Julie Unplugged

Devotion to Writing + An Unlikely Prompt = Oodles of Travel Memory Fun

I bought a book of LA Times Front Pages collected in a book. This one is from 1958. I thought it was the perfect "backdrop" for the Origami Dress

I couldn’t think of a thing to write about when my scheduled thirty minutes of #wordmongering writing started so I reached into my prompt boss and pulled out… a dress. An Origami dress. I reached in again and found… another origami dress, this one made from a map of Missouri with a touch of Oklahoma from what I can tell.

I’ve been working on flowers this weekend because I don’t want to get stuck on thinking all I can make are dresses, but they are so darn cute!

I’m going to run with the prompt: “Kansas” since that is the state on my doll dress map. I’m adding the “Grandmama” of all prompts: “I remember.”

Ready?

I remember driving across Kansas, a day of rolling prairie my brothers and sister deemed boring. I found it comforting. I found it beautiful. I reveled in the colors and sounds of the prairies.

I sort of understood why they may have thought it was not the most interesting landscape, but I was mesmerized by it.

Our cross country journey was more than thirty years ago, but I can still remember bits and pieces of it.

I remember in St. George, Utah, when I went to buy stamps from the front desk and the clerk thought I was checking in with the young man in front of me. At first I was shocked and confused and then, I must confess, it felt a little titillating and my fifteen-year-old mind and hormones imagined checking in with this young man, if he wasn’t a complete stranger, naturally.

In my mind I wrote biographies of the two of us and our romantic storyline. In memory, he is faceless to me. What I remember the most is the collar of his shirt – a regular t-shirt – and his hair, blonde and cleanly cut in a straight line leaving bronzy skin that I admired and wished I had myself. When he turned I kept my eyes steady and noticed his lips, another straight line. Not full, not completely thin – I glanced only for a moment to his eyes, a slate gray-blue.

I wonder whatever happened to him?

I remember Missouri, ordering dinner at a Howard Johnson’s type restaurant and Mom complaining that we kept ordering cokes. That’s what we called soft drinks then. Cokes. The universal name. To us, Cokes were quite a treat. We rarely had them in our home so ordering Cokes was exotic.

I remember in Colorado, we went to a hotel that had a pool from the neighboring hot springs. It felt weird to swim in it, not very refreshing, and the place we stayed was much more expensive than my mother would have liked. She was only cranky for a short while. I learned how to be a prize stoic from my mother, who never showed much in the way of anger nor much in the way of bliss or sadness. I never saw her cry until my baby daughter was stillborn. If I attempted to count the numbers of times my children have witnessed me cry, I would quickly lose count in the stew of my embarrassment.

I remember driving closer and closer to my Granny’s house in Pasadena. We drove on what I now know is the 210 Freeway. The green freeway signs seemed so organized to my undriving self.

I didn’t know then I wouldn’t drive across the country all the way from coast-to-coast again, even though I loved the process of taking such a journey. Perhaps the Summer of 2014 will be the one.

I must remember to remember.

(And to think that all came from an origami dress!)

 

 Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

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© 2013

 

One Tip to Create More Travel Delight: Plan to Not Have Such a Dense Plan

Leaving space for delights & surprises in your travels plans brings big travel bonus adventures!

There are certain techniques I use when I plan a trip.  One strategy is to have succinct, reachable – yet challenging – travel goals. I tend to hit the ground running early, stay out late and come home from vacation needing a vacation to recover from my first vacation. I was reminded recently how important it is to leave space open for surprises and interruptions during travel in order to let unplanned jaunts delight you in ways you hadn’t expected.

In other words: plan to not have such a densely packed plan that it eliminates chances for spontaneity.

My GPS found a place for dinner on the first night of my trip to the Washington, DC area. I found myself in a unique sandwich/salad shop type place in a remodeled house near the corner of two highways.  I liked it because it was locally owned and the people working there were also the owners and nobody could tell I was a tourist. I was content as I ate in what was more a neighborhood joint than a place where people from the other coast wander in for a meal. I didn’t know the trip back to the hotel would be an introduction to one of my favorite surprises of my trip.

