Final Thoughts

Many months ago, when I officially received funding from my school and knew that I would be traveling, most people's first question was, "Who are you going with?" From the beginning, I knew that I would probably be going it alone; very few employed twenty-four year olds have jobs that allow them to have a true summer vacation. I would be lying if I said I did not feel self-conscious or worried about this. As I mentioned in a previous post, I've never been known as adventurous or daring. I've always been comfortable following my own path; I let others be veer off course, and then, if I feel like tagging along, I do so. However, this trip really did not make that a viable option. I could either sit on my ass in the hotel or I could stand up and make myself explore, see what I hadn't seen before and do things that I'd never done. If you've been reading along, hopefully you can tell that I attempted the latter. Over the course of this trip and in its aftermath, I've realized many things.

First and foremost, I've come to appreciate the presence of history in almost every corner of the Southern United States. Although, I did a great deal of driving via highway, I also spent numerous hours driving the backroads of Virginia and North Carolina. While wandering these roads was a painstaking and frustrating process – I kept thinking to myself, “Can't they build highways around here? It would make travel time so much faster!” - these routes exposed me to pieces of history that, otherwise, I might never have seen. The roads were, every so often, dotted by tall metal plaques, situated much like a stop sign would be. Each plaque shared and explained a piece of history relevant to the area or site on which it was located. The frequency of these plaques, along with the number of historical landmarks that I passed and visited was impressive and, in my opinion, speaks to a deeply rooted appreciation of the past amongst Southern people. While many qualities of Southern living make me shake my head and wonder, this is an aspect of Southern culture that I have come to truly admire, and one that caused me to take a closer look at my own home.

Since completing this journey, I realized that, as an adult, I have not done much exploring in my own neck of the woods. As a child, I visited many historical sites: Boston, Mystic, Essex, Sturbridge, the Newport mansions. However, most of these trips were years ago and my capacity for appreciating the full extent of their historical value was probably quite limited. As it stands, I am aware these places exist, but I cannot recollect my experiences with them, and that does not sit well with me. I spent eleven days exploring four states: Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, and even then I missed so much in these places: Fredericksburg, Savannah, Charlotte, Lynchburg, Kitty Hawk, Richmond, etc. It's a little disappointing to see how much I missed. On the other hand, it also cries out to me as a challenge. If there is so much to see and absorb in these five states, there must be so much more within the entire nation! While this idea is overwhelming at times – is seeing everything American even possible? - I, nonetheless, am inspired by its magnitude and have adopted it as my mission over the next several years to see all that I can.

Work begins in several weeks, which obviously limits my ability to travel. Thus, I will have to put off any extensive trips or far-away locations until next spring or summer. But I have promised myself that until then, at least one weekend a month, I will find a place, somewhere in New England or New York and explore, continue to discover, and continue to push myself, to see what exactly it is that I am capable of. I don't know if I'll have that opportunity several years down the road. So, never fear faithful readers, there will be more of me and my adventures in the coming months! Thank you all for joining the ride. xox

The End

This was it folks - the last official day of adventure! Tomorrow, I head north to Connecticut; I have a 6 am wake-up and a thirteen-hour drive ahead of me. Woooohoooooooo! So, what did I do on my last day? Well, if you've been reading along, you'll know I am in Asheville, NC - another possible spot for the parents' retirement home. Although I did get to check-out downtown Asheville (which is chalk full of shops, restaurants, and art galleries), I spent the majority of my day enjoying the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina.

If you had to describe me, I doubt the first...second...or third word would be "outdoorsy". In fact, I'm not even sure that it would cross anyone's mind at all. Contrary to popular belief though, I do happen to have a great appreciation for nature and the outdoors. I often forget this about myself, which I suppose is why others don't readily see it. Luckily, yesterday, when browsing my travel books and the hotel's brochures about Asheville, I came across multiple ads for Chimney Rock Park. The park, located 45 minutes from Asheville, is home to multiple trails winding up a mountainside where a lovely little movie called "The Last of the Mohicans" was filmed. Thus, when I came upon those ads, that little corner of my being that loves bright sunshine, greenery and clean mountain air stirred, and I made it my mission to conquer Chimney Rock. I should add that I hate heights. I don't have a debilitating fear. For example, I don't start to hyperventilate or faint after climbing a few stairs, but this may be because I've mastered specific breathing techniques and eyesight lines to prevent both from happening.

Well, what happened? I spent two hours climbing Chimney Rock with no one else's help and with no one else's encouragement. I forgot to bring a second shirt (apropo if you're the daughter of Alex Rosten) and I only had Converse as footwear. While none of this may not seem like a big deal, once you see the photos of the mountain and the wooden stairs I had to climb, I think you will be impressed. Even if you're not, at the end of the day, I reached an elevation of 2, 480 ft. without giving up, and I can say that I am extremely proud of myself.

