Mom is Just a Nickname

Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, is probably one of my favorite places. It lies at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, which also just happens to be an area where Virginia, West Virginia and Maryland all come together. The town perches amidst the Blue Ridge Mountains, with heights towering above. One overlooking mountain face has a large advertising mural that was painted around the beginning of the 1900′s.
The town is probably best known for it’s part in the Civil War. But, I’ll quote from the National Park Service, the town has seen so much more history than that:

It is more than one event, one date, or one individual. It is multi-layered – involving a diverse number of people and events that influenced the course of our nation’s history. Harpers Ferry witnessed the first successful application of interchangeable manufacture, the arrival of the first successful American railroad, John Brown’s attack on slavery, the largest surrender of Federal troops during the Civil War, and the education of former slaves in one of the earliest integrated schools in the United States.

I’m not sure why Harpers Ferry has such appeal for me. The rivers, mountains and forests definitely have appeal. The historic feel of all of the old buildings certainly holds an appeal. I found magic in the town, wandering amongst the stores aimed at tourists. I found a pottery shop that completely captured my interest. Actually, I was so intrigued by the dragons that the potter had on display that I insisted my mom and dad drive me back to Harpers Ferry months later, after I had saved up the money to buy one. I searched online today for that shop, but did not find it. I did find two other pottery shops listed in the town though.

Certainly, if you’re ever near Washington, D.C., you should try to visit Harpers Ferry. It’s not much more than an hour’s drive away. The experience of Harpers Ferry is very different from that of Washington, D.C., yet complementary. In D.C., life has continued moving. Although there is a certain sense of history in parts of D.C. it is a cold history. It doesn’t make my imagination come alive. The history in Harpers Ferry is alive, though. I felt as if I had stepped back in time when I visited.

If you’re ever hiking the Appalachian Trail, it runs right through Harpers Ferry. Keep hiking further on the Trail to the North and/or West of Harpers Ferry and you’ll quickly find yourself across the river from my old college in Shepherdstown, WV.

Speaking of all this, I really need to find my way back there someday. The steep streets and towering trees, the quiet churches and the echoing history all call me back. Something about those mountains, and the rivers, they all speak to me. I felt them so much more deeply than I ever have any other landscape I’ve seen.

I consider Germantown my hometown.  We moved there when I was 8 years old, in third grade. It was February when we moved, and it was so cold for this Florida girl.  My siblings and I saw snow for the first time! That was excitement.

But I remember Germantown being a slightly rural suburb of Washington D.C.  It still had working dairy farms, and there were cornfields dotted here and there throughout town.  The shopping was sparse and we had to drive twenty minutes for my parents to get to work, to get the library, or to get to the mall.  Despite suburban crawl taking over all but one of the dairy farms, and about all of the other farms before I graduated from high school, I still retain the image of Germantown as a place out in the country.

Germantown is home to Seneca Creek State Park, where the old ruins of Clopper’s Mill sit crumbling above the creek.  It is now home to streets like Leaman Farm Rd. but I used to know the Leaman Farm itself.  My brother’s best friend’s family owned the land and my brother spent a lot of time there.  I was just an occasional visitor.  The Leaman’s have interesting stories in their family, which tell of the capture of a conspirator in Abraham Lincoln’s assassination on their land.

From parts of Germantown, you can glimpse the rounded top of Sugarloaf Mountain. I’ve climbed it once or twice, been to a sunrise Easter service there once, and generally woven my own myths and legends around it’s ancient place.  It marks the beginnings of the Appalachian Mountains, rising off the river plains.  I’ve always marvelled at how old it must be, at how tall and sharp it must have once been, to survive as one Lonely Mountain, now rounded and hunched.

When I go back to visit Germantown now, I’m shocked by it’s lack of character.  I don’t say that to be mean, but it’s lost that slightly rural charm that it had back when I first knew it.  The back roads have almost all been widened or made redundant.  The woods I used to tromp so gleefully through have become smaller and smaller as mass housing developments and gleaming shopping centers take over the land.  My high school has been marred by the addition of portable classrooms.

I’m glad to know, whenever I find my way back, that a few of my treasured spaces remain: The view of the mountain in the distance, the trails and creeks at the State Park and the adjoining lands of the Isaac Walton League (where I spent so many hours as a teenager).  Even the Wendy’s where I used to hang out with my friends at lunchtime, munching on french fries and frosties was still there when last I checked.  Thank goodness for some small things that haven’t changed in our mutating world.

Ok, so I’ve already done one post about a place in Florida, B is for Boca Raton.  But Florida is such a large state, and there is so much to see!  Having spent a large part of my childhood in Florida, I still sometimes see some of the wonder of childhood when I look around my world today.

For example, I can’t count the number of times I’ve been to Walt Disney World in Orlando.  My mom took us as often as she could when we were little.  We’ve gone several times since 2006, in large part thanks to my mother.  The Magic Kingdom DOES still hold a magic appeal to me, though.  There’s something incredible about a place where adults are encouraged to give in to that willing suspension of disbelief, and give themselves over to the joys of childhood.  Although I know it is a theme park built to make money, it is also a place of magic and dreams.

