“If you go to Gettysburg and take the time, maybe take a tour, maybe just drive around, read some of the monuments, read some of the plaques, you will come away changed.”(Jeff Shaara)

Most people who read my blogs realize how enthusiastic I am about obtaining a real glimpse of American History. Yet rarely do I find a place that seems ideally preserved with authentic relics to create a true “time warp” simulation of the past. Our road trip visit to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania and the surrounding Civil War National Military Park would however provide such a place. A lazy walk along Steinwehr Street through center of town seemed surreally “antebellum” in character as I spied strange sights of men/women dressed in mid – 19th century character blending in perfectly with stately mansions, stone taverns, and grand churches along narrow pathways. To the immediate east/west of downtown, a twenty one mile tour of the hallowed grounds at Gettysburg Battlefield presented a captivating look at the strategic positioning of Union/Confederate soldiers culminating in the July 1-3, 1863, “turning point” battle of the Civil War.

DOBBINS HOUSE TAVERN

Built in 1776, by an Irish pioneer, as a farm house serving a natural springs, this simple stone structure was later used during the Civil War as an escape haven for runaway slaves. Still standing as an eating/drinking ale house, Ruth and I savored a romantic dinner in candlelight amidst an amazing interior decor of glowing fireplaces, stone walls, hand carved woodwork and other authentic relics of this pre-Civil War period. Taking a curious peek around, I found added pleasure in spotting a dusty and dark corner with steps leading down to the original basement where escaped slaves were hidden.

EISENHOWER NATIONAL HISTORIC SITE

Dwight Eisenhower, America’s 34th President and hero of D-Day in World War II bought a 189-acre farm/residence for $40,000 adjacent to the Gettysburg Battlefield in 1950. He later retired there after his Presidency until his death in 1969. In Gettysburg, Ike found this place as as a refuge for finding a more quiet and settled life as he had in fact moved to over thirty places during his illustrious military/political career. Booking a semi-guided tour of this famous site, I felt deep understanding of his Midwest roots inspiring him to spend “quality time” with his family, raise cattle, and relish the hard work challenge of farming. For added interest, I noted that over 90% of the relics in his home and farmstead stood authentically original on this two hour tour.

GETTYSBURG BATTLEFIELD AND CEMETERY GROUNDS

Abraham Lincoln’s memorable Gettysburg Address in November 19, 1863 at Cemetery Ridge stands as an enduring symbol of our nation’s freedom. Taking a peaceful walk along the perimeter of this immense burial ground, I soon spotted the solemnly statued presence of Lincoln. What a thrill to imagine his magical words “ four score and seven years to ago”… commemorating the final resting place where more than 3,500 Union soldiers were ultimately buried in the battle of Gettysburg.

The blood-spilled battle clashes at “Little Round Top”, “Pickett’s Charge”, and “Devil’s Den” unfolded in my mind as I meandered from low to high ground throughout the battlefield park. How sad that a McDonalds Restaurant and “chain” retail shop in the distance would be thoughtlessly placed within eyesight nearby. While Gettysburg cannot resist the “hands of modern progress”, the town will timelessly live on, however, as a reminder of America’s historic will to remain free as a united country.

“The essence of Woodstock was that we accomplished what we had started out to do in the early sixties which was to show that we as to be people, were not going to back down from our political feelings, our emotional feelings and our newly discovered citizenry.” (Richie Havens)

“Back To The Garden” ideals galvanized the Woodstock generation with a sense of youthful purpose in America in the late 1960s. Forty nine years after the famous Woodstock Festival, Ruth and I experienced a similar surge of positive energy in our road trip visit to the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts/Museum in the Southern Catskills Mountain region of New York. On August 15-17, 1969, the famous Woodstock Music Festival drew close to one half a million attendees, at Max Yasgur’s, quiet farmland location here to experience three days of peace, love, and rock and roll.

The land surrounding the Woodstock Festival gives few clues as to the feeling of the time when this iconic event happened. Yet, our two night stay at a nearby Air B&B farm, gave us a real sense of the rural isolation and inaccessibility that the mass of festival attendees faced in reaching the concert grounds at that time. To be honest while chickens, cats, and cows on this farm seemed perfectly content, we suffered somewhat in the lack of a nearby town’s urban convenience.

Driving to Bethel now along narrow farm – lined roads, we sighted an official, stone memorial plaque overlooking the bowl-shaped incline marking the actual Woodstock Festival field. A more personal sign of this site’s importance would be evidenced in extensive carvings of peace/love messages on adjacent picnic tables. I imagined then the mass chaos of people converging on this remote farm with only point of road ingress/egress. I also pictured the anger of conservative town residents as this threatening mass of concert goers trampled freely across nearby private lands in this quiet, rural town.

