‘2013 Journey’ Category
» posted on Saturday, November 16th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Birds And Bees
Linda Burton posting from Trenton, New Jersey – The New Jersey state bird is the Eastern Goldfinch, and the New Jersey state bug is the Honeybee. I was standing one-legged in a center hall of the New Jersey State House when I learned this; the tour guide had stopped the crowd by a glass-encased Boehm ceramic artwork to explain. Inside, perched on the New Jersey state tree – the red oak – were a number of bright yellow birds; striped honeybees hovered over sweet-purple violets, the state flower. I didn’t get a photo of the display because there was a glare on the glass, so I can’t show you 
how pretty it was. I might have tried harder for a better angle except, as I said, I was standing one-legged, holding onto the wall. My knee had suddenly decided not to work; it does that sometimes, especially, it seems, if I’m in a crowd; that makes for a higher embarrassment factor. Nobody seemed to notice, however; and soon we were in the Assembly Chamber, just down the hallway, where I could sit. Ah, look at the floor! The Birds and Bees and Trees and Flowers were part of the carpet design, a charming swirl against a background of blue. I got a picture of that, and 
looked around the room, squinting as the sun beamed through the high windows on either side of the State Seal; our guide was focused on the legislative process. In my hand I held a roster of the 215th New Jersey Legislature – 80 in the Assembly; 40 in the Senate; party and district were identified, phone number listed. Two seats are vacant, it said; I counted 70 Democrats and 48 Republicans serving a state where the Republican governor makes the daily news; Chris Christie, resoundingly re-elected November 5. » read more
» posted on Wednesday, November 13th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Bird In A Cage
Linda Burton posting from Trenton, New Jersey – Oh the horror! From the wide-open farmlands of the Pennsylvania Dutch to the narrow confines of the Pennsylvania Turnpike; cornfields to concrete; shock. I was willing to pay for good road to move me swiftly across the state to New Jersey. But I told the toll-taker on my exit near Morrisville, “You really should pay me to ride on this horrid road.” He took my $5.75 without comment. I’d felt confined the whole way, barriered in from any scenery; tunnelized; I longed for anything else. Route 1 turned out to be even worse; no sign welcomed me to New Jersey as I whizzed over the 
Delaware River; my only clues were the dotted lines on the GPS, and a blur to my left that said Trenton Makes. Makes what? Eight miles beyond the river, the GPS advised me to take Mall Access Road; I followed that advice. No hotel, just Macy’s, and Sears; it took a while to realize that my hotel was on the other side of Route 1. There are no left turns off said highway, only concrete barriers. You must pass your intended destination, take a right at the next overpass, cross over Route 
1, and head back the other way. Three lanes of traffic going both ways; no dedicated lanes to feed into; non-stop New Jersey drivers, all as frustrated as me. Or maybe more. By the time I reached my hotel, the morning pleasantness I’d felt at Bird-In-Hand had turned to the dismay of a bird in a cage. “You’d better get used to me,” I said to the cats after I unloaded the car. “I won’t be going out much.” I opened the laptop, and plugged in a search for “Trenton,” the Journey’s Capital City #48. » read more
» posted on Wednesday, November 13th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Bird-In-Hand Is Better
Linda Burton posting from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania traveling from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to Trenton, New Jersey – Buttery new potatoes with skins. Sweet-corn casserole. Bright-green peas. Kraut and sausage. Chicken pie. Shepherd’s pie. Ham and scalloped potatoes. I was walking the center aisle of a Pennsylvania Dutch smorgasbord, dipping a smidge of everything onto my plate. Ham balls? There was no more room, well, maybe one. The salad bar was to my left, the dessert bar to my right; I bypassed both, stopping at the bread bar for fresh-baked rolls. Then to my booth by the window, through a silver-haired crowd in a room filled 
