It's a love thing

TG got me this huge balloon at the Irmo Kroger

Needles to say (yes, I on purpose put needles; I am making fun of the term needless to say, which I find unbearable because if it doesn't need to be said, why say it?), I didn't realize it had been so long since I posted.

TG and I took a trip but we've been back for ten days. 

So I guess it's time I told you about it.

We left on a Thursday and made our way to East Tennessee -- Maryville, to be exact, which is basically Knoxville -- where we spent the night with Andrew, Brittany, and Ember.

The next morning, we made our way up I-75 to Northwest Ohio, taking our time and arriving just as darkness settled over the region.

After supper and a good night's sleep, we woke up to a sunny, windy day in the forties, with a bright blue cloudless sky.

We went shopping, taking our time because the reason for our presence there was to attend a party with a start time in the late afternoon.

The occasion was the fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration for TG's only brother, Ron, and his wife, Marcia.

The Ron Weber Family: L to R Todd, Angie, Marcia, Ron, David, Dan

They were married on February 16, 1973.

Their four children were responsible for putting on the party, which was held in the event room of a beautiful library in Temperance, Michigan (a stone's throw from Toledo, Ohio) and included a dinner catered by Olive Garden.

Ron and Marcia were one hundred percent surprised, having been told by their daughter that they were going on a scavenger hunt which would begin at the library and end at a restaurant.

We did the whole darkened room and yelling SURPRISE! thing in thunderous unison, and it was sweet to watch their reaction.

After a delicious meal, Ron and Marcia's daughter, followed by each of their three sons, got up and said a few words in tribute to their parents' long marriage.

Then Ron said a few words, and then TG spoke for about ten minutes.

Then there was a flurry of picture-taking and lots of laughter and catching up with everyone, before the party concluded.

Afterwards a bunch of us went to Ron and Marcia's house, where we sat around talking for a few more hours.

The picture of Ron and Marcia was not taken at their wedding but rather at a high school prom

The next morning we headed back to East Tennessee, where once again we spent the night with Andrew and Brittany, to break the long journey home.

I can't remember if I told you, but Andrew and Brittany are expecting a little sister or brother for Ember at the end of this summer.

The next day we made our way back to Columbia, where Dagny had been pretty sick with a stomach flu that was making its way around our church's child population.

She was wretched all of Sunday night and into Monday, and even missed school on Tuesday -- Valentine's Day -- because by that morning, she had not been able to keep food down yet.

But she improved quickly as the day went on, and at lunchtime she ate half of a bowl of jasmine rice. She and Audrey were at my house, but I had to leave for a two o'clock doctor appointment.

I promised Dagny that when I got home from the doctor, we would go shopping for valentines and a few snacks to have with the pizza we planned to order that night, and enjoy together.

So it was that at about three thirty, Dagny (who was feeling great by that time) and I set out for the Dollar General store a scant two miles from my house.

I told her that if they did not have Tostitos Hint of Lime at the DG, we would have to go another half-mile down St. Andrews Boulevard to the Kroger, to get some.

TG appears pugilistic but he was just making a point

When we walked into the Dollar General, the wall of chips was right there. I looked and looked but did not see the Tostitos Hint of Lime.

Well Dagny, I said. We are going to have to go to Kroger so let's pick out our valentines here and then we'll do that.

Meanwhile she had found a small bouquet of fresh flowers for her mother, so we grabbed those, then went to the greeting card aisle and located our valentines -- one for Audrey from Dagny, and one for TG from me.

I'd already bought him a small gift but I needed the card to go with it.

Then we went back around to the snack section because I wanted to get Dagny a treat, and she was looking for a small bag of Nacho Doritos.

It was on that pass down the chip aisle that I saw the Tostitos Hint of Lime, and marveled that I had not seen them before. They were big as life, right there. If they'd been a snake it would have bit me.

Shaking my head at my own absentmindedness, I directed Dagny to the checkout counter, where our purchases were rung up by an exceptionally kind and courteous young man.

By then it was almost four o'clock, and we were happy to be able to go straight home without going to the Kroger which would have been a madhouse at that hour on Valentine's Day.

Our beautiful and beloved niece Angie greets a guest

I already had an unopened jar of salsa at home, and we'd be ordering our pizza from Hungry Howie's.

We were all set.

The rest of the day was enjoyable as we hung out and eventually enjoyed our pizza, and watched several episodes of The Nanny from 1993.

It wasn't until three days later (we don't watch local news or get a newspaper), when it hit the national news, that we learned of the shooting in the parking lot of "our" Kroger at four o'clock in the afternoon on Valentine's Day.

Maybe you've heard or read about it.

I was trying to fall asleep on the night of the day I heard about this horrible crime, when I realized that Dagny and I had come within five minutes and a bag of Tostitos Hint of Lime of being in the Kroger parking lot when the shooting occurred.

Not that we would necessarily have witnessed it or been in harm's way -- it being a largish parking lot -- but still, I would not want Dagny to have seen any of the drama surrounding something so unthinkable happening at the store where she and her mother regularly shop.

TG and I drop in at the Irmo Kroger at least once a week, and often more than once. In fact he was there on Valentine's Day less than two hours before the shooting, to get my balloon.

(TG is in the habit of saying, when describing to someone the general location of our house, that we live in Irmo. We do NOT live in Irmo, I will instantly say if I overhear him. Irmo has its own Zip Code: Two Nine Six Oh Three. We live in Columbia. Two Nine Two Twelve.