Passing the Open Air Concert Pavilion, we now entered the Museum at Bethel Woods hoping to capture a “true historic essence” of the 1969 festival. The Museum’s main exhibits provided a captivating multi-media experience, combining film, music, interactive displays, artifacts, and personal narratives to tell the story of the late sixties and the Woodstock festival. I thus concluded that my most memorable experience at the Woodstock museum was its honest representation of the festival as a musical event striving to achieve peaceful unity amidst a decade of sweeping cultural/political turmoil.

I witnessed so many memorable music moments of the concert on our Bethel Museum Visit today. Richie Havens opening the festival with a stirring verse of “Freedom”. Janice Joplin wailing her piercing blues lyrics, liberating females to speak out against their subordinate status. Joan Baez in her “folksy” plea against her husband’s unjust imprisonment. Jimi Hendrix, ending the festival with his dramatic guitar interpretation of the Star Spangled Banner leading to his Vietnam battlefield protest interlude, and iconic rendition of Purple Haze.Sadly, I wondered whether such Woodstock moments to dramatize cherished human rights/freedoms are progressing forward in these politically polarized times today.

On the three month completion date of our 2018 road trip, Ruth and I walked across the International Bridge from Niagara Falls, New York to Ontario, Canada. We then viewed the spectacular American/Canadian vistas of these famous waterfalls from adjacent cliffside walkways. My impressions of these moments are thus poetically expressed as follows.

“In cool sheen of spilled veil spot Niagara’s wet mist
Young couples close by ravished by lovestruck blissed
Gape wild rapids below stroll slowly onshore
Inhale green fields in springtime find urge to explore

As wide canyons converge in deep drop to free falls
A cascade of delights springs near colorful walls
Spectacular auras melt green, blue, and white
While rainbow formed orbs kiss such magical light

For more closeup encounters expect to get wet
Zip down to foamed surface as you’ll never forget
If these glacially formed wonders challenge your mind
Imagine rock sculpting in raw nature unkind

Stone bridge links two countries in this bountiful place
No border stress fanfare seek Canada’s space”

“It is hopeless for the occasional visitor to try to keep up with Chicago – she outgrows his prophecies faster than he can make them. She is always a novelty; for she is never the Chicago you saw when you passed through the last time.(Mark Twain)

Visiting Chicago would represent a major challenge to Ruth and I in our road trip travels this year. As we now exited the central prairie of farm/cattle feeding lands, we faced the abrupt onslaught of heavy traffic gridlock on irritatingly tolled expressways. In fact, we seemed to question why were taking time to again visit this densely populated city. Yet with springtime’s warmth arrival, we envisioned that new discoveries awaited us by venturing outside. Nighttime pre-bookings for a U2 concert and Chicago Cubs game would no doubt keep us entertained at night time yet would leave us open for finding daytime, walking options. Our first task, however, would be to wisely book our three night stay near suburban O’Hare Airport with hopes of avoiding such commuter madness to and from downtown each day. Pondering these options, we enjoyed a deep dish pizza pie lunch at legendary Gino’s Pizza’s suburban location nearby our motel and reminisced at dinner with friends from our India tour last year.

We had seen the U2 extravaganza a few years ago in Paris and expected the band’s high energy combined with keen awareness of global issues would re-surface on our first night in Chicago occasion. At the sold out United Center, Bono and his legendary band entered by way of a laser-like tubular corridor leading to the main stage. I became uneasy as my seat began to suddenly shake from a sudden burst of heavy bass as cellphone lights brightened on cue to the band’s unusual arrival in the surrounding arena. As the set proceeded loudly and the band moved to various stage locations, across the floor of the arena, I began to wonder why Bono’s gimmicky theatrics (ie. spitting water onstage and mimicking the devil) were needed tonight. His powerful musical message of love, peace, and tolerance could have alone sold this excitingly loyal crowd.

Chicago transit (CTA) provides efficient service to downtown areas of the city. Our particular interest on this second day visit would take us along the blue line from O’Hare to the famous “loop corridor downtown. After a satisfying lunch of wienerschnitzel, potato salad and bratwurst for a taste of German delicacy at the Berghoff Restaurant, we would aimlessly amble through the green oasis of Millenium/Grant Park, gazing back at skyscraper vistas as we made our way east to the serene, Lake Michigan shoreline.

The historic presence of Wrigley Field, along Addison Street and Sheffield Avenue remains a unique “throwback” to the past. Surrounded by Victorian era homes in a quaint, residential area, this icon of baseball glory seemed strangely small: like a neighborhood, “little league” park from the outside. Yet inside,my senses overwhelmed in an unfolding cathedral of ivy lined outfield walls, old time organ music, and hand driven scoreboards. It seemed, the game meant less than actually being there today.

“The river. What it doesn’t know is not worth knowing”
(Kenneth Grahame, Wind In the Willows)

Background:

In our visit to Dubuque, Iowa on our spring road trip visit,Ruth and I spent Sunday afternoon learning about America’s longest river at the National Museum of the Mississippi River/Aquarium. Our three hour tour of this “hands-on”, modern facility would end with a leisurely trail outside the museum, on the south bank of the river. Gazing in solace at a picturesque overlook, I imagined how a candid conversation with these omnipresent waters would take place.