The GPS took me a slightly different way back to the hotel. I turned the corner and saw a pond: quiet, serene, with platforms jutting into its waters. “I can literally sit in the pond and write!” I thought.

The park and I were a match made in GPS heaven. I couldn’t stop myself from parking

So much dense green: an unfamiliar sight for this Californian

and taking a few moments to enjoy the setting.

Several mornings later, I found myself back at this park – which I had discovered was called the Ellanor C. Lawrence Park after the wife of a one-time-magazine publisher who donated the land to the city with a caveat being they must keep the grounds in their natural, normal habitat.

Little could make me happier. The next time I visited, I had a plan. Well, I sort of had a flexible, “let’s see what will happen next” sort of plan.

Unfamiliar birds kept me company along the path in the untried to me park. I didn't know it at the time, but this park is home to 133 species of birds throughout the year. One of my new bird friends had feathers of deep bright orange, the embers in the fireplace before you call it a night.

Birdcalls I haven’t heard in decades reach my ears as the leaves whisper, “Hush…. “ to anyone who was listening.

“Toot a loo à Toot a loo à”, says one bird, getting faster and faster until a response comes, “tweet a, tweet a, tweet a.”

I tucked myself away on this bench to "converse" with some of the 133 bird species at the park.

I discovered if I kept my eyes steady, the birds would fly into my line of vision. It seemed when I tried to visually hunt them down, they all disappeared. When I relaxed and stayed still, they were friendly and happy to show me their feathers in yellow, in grey, in black, in ecru and naturally that bold orange, completely different from the finches I feed at home who are also a bold, bold orange.

There was a small, peeping bird. Her call sounded cricket-like and her flight floated up and down and down and up.

I wondered if my hearing had improved or maybe it is just my listening that has become heightened.

I heard birds' feet: those of a yellow breasted bird chased by another yellow breasted bird. They feasted on the shavings of a fallen tree, completely unseen by the jogger who made her way down the same path I was on. The path was moist, not muddy but moist. It called me to the pond but my feet danging aloft from the high bench where I sat whining inside at the thought. My feet, my butt, my heart wanted to stay on the bench, listening.

It was a grey bird with a yellow head that became my magnet as he flew past my ear down the path.

I was surprised as I came out the other side I was at the same place I started two days ago when I first visited Ellanor C. Lawrence Park. The pond, the same nearly covered pond, the same bridge over the creek, the same zen feeling.

I never travel without a notebook. So many insights to record!

I laughed at myself and the situation, sat at the handy picnic table and started to write.

When I created a schedule for my trip to the Washington DC area, I didn’t know this tucked away park existed, yet it became one of the highlights of my trip.

The next time you travel, leave space for surprising locations to call you to attention.

These in-the-moment adventures may be the exact jaunt you really need to take.

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© 2013

Not a Quick Jaunt AND Well Worth the Visit: Mount Vernon, the Washington's Virginia Home

An impressive view of the Mount Vernon George and Martha Washington called home.

I have spent almost my entire adult life driving my children to school on Mt Vernon Avenue here in Bakersfield. In fact, this is the first year of my entire mother-of-school-children-career that I haven’t done the daily Mom Schlep to the street with the important name.

 Perhaps that was one of the things that drew me to visit George and Martha Washington’s Mount Vernon when I visited the DC area this Summer. Well, the coupon on my rental car reservation also helped.

I thought it would be a quick jaunt down US History Lane.

Once again, I was wrong.

Someday I will get this all down but for now, no. I was very, very wrong.

I wish you could smell this as well as see it. Beautiful!

Mount Vernon is not just a little house one visits, tucked away on a country road. It is a grand estate, a mini-town. There is industry, commerce, horticulture and unsurpassed beauty as well as a large house which is in the midst of being renovated. My history books didn’t go into much of this, perhaps because history books when I was young passed up social history altogether.