The beaches of Florida are also magical places for me.  I’ve soaked up the hot, tropical sun while chasing the myriad of shells which wash up on the shores.  I’ve dug to find mollusks and sea fleas as they burrowed into the sand wherever the waves set them down.  I’ve watched in awe as baby sea turtles scuttled to the ocean one morning.  I’ve seen pink sandy beaches with clear, aqua water, and I’ve seen muddy beaches with thick, black water.  I’ve seen beaches so strewn with shells I was reluctant to walk barefoot on them and other beaches so rocky that barefeet weren’t even an option.  I’ve been a small child, knocked over by the strength of the waves.  I’ve been a mother, holding the small child steady in the swell of the waves.  I’ve felt the power of the sand, the sun and the sea when they combine together to form a healing haven for my heart.

Florida is a state of extremes.  From the exotic and urban South to the less touristy, rural North, Florida holds a multitude of attitudes, beliefs, lifestyles and TREASURES.  It is a state that is near and dear to my heart, the place I was born, but I’ve never quite considered it home.  As familiar as I am with the Sunshine State, it always feels more like I’m a visitor, maybe even a tourist.

Although being a tourist, and doing touristy things can be fun, sometimes it’s fun to wander to places a little farther off the beaten track:

Florida State Parks

Bok Sanctuary

The Morikami

The Flagler Museum

The Everglades, online

Edinburgh…We didn’t spend too long there, but the time we spent there was memorable. We met other International Travelers. We saw the historic sites, including the castle. We saw some of the the nightlife of the city and enjoyed beautiful weather while we were there. I think it was in Edinburgh I first began to really feel the freedom of becoming an adult. (I was only 17 at the time!)

My sometimes overprotective brother gave me permission to go out on the town with an Australian fellow we’d met at our hostel. I can’t remember the man’s name and I can only guess that he was in his early twenties. At the time he seemed very much older and I kind of thought my brother had gone loopy. In any case, I had a good time with him. I think we maybe went to one bar, opted out of any nightclubs, and then spent the rest of the time walking through town while we talked. I very vividly recall debating about ‘the right to keep and bear arms’. He was vehemently against the public having guns, and even against law enforcement using guns. I argued the opposite (as one might expect of a girl who had been competing in rifle matches for years).

In contrast, there was the night in Edinburgh I went out with my brother. He decided it was his mission to teach me what college life would be like, so he got me drunk at every opportunity that summer. Edinburgh was no exception. Screwdrivers. I drank screwdrivers all night long because none of the pubs or bars we went in to had the ingredients to make anything else! Walking back to the hostel that night, my brother seemed to think it was hilarious to reach over and push me over with the tip of his finger. Yes, that’s how easy it was to make me stumble!

In Edinburgh, I bought my first Nina Simone cassette tape. I sat in our rental car, which was parked on the street in front of our hostel, and I listened over and over to that tape. I love her song “Feeling Good”!

My memories of the castle and historic monuments in Edinburgh are fuzzy. But the experiences I had there stand out in my mind. Someday, I’d like to go back and see the castle and such again so that I can remember them better. But I’m glad my trip to Britain wasn’t all dry history!

Choosing a place to write about for “D” should have been easy. I’ve lived in a number of places that start with “D”. I considered writing about Daytona, with the roaring race cars I remember from when I was 3 or 4. I considered writing about Delray, but decided that was too much like writing about Boca Raton. The one that popped into my head first and stayed there, though, was Defiance.

I had never heard of this small town in Northwest Ohio until I met the man who would become my husband. He grew up there; not quite a native but close enough. When I moved there in the early months of 1998, I was charmed by the small, rural town. The downtown has quaint shops and restaurants to wander. There are parks, which are great for the kids. The library is an architectural treasure and the land on which it sits is historically significant and beautiful. There are towering trees which provide shade, lilac bushes that scent the air each spring, and broad rivers which define the landscape of the downtown. Many of the homes are quite old and beautiful, with lovely gardens and lawns to admire. All of this can be seen by walking, too, since the sidewalks make it possible to stroll all over the place without competing with car traffic.

The people that live there have long memories and long histories. Even as the landscape of the town has changed through the years (it’s changed quite a bit even since I first lived there) the people remember how it used to be. More than once I felt totally lost when asking for directions since the landmarks used were often for places and stores that no longer existed.

I remember walking into the library to get my library card. (I rarely move to a new place without doing this first thing, since I’m so addicted to reading.) It was shortly after I got married and I was still trying out my new last name. The librarian, an older woman, looked at the name I’d written and looked at me. “Which of the boys did you marry, then?” she asked. I blinked at her, totally confused that she seemed to know my husband. Her words confirmed this as she recalled watching my husband and his brother come into the library as children, and talked about how my in-laws were now her neighbors. I had this scenario happen more than once as I settled into life in the small town. It was a new experience for me and I found it charming.

If you like to travel to new places via book or video, check out ‘The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio’. It was originally a book, but it’s also been made a movie. The movie wasn’t actually shot in Defiance, but it gives a fair feel for the town, even now. Reading the book was a tour through some of the history of the town, and I loved being able to look at the 1950′s pictures in the book and recognize places in town.

I moved to Defiance, OH in ‘defiance’ of my parents’ strongest recommendations. (Did I mention I abruptly withdrew from college and moved West with a man I had met on the internet? That went over really well at the time.) Six years later, I left Defiance of two minds: one was happy to be leaving the small town to go to a bigger town that had more options and the other was sad to leave the small town with it’s charm, history and personality.