with happy talk. Tour buses waited in the parking lot; seniors were traveling today. The weather is still tolerably good; family traffic has slowed with kids in school; now’s the time to wander the hills and open farm lands that make up the happiest place I’ve ever seen. I was happy, that’s for sure; fresh vegetables on my plate, locally grown and simply cooked. Across the road, two horses grazed behind a white fence; one wore a purple blanket, I wondered why. An Amish buggy, horse-pulled at a rapid clip, went by on the highway, ah, that’s it. The purple-blanket horse just finished a buggy trip and was in cool-down mode. Should I go back 
through the smorgasbord for a second round? Some shoo-fly pie? It was tempting, but no; the drive ahead to Trenton would be intense; dessert would make me sleepy, and soft. I flipped through my Lancaster County guidebook, and sighed. Too many potatoes? No, too many things I’d miss today. Is this a come-back place? Is this a place I’d recommend for the senior crowd, and for every family with kids? I give it an “A,” for absolutely. » read more
» posted on Saturday, November 9th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Looking For Socks
Linda Burton posting from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania – “This is the handsomest building I ever saw,” is a quote they brag about in Harrisburg. That’s what President Theodore Roosevelt said on October 4, 1906, when he attended the dedication of the Pennsylvania state capitol. Now, I’ve seen a lot of capitol buildings (this is the 47th one on the Journey) and I try to be very careful not to compare one to another, focusing instead on the unique and beautiful qualities of each. But I found myself looking around for my socks today, because (figuratively speaking) my first glimpse inside this capitol’s rotunda knocked them off. Architect Joseph Huston (1866-1940) envisioned the capitol as a “palace of art” and he did not miss the mark. It is described as a “priceless architectural and artistic treasure” and its 600 rooms burst with so much color, and so many messages, that “sensory overload” must be a way of life for those who work inside. And 
everybody does – the executive, judicial, and legislative branches are housed in the capitol; it is the workshop of Pennsylvania state government. It’s a huge complex of Renaissance marble and gold; the outside (five stories high) is Vermont granite, the roof is green glazed terra cotta tile; inside you’ll see Italian, French, English, Greek, Roman and Victorian influences. Yet somehow, Huston pulled it all together while telling the story of Pennsylvania, making it an all-American edifice. Because first and foremost, the capitol is a public building, belonging to the citizens of the Commonwealth. The marble staircase was set to showcase a wedding today; the guest chairs waited in place. I asked about the rotunda, but my guide pointed to the floor; “Let’s start with the Moravian tiles,” she said. » read more
» posted on Tuesday, November 5th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
The Corn Is Dead
Linda Burton posting from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania – Remember the Iowa cornfields early this summer? “Knee-high by the 4th of July” was the saying; lush green as far as the eye could see. That time is past now; it’s November, and the only cornfield I spotted on today’s drive in Pennsylvania stretched across the valley as pure gold; rustling cornstalks waiting to be mulched, in that final farming phase of the season. I didn’t see many crop fields on the New England part of the Journey; the focus there is foliage, and oh yes, maple syrup and apple trees. I welcomed the open space of the 
cornfields as I approached Harrisburg and passed into Pennsylvania Dutch country, where I spotted a few barns sporting Hex signs. These cheerful folk-art designs generally feature birds, or flowers, or hearts. I bought a small Hex sign when we passed through the area in the 60’s, back when my kids were small; it has hung in every house I’ve lived in since. Maybe I’ll get another one while I’m here; a sign to remember the Journey by. Signs. I’m scanning through today’s photos now; other than the cornfield, there 
really are no pretty landscape scenes; most are pictures of signs I saw today. Signs! It was a long, wearying drive; daylight to dark from Hartford, Connecticut to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania; complete with four major traffic jams. In order to avoid the congestion of New York City I stayed north on I-84 to the western edge of Connecticut, and on across New York state. I didn’t get a picture of the funniest sign I saw (and probably the newest) – “It Can Wait. Text Stop Ahead.” Sure enough, there are “Text Stops” along the freeways now. Signs. “Construction Ahead” was the most prolific, of course. May I show you more? » read more