 

I didn’t know, for example, that Washington wanted to be remembered as a gentleman farmer. On his property was a very high tech (for the time) green house. There were several gardens where they grew vegetables, herbs and flowers.

I spent most of the time I was there with my jaw dropped.

I hung out with a blacksmith for a few minutes and talked to the gardening caretakers. I took not nearly enough photos.

Now this is what I call a writing porch!

I highly recommend you pay the extra fee for the audio tour. You learn so much with your carry-able tour guide, all the tiniest details and great nuggets for conversation if you are with others. If you have children, they can share the responsibility for holding the audio wand and pushing the buttons which correspond with areas of note as you traverse the estate.

 

The back porch is more than expansive and looks out on an enormously inviting lawn. There are chairs set up in a row for your group to sit in and I saw more than several children playing on the lawn. I can’t help but think that would make Martha and George happy.

The tour of the home is one of the better tours I have been on and yes, I have been on many. Instead of being with one tour guide, the group moves from room to room where the specialist in that room tells you about it. There are items the Washington’s owned as well as period pieces.  My favorite single item was a gift from Lafayette to the Washingtons. I am purposefully not telling you so you will find out on your own visit. The lack of interior photos is because they are not allowed. Go visit, go visit! *Happy smiles*

I also loved hearing about the hospitality of the day. It reminds me of what I experience with couch surfing. Someone arrives at the door, you welcome them, give them a place to sleep and get to know them for a bit. Instant friends, momentary family or icy frenemies all gather around the table. Oh, to be there at that time.

Unfortunately my photo of the dorm style part of the room was blurry. One of the informational boards told me the children slept on the floor.

On my private audio tour I visited the houses where the slaves of the Washington’s lived, in two separate dormitory style cabins. One was for the men and one was for the women (and very young little boys). These were the slaves that worked in the home and around the estate, so we are told their living quarters were rather fine. The homes belonging to the people in the vicinity were not as grand as these and I can only imagine what the living quarters were like for the people working the fields.

 

There is so much to see in the Washington, DC area AND I was so glad I took (not enough) time to see Mount Vernon. It created context for every other place and monument I visited while I was there. I will definitely return.

 

The Washington Monument is currently being restored

 

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© 2013

How Breaking the Rules Brought Delight to Our Geocaching Treasure Hunt

Kathie reaches into the wall of the chimney to find our Happy Jack geocaching surprise

We were in for a shock that morning.

 

I have only actively disagreed with my parents twice in my entire life.

Both times my parents allowed me to “take the reins of the moment” the outcome has been both memorable and wonderful.

It happened again last week, this time my disagreement was with my Dad rather than my Mom.

Dad has turned my children and me into geocachers. This was the first time we went geocaching with Mom along and Dad had a big day of finding hidden treasures around Flagstaff all planned out. If you don’t know what geocaching is, the website gives a short definition like this: “Geocaching is the real-world treasure hunt that's happening right now, all around you. There are 2,170,289 active geocaches and over 6 million geocachers worldwide,” and then invites visitors to get more information here. 

When we visit my parents in Flagstaff my Dad takes us on adventures where we hunt for hidden treasures tucked away in surprising places. Our first stop on this trip was to a chimney, standing on its own,  in what was once a part of a place called Happy Jack’s – a logging camp that had been defunct for more than fifty years.

Dad meant for it to be a “practice cache” since he was the one who initially hid it, he couldn’t find it again, but the kids and I could use it as a sort of “warm up.”

Katherine shows the cache treasure while Samuel inspects the hiding space.

It was unfortunate to discover there were people camping there by the fireplace when we arrived for our treasure hunt. “Who are those people camping at our site?” we lamented. I was intrigued by the rogue chimney and did not want to turn away from it. I could tell from my father’s voice that he intended to turn around and not find the treasure he had hidden for the first time several years ago.

 

When I do things in direct opposition to my parents I have to speak and act simultaneously or else I get scared.