Reading to Ember in the Three Seven Eight Oh Three

While it's true that if, when you make up your mind to come and see me, you decide to mix things up by skydiving, and you parachute into the geographic center of Irmo, you could more or less walk to my house. But you'd better be wearing comfy shoes, because it's a few miles and you'll likely have at least one suitcase. Let's save time by agreeing that I'll drive the five minutes to pick you up.)

But in this case? Close enough to be scary.

I don't mean to make light of a serious matter; I have spent days being appalled by what happened at the Kroger on Valentine's Day, and grieving for the young mom whose life was lost in a manner so senseless that it boggles the mind.

I've told my girls many times: When out and about, no matter who does what, no matter what is said or done, no matter who's in the right and who's in the wrong, do not react. Do not engage. If there's friction, just say I'm sorry. Smile and move on. That goes for whether you're on foot or driving an automobile.

Or as Audrey counsels: Keep your head down and your mouth shut.

Shame it's come to that, but whatever the issue, it's not worth getting into an argument with anyone and potentially being the subject of someone's angry target practice. I think we can all agree on that basic premise.

But wouldn't it be nice if everyone would just settle down and be kind to one another?

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. It really is a love thing.

Meanwhile I hope you had a happy Valentine's Day and that you're enjoying what's left of February.

Still a few more days for Valentine decorations. The TY note is from Ron and Marcia.

It's summer here; in Columbia and in Irmo. Our high today was eighty-one degrees.

Flowering trees are blooming all over town; daffodils are up by the hundreds, nodding happily in the warm breeze. Next will come the thick coat of yellow pollen.

And we still have fickle March to get through! This should be interesting.

Tomorrow we will have a big birthday party for our grandson Andrew, who turned eleven yesterday.

I'll be sure to tell you about it next week, complete with pictures.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

Tales from the soup kitchen

It was worth coming over just for the Mexican Chocolate Loaf Cake

You know too well the Pirate's penchant for pitching parties.

Said proclivity led to yet another semi-impromptu soirée at Casa Weber last week.

It all began with a question from Dagny on the previous Sunday, a deliciously rainy day, as we all had an après-church lunch together at a local brunch spot:

Mamaw, do you know how to make potato soup?

My valentine gnomes presided over the party from their place on the ledge

I nodded. Sure do, I said. But I call it potato-corn chowder. Do you want some?

She nodded back with an impressive amount of enthusiasm, her eyes getting bigger the whole time.

Finding this immensely gratifying, I began cooking up a plan.

It's supposed to be rainy all week, Erica pointed out, meaning, soup weather.

Here's your sign

I allowed the thing to simmer and by Monday evening I had issued an invitation to the girls:

Let's do potato-corn chowder and homemade bread on Thursday night ... February the second. Two Two Twenty-Three. Groundhog Day.

They agreed.

Thursday was forecast to be a cold, rainy day, and for once the meteorologists hit the nail right on the head.

You make this loaf in the Crock Pot and then brown it beneath the broiler

By the time the day of the party rolled around, I had decided to make not only potato-corn chowder and homemade bread but also a fairly spectacular dessert: Mexican Chocolate Loaf Cake.

If you make that cake, take my advice and use Hershey's Special Dark cocoa and Hershey's Special Dark chocolate chips -- no chopping necessary; just toss them in as they are.

And use a whole one-half teaspoon of cayenne. The heat with the chocolate is delectably different and shows up even more if you eat your slice of cake slightly warmed.

Erica made this lovely square valentine wreath

If you try this recipe, or if you already have in the past, let me know what you think.

But I should pull over and park here for a mo.

Sometime towards the end of January I saw this reel on Instagram.

The very next day, I made the peasant bread. It is as delicious as it is easy to do.

This little house wears its heart on its door

Over the next week or so I bought a big bag of organic flour with zero additives and did some research into various no-knead bread recipes.

The one I made for soup night with the family was this one: no-knead slow cooker bread.

It was insanely easy and -- everyone agreed as they slathered hunks of it with real butter and consumed it lustily -- scrumptious.

Stephanie gave me the pink heart-shaped pie plate for Christmas

Next I plan to try this recipe for no-knead bread. This is an exact replica of the New York Times recipe that went viral and supposedly started it all over a decade ago, although I'm sure people were making no-knead bread long before that.

I have bought a cast-iron Dutch Oven -- yes! I am perhaps the last pirate in the Western Hemisphere who until last week did not already own a Dutch Oven -- specifically to use in making this bread.

And I'll probably use it to make more soup, too.

I plumb forgot to lift the lid of my ancient pot and show off the potato-corn chowder

About that soup! Let me tell you how I do it. There is no real recipe so listen up.

During the week that you have potato-corn chowder on your menu, make some mashed potatoes. Be sure to have some leftovers.

On the day you want to serve the soup, cube some russets. I leave the skins on and you should too. The number of potatoes you use depends on the amount of soup you want to make. I was making a large potful so I used at least ten potatoes. Maybe twelve.

Rustic hearts in the lit trees carried valentine messages

Cut up some celery -- again, the amount of celery depends on how much soup you're making.

Boil the potatoes and celery to fork tender and drain.

Back into the soup pot add the potatoes and celery and some chicken stock. I used a whole quart.

Pop a steamable bag of frozen sweet corn into the microwave and cook it.

This wee angel is always in attendance

Drain, and add the cooked corn to the potatoes and celery in the chicken stock.

Heat through and season to taste. Use a wooden spoon to randomly push down into the soup on the soft potato chunks and make them crumbly and rough around the edges.

Now comes the fun part. To thicken the soup, add a quantity of the leftover mashed potatoes. Just use your best judgment. It's your thing; do it the way you like.

If you don't have mashed potatoes and don't care to make any, you can switch it up by making a béchamel (white sauce) and building the soup from there.