Athens and Hot-lanta

Good morning all! So, I have a great deal to catch up on. When you last heard from me, I was in the city of Charleston. Since then, I've moved on through Athens, Georgia and Atlanta, Georgia and I am about to venture into Asheville, NC.

I arrived in Athens late Saturday evening and spend Sunday there as well. I was staying with a friend from college (aka Stuart) who goes to school at the University of Georgia (UGA). When I was planning my trip, I didn't anticipate or plan for the inherent nature of Sundays - everything is closed and everyone is content to sit and around and relax. Therefore, most businesses and local hang out spots were not open during my stay. However, this worked out to be a blessing as I was able to observe what people really did with their time as opposed to being absorbed by the more touristy aspects of the city.

Although it is flooded with major prepsters throughout the school year (this is what I was told by others), the people of Athens are predominantly an earth-friendly, hipster crowd. This was apparent in several ways. As my friend showed me around, he pointed out local community gardens and co-ops; we ate at a restaurant called "farm" that only used locally grown foods; Stuart and his friend spent the day creating their own furniture out of supplies they'd found in the area, and the streets were scattered with loitering musicians and dotted by small clubs and joints within which local talent shared their creativity. In spite of the MASSIVE football stadium sitting at the heart of UGA, Athens itself was a crunchy, down-to-earth place that encouraged simple living. My last comment, before I move on to Atlanta, is, in some ways, breaking news. Apparently, I HAVE AN ACCENT!

Sunday evening, Stuart and I ate dinner with several of Stuart's friends. I was talking with a couple of the girls, when one of them stopped to say, "You know you don't even have that much of an accent!", as if to say, "You definitely do have an accent, but for a Northern, it's not that bad!" I almost laughed aloud when she said this, because I, in turn, wanted to say, "No, no no...haven't you heard? It's you who has the accent!" Overall, the experience was a funny one, but it, once again, gently reminded me that not everyone, especially in the South, thinks from my perspective.

...on to Atlanta!

In Atlanta, I made two major stops, but I would like to speak to only one of them here - my time at the MLK Jr. historic site. I learned about Martin Luther King Jr. in school, and I've always admired his beliefs and aligned them with my own. I'd like to think that if I had lived back in the sixties, I would have supported such a man. Yesterday, however, I more deeply realized what King was about and was moved beyond words. In fact, I found myself constantly trying to hold back tears. Maybe it's because I'm older now, but what this man risked for the sake of what he could never truly know would come about was staggering.

He not only believed in a cause, but he acted on it without hesitation, day in and day out. I believe many of us like to assume that we have strong values and that we live by them each and everyday. I know I do. However, the images of buses being bombed, of people being hosed by police, of food and drink being thrown at others simply sitting at a counter took on new meaning. These people had lives beyond these images. They have parents, siblings, friends, and children. They were places where they could be safe and happy. Yet, Martin Luther King, who had many of these things himself: a wife, four children, a job he enjoyed, did not accept this to be enough and inspired others to rally behind his cause.

I am not yet a parent, but I do know that my own parents would do anything to ensure my safety and happiness and that of my siblings. I cannot assume what went through the head of a man like Martin Luther King, but I can imagine that he would have had the same sentiment towards his own sons and daughters. Yet, he continued to speak out, to make a name for himself, to expose himself to situations that were beyond his control. He took the chance that his children might grow up without a father. He took the chance that they themselves would be put in harms way, and yet I can find no fault with his actions. While standing there in the middle of a museum exhibit, I only felt awe. Can I say that I would do the same for what I believe in? I would like to think so, but at the end of the the day, I really can't be sure. Can you?

(Picture: The UGA football stadium. It sits 90,000 people!)

Doorknobs and Yankees

On my first official day in Charleston, I set out with the intention of exploring each and every corner of the city. The previous day in Wilmington had been rather lax and I was looking forward to being adventurous once again. However, given my very very poor sense of direction, I reasoned that a carriage ride through the historic district might be a good way to get my bearings before setting out on my own two feet. Therefore, I purchased a ticket and very quickly found myself sitting behind a fine pair of mules named Yahoo and Sissy. The tour guide was an attractive young man (a red-head!) named Derrick. He grew up in the area and, I believe, is now studying history there. His first task was to ask each group on the carriage where they were from and gather a few other pieces of information about them. My carriage contained a family of nine from Georgia, a family of five from Tennessee, and then me - the lone Yankee. Fortunately, nothing was thrown at me, but the tour proved to be very interesting given my Northern perspective. While several comments were provoking, the one phrase that stuck with me was when the guide, alluding the to the Civil War, commented, "Well, we'll lick 'em in the second half!" Now, please indulge me, and consider that comment for a moment, as I did. My first reaction was, "Whoa whoa whoa...you actually expect there to be a second half? Then, I thought, "Really? You still haven't gotten over that?, and finally, "Excuse me buddy, but don't you know what the war was about? Why would you want to win a war over slavery?!" I was appalled and fascinated all at the same time, and couldn't help but wonder, "Do people really live with this mentality? Could I live surrounded by mentality?"