» posted on Sunday, October 27th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Somewhat Contradictory
Linda Burton posting from Hartford, Connecticut – Hartford’s nickname is Insurance Capital of the World, you’ve heard that before. On my first drive-through of this 46th capital city on the Journey Across America, I was surrounded by sparkling highrise office buildings. UnitedHealthcare was spelled out across the top of one; the others I didn’t catch; I was concentrating on street turns to get to the capitol grounds. Ornate Victorian reflected against stark modern 
in the waning afternoon sun that lit up the gold; gold on the trees; gold on the capitol dome. A pleasant sight; but somewhat contradictory; a mass of intersecting freeways cut through the city, yet the spacious grounds of Bushnell Park were serene; I could hear music, a concert of some kind, from across the tree-lined streets. Mark Twain lived here, back in the 1800s, and once said of Hartford “Of all the beautiful towns it has been my fortune to see, this is the chief.” I parked at the side of the capitol and struck out under the trees, kicking leaves, and looking both ways – at the old, and the new. Hartford is one of the oldest cities in the country; Dutch explorers came through in 1613; English settlers arrived in 1635; it was named Hartford in 1637. Samuel Stone, one of the original settlers, chose the 
name to honor his home town of Hertford, England. Hartford is home to the nation’s oldest public art museum, the Wadsworth Atheneum; the oldest public park, Bushnell Park; the oldest continuously published newspaper, The Hartford Courant. Some famous residents were author and abolitionist Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896) who lived next door to Mark Twain (1835-1910); dictionary author Noah Webster (1758-1843); inventor Sam Colt (1814-1862), financier J P Morgan (1837-1913), and poet Wallace Stevens (1879-1955). So what is the contradictory part? » read more
» posted on Saturday, October 26th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Gravel Sucking Trucks
I met with Sandi in Providence. She visited all 50 state capitols before she was 25.
Now she’s going for 50 countries before she’s 50!
We celebrated as she returned from the 40th one.
Linda Burton posting from Providence, Rhode Island – Life is full of the unexpected. For instance, I didn’t plan to be working from the edge of the bathtub this Saturday morning. Yet here I sit, laptop on my lap, door closed to the outside world. Now, why is that? Because, just outside my window, just a few feet from my workdesk, is a gravel-sucking truck. And that truck is doing what it was designed to do. It is sucking gravel off the roof of my hotel. The manager explained. “I know it’s noisy, but we have to get the re-roofing done before winter sets in. We have to remove the gravel in order to put down a new layer of tar.” Well, I 
understand that. So I’ll spend the day exploring Providence, no prob. “You’ll be done soon?” was my plaintive question. Ah no, the work continues through next Wednesday. The gravel-sucking truck will be replaced by a tar-spreading truck. Swapping noise for the nose-burning smell of hot tar? I’d rather adjust life plans. Instead of spending another day with my friend Sandi; instead of leisurely wandering Water Place Park in downtown Providence; instead of having Sunday brunch at CAV as planned; I’ll shorten my Providence stay and move 
ahead to Hartford. I’ll use today to pack, and I’ll use today to summarize. I have company in this tiny bathroom. Alex and Jack crouched in the tub, watching me. If the sound of gravel rattling through a giant metal tube before crashing into the metal truck bed is deafening to me, I can only imagine how excruiating it must be to the cat’s sensitive ears. Suddenly I realized – 90% of the Journey Across America is done! “So Alex,” I said, slipping into interview mode, “what’s your favorite part of the Journey so far?” » read more
» posted on Monday, October 21st, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Messing Things Up