My heart-shaped plate is displayed with my Pioneer Woman ramekins

I've done it both ways. I prefer thickening this soup with mashed potatoes but the white sauce-based version is just as creamy and delicious.

As everyone piled into the house on the evening of Groundhog Day, with talk of Punxsutawney Phil having seen his shadow, presaging six more weeks of winter, it was cold and drizzly and set to rain all night.

In other words, ideal atmospheric conditions prevailed for enjoying homemade potato-corn chowder and no-knead slow cooker bread, with Mexican Chocolate Loaf Cake to top it all off.

We ate almost everything. I sent a little bit of soup home with each of my girls, for the children to enjoy the next day.

This chair was left empty in case you could join us

On the afternoon of the party, in between cooking chores, I decorated for the month of February. Red and white lights frosted the railing outside and heart-themed things assembled on the dining room ledge and on the table.

I had commissioned a valentiney wreath for my front door, from Erica. My crafty daughter delivered it on February first, and also gave me a sweet heart-shaped plate.

Dagny, who loves the heart motif above all others, was duly impressed with the table decorations as well as with the menu. She notices everything and is always appreciative.

Love is all you need

It made for a truly memorable family gathering, all the more interesting because it was planned around a single request for something as plain as potato soup.

Hearts and tummies were warm and full. As it should be.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

When all was Wright with the world

This sign stands at the entrance to the road leading to Fallingwater

When TG and I left Pittsburgh that morning in early November, we drove about seventy miles southeast to Mill Run, Pennsylvania ... site of Fallingwater, one of the most famous once-private residences in the world.

It was designed and built in the mid 1930s by Frank Lloyd Wright, America's most famous architect, for the Kaufmann family of Pittsburgh.

They owned an eponymous department store: Kaufmann's.

(If you click on Chapter 3 of this site, you'll get a fascinating look into the lives of E.J. and Liliane Kaufmann, who in addition to being man and wife, were first cousins.)

Fallingwater is a masterpiece in more ways than one. Click to embiggen.

Fallingwater is situated in an area of Pennsylvania known as the Laurel Highlands. It is remote -- not conveniently near an interstate exit -- and one can only imagine what was involved in reaching it in the 1930s.

Pittsburgh was a major steel manufacturing center and was dubbed "Hell with the lid off" during the summer months.

One would need to be immensely wealthy and privileged to have access to a summer retreat at all, much less one like the fabulous Fallingwater.

When the Kaufmanns commissioned FLW to design and build the house on a property where for years they had had a casual camp-type dwelling, their intention was for the gorgeous waterfall to be visible from their windows.

The welcome center, true to the FLW vision, is at one with nature

Frank Lloyd Wright turned around and situated the house on top of the waterfall -- a considerable engineering challenge -- and refused to build the house anywhere else.

Some tense conversations ensued between client and architect, but in the end FLW got his way.

I think he made the Wright decision. When you stand at the overlook and gaze upon the house from what is undeniably the best possible angle, you know that had it been built anywhere else, you probably would not be standing there gawping.

Our tour guide. Most of the way to the house, he walked backwards while talking.

Straight from Wikipedia: At age 67, Frank Lloyd Wright was given the opportunity to design and construct three buildings. With his three works of the late 1930s, (Fallingwater, the Johnson Wax Building in Racine, Wisconsin, and the Herbert Jacobs house in Madison, Wisconsin), Wright regained his prominence in the architectural community.

When we visited Fallingwater, it was autumn -- again, past peak leaf time but still mind-boggling in its beauty.

(I happen to like it when lots of leaves are on the ground as well as a decent number left in the trees.)

If you ever get to go to Fallingwater, I would recommend going in October. I mean, I'm sure it's gorgeous in the spring too, but there is just something about a place like this in autumn that takes it to another level.

It is hard to tear your gaze away from Fallingwater

It's odd that the house's owners probably never saw it in the fall, having spent as much time there as they could in the summer months and their lives revolving around Pittsburgh society for the balance of the year.

On the day that we were there, Fallingwater would be open for just a few more weeks. Tours of the house are not offered in the winter months, but one can visit in January and February and take what they call Winter Walks on the property.

If you opt for that, be sure to bundle up.

There were many visitors too. I was happy to see lots of young people who were somewhat boisterously enjoying the house and grounds, along with the regular contingent of older folks like me and TG.

An elderly couple from Kansas City took this picture of us

Normally I don't like noisy people but the high-school and college-age kids' apparent joy at being at Fallingwater for the day, was rather charming. And they were very polite.

We also met an older couple who had flown in from Kansas City for a few days just to see Fallingwater and Polymath Park, another Frank Lloyd Wright attraction in the area.

It was they who took the pictures of TG and me at the overlook. We took identical pictures of them.

When we arrived at Fallingwater, we were considerably early for our tour. We'd bought the tickets weeks earlier, because the time slots sell out fast and we had to drive all the way home later that day.

The main living area was replete with fascinating objects

I approached a lady behind a window in a kiosk and told her we were there. Well did you want to take your tour EARLIER? she said. I would have put money on her finding my presence at her window annoying.

Oh dear, I thought. Hello to you too! I said, No, but is it okay if look around for a while before our tour? Like at the coffee shop and gift shop?

I am enthralled by coffee shops and gift shops in equal measure.

She sighed. All right. But make sure you're back in this area at twelve thirty.

The ladies room :: let this sink in

Yes ma'am, I thought. We certainly shall make sure of that, since our tickets are paid for and that is our tour time.

I checked out the ladies' room and found it at a level of architectural earnestness that one rarely sees. So I took a picture of the sinks and mirrors for you.

