October 18, 2023, Daet– Today was the first of two up and out days: I needed to get to the office of Children International, in a city somewhat south of here, by noon at the latest. So, onto the Naga-bound van it was. Thankfully, I only had my small bag, with journal and prayer book, so I took up little space.
The ride to Naga was easy enough. Van drivers tend to drive fast, are able to tail-gate, without seeming obnoxious about it-(Try that in North America, and see what happens.)-and get to their destinations more quickly than the clean, but hamstrung, buses. I was dealing with runny sunblock, and it would be a while before I could flush my left eye out properly. I made do with closing my eyes and got a cup of coffee, once at Bicol Central Station, in Naga. Right after that, a man came up to me and said I was to follow him to the bus that was headed to the town where CI is located. I don’t know how he knew I was headed there, but no matter-I followed and boarded the correct bus. It took 3 1/2 hours, and I was in communication with CI reps, the entire time. (They did not know I was on the bus, so the theory that I may have been under their surveillance does not jibe.)
At any rate, I met the Children International representative at the bus station, was taken to their offices and met several of the staff, before meeting up with my sponsored youth and his mother. We then went to a Biggs Diner (a Filipino chain), in the city’s gleaming, modern shopping mall, and enjoyed a fine lunch. Then, we went to a department store, and he picked out his gift from me-a colourful pair of basketball shoes. This fulfills a long-time dream of his, as he loves basketball and is in a youth league.
The group of us then got back in the van, and drove to Cagsawa Historical Site. Here, there are the ruins of a church that was destroyed by lava, from Mount Mayon, in 1872. It seems the 1870s and ’80s were an especially active period for Pacific Rim volcanic activity: Krakatao’s seismic eruption took place in 1883.
Mount Mayon, eastern BicolThe bell tower of Cagsawa’s church. It is the sole structure left standing, from the 1872 lava flow.
After this, I bid farewell to my sponsored youth and to the CI staff. The long bus ride back to Naga went past Mount Asog, nearly an hour due north of Mount Mayon. It, too, was an active volcano in the 19th Century.
Mount Asog (Mount Iriga), Camarines Sur Province
We kept on riding, into the late afternoon, and past the departure of the last bus to Daet. As I would have been the sole passenger, it was just as well. I found a taxi driver who was willing to make the trip-for a reasonable out-and-back fare. By 9:30, I was safely back in Daet and walked the 1 km distance from the Catholic hospital to Mirasol Residences, mostly to stretch, after being seated for 7 1/2 hours.
‘To whom much is given, much is expected’. I will rest well tonight.
October 17, 2023, Daet, Camarines Norte- The officious, almost Parisienne, server saw me stirring the meat on my Kuril (Grill), using chopsticks. We have gotten into that habit, at Korean restaurants in the U.S. That would not stand, here at Golden Baboy. She marched over, took the pair of tongs out of the utensil can and said “Here, sir!”. I got with the program and things went well between the house and me after that.
Errands– I had two main tasks to complete, before embarking on my own march to the sea. Z’s Laundry was amenable to taking care of my small load, though it was under their customary minimum. Filipinos aren’t always fastidious. The next was to purchase a hat, as my sun hat is sitting-where else, in the back of Sportage, in San Diego. I also needed a pair of sunglasses, the last of which were left behind, God knows where. So, a stop at 101 Department Store was next on the list. I left my little tote bag with the “personal property guard” and went upstairs to find a nice little golf hat and a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. I was ready for the afternoon. Oh, and while I was at 101, there was a small high school parade, celebrating athletic excellence. An older man told me not to take any photos, but the kids shouted him down.
Daet’s teens on parade.
Snafu-Every ATM, it seems has its idiosyncrasies. In the 7-11 Store, near the Provincial Capitol, the cash dispenser is recessed, so thieves can’t reach over and grab the cash from an unsuspecting patron. There are fewer thieves around, since the Duterte days of Law and Order, but the system stays in place. I am used to the top dispensing ATMs, and so was initially under the impression that the machine just failed to give me the cash, and reported this to the clerk-who just smiled, came over to the ATM and got me to do a smaller transaction, showing me the recessed dispenser. She then said I should go to the BDO Bank and resolve the other matter. I walked over to the branch office of BDO and after about thirty minutes of electronic back-and-forth with my bank’s 24-hour service, it was established that BDO was not interested in taking “ghost funds” from my account. My bank agreed to drop the withdrawal and cancel an International Transaction fee. I mention this, in case anyone else ever finds self bamboozled by a perfectly honest attempt to counteract thievery.