“Tell me old river. What do you know? So many times we have passed by your meandering wildness from the far north of Minnesota to the bayous of Louisiana without bothering to stop and listen to your story. We feel your determination to flow strongly south and reach the Gulf of Mexico. We realize that sometimes you shed water on land in great floods when you are angry or sad. How fortunate it must feel to know that your murky waters offers abundant life to so many living things. What else can you tell us about your long and storied past?”

“ I am a very old river, more than 100 million years old. Yet you probably know me best as a historic, American ideal. Many brave explorers sailed me with great curiosity and found an unknown route to the sea. A bearded man named Audubon once sketched strange bird to gain my attention.That statued writer you were sitting next to on a bench today was Mark Twain. I vividly recall him telling me how excitingly free his imaginary Huckleberry Finn and runaway slave felt back then in rafting my waters northward. Further downstream in Mississippi in a place called Vicksburg, a turning point battle in your Civil War was decided. I now proudly harness new energy for important cities like New Orleans, Memphis, and St.Louis along my surrounding shores.”

“Picture Dubuque, Iowa as a personal favorite place of mine. The generous citizens there bestowed a treasured museum on my behalf to show my past and present glories. I also imagine that my gentle flow provides a pleasant sight to look at from the mansioned cliffs above the old town. The grand steamboats and Dixie river paddlers may be largely gone but I remain strong to serve this city well.”

“You might find inner solace by floating on me for awhile. Witness how well I can nurture the fond forest memories of your childhood at every curve along my path. Wander offshore as you please for I am in no hurry for you to cross the bridge to your next destination. Linger awhile and notice how many birds, fish, and wildlife depend on my watershed to survive for food. I accept all who nourish me in my long path through the heartland of our country to the sea. Allow me now to escort you on another day to the green pastures and forests of Wisconsin and Illinois on my opposite bank shore.”

“The plainer the dress, the greater luster does beauty appear.” (Edward F. Halifax)

Ruth and I concluded a restful, four night stay in Boise, Idaho to visit our friend Tina. My main activities during this uneventful weekend would involve washing my filthy car, and continuously walking the family dog, Molly every 3-4 hours. I definitely needed less mind challenging, downtime after enduring a multitude of steep and winding roads in mountainous regions from the Seattle coast region southeastward.

Proceeding southeast on Interstate 84 in early morning , our five hour, desert valley drive would skirt the western edge of the Wasatch Mountain range and then curve into them for a gentle climb to over 6,000 feet at our next destination, Park City Utah. As a past host community for the 2002 Winter Olympic Games, we expected to settle into a thriving ski town atmosphere in our three night, Air B&B stay stay there. Yet the town to us seemed relatively simple to navigate and surprisingly desolate in off season, springtime mode with the town’s renowned Olympic ski runs now largely devoid of snow.

Sticking to our budget, we had no desire to buy expensive artwork or sign up for enticing time share presentations, Thus a simple walk around Main Street downtown would suffice for us after dinner on our first evening. As most shops and art galleries were now closed, we casually admired the classy western town atmosphere of historic saloons, ornamental street sculptures, live bird talks, and eclectic window displays.

Since Ruth and and share a keen interest in observing wildlife in their natural habitats, the next afternoon we decided to take a look at Great Salt Lake via Antelope Island State Park. As we crossed the entry causeway, a pungent smell of salt permeated the air. How “cool” we imagined now to have an opportunity to spot a free-ranging bison , pronghorn antelope or migratory bird species on the island. Stopping for a picnic lunch on a remote overlook facing the eerie presence of this hyper-saline shoreline, we were attacked by hordes of brine flies that infest these salty shores. Spotting an accessible beach nearby, we moved swiftly away from these pesky insects by descending downhill through brittle rock and briny sand surface to this ever still lake. We had found an excellent spot to taste the salty waters and photograph thick concentrations of small, black feathered birds floating aimlessly on the surrounding lake. Ending our tour at the lake informative Visitor Center, we relished our decision to step out adventurously on our own in the Salt Lake environs today.

Over thirty years ago, Ruth and I dined at a small and unpretentious Mexican Cafe In Salt Lake City near the historic downtown Train Depot. Having booked inexpensive concert tickets for the evening at nearby Vivint Smart Home Arena, we would “kill time” before the performance with a nostalgic meal at this same Mexican restaurant. Enjoying “Back to back” concert sets by Hall and Oats/Train, we would end this long day in “giddy singalong” fashion.

On our third day, we embarked on an old fashioned train ride on the Deer Creek Express in nearby Heber City, which provided a relaxing end to our Utah mountain adventure. As an added attractions, a menacing group of armed bandits ran onto the train at midpoint in our journey to stage a simulated train robbery. Upon angrily finding a box with no money, they filled the air with fake gunshots and boisterously departed the train. Immediate relief from such chaos was provided as a talented guitarist strummed traditional cowboy hits for our listening pleasure for the remainder of our rail journey.