Then TG and I went into the gift shop and began looking around for gifts and souvenirs. To offset the curmudgeon I had encountered moments before, I made the acquaintance of a perfectly lovely and helpful young lady behind one of the counters.

Later I went down to the coffee shop and paid too much for a cup of average not-hot coffee, but I enjoyed sitting looking out at the trees of Fallingwater while I drank it.

The coffee was not good but the view was excellent

The house is nowhere near this hub of operations; you need a tour guide to approach it. There is, however, a path through the woods leading to the aforementioned overlook.

We set out for that and it wasn't far, and the weather was perfect and the scenery breathtaking.

And then we saw the house and I must say, it makes you stare. The pictures I am showing you depict what we saw, but it's more a feeling you get when you are there with the sounds of the waterfall and of birds, and the smell of the leaves.

I hope you get to go someday and see it for yourself. It's worth every mile and every penny.

I didn't go down the stairs but I wanted to

Later we gathered with our group to meet our tour guide, who turned out to be absolutely wonderful. He was funny and nice and personable and so knowledgeable about everything there.

When I finally stepped over the threshold of Fallingwater into a tiny staircased hallway (Frank Lloyd Wright was big on the concept of compression and release, i.e. a small area opening into a larger, more expansive area) leading to the living room, I was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

I couldn't believe that after so many years of wanting to see Fallingwater, I was actually there.

The view from Fallingwater's rooftop decks

The house, like all FLW-designed private dwellings, was designed to meld with its surroundings. It certainly does that, and if you like looking outside from inside through endless expanses of window, you would be in heaven here.

One of my favorite things about the living room was the steps leading down to a tiny deck that meets the wet boulders below.

I didn't walk down the steps but having seen a picture of this feature at least thirty years ago, I was excited to look on them with my own eyes.

It's just so original, so clever, so heartfelt, so playful and yet profound in its way. Amazing.

Loads of curb appeal. Must see to appreciate.

There is so much more I could say but Fallingwater is a place that should be experienced in person. It maybe is not for everyone but if you have a joint interest in American history and architecture, this would be a treat for you as it was for me.

Eventually we had to leave as it was going to be an eight- or nine-hour drive to home.

And it was not an easy drive, as the route involves traversing West Virginia from north to south, through much mountainous terrain.

This sign stands at the edge of the parking lot, just feet from the welcome center

But by God's grace we made it home safely and counted ourselves fortunate to have had a trip so full of happy events and gorgeous weather and beautiful places that speak to the heart.

We are taking another, different sort of trip in a few weeks and when it's in the books, I'll provide you with a rundown of its every aspect. Complete with pictures.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend

Pittsburgh :: the Paris of Appalachia

Cathedral of Learning at the University of Pittsburgh

TG and I first hung out in Pittsburgh in the waning hours of the winter of 2017, just days before I had my first (of two, haha) hip replacement surgeries.

We had a wonderful time on that trip. A business matter was the reason we were there, but when TG announced he'd have to make the journey, I decided to go along and quickly sussed out the best, biggest, most historic cemetery in town: Allegheny.

A kind lady with a white dog took our picture

So that we could visit it, and walk it, take it all in, and -- best of all -- take pictures of it.

It remains one of the most wildly beautiful cemeteries we have seen on our travels, which have included touring and photographing around seventy huge, historic cemeteries (all east of the Rockies) in the last thirteen years.

The inside of the Cathedral of Learning looked like ... a cathedral

It was at Allegheny Cemetery that for the first time in our experience, we encountered whole herds of deer.

They take the breath away. Pun intended.

The Pitt campus is beautiful and well-tended

When we were there in early March of 2017, I decided that I wanted to go back sometime in the autumn of the year.

So it was that in 2022, when planning our fall trip which we knew would include Shanksville, I realized that my friend Sara lived but a few hours from Shanksville, and that Shanksville was only a ninety-minute drive from Pittsburgh.

Looking back across Bigelow Boulevard

The itinerary began to take shape.

Another, final destination, which is also a mere ninety minutes from Pittsburgh, rounded out our trip.

TG in front of the Soldiers & Sailors Memorial

I'll tell you about that next time.

We arrived in Pittsburgh in the early evening of the day that saw us tour the Flight 93 National Memorial -- which is actually located in Stoystown, Pennsylvania. 

Pittsburgh drivers get right up in your space

After enjoying a solidly good dinner at a non-chain restaurant in Somerset, we moseyed on up the road to Pitt.

We stayed in the same hotel where we hunkered down in 2017. I make sure to hold onto that information if the stay is a pleasant one, which it was then and which it was this time as well.

You can see Pittsburgh from on high if you're so inclined

On the morning of our first day in Pittsburgh, I wanted to go downtown.

That's where the campus of the University of Pittsburgh is situated, and in particular, the 1920s Gothic Revival/Art Deco architectural masterpiece known as the Cathedral of Learning.

The view from the window of the tiny red funicular car ... going up

I'd seen it from afar -- as the tallest educationally purposed building in the Western Hemisphere, it has a high profile -- in 2017, and had vowed to get closer the next time we went.

It did not disappoint. the building is gorgeous and imposing, mysterious in the way that only Gothic-style edifices can be, set in stunning manicured lawns, and surrounded on that day by an azure sky.

Confluence of the Ohio, the Allegheny, and the Monongahela ... click to embiggen

I was so thrilled to be there. The Heinz Memorial Chapel sits not far from the Cathedral of Learning, and on its steps we met a lady and her little white dog. She offered to take our picture with my new favorite building in the background.

After that we went inside the Cathedral of Learning, the first floor of which actually resembles a European cathedral.