Provincial Capitol- The buildings and grounds of the Capitol of Camarines Norte are majestic, in an understated way. The Spanish Colonial architecture is none the worse for the wear, after the Spanish-American War, Japanese occupation and countless typhoons. This place is definitely a point of pride for “Cam Norte” residents, especially for Daetenos.
As you can guess, Filipinos adore colour- the brighter and more varied, the better. I like seeing these “Love Community” signs, in each place I have visited in the Bicol region.The stately Capitol of Camarines Norte Province. The slogan Alay sa Bayan refers to the recruitment of new civil servants. It means “Our hope for the country”, in Tagalog.Alay sa Diyos is Tagalog for “Our hope of glory”.Dr. Jose A. Rizal is considered by many as the Father of the Philippine Nation. He stressed to his fellow citizens that they were equal to, if not superior to, their Spanish overlords. He was executed by the Spanish rulers in 1896, for “the crime of rebellion”. Along with Lapulapu, who led the first resistance to Spanish rule, in the 1520s, Dr. Rizal is an unofficial national hero.
Walk to the Sea– After taking a rest,and because of the big lunch at Golden Baboy, it was time to get my steps in. Bagasbas Beach is Daet’s main tourist draw, though there were only a few locals and a honeymooning couple here, this afternoon. The four-kilometer walk had several appeals to my eye’s palate. Not the least of these was the serenity of the tropical rice paddies and river plains, where Philippine cattle, a genuine native breed, graze and socialize with the tagaks, or little herons.
Philippine cow grazing, with tagaks as company.These two species are the best of friends.
Our Lady of Penafrancia College is the backdrop for a warning sign.
This area is in the right spot for feeling the fury of a seismic event.The tide was coming in,as I stood, pants rolled up and feet bare, in the warm western Pacific. (Above and below)Meet Si Ginoong Niyok (Mr. Coconut). Cory Aquino Boulevard connects five towns along the coast of Camarines Norte.Bagasbas Lighthouse, now a private resort. This is as close as I could get the structure, without having to book a night’s lodging.
With that, my work there was through, and I walked back to town, getting a latte at Big Brew, halfway back, and ignoring a mentally-ill man, who wanted me to buy a snack at the place where he was sitting, or feed him-couldn’t tell which. I did stop in town, for a small plate of tuna noodles, at Mamita’s.
It was a day of modest achievements and well-appreciated lessons.
October 9, 2023- There once was a story, that when the People came across the ice and land bridge known as Beringia, they followed large, ferocious beasts, from mastodons and mammoths to smilodons (sabre-toothed cats) and short-faced bears. There was Megatherium, the larger, somewhat more irascible ancestor of today’s tree sloth. There were huge dire wolves and wild cattle, called aurochs. Some legends also say that the continent of North America was occupied by giant humans. There is evidence that some First Nations people also came by sea, from the western Pacific islands and from the Mediterranean region-and that even the Amazon Basin was peopled, before the Pacific Northwest.
Much of that lore remains to be proven. So, too, does much of the lore about who first settled what we call the Holy Land. The Old Testament recounts that the twelve tribes of Israel were led to the edge of that nation, and found Canaanites and Philistines already there. There was battle, and the Philistines were defeated. They went slightly north, became the Phoenicians , and contributed greatly to Western Civilization-as did the Jews.
People have always been on the move. Homo sapiens came out of Africa, spread throughout Eurasia, across the Pacific Islands, into Australia and to the Americas. Migrating peoples left the Eurasian steppes and Altai Mountains-some going east and becoming the Siberians and at least some of those we call First Nations peoples or Native Americans; others going west and becoming the Scythians, Kelts, Teutons, Slavs, Turks, Magyars (Huns) and Sami. Other migrating people left the Caucasus and became the Greeks, Etruscans, Latins and Illyrians of southern Europe, or, going eastward, the Persians and various peoples of north India.