After all, when I go on these adventures with Dad, my proper “don’t bug your father” behavior is so extreme I don’t even confess when I need to use the restroom, so hearing myself insist, “I still want to get out and find it,” while cracking open my door and putting my foot out took me by complete surprise.

The thing is, when someone takes control, it seems like the rest of the group falls into place. It is like the Improv rule of agreeing with whatever your scene partner does. If one of the geocaching team insists, the others just fall into the line of energy tossed out by the most insistent.

We weren’t expecting one of the campers to ask, “Are you Pinecone Joe?” after Katherine discovered the cache wedged into the chimney itself. Dad was so surprised to be asked about his geocaching identity his glee spread across his entire face. Turns out both the campers and their family members had been curious about the mysterious list of people’s names in an altoids box and purposefully hidden in the happy jack chimney, but didn’t imagine they would ever find the man who seemed to have buried the treasure and then deserted it.

Samuel enjoys the fire the Campers built at "our" spot. Lovely!

Dad mentioned his delight at this connection throughout our visit to Flagstaff. It may have been the highlight of his week or month.

I could continue and talk about metaphors or launch into a writing prompt, but instead I’ll just sit with the memory of being brave enough to disagree, take action, and let Dad experience his highlight of the week while the rest of ours made our own memory and our own moment.

There is time for metaphors and life coaching and deep pondering tomorrow and the next today.

Today my smile at the memory is enough.

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© 2013

Indescribable: Notes from the Road in Northern Arizona.

This is what happens when the computer and the free breakfast are in the same place.

I'm sitting in the lobby of the Super 8 Motel on Route 66 in Flagstaff, Arizona. Behind me I hear a group of Texans swapping stories. I wish I could capture their drawls adequately with words, but I tried and it just isn't working.

One of them is a Vietnam vet. The other is several years younger. Graduated high school in the same year as my sister.

That isn't why I am writing this morning.

I am writing because we have had such a spectacular couple of days here in the area surrounding Flagstaff my fingers are about to burst if I don't sit down to write.

I keep wishing more people would make their way out here just to experience it - and not only the Grand Canyon, sort of the Big Daddy of Northern Arizona - but explore the other public lands around the Flagstaff area, the urban trail system, the 'turn back time' downtown.

We've been geocaching in the Coconino National Forest and along the Zane Grey Highway. We've walked inside and alongside homes of the ancients and mystical cathedrals - well, to me they are cathedrals - that celebrate the movement of the stars in the sky.

Have you ever seen the night time sky in Northern Arizona? It causes speechlessness. Nothing short of speechlessness.

This morning we are on our way to take a train to the Grand Canyon. I have dreamed of taking the Grand Canyon railway for years. I finally decided the time is right so Samuel, Katherine and I will go back into recent time and not have to worry about driving our car or waiting in line for the buses at the entrance.

Another aspect of having this computer in the lobby of the Super 8 in Flagstaff is it gets noisy and there is just so much writing I can do accompanied by a discussion of the lovely flavor of powdered eggs.

Please watch for many more intriguing posts to come. Its as if I have traveled and collected stories to last many, many blog posts. Both off the beaten path and squarely on the path where most go, I feel nothing but blessed.

After all, there is even a Dunkin Donuts in walking distance from here, which is where I will go to escape these unappetizing conversations taking place behind me.

 NOTE: I can't seem to edit well on this computer and don't have time to fuss, but the colors in this photo don't even show the glory in the greens I saw yesterday.

Emerald may be the closest word to describe the beauty, but that isn't even enough.

Thank you for reading - I'll be back soon with better posts about my recent travels - as well as a lot more.

Roadtrip Love: Leaving for Flagstaff in the Morning for the First Time in Two Years!

Tomorrow we leave for Flagstaff: an abridged group since Emma is staying behind for her Les Mis rehearsals.