Ginkgo trees are everywhere in Pittsburgh ... the yellow fans carpet sidewalks

We rode the high-tech elevators up to a higher floor but what exists there in the way of an observatory, was closed. Having not learned a whole lot, we went back outside.

Moving on, we walked around for a while, hanging out and taking a few pictures on the grounds of the nearby Soldiers & Sailors Memorial Hall & Museum.

Our personal tour guide at PNC Park

We did not go inside because had we done so, I would have lost TG for the better part of three hours as he read every last syllable of every last word posted on every last exhibit.

The pirate has all respect for soldiers and sailors alike but on that day I had no desire to haunt a museum.

TG in the Pirates dugout

Back at our car, we found that folks in Pittsburgh are fearless when it comes to the space between cars while parallel parking.

(It was by happy chance -- not to mention common courtesy -- that TG had left ample room between our front bumper and the back bumper of the car ahead of us, or we might still be sitting there.)

Our tour guide took this one with my phone

In preparing for our trip, I'd drawn a bead on another large cemetery besides Allegheny: Homewood.

I walked there and took pictures for an hour or so while TG cruised around in the car, using the map he'd procured in the front office to locate famous graves.

Pirate Pair :: Me and Roberto Clemente

We were hungry then, so we drove to a near suburb and had a delicious early dinner at Texas Roadhouse.

(In case you're wondering, no: We don't as a rule seek out trendy eating places or watering holes when we visit new cities. We are more 24-hour-diner than fine-dining types and we don't drink, so going to the TR for a reliably good -- and affordable -- steak is culinary adventure enough for us.)

The leaves were past peak but still ravishing

As it was late afternoon by then, we decided to round out the day by revisiting the Duquesne Incline.

Turns out there are two inclines in Pittsburgh: the Duquesne and the Monongahela.

Point State Park was quiet but full of stunning beauty

They say you haven't experienced Pittsburgh until you've taken a ride up the Monongahela Incline.

Then I guess we haven't experienced Pittsburgh yet, because in 2017 we didn't even know about the Monongahela Incline, and on this visit, it was closed for renovations.

But many trees were already bare ... and would soon be shivering

But the views of Pittsburgh are stunning from the top of the Duquesne Incline, and even when you've already seen it, there's still lots to appreciate.

It would soon be dark, so we set out for the barn but stopped by a grocery store on the way, for snacks.

Everywhere you look in Pittsburgh, there is yellow

While on trips, unless we are in town for an event, as a rule we like to spend the evenings in our hotel room, propped up in the king-sized bed, TG surfing on his iPad and me on my MacBook Pro.

We are as boring as a White House Press Conference, with more lying about but less lying.

Acrisure Stadium :: Home of the Pittsburgh Steelers. Click to embiggen.

The next morning, after breakfast and coffee, we headed for PNC Park (home of the Pittsburgh Pirates), where we had tickets for a guided tour.

We arrived in time to plunder the gift shop, where we bought a few tee shirts and a fridge magnet.

Fort Pitt. We went into the gift shop and bought a few things for the kids.

It turned out that no one else showed up for the reservations-only ninety-minute tour. As a result, we had our tour guide to ourselves. I was seriously into that because I'm selfish.

Each time we have taken guided tours of ball parks -- like Camden Yards (during the same trip when we visited the grave of Edgar Allan Poe) and Fenway Park in 2019 -- our tour guides have been older men who are lifelong residents and fans of the subject ball club.

Allegheny Cemetery is endless natural and funereal gorgeousness

These gentlemen are SO great on a tour of the ball park. They know everything and can answer all questions and it's just delightful.

After that we drove a few blocks to Point State Park, which to be honest I thought would be a little more action-packed than it actually was. It was in fact all but deserted.

I made a beeline for the Porter angel, one of the loveliest monuments at Allegheny. Click to see the back.

The weather was warm but not too warm, and overcast -- my favorite favorite absolute favorite sort of weather for walking around outside. I was dressed just right to be comfortable, and the light was ideal for pictures of the rivers and bridges and fall foliage. 

Alas the majestic fountain had been turned off for the winter, that very DAY. You can see it in full function in our pictures of the point taken from the top of the incline a scant twenty hours earlier.

Sights like this are everywhere at Allegheny Cemetery

Then it was time to drive out to Allegheny Cemetery and spend the afternoon there.

It was as splendid as I'd remembered, and I walked and walked and walked in the spring-like autumn weather.

The deer was neither amazed nor startled to see me

Spates of light rain put only a tiny damper on my perambulating and picture taking. We saw the deer again, although not in as great numbers as last time.

Again: we'd worked up an appetite. I consulted my phone for the nearest -- don't hate -- Cracker Barrel.

 This monument to a long-ago little girl broke my heart

Again: At least there, you more or less know what you're going to get.

Again: Our dinner was delicious and by six o'clock or so, we were back in the room preparing to relax for the evening.

Pittsburgh deer are particularly imperturbable ... click to embiggen

The next morning we set out early for the long drive home, but with a detour to a place that I have read about and wanted to visit for at least thirty years.

Maybe some of you have guessed the place, but please don't speculate in the comments.

One last look at the Paris of Appalachia

I want it to be a surprise.

And that is all for now except to say, I hope you are having a good week so far -- hitting all of your marks, righting wrongs and rerighting rights, slaying the dragons and making your dreams come true.

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Happy Tuesday

Snappy New Year

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I hope your new year has gone more smoothly so far than mine.

Allow me to elaborate.

On New Year's Eve, I noticed the tiniest twinge of congestion in my chest. 

In my experience that is not a good sign.