African emigres sailed the Indian Ocean, and the eastern rim of Asia, to Australia, New Guinea and Melanesia. The true First Nations of the Philippines, Taiwan and Jeju (South Korea) were of African origin. In kind, Malays, who long ago left southern China and settled the Pacific Rim of southeast Asia-found their way westward, settling Madagascar, where they found and intermingled with Africans.
In Africa itself, the southern third of the continent was originally the domain of those who have been variously called Hottentots, Bushmen, Pygmies, or more recently by their own preferred name, San. Those known collectively as Bantu were migrants from western Africa, who spread across the continent, much as the First Nations peoples of the Americas spread through those continents.
The beat goes on-and still there is argument, as to who should be allowed to live where. Fighting over land is tantamount to self-defeatism. Untangling the ball of yarn will be a long, tortuous process, but can anyone really say the process of conflict and warfare is easier?
“The Earth is but one country, and Mankind its citizens”. – Baha’u’llah
October 4, 2023- When I closed my eyes at this evening’s prayer meeting, I saw a cabin in the woods, with soft, multicoloured lighting outside. After a few more prayers were said, I closed my eyes in reverence again, and saw the dungeon where Baha’u’llah was imprisoned for four months, in 1852. The full meaning of these visions could play out, in terms of my being physically-present in those locations, at some point, or there could be some related meaning, that pertains to something else in my life.
Messages can have “one and seventy meanings”, according to any number of spiritual traditions, including the Teachings of Christ, and those of Baha’u’llah- Who goes further, ascribing such a distinction to every written word in Scripture. Indeed, any time I get an inspirational message about how to spend a day, where to work and where to visit, it takes some contemplation, beforehand and along the course of the day, to be sure that I am maintaining the intended course of action,
The message that came to me, three weeks ago, to accept this week’s work assignment, was very clear: “Do your level best for the two children who will be your primary focus, while also helping with anyone else who needs attention, especially if the classroom teacher is busy elsewhere or is overwhelmed.” This has prepared me for a few instances, such as lunch time, when there has been shortness of staff and I found myself serving as an adhoc monitor. It also falls into my long-held view that every educator in an institution of learning is responsible, to a degree, for the well-being of every student in that environment.
The message that came to me, back in May, regarding my journey to southeast Asia, was to focus strictly on the Philippines-that a longer journey to the region, involving more nations, would happen in a few years. Such guidance can always change, as situations evolve in various aspects of my life and in the wider world. Yes, the dynamics of aging and health are among those aspects-but for now, that part of my life is not fraught with issues. I have three focuses for the upcoming trip: Visiting a sponsored youth, connecting with the Baha’is and a few other friends, and paying homage to those who died at Bataan and Corregidor, as well as to Jose Rizal and,if time allows, Lapu-Lapu, whom I regard as a figure little known in the West-but every bit as important to history as the great chiefs of North America’s First Nations.
Over the next few days, I may receive further insight regarding the matter, but for now, the message is to focus on the children and correct an oversight on a financial matter, relative to health care I received one and two years ago.
September 27, 2023- The scientist looked earnestly at the veteran politician, and bared his soul. He fretted about the destruction to which his work had contributed. For this, he was castigated, and thrown out of the politician’s office.
Historically accurate or not, this was the depiction of the interchange between J. Robert Oppenheimer and Harry S. Truman, in the film “Oppenheimer”. I came away from the film, which was in its final showing this evening, thinking “Well, that was certainly vintage Truman; ‘The buck stops here’ and all that.” It may have been typical of Oppenheimer, as well. He held a dim view of “Give ‘Em Hell Harry”, largely for the difference in worldview between the two of them.
There was, however, a firsthand view of the first atomic explosion that occurred in White Sands, that Oppenheimer had and Truman did not. The President had to weigh a lot of factors, in deciding to attack Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Chief among them was ‘saving American lives’, with the damage to Japan being secondary. There were calculations, though, that far more Japanese lives would be lost in a conventional war, than from one or two nuclear strikes. It was, in my 20/20 hindsight (I was born in 1950), a Hobson’s choice.