I cannot remember feeling this excited about going there before: butterflies in my stomach – smile I can’t wipe off my face – a skip to my step as I clear out the trunk of my car of all the extraneous stuff that tends to gather there.

It has been two years since we have been to Flagstaff. Time goes so quickly and with children in high school, college and now in junior high, it is nearly impossible to sync schedules. This year I threw the need to sync to the wind and Emma is staying here. She just got back from Washington, DC, after all. I am still recuperating from that trip but am very excited to hit the road this time.

Perhaps it’s the thought of a roadtrip with Katherine, my most happy-to-roadtrip child. Maybe it’s the train ride to the Grand Canyon we are planning on our final day in the area. I have wanted to ride that train for as long as I can remember but have always scoffed about the expense.

Well, the expense is still there, but my desire and feeling “hey, we only live once and Samuel has never been to the Grand Canyon and this is a way I think he will really enjoy it!” won out so I bought tickets.

I actually sat still for a minute to scan my body for anxiety.

There was none.

I have no anxiety about the trip at all, which is also a strange condition for me.

Maybe that is why I am so excited. The lack of tension feels like such a grand thing! It gives us more opportunities to build lasting memories for my children, especially Samuel, who was not very enthusiastic when I told him we were going.

“Why do I have to go?” Samuel asked me.

I mumbled a few reasons that felt inadequate and added, “Plus we’re visiting your grandparents. They want to see you.” The tears that stung my eyes told me I wanted him to see them and I wanted to see them seeing each other.

My parents are now older than all their parents lived to be. They are in their 80’s and relatively healthy, yet many of their friends have died. I am ever conscious we may not have a “next visit” and try to live each visit as if that were so. It might sound morbid on first reading, but when you think about it from an inner core perspective, you will recognize how enlivening it is.

It reminds me to be intentional, to not waste the moments with trivia, to watch and listen and be open to any threads of stories or traces of my grandparents in my parents so that I can retell their stories to my grandchildren who can in turn share the stories with their grandchildren.

We’re scheduled to leave at six a.m. I plan to pack up the car before I go to sleep. I look forward to waking up!

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© 2013

 

Excuse Me, Where is Union Station? Help Me to Find the Monuments in Moonlight Tour, PLEASE!

The Washington Monument is under restoration, I am told. I have many memories of it as a child and I sort of like the Under Construction look.

The first night we arrived in the Washington, DC area, I knew exactly what we had to do: the Monuments by Moonlight Tour it would be.

 

 I found about the tour in an article about the best thing to do with teens in Washington. I knew I wouldn’t have much time with Emma during her week at the National Youth Leadership Forum,  so I knew I would have to be choosy. She was very excited to be in DC and wanted to see as much as she could squeeze in.

I felt confident because I had my GPS and reportedly there was parking at Union Station so instead of hopping on the Metro, I decided to drive instead.

First mistake.

Watch for the article I plan to write in praise of the metro system and leaving your car parked at an outlying metro station to explain more about a much better solution than driving around DC.

There was quite a bit of traffic as we got into the city and my heart was literally pounding as I saw such memorable sites I had not seen for decades. The GPS told us we would get to Union Station right on time to be early for our tour. We had the address but where was the Union Station? I kept driving in circles.

I pulled into a parking lot where the attendant just looked at me and shook his head, trying to prevent me from approaching at all. “Where is Union Station?” I asked him, trying to smile with my not-so-deranged tourist face. He pointed and told me behind that building over there.

I drove around that building over there and yes, there was this really cool white

Washington DC's Untion Station, Second in size only to Grand Central Station in New York City

building there, but it didn’t have numbers or names on it and besides that, it was on the wrong side of the street from the address I had. Any building as important as the Union Station would have a huge sign for goofy tourists like me, right?

 

Second mistake. Don’t expect things to be the way they are at home. Perhaps other people would recognize the building.

I drove around again. I saw one of the trolleys that looked like the one in the Monuments by Moonlight advertisements. Yes, I did the mortifying: I drove beside her and rolled down my window. “Excuse me, where can I catch your tour?” The driver raised her finger and pointed in the vague direction of that big, lovely, old white building.

