

Several buildings in Harper's Ferry are restored as dioramas. This is the town tavern.

 Obvious.

Dr's office.

Harper's Ferry as viewed from St Peter's Catholic Church on the hill.

St. Peters overlooking the Potomac River.

Thomas Jefferson stood atop this rock gazed down the Potomac and exclaimed, "This is perhaps the most stupendous scene I've ever seen in nature."

Selfie of the day: Downtown Harper's Ferry in the background.

"Edward, would you like me to bop you upside your head?"

Thin gruel: Spelunker's Burger along side a slathering pile of thick fresh cut fries.

Gettysburg, PA 10/1 25 driving miles; 11.4 walking miles

We spent another day among the fallen. The Gettysburg Museum, and Cyclorama Program is simply a stunning tribute to what has become known as a National Tragedy: The Civil War. Our four hour experience began with a very well done overview film narrated in large part by the accomplished actor, Morgan Freeman. We then rode dual escalators like ripe grain to the domed I-Max like display space which houses the hugely magnificent (both in scope and in size), painting by French artist, Paul Dominique Phillippoteaux. Expertly restored by David Olin's team, the painting measures 377' x 42' and is as tall as a four story building. Set in a large circle and made three dimensional with artifacts, the painting is the center piece used to recreate the three day battle. To begin, the room is dim like twilight and begins to lighten as night gives way to dawn. As full sunlight plays upon the scenes depicted in the painting, a narrator describes the action. Spotlights direct the audience's attention to various aspects and a sound tract, complete with the booms of cannon fire, the whistles of projectiles, the clash of steel, the rat-a-tat of musket fire, and the groans of stricken men, adds a measure of realism. It is quite powerful. After the cyclorama viewing, we were directed down to the museum entrance, which is an incredibly well done chronological examination of the slavery issue, the battle, the aftermath, and the gains both real and imagined. I felt less empty after today, but not less dismayed. Added to my painful consideration of the senselessness of war is another dose of the pestilential stench from our ability as humans to treat each other in inhumane ways. Nearly twenty percent of America's population at the time died in the Civil War (620,000). 185,000 were killed in battle; 569,000 were wounded, in every horrible way steel, shot, and blade can muster. 4,000,000 slaves were freed and despite the Slave amendments to our Constitution, the Civil Rights movements of the sixties, and current activism, we seem no closer to a space in our country where people can be judged, as Martin Luther King said, "...by the content of their character." Having said that, the Gettysburg Battlefield reminds me not just of pain and suffering, but also of hope and reconciliation. For that I must conclude ( As the Book of James instructs) that even in the face of most miserable circumstance that life is good, especially today.

  Thin gruel for breakfast.

Scenes from the painting.

Jeb Stewart's calvary.

Pickett's charge.

Battle chaos.

Mustering the troops.

Food for thought.

Selfie of the day: Father Corby blessing the troops (Even non-believers bent a knee).

Maybe we should just lend each other a hand.