War, and conflict in general, brings out the worst in people. Its “solution” certainly caused no end of heartache and grief to the people of Kyushu and western Honshu. It left Oppenheimer, a reluctant recipient of both civic honour and political humiliation, a veritable wreck of a man. The subsequent research into the hydrogen bomb left “downwinders” in southern Nevada and Utah, northern Arizona and much of New Mexico, poisoned, debilitated shells of their more robust selves. Neutron bombs, which “kill people, but leave buildings intact” are perhaps the most cynical extension of this element of modern warfare, save the use of armed drones, launched a long distance away from the target.
The events that were fictionalized in “Oppenheimer” only reinforced my revulsion. Harry Truman probably would have wanted to kick my buttocks.
September 20, 2023- Several tree branches graced the highway, between Winslow and Strawberry, leading us to stop and wait for fifteen minutes at a stretch, as one lane was open, and we took turns with oncoming traffic. At least this time, no one jumped the gun and refused to wait-unlike last year on Cape Breton, when a pick-up coming towards our traffic line challenged the lead vehicle-a semi-trailer. Guess who backed up five hundred yards?
Today’s episode led to a pushed -back chiropractic adjustment-which was no big deal. The evening Zoom meeting, which was the other reason for making sure I was back at Home Base-Prescott by this evening, was lengthy, but well-organized. These next three weeks need to be similarly focused, on my end at least. A fair amount of work is on tap and renewed attention to weight reduction, though this journey has not been as hard on that part of my life as it might have been. Connecting a few more dots on the Philippines trip needs to happen-so long as the plug is not pulled on TSA and the air traffic controllers, come October 1.
Recapping, the four-day Colorado East Baha’i Summer School provided spiritual grounding before I headed north and east. Laying a wreath at the grave of a fallen police officer was the other side of the coin from George Floyd World Square, where I stopped in 2021. A corollary visit to Oheyaw Ahi, land sacred to the Dakota people, was an added blessing. Visiting the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette is essential to me, personally, in ensuring both physical and spiritual well-being on any cross-country jaunt. My mother’s 95th birthday, though rather low-key, was the centerpiece of the drive. The birth of a grand niece, though I did not hang around and witness it, was as good a reason as any to stop in the beloved climes of southeast Pennsylvania, spend time with my newly relocated brother and sister-in-law, and of course stop in at Glick’s Greenhouse. It was also a reason to make homage to a much-loved cousin, who spent her final years in York, a place of considerable historical importance-as is its namesake in England. Visits with old friends in Crossville, TN and Amarillo topped off this year’s cross-country.
Other old friends were welcoming, in Wilmette, IL; Saugus, Bedford and Wilkes-Barre, PA; and Moriarty, NM. There were new friends made-in Luverne, MN; Toledo; Kittery, ME; Harrisburg; Marion, VA; Atoka, OK-and Amarillo. The most important, enduring feature of any journey, though, is the connection with family. At journey’s end, I can say that it, almost alone, determines the success or failure of the effort.
September 19, 2023, Moriarty- The clerk in the spanking new service station regarded me curiously, as I was putting a lid on the soup bowl I had just filled-“You’re in the right place. If you’re ready, this way please.” She is one of the archetypal personages who show up, whenever I am starting to feel befuddled. There are the cheerful Irish girl or woman with long black hair and a crinkled smile, the concerned Black man or woman who sets me straight-often without saying a word, and the slender, no-nonsense woman or girl with an air of self-confidence. The clerk was one of the latter, her understated message being”You need not doubt yourself. Go forward with confidence”. These archetypal persons are all souls that I seem to have met before.
After checking out of Palace Motel, I crossed the state line into Oklahoma, and saw “Welcome to the Choctaw Nation”. As many are aware, the record of the Federal government, with regard to what is now Oklahoma, is rather shoddy. Native Americans were forcibly removed from their lands in the Southeast, brought to this area and given small segments of what was then viewed as marginal land. Once oil was discovered, there was a land rush and races were held, to see who would grab “newly-opened” parcels of land. The Oklahoma Territory took the western 2/3 of Indian Territory, and the two were again joined, to become the State of Oklahoma, in 1907. It was from the days of the land rush that the term “Sooners”, or claim jumpers, was bestowed upon the citizens of Oklahoma.
I entered the Sooner State fairly early, and drove through Broken Bow, Idabel, Hugo and Durant, before heading northward, towards Atoka. These towns are all in Choctaw jurisdiction, and variously show signs of prosperity and sections that could use some love. The Choctaw seem to have used their resources rather well: Oil and casino resorts draw other enterprises. Atoka, in particular, is making strides to increase its draw as a business location. Along with Durant, it has established the commercial strips common to most regional hubs in North America.