I moved again in that direction and we were now ten minutes late to our recommended arrival time.

There it was, sitting on the throne of the traffic circle so I decided I would drive the other way around it to see if I could figure out where the heck the Union Station might be.

That was the first thing I did right. As you may have guessed, the beautiful white building was the Union Station and by following a road that looked like the absolute wrong road to follow, I found the parking. Emma and I raced through Union Station with me asking nearly every person who worked at a kiosk we ran passed, “Is this the way to the tour buses?” and “Are we on the right way to the tour buses?”

We found the trolley right as my bladder felt it was about to explode. The first gentlemen told me to get on now, a stop would have a rest room but a second gentlemen looked at my face and said, “Why don’t you just run in over there and we’ll wait a few more minutes.”

I looked at him and said, “You are my hero!” I didn’t know where Emma was as I dashed to the restroom inside the gorgeous white building I now knew was the Union Station.

Once I calmed into my seat of the trolley, the tour was excellent.

Our driver was so knowledgeable and she referred to herself as a historian, which naturally I appreciated.

A Poignant Moment: Monuments by Moonlight Tour: Nurses Memorial

I learned new things and revisited old favorite monuments – saw the Lincoln monument two nights before it was vandalized – and saw some new to me monuments: the Nurses memorial and the Eleanor/Franklin Delano Roosevelt memorial is another.

 

Tears rose up repeatedly as the historian behind the wheel (who some would call tour guide) referred to the legislative branch of our government as YOUR house. It felt good to feel good about being an American.

The next time you find your way to the United States Capital, I would heartily recommend taking a bus tour. Many depart from Union Station, which is that big building that looks like this:  Yes, there is parking in the rear but really consider taking the metro. It is easy to master and good for the environment as well as your nerves.

Most of all enjoy your travels, wherever they take you!

 

 

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© 2013

5 Ways to Guarantee a Memorable Vacation or Trip: For the Love of Travel Mishaps

Here I am, Hanging out with Literary Granny Anne Morrow Lindbergh and her husband at the Smithsonian's Air and Science Museum

I love to travel so much more than I ever confessed in the past. The week I spent in the DC area for the past seven days cemented I am heavily addicted to visiting new to me places, especially those with a women’s history, literary history or social justice flavor. In fact, I can go nearly anyplace and discover the women’s history, literary history or social justice flavor that no one else had uncovered yet.

 

I also love scooting around in the ordinary, the mundane “oh, that’s no big deal” places in the neighborhoods where the locals go and the tourists usually don’t.

I have started a top ten list of surprisingly wonderful places to go in the DC area that might be a new spot for you as well as a list of places to visit with children and/or how to approach such places with special needs children.

What surprised and delighted me the most, though, was my own ability to roll with the punches during this trip. I didn’t have a single melt down or need to stand up for myself, most likely because I was primarily on my own. There were several times my plans were thwarted because my primary responsibility was to be the almost invisible support for Emma who was attending a high school leadership forum which was the reason we went at all.

My daughter, Katherine, stayed home to be with Samuel all week.

One of her comments to me has continued to resound through me: “That’s one of the qualities that is so good about you. When things don’t go your way, you just pick another way and manage to enjoy it as much as what you wanted to do in the first place.”

It is a beneficial quality whose origins were not necessarily the best. I became one of the best “lemonade maker from lemons” I know because I never expect things to work out in my favor.

What I was reminded this week that while things may not work out in my favor or according to my plan, when I nestle myself deeply into the moment, the moment was what I wanted in the first place – not the activity that filled the moment.

An example: I tried to get to Baltimore on three separate occasions. I was so excited to go on the afternoon Emma and her group were taking a field trip away from the conference center. I bought a bunch of snacks for them earlier and put them in a purple, polka dot bag for her to share with her friends and within moments realized my rental car keys were on their way to Emma’s field trip in the purple bag.