If you know me at all, you know that I am soooooo NOT a city person. While I enjoy the occasional visit to New York or foray into Boston, I have no intention of actually living in either place. I like to roll out of my front steps and see green, inhale clean air, have some room to myself. Therefore, I was surprised, when in spite of Derrick's remarks and my natural predilection for suburban life , I found myself captivated by the city of Charleston. I actually thought, "I could live here!"

Charleston happens to be the second most well-preserved historical region in the world, preceded only by Rome, Italy. There are very stringent building regulations that are enforced by the Board of Architectural Review (BAR). Some of their policies include: 1. No building over seventy-five years old can be destroyed. 2. No building can exceed, in height, that of the tallest church steeple. 3. If you want to re-paint your house, the BAR will come to your house and paint six color swatches. You may only choose from the palette provided for you. Generally speaking, the BAR is so meticulous that if you were to change a doorknob, they must approve of the replacement first. WOWzer! While this might seem anal, these rules have functioned, in my opinion, to maintain a well-groomed, cohesive, and quaint city that neither feels overwhelming (thanks to the lack of sky-high buildings) or dirty (thanks to the care and attention given to its history). So, here's my dilemma...

Physically, Charleston is beautiful. The people are polite. The food is good; the pace of life, relaxing. There are beaches and boats nearby. When it's not August, the weather is gorgeous. On the flip-side though, most of the people here have never left the state of South Carolina. Despite the large black population, Charleston's inhabitants are still segregated. The population is one of the worst educated in the United States, and every afternoon, out of the bright blue sky, a torrential downpour hits you for about 30 minutes. There's good, and there's bad, and I'm not quite sure which one will win.

Some things never change...

Dear Readers (particularly worried family members),

I am alive! I apologize for not getting on my game and writing an entry last night. My only excuse is that when I finally had a free moment, I was dead tired and it was way past my bedtime. I like to take my time when composing these messages, and starting to blog at 11:45pm was simply not happening. Part of the reason I was so tired was because yesterday was all about one of my guilty pleasures - TEENAGE DRAMA. No, I'm not referring to the kind that happens in school hallways, but the television genre!

Yesterday, I spent the day in Wilmington, North Carolina a.k.a Hollywood East. Screen Gem Studios is located there and a number of films and televisions shows have used Wilmington as the backdrop for their stories, including but not limited to: Blue Velvet, Matlock, Firestarter, and Empire Records. However, what really puts Wilmington on the map is because it was/is the location of two of my teenage favs - Dawson's Creek and One Tree Hill! So, after starting my day right - eating a hearty breakfast*, I headed out to traipse about the streets of Wilmington and nearby Wrightsville Beach to find myself familiar spots from television history. I did stumble upon quite a few places, which I will use as bragging material for my sisters when I return home to Fairfield. (I know; I'm mature.) While I had a fabulous time re-living my years as a teenager, the real highlight of my day came later, after arriving in Charleston, South Carolina.

Hopefully, as you can tell from my writing, I have been enjoying my journey immensely. However, after five days of solo travel, I was getting a little tired of being alone, which is where another significant character from my teenage years comes in - my dear friend, Colin! For those of you who don't know, Colin and I have known each other since we were freshmen in high school, which we calculated yesterday to mean we've been friends for almost 10 years! We've seen each other through a great deal. On my way to his place, I wondered what it would be like to see him again. Because he lives down south, we don't get to see each other a whole lot and we're not great about calling on a frequent basis. However, as my title would indicate, it's nice to know "some things never change". We didn't do anything fancy, just dinner and TV, but we spent five hours talking and joking around, which came just as naturally as it had when we were younger. There's something about being with a friend whose known you since way back when that always puts a smile on your face. =)

*If you're ever in Wrightsville Beach, you need to stop at The Sweet and Savory Bakeshop and Cafe. Their French Toast is divine.