As I began to feel like I was aimlessly meandering, a check of the GPS revealed that I was not all that far from Oklahoma City. It was lunch time, and the Pilot station offered comforting hot soup, along with a chicken sandwich-plenty good enough for a road meal. The above-mentioned clerk summoned me to her station, and conveyed a message of confidence. From there, I spotted a sign directing me towards Ada, a town where Penny and I stayed with friends, while she was recuperating from an illness incurred while traveling, in 1984. I knew that from Ada, it would be an hour or so to Oklahoma City, and relaxed enough to just pull into Atoka City Park, enjoying lunch, while admiring the lake that the city has constructed.
Atoka Lake (above and below)
The sky looked a bit ominous, and I would later hear from a friend elsewhere in Oklahoma, that her area had experienced severe downpours, with thunder and lightning. My drive was briefly interrupted, near Shawnee, when I drove into a speed trap-55 down to 40, in a matter of seconds. I was given an oral warning and sent on my way, no worse for the wear. The officer did not seem to even agree with the posting, but was just another soul-dispatched to make sure I was in a good frame of mind. The weather, save a few sprinkles, near Weatherford (no pun, cosmic, or otherwise), was rather tame.
By dinner time, I was in Amarillo, and so headed to the Fun Zone, Georgia Street to 6th-9th Avenues. There was my pal, Wes, in his convertible, hood down and ready to make anew friend or two. At Smokey Joe’s, we were treated like royalty by a comely young woman named Ella, who brought out a fine basket of Southern style catfish-no hush puppies, but a modest portion of fries and a generous helping of cole slaw. Wes, being shy and retiring, was more concerned with speaking of his business’s progress and sharing pictures of his surrogate grand-niece than with eating. He did make a new friend, so the stop was a success.
I promised both of them that I would drive safely-and kept that promise, arriving here to a rather crowded town, many here for a Gun Show. There was a room for me, at a friend’s establishment, so I am happily ensconced at Lariat Motel.
September 18, 2023, De Queen, AR- “Sit wherever you want, hun. What can I get you to drink, my love?” Each person who came into Huddle House, in Corinth, this morning was greeted thus endearingly by the lead server, Ryanne- and what better way is there to start a Monday morning? She recounted to me, at table, that her morning had not exactly been a time of sweetness and light. She was not, however, about to let before-work woes ruin her day at the diner, or anyone else’s. As she worked, calls came that conveyed the message that solutions to the mishaps were in progress. I get the sense that her attitude towards life generates such positive outcomes.
The next stop, on a horseshoe-shaped ramble, was Tupelo- birthplace of Elvis Presley. Though I did not make a stop at the King’s boyhood home, getting the ambiance of the place and a sense of how it affected his musical trajectory came from stops in downtown and at Ballard Park, in midtown Tupelo. There is a tolerance of individuality in Tupelo- borne out by the boutique, Main Attraction, where I purchased a latte from a flamboyant, but rather soft-spoken entrepreneur- whose main wares were women’s clothing and New Age items, such as Buddha tea mugs and incense burners. There was also this mural, honouring the spirit of the region’s indigenous Chickasaw people.
Mural in downtown Tupelo
There are scattered memorials to the area’s Confederate dead, but these are tempered by acknowledgement of the contributions of African-Americans, including this marker at Tupelo National Battlefield. The battle that took place there, in 1862, set the way for both the Federal occupation of Vicksburg and Sherman’s March to the Sea, by disrupting Confederate supply lines.
Honouring the brigade of United States Colored Troops, for its efforts at the Battle of Tupelo.
The Lee County Courthouse, like others in mid-sized southern towns, has its dome. This construction feature is designed to convey the majesty of law. That majesty has come hard, only gradually overcoming the resistance of many residents to a more inclusive community ethos.
Lee County Courthouse, Tupelo
The Deep South is changing, though, and I felt only welcome and conviviality on this initial swing through the heartland of the Civil Rights struggle. Ballard Park, where a lone Hispanic woman was jogging while pushing her infant in a stroller and feeding the gaggles of Canadian geese that dominate the south shore of the lake, is a case in point.