I could have stomped my feet and shaken my fist at the sky and barked at the

You just don't see this in the desert I live in here in California: seedings growing from the hollow of a fallen tree......

housekeeping staff to just go away instead of waking me from a nice, deep, restorative nap “because I am trapped here at the hotel!” Instead, I thought, “What a gift. A chance to take a break instead of rush, rush, rush.”

 

I did things like nap. I took a bubble bath. I wrote a blog post. I went to the hotel restaurant and had some chicken noodle soup better than I’ve ever had and a seasonal beer. I sat on the patio and wrote the sunset.

When you travel next, please remember this:

• 1.       Make a wild, crazy, absolutely out of this world list of things you would like to do on your vacation or trip.

• 2.       Start doing those items one at a time without concerning yourself with the ‘what’s next’ on your list.

• 3.       Stay alert to the surprising places that call to you. I found my favorite new park and a very intriguing, hidden cemetery this way.

• 4.       Take some time off intentionally in the middle of your trip and treat yourself to a “spa day.” Not with a ridiculous price tag or anything, simply take a day of rest where you can take a bath or drink a glass of wine or simply let the kids play on the lawn at sunset while you sit on a picnic basket and eat fresh fruit, veggies and maybe one sweet craving and call it dinner.

• 5.       Document with images on your camera and bits and pieces of writing on the way without worrying about telling the whole story “now”. It will ripen as you go. It always has and it always will, as long as you are willing to allow it to be so.

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© 2013

Community & Connection: Why Visiting Off-the-Beaten-Path Places is More Important Than You Think

At the Entry of Colonel Allensworth State Historic Park: Let's Keep Gems Like This ALIVE!

We – as the human community - need to learn about places where community and connection were or are paramount so that we may continue to live in a world with community and connection. Our is world filled with people isolating themselves with too many people with earphones stuck in our ears to separate us or cell phone conversations as we take a walk in nature or just holing up behind Netflix or the pages of an escapist novel.

These activities aren’t bad like nothing is bad in moderation. Please don’t misunderstand what I am saying.

 Our children need to know of these places not only to learn about what was, but to feel the spark of inspiration still burning in these places.

It happened to me yesterday when I set out to visit a place I had thought of going but had never made it to in the past. Yesterday was different.

The small sign told me I had almost arrived at Colonel Allensworth State Historic Park with an arrow pointing across the railroad tracks. “Out here?” I thought. “There is nothing here.”  I expected lots of visitors.

From my perspective, this was a more important place than it appeared. It is close to both Delano and Tulare, not huge places, and a smattering of tiny towns such as Earlimart, it didn't make sense to be so deserted.

Johnson's Bakery - 100 Years ago, a Woman Owned Business. Brava!

Then I saw the small, green clapboard house. I stepped out of my car and immediately fell deeply into fascination. I was in my own little world until a not-so-new sedan pulled up and a tall, older gentleman got out of the car.

His name was George.

It was pure coincidence that we both arrived at nearly the same time. I was walking away from the first spot on the tour when George pulled in.

I am not one to know a stranger, so it is completely normal that I called out, “hello!” as he got out of his car. “Have you been here before?” I asked him.

“No, I have not,” was his soft voiced answer. He spoke slowly, with intention upon each word. “We didn’t learn this history when I was in school. No, ma’am.”

“I just wish there were more people here,” I said. “People need to know all sides of history. These stories need to be told.”

We commiserated a bit about what we didn’t learn when we were children. I found out George was from Fresno, recently retired, and now had the time to discover and explore and come to know what we both would declare exceptionally important. He taught me about the Buffalo Soldiers and an event soon to come to nearby Sequoia National Park.

By calling this number, (you can click to have the photo get larger) I learned about Johnson's Bakery. Later, I called it with a friend. You can call it from your home, too.

I told him what I had learned, "This building here was a bakery as well as a home. Mrs. Johnson ran the place when her husband left town. This was a woman owned business so many years ago! Isn't that fantastic?"