Retirement

I wanted to make a few additional comments before I headed out for the day. Yesterday, not only did I visit Appomattox, but I spent a few hours in Chapel Hill, North Carolina on my way to my current location, Wilmington. For the past several years, my parents have been discussing - with their children's frequent input - the location of their retirement home. My father has named several states due to their appealing tax laws. (Weird, but I love you, Dad.) On the other hand, I believe my mother has a couple of more specific requirements. One, the place cannot be as hot as Puerto Rico; and two, she wants to be close to her children (and presumably the grandchildren that are to come). My siblings and I have listened to their thoughts, but have committed ourselves to the state of North Carolina. This is most likely because, as young'uns, Rachel, Jamie and I (...I don't think Amy was alive or at least walking) vacationed in the Outer Banks for several summers. We hold these islands in high regard, and somehow have extended that sentiment to the entire state. Logical, right?

Well, Mom and Dad, I want to say that after seeing Chapel Hill, I'm still all for NC! Here are my reasons:

1. The weather wasn't bad. It was hot, but bearable.

2. UNC - Chapel Hill is lovely. I would go there over UVA (maybe for grad. school) after seeing both campuses. Loved the buildings.

3. The sandwich shop that I visited, "Sandwhich" (Shout-out #2: Hi Dan!!), was delicious and located on the very cute and charming Franklin Street. Very good for shopping or just taking a walk.

4. Finally, and I believe this makes any college more appealing, I must say that UNC has done a fantastic job of integrating itself into the surrounding area. There isn't a jarring line that cuts off campus life from the busy world outside. Instead, there is a gentle and gradual transition that I found very appealing.

I think I'm in love...(Part 2)

No, no, no...I am not talking about Thomas Jefferson anymore. I promise! Although...did I mention that macaroni and cheese happens to be one of my favorite foods? Which, of course, further proves the theory I developed yesterday - TJ and I are destined to date each other in another life!!! OK, now I promise I am officially done specifically talking about Thomas Jefferson. I would like to, however, talk about a population that he was a part of - the men of the 19th century.

Today, I visited Appomattox Courthouse. For those of you who, like my students, assume that I am referring to one building...you are wrong! Appomattox Courthouse is actually the name of the town in which Appomattox Courthouse, the building, is located. This little town was the site of Lee's surrender to Grant, putting an end to the American Civil War in April of 1865. While many of the town's buildings are no longer with us, the buildings that have survived and those that have been reconstructed provide a definite sense of what it would've been like to live there.

Because I cannot show you my pictures, I will do my best to re-create what I saw with words. Set back from the road, up a slight incline, sits the town of Appomattox Courthouse. The brick facades of the houses are set off nicely by clean, white, wood trim and the surrounding, lush, green lawns, dotted by tall, gangly trees. Reddish-brown dirt pathways and white picket fences weave about the buildings giving the scattered dwellings a sense of order and unity. Although very small, I would imagine that living in Appomattox Courthouse would have afforded a person the luxury of a peaceful, happy and fulfilling existence. I, in fact, found myself wishing that I lived there!

Anyways, back to my point. The site is specifically designed to teach visitors about what happened in the days leading up to Lee's surrender, the actual surrender, and then its immediate impact. Although Lee and Grant are robust historical figures and the definite protagonists to the story, I couldn't help but feel attached to the ordinary men of the Union and Confederate armies.

One of the plaques told the story of a soldier from Alabama who enlisted three days after the attack on Fort Sumter (the very beginning of the war). He managed to survived 1,454 days of war. While this number alone is significant, we should remember that the Civil War was the bloodiest war in American History. Therefore, this man's ability to survive all of that time is that much more amazing. The plaque then tells visitors that in the final rounds of gunfire, in the last twenty-four hours at Appomattox Courthouse, this man was killed. The kicker, though, was that in spite of deaths like these, in spite of four years of struggle, confusion, and a heated commitment to a cause (whether it be Yankee or Rebel), when things were all said and done, these men respected one another.

As Lee and Grant were inside the McLean house, signing the terms of the surrender, their men sat outside, Yankee facing Johnny Reb, and they waited. They didn't fire guns. They didn't fight or make one last ditch effort to sucker punch the enemy. They stood there in silence, and when Lee and his men passed by to hand in their weapons - the ultimate and final show of defeat - Unions soldiers, led by General Joshua Chamberlain, turned and saluted these men. Their former enemies, then, did the same in return.

If I had the chance to travel back in time, I have always said that I would visit the Civil War era. This is largely because I am enamored with the book and movie, "Gone with the Wind", and want to see what it would be like to wear a hoop-skirt (shhh, our little secret!), but it also has to do with the behavior presented in the story above. The war that happened from 1861 to 1865 is called the Civil War because it happened between the states of one nation. However, I would argue that the word, civil, is also significant for its other definition - "the act of showing regard for others". At the end of the day, only hours after firing canons at one another, these men recognized the humanity within one another and consequently the connections that bound them together. That may not be hot, but it sure melts my heart.

(Picture: The McLean house. Lee signed the official surrender papers here.)