I hugged my pillow at 11:10 p.m. and was sound asleep by 11:11 p.m. I was not aware of 2023 peeking over the battlements.

On New Year's Day, I felt mostly sort of okay until the evening.

(I didn't go anywhere. I have not left the house since Christmas Day.)

By the next day -- last Monday -- I was in bad shape. 

Although I had an illness similar to this in November of 1989, and I was struck down with a mean-spirited flu virus in January of 2018, I don't remember a time in my life when I have been sick for ten whole days in a row.

Today is the first day that I feel significantly better.

And I'm so glad about that, that I'll celebrate by boring you no longer.

The picture above was taken at PNC Park -- home of the Pittsburgh Pirates -- in late October last year.

I'll tell you the rest of the story about that trip, later in the week.

Meanwhile I hope you're healthy, happy, and pursuing your dreams with all the pluck and insouciance you can muster.

That's what I plan to do, as soon as I take a nap.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

Our wish for you

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M e r r y   C h r i s t m a s

from the Pirate and TG

2022

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A sticky situation

I found this little countdown truck at Dollar General

I pause in the delivery of my sporadic travelogues to tell you what's been going on.

Every year we all go out the day after Thanksgiving to take Christmas pictures.

This is because we need them for our Christmas cards.

Blue-eyed cousins: Ember Rae and Rhett Gregory

This year, as in most years, the weather cooperated. It was cool but not cold, and we converged upon the Horseshoe on the University of South Carolina campus in downtown Columbia, to do the shoots.

I say shoots because each family gets their photo taken, and then if everyone is present and accounted for, I take a group photo of all of our children and grandchildren together.

Last year Andrew and Brittany weren't able to join us for this, so I was excited to get that shot this year.

We're all lit up in the kitchen

Once the multifaceted mission was accomplished, Stephanie and her family headed home to North Carolina.

The rest of us went back to our house to eat Thanksgiving leftovers.

Then it was Saturday, and on that evening we had hamburgers and hot dogs cooked on the grill and celebrated Ember's third birthday one week early.

Her mother created a barnyard-themed tablescape and decorated a plain white cake with piggies squealing as they slid down a mudslide of Oreo cookie crumbs. Adorable.

My kids' stockings are supersized

Then Ember opened her gifts and was so sweet about looking at each card, and politely saying thank you to each one, for each present.

At the start of the first official week of Christmas, I began the task of choosing our card and getting it ordered.

(To be more accurate, I didn't make a decision right away but at least I began the process.)

In due time, I got them ordered.

I received this little church at a gift exchange many years ago

Once I've made up my mind, I don't like to wait, so I go with CVS same-day pickup.

Then as I prepared to do my mailing (I order 140 Christmas cards; approximately 80 go out through the mail and 60 are distributed at church and amongst neighbors and other local friends), I realized that I was going to need Christmas stickers.

You'd think that would be easy.

But no.

When you come over, you can have your coffee or cocoa in a festive mug

First I went to Hobby Lobby, the mother of all craft stores.

I searched high and low -- even in the sticker aisle -- for Christmas stickers, and came up with nothing.

(To be honest, they may have had something Christmasy in the sticker aisle that would have suited, but it wasn't their week to be half-off so I would not have bought them anyway. But I don't think they had any.)

Stephanie and her family

Finally, in a last-ditch effort to locate what I was convinced surely must be there somewhere, I approached a worker in one of the (many) aisles devoted to the display of Christmas merchandise of every conceivable shape, size, and use.

The employee in question was a frazzled-looking older lady with a mop of gray hair that hung down in her face.

She peered at me from behind large glasses and a considerable quantity of the hair.

I made this mince pie and it did not get eaten. It's in the freezer awaiting Christmas Eve.

I'm just being honest.

She did not smile or even speak, at first, when I said: Hi! with my best pirate smile, and yes it is dazzling.

So I continued: Could you tell me where I might find Christmas stickers? Not the to-from kind that you stick onto a gift, but just regular Christmas stickers like you put on the back of a card?

Cherica and Baby Rhett

The lady hesitated and then said: Everything we have is out.

She gestured in a halfhearted way by waving weakly with one hand, indicating that if the stickers were "out", they would be in the vicinity. Or they could be anywhere.

I said: So you don't specifically know of any Christmas stickers?

Some of the TV room decorations

No, she said.

Thanks! I said.

Defeated, I queued up and bought the few things that were in my cart, and left.

Next stop: Walmart, for groceries. And surely for Christmas stickers.

Brittany and Ember

Except, once I had searched the greeting card and gift wrap and party supplies aisles, as well as the seasonal aisles near that area, and the second seasonal aisle elsewhere in the store at least a half-acre away from those areas, and failed to locate even the suggestion of a Christmas sticker, I decided it was time to ask for help.

I approached a worker who was fiddling with a display of Christmas baking items.

Hi! I said. Could you tell me where I might find Christmas stickers? Not the to-from kind to stick onto a gift, but the kind you put on the back of an envelope containing a Christmas card? I've looked everywhere.

These are some of our presents for the kids and grandkids ... theirs to us and one another will be added

This lady practically glared at me from beneath a Santa hat. She did not smile or encourage me in any way.

All of the Christmas stuff is in the Garden Center, she said.

I hesitated. Well ... except for the Christmas stuff at the front of the store beside the greeting card aisle, and the Christmas stuff crammed into the aisle behind you, I said.

No, she said shaking her head so that the white pompom on the end of her Santa hat bobbed around. Everything is in the Garden Center. If we have Christmas stickers, that's where they'll be.

That's all of them ... so far

Thanks! I said. Lies! I knew then that I was basically on my own in the retail wilderness.