The smiles on our faces were kept alive by our mutual enthusiasm. We were both here at this place – seemingly deserted – that was once a thriving community settled by what was called “race pioneers, with its commitment to limiting the parameters of prejudice, served as a beacon of hope to blacks in the Golden State and across the nation. The community, Allensworth, belied the notion of African-American inferiority and, in so doing, generated excitement, hope and confidence,” wrote B. Gordon Wheeler in Wild West Magazine.

I had a few free hours and was closer than I had ever been to Colonel Allensworth State Historical Park. I had no idea what to expect. Since I love history, especially history that is overlooked by so many for so long, it was one of those places I knew I should have visited long ago. I had seen the sign off the freeway, but since it is in a location I am normally only driving through, it never seemed important enough to me to stop.

Today was different.

It felt so vacant at Allensworth,  so dry and prickly, as many Central Valley open fields feel. The sun was so bright I had to shade my eyes to see what was around me. Clapboard buildings, primarily. I noticed a few crape myrtle trees. Some barns scattered about.

I felt something else. I felt connection, invisible and perhaps the echoes or shadows of the connection that once thrived there.

I am so grateful I stopped, I stepped inside, I listened to the stories and I pledge to return, with friends. With children, students and friends of friends of friends and others.

It is so important we visit places, preserve memories and share those places with others.

What is an interesting, out of the way place you will pledge to visit this Summer?

 

This photo was taken at Emily Dickinson's home. All history is important.....

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© 2013

The Sweet Memories of Getting Lost on a Family Roadtrip

Today's post was inspired by this prompt from the folks at Scintilla Project. " Talk about where you were going the day you got lost. Were you alone? Did you ever get to where you were going?

If my GPS were human I would marry it. I don’t know what I would do without it, seriously.

It shows me faster ways to get places, warns me if traffic is ahead and lets me choose an alternate path, it is even patient with me when I inadvertently go the wrong way.

I started using a handheld GPS on road trips with my children.

One day in the wilds of Butte, Montana the GPS we called Pete took us onto a private ranch road. I was scared a crazed rancher with a long shot gun was going to chase after me, taking my children hostage and feeding them to a hungry buffalo or whatever big, meat eating animal roams around those parts of the country. I turned back. Pete was

The Beauty of the Montana Sky took my breath away. Photos can't capture that feeling it gives off....

not amused. He kept saying, "Take a U-Turn as soon as possible!”

Over and over again as the widest most beautiful sunset was taking place all around us we were told, "Take a U-Turn as soon as possible" we found our way back to our funky motel. Butte’s name was quite a joke for my children. We still laugh about it. Samuel was seven at the time and any sort of “naughty body part” humor had him in stitches and he repeated it over and over and over again.

My favorite “ohmigawsh, we’re lost!” took place outside Cambridge, Massachusetts when we were trying to get to my friend, Pegi’s house in Hyannis on Cape Cod. I can still see the road in front of me: it was one of those chaotic stretches of highway which is like a doorway to roads in every direction and if you take the wrong one, you can pretty much be guaranteed a heckuva long detour.

We went into a tunnel – with me praying I made the right choice and then, we lost our

Yes - once the worry of "Well Guys, We're on our own!" we had a lovely Easter Celebration in Cape Cod

GPS signal. The girls and I moaned. We then went silent until Samuel, now nine and completely logical declared, “Well, guys, it looks like we are on our own!” which made the girls and I grown and laugh hysterically. We popped out of the tunnel, the GPS received its signal again and we were exactly where we were supposed to be.

Why is it the getting lost or almost getting lost or going the wrong way stories seem to wind up as favorite stories to tell later? They’re often more memorable than all the well thought out plans: the National Park, the amusement park, the beach. Those activities become fuzzy, but sitting in the car together laughing and moaning as we sit close together, wide-eyed while sipping on both wonder and worry live forever.

 

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© 2013 by Julie Jordan Scott