Linda Burton posting from Providence, Rhode Island —Changing the status quo can be messy. And Roger Williams (1603-1683) messed things up wherever he went. Roger didn’t mean to create problems, he meant to simplify. At least, that’s the way it’s interpreted now. Now he’s deemed a hero, a fighter for freedom, and, no small accomplishment – the founder of Rhode Island. The Roger Williams National Memorial, operated by the National Park Service, occupies 4.5 acres in downtown Providence, near the corner of Smith and North Main. The Rhode Island State House is just across the easy-flowing Moshassuck River, an impressive sight through the October-gold of the park’s trees. A pot of yellow mums sat by the building’s door; inside, a solemn wooden statue in patriotic blues and golds held a book. I started with the overview movie of Roger Williams’ life; I browsed 
the exhibits, and the gift shop. The Park Ranger gave me a walking map, marking spots in Providence that were important to the Roger Williams story. Enough time inside; I headed for the First Baptist Church in America, a few blocks down Main Street. I passed the Hahn Memorial along the way, and the spring that was discovered by Roger Williams in the 1600s. Roger built his house nearby (although it no longer exists); that fresh-water spring sustained not only Roger and his family, but the settlers that followed. Judge Jacob Hahn donated the land for the park, and the memorial, 
to the city of Providence in 1931; it was given in honor of his father Isaac Hahn, the first person of Jewish faith to be elected to public office from Providence. These items offer hints of what Roger Williams stood for, and that was “freedom of conscience.” Should I start at the beginning, or the end? » read more
» posted on Saturday, October 19th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Grandmother’s House
Linda Burton posting from Providence, Rhode Island – I went over the river and through the woods, but I wasn’t headed for grandmother’s house. I moved from Boston to Providence, Rhode Island today; capital city #45 on the Journey. The river I crossed was the Charles, on the new wing-cabled bridge that was built as part of the Big Dig. The day was October-perfect, but the heavy traffic prevented me from looking left, or right, to see the Charles, where the Head of the Charles Regatta was underway, the world’s largest two-day rowing event. The road dipped into the Big Dig tunnel, where there was nothing to see but tail lights. Out of the worm-hole and back 
into daylight on I-93; the train went by on my right, the T. Remember that Kingston Trio song back in ‘59 about poor old Charlie? Did he ever return? No he never returned and his fate is still unlearn’d. He may ride forever ‘neath the streets of Boston, he’s the man who never returned. Would I ever return? As I hummed the song, trying to remember the gist of it, the outdoor scene transitioned from urban to woodlands. The Massachusetts hills were glowing gold; no need to go to New Hampshire for fall color. Stay home! Signs for Foxboro caught my attention; ah yes, Gillette Stadium is there; home of 
the New England Patriots; tucked halfway between Boston and Providence. I drove through the community of restaurants and shops built just for sports fans, glad it was a no-game day; the stadium seats 68,756. Twenty miles more to Rhode Island, The Ocean State, according to the welcome sign. “I’m stopping at the capitol,” I said to the cats. And that’s where I met Charlene and Evelyn, and learned some things about Providence. » read more
» posted on Friday, October 11th, 2013 by Linda Lou Burton
Boston Proper, Boston Strong
Linda Burton posting from Boston, Massachusetts – If you want to be considered a proper Bostonian, you have to understand Boston English. “Don’t worry about the poor lost New England “r’s” I learned; “we stick them onto the end of certain other words.” Some “r’s” take on an “ah” sound; you can make any Bostonian groan and roll their eyes when you cite the example 
“Hah-vahd Yahd.” But to a non-Boston ear like mine, that’s what I hear. It’s hard (hahd) for most visitors for the first few days, but Boston tour guides plunge forward (fah-wahd) with their dialogue and the tour buses roll on. I dug a little deeper into how it works and found this rhyme: Ah final ahs just disappeah, but wheah they go we’ve no idear. Yes, those floating “r’s” grab onto words such as “idea” and stick there; I can almost hear John Kennedy’s voice ringing in from the past. I even found instructions on “How to Talk Like Kennedy” – so that vigor becomes vigah, and Cuba becomes Cuber. » read more