Back to the front of the store I trotted, hooking a right towards the Garden Center (approximately a quarter mile away). Despite odds that were lengthening by the minute, I was feeling hopeful.

Through the doors to the Garden Center I went. It was in fact stuffed with all things Christmas: from fake trees to lights to tinsel to gift wrap to ornaments to wreaths, it was there.

I began searching for Christmas stickers. The gift wrap aisle made the most sense to me, so I started there.

My gnome is all set for the slopes

And they had tons of Christmas stickers! Except, all sixteen million of them said To: followed by From:.

I sighed and located a worker. This lady was actually very nice and smiled at me sweetly when I said: Hi!

I continued: Do you know where I might find Christmas stickers? Not the kind that say to-from but the kind that you plaster onto the back of a Christmas card before you pop it into the mail?

Audrey and Dagny Clare

Her smile, at first so radiant, did not stick to her face.

Oh no, she said. I'm pretty sure that the only kind we have say To: and From:.

But then, in a sincere effort to be helpful: Have you looked up front in all of the Christmas-themed aisles near the greeting cards? With the big Santa on top?

Oh yes, I said. Thoroughly. Twice.

This display adorns the foyer

She shook her head in sympathy. Then I'm pretty sure we don't have any Christmas stickers, she said.

I thanked her again and sighed and turned away. Yes! I had spent at least thirty minutes on my quest in that store, for something as simple as a pack of Christmas stickers.

Call it an hour if you count all the time I spent doing the same thing at Hobby Lobby.

For all in tents and porpoises, I gave up.

Andrew, Brittany, and Ember

That night we had church and on the way home I said to TG: Let's go to Kroger because I need a few things and I bet they will have Christmas stickers there.

Hope springs eternal.

And they did. There were ony two designs and one was Snoopy but since I needed so many, I settled for a theme that had not really been what I was looking for, but was pretty enough and Christmasy enough.

Note to the pirate: Take yes for an answer.

Here's what you'll see when you come to my front door

If I have your address, you got a card with one of these and I hope you didn't throw it away now that you know what I went through.

And yes please do pepper me with suggestions of where I should have looked for Christmas stickers, and how I should have started looking earlier, or perhaps even bought them online in plenty of time for when I needed them.

I have not thought of any of those things, or accused myself of poor judgment in this area, so please do have a go at me. 

Rhett was ready to rumble

In other news, last Saturday TG and I traveled to Simpsonville to the Cracker Barrel there (remember, Jeanette?) to have lunch with Henry and my sister Kay and her husband Pierre-Philippe.

Kay had a birthday this week, and I wanted to give them their treat-filled Christmas baskets that I'd made, so it worked out well.

I also took along a small chocolate cake that a (very nice) worker at Kroger ruined by writing my sister's name -- three letters! -- upon said cake in a way so disproportionate and odd-looking that I was truly flabbergasted.

We'll put this pillow at your back when you come to visit me

But I did not say anything except: Thanks!

Bygones. It did not affect the taste of the cake, which was truly fresh and delicious, and which we all enjoyed.

TG and I also got a birthday balloon for my sister and I clipped it to something in the middle of the table at the restaurant. As we were just beginning to drive home after the party, though, I remembered that we had not brought it out of the restaurant with us.

Ember's party had a barnyard theme

I texted Kay: Your balloon! We forgot it! She responded: I never even saw it!

Help me to understand.

Where was it? She texted. Floating above the table, I responded.

My lazy Susan is decorated with various things

Where, for all I know, it floats even now.

TG's philosophy at such times: Let it go. And he is right.

Dagny got sick and had to miss her Christmas program at church last Sunday night. She spent Monday at my house, sleeping most of the time.

She missed her balloon but we ate her cake with the funny-looking writing on top

But she recovered sufficiently to participate in her piano recital on Thursday evening (last night, as I write this), for which she played a simple but effective rendition of Silent Night.

Afterwards I asked her to pose at the piano. The result was a picture that prompted me to caption it when I sent it out later in a group text to Audrey, Erica, Andrew, Stephanie, Chad, Brittany, and TG: At some things she is a beginner but at other things she is not.

We're glowing to have a great time at Christmas

Eight going on eighteen, is all I have to say.

And now we are in the thick of it, with Christmas a mere eight days away.

All of my gift shopping is complete with the exception of a few stocking stuffers that I plan to pick up next week.

Dagny is eight going on eighteen

Everything is wrapped and waiting under the tree.

Before it's all over we will have Melanie's birthday party on the 22nd, followed by first Christmas (the same night but as separate events) with Stepanie's family, one Christmas party (Christmas Eve buffet at Erica's house), second Christmas (with Chad, Erica, Rhett, Audrey, and Dagny on Christmas Day), and third Christmas (with Andrew, Brittany, and Ember on the 29th).

Merry Christmas from TG and me and all the family

Then we'll blink once or twice and it will be 2023.

I plan to enjoy every single last solitary second of it and I hope you do too.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Weekend

Remembering till it hurts

Follow the path to the overlook

Ahoy, mateys.

I hope you had a blessed and love-filled Thanksgiving with many sweet faces to look upon and plentiful scrumptious goodies to eat.

We certainly did. There were a few bumps in the road but none of us are too much the worse for wear.

So preoccupied have I been that I just realized it's one week and then some, since the aforementioned quintessential fall holiday. Where that week went, I will never know.

The wall of names resembles accordion-pleated marble

I guess I would have to say that it went mostly to cleaning and decorating and getting organized for Christmas.

Some shopping may have taken place as well.

I have technically been finished with Christmas gift buying for a few weeks, but you know how it is: there are always loose ends that need tying up.

The stark concrete walls are broken in places, revealing the sky

Someone whose gift idea didn't work out, forcing you to change directions. The returning and replacing of things. Planning and buying of stocking stuffers and such like.

It will all be fine.

But a few weeks ago I promised to tell you about the second leg of our late-October trip, which began with a visit to my friend Sara and her husband Marty, in Virginia.

So let's get started.

The Tower of Voices late on an October afternoon

On the day we left Sara and Marty's bucolic environs, we were headed for a place that, in late summer this year, I developed a hankering to see with my own eyes.

(It followed my chance reading of this short essay by Ben Domenech on his substack, The Transom.)

And that place was Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Trivia: The crash did not actually take place in Shanksville. The address of the Flight 93 National Memorial is Stoystown, Pennsylvania.

The structure delineating the flight path, from a distance

Stoystown proper is located a few miles northwest of the crash site.

It is more accurate to say that Flight 93 ended its journey in Stonycreek Township.

(I imagine that the first reporters on the scene referred to the site as Shanksville, as it is the nearest town.)

(Certainly many of the first responders to the scene came from Shanksville.)

The gate leads onto the field and to the place of impact

It took us less than three hours to get there. it was a sunny, windy, chilly day that would see me needing to add an extra layer to my outfit before heading out to the field where the heroes died.

First though, we drove into the town and saw the same sign that Ben Domenech mentions in his article.

Welcome to Shanksville ... A Friendly Little Town.

Home of the Vikings.

One of the few pieces of the airplane showing United Airlines livery

And, below all of that: Shanksville Honors the Heroes of Flight 93.

It's unassuming farm country. There is nothing on your approach to the Flight 93 National Memorial that signals your proximity to it.

The original entrance to the memorial has been changed, and when you reach that first one via your phone's GPS, a vague sign points you in the direction of the new one.

We got there, and again: at a glance, there doesn't seem to be much to see.

The Visitor Center

First to come into view was the Tower of Voices, of which I'd read and which I was eager to both see and hear. It is ninety-three feet tall and there are forty chimes: one for each victim of the Flight 93 crash.

(There were forty-four souls abord the plane; the four terrorists are not counted among the victims.)

I'd assumed that the tower would be close to the other things, but it is in fact a good distance from the Visitor Center and Memorial Plaza, and from the crash site itself.

The chimes are motivated to ring only by the wind, and winds of at least twelve miles an hour must prevail in order for them to sound.

This sign welcomes visitors to Shanksville

This day, the ambient winds were light, wafting through at perhaps seven miles an hour. The voices were still.

I was disappointed at the silence. If you're interested, you can hear the chimes here.

But I am getting ahead of my own story. We visited the chimes as we were leaving the memorial site; first, we went to the Visitor Center.

It is an odd-looking structure until you realize what is going on. The approach is like walking towards a tunnel of sorts, with high walls which separate at intervals, and no ceiling.

It happened here: the field and the boulder, from the overlook

At your feet there is a walkway of stone that resembles black planks.

I later learned that the walls and the stone planks delineate the plane's flight path in its final moments. Their texture also mimics that of the hemlock trees that became part of the crash site.

Once inside the initial opening between the two walls, you see the Visitor Center itself.

Inside, there is a small gift shop, and then various displays and mementoes relating to the crash and the passengers.

It was an honor just to stand beside their pictures

Television monitors play, on an endless loop, the footage we have all memorized from that day.

You can stand at a bank of headphones and listen to the actual messages that several victims left for their loved ones on their answering machines or cell phones.

On display is a small piece of the plane -- one of the few pieces that survived and exist.

And of course there are pictures of the victims.

There is one chime for each silenced voice

By the time I had seen and heard all of this, my heart was hurting so badly that I had to get some fresh air.

Back outside, you keep walking on the black stone pathway until, off to the left, you are steered towards an observation deck.

From it, you can see the field where the plane crashed, at the edge of a grove of hemlock trees.

A seventeen-ton sandstone boulder moved there at some point from elsewhere on the site marks the spot where Flight 93 made impact with the earth, traveling at a speed of 563 miles an hour.

First responders are appropriately memorialized

The field is enclosed by a low wall, and there is a discreetly placed gate through which only family members, and the occasional government official, are allowed to pass.

After hanging out on the observation deck for a time, I went back inside the Visitor Center in search of TG.

We decided to drive down to Memorial Plaza rather than take the long walkway there from the Visitor Center.

An informative talk was being delivered by someone official but we decided to keep walking towards the field.

The overlook offers a sweeping panorama of the crash site

Once there, all you can do is look. You can try to imagine what those people went through, but nothing in your experience compares to it, or even comes close.

You look back at the concrete tunnel that marks the plane's flight path, and see how short a time there would have been from that place, to the place where it ended.

The boulder sits marking the spot and you gaze at it, thinking about all that it means.

There is a wall of corrugated marble with all of the names, and past that, the gate that I talked about before.

Never Forget: September 11, 2001

By this time, grief was dogging my steps. We decided it was time move on.

If you have never been to the Flight 93 Memorial and you're curious as to what all I am talking about, this YouTube video offers an informal guided tour that you may want to watch.

Before leaving the area, TG and I each took one another's picture beside the pictures of the victims.

On the way out, we stopped at the Tower of Voices and wished that the winds were stronger.

I appreciated the freedom to walk in ... and out

That was it. I had planned a place for us to eat in nearby Somerset, and we made our way there.

After supper, we drove to Pittsburgh.

Next time, I'll tell you what we did there.

Meanwhile, I hope you will enjoy every minute of this glorious Christmas season.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday :: Happy December