South Shore of Ballard Lake, Tupelo.
At some point in the not-too-distant future, I will make a music-centered return visit, and the actual Elvis Presley Lake, as well as his boyhood home, will be part of that itinerary. There is resistance in the Universe to my being on the road, though, epitomized by the current financial downturn, so I have to be patient and perhaps focus more on working, to rebuild my nest egg. A lot of people have goals that face similar straits; yet on we go.
Despite having those thoughts, the road continued-to Philadelphia, MS, scene of the murders of three Civil Rights activists, in the “Freedom Summer” of 1964. At that time in my life, a revulsion towards authoritarian Communism existed side by side with an equally strong conviction that African-Americans were being grossly denied full citizenship, especially in the South, but also in my hometown, north of Boston, where few Black people were allowed to live, at the time. Debates on the subject were civil, yet I was regarded as somewhat naive in “the way life really is”. How times have changed!
I felt a rather dark energy, approaching Philadelphia. It was almost as if the ghosts of the murdered were trying to communicate. When I got to downtown, and parked my vehicle, beginning a short stroll, I was greeted warmly by a well-dressed gentleman, who somehow recognized me from who knows where. He shortly went about his business, and I made note of Neshoba County Courthouse, and the water tower that draws from a reservoir near where the three men were buried. Downtown, for the most part, was quiet.
Downtown Philadelphia, MSNeshoba County Courthouse, Philadelphia, MS.
Headed out of town, towards Jackson, I found myself behind several school buses. One of them led the way, for about eight miles, and I noticed rambunctious behaviour through the opaque rear window, similar to the shenanigans of countless children and youth, the world over.
It was also quitting time in the state capital, so when I got to the seat of Mississippi state government, I had a “state business only” streetside parking space to myself-for five minutes, under the watchful eye of a Capitol Police Officer. Here, then, are the Mississippi Capitol and a nearby First Baptist Church.
South side of Mississsippi State Capitol, JacksonFirst Baptist Church, Capitol Hill, Jackson
The road west and north passed a sizable back-up, across I-20, near Tallulah, LA, where I stopped for dinner and heard details of the overturned truck, from another driver who witnessed the rollover. Leaving the Interstate, just shy of Shreveport, my memory of map study when I was a teenager and young adult came in handy-and up through Springhill, into Arkansas, it was. I passed through the place called Hope, in which Bill Clinton still believed, on the night of his election to the Presidency, in 1992. Respite, though, has come, at the Palace Hotel, in this little town of De Queen, just shy of the Oklahoma border. I was the last guest checked in for the night, before the clerk decided he’d had enough, and locked the office door.
The Universe may be resistant, in some ways, but there are plenty in it, who are looking out for me.
September 15, 2023, Marion, VA- In the small Korean market, the emphasis is on organic foods, combined with a standard American submarine sandwich shop menu. Besides that, there is a mash-up with convenience foods on the shelves. Green Foods Market is on the east end of downtown York, an area of unexpectedly broad streets, high traffic and seemingly prosperous residents.
York drew my late cousin, Linda, many years ago, during a time of uncertainty in her life. There was a farm and a sense of plenitude, a place where she could deal with matters that had inserted themselves into her previously serene life. Linda was like an angel, and was always helping others, especially us cousins. She was almost too good for this world.
I went there, on my way south, early this afternoon, stopping at the aforementioned Green Foods, for a seafood salad, which would become lunch and dinner, on my way southward along Virginia’s “spine”: I-81. I have long wanted to visit York and see what drew one of my favourite cousins. While not getting to the area where she lived, I did get a sense of the source of York’s good fortune. Here was where the United States of America came together, with the Articles of Confederation being ratified-away from the uncertainty of Philadelphia and the imminent threat of British occupation. Confederation Square remains the town’s centerpiece.
Enough rambling. Here are some scenes from downtown York.
A homeless man, sitting on a bench, pointed to this sign. It was, he said, a sign of the city’s commitment to public health. That he himself was well-groomed, wearing clean clothes, was proof of an effort being made in that regard.York City HallLaurel Fire Station-one of the few I’ve seen with its original bell tower.The blue-black bear image is quite common, in south central Pennsylvania.York County Courthouse, with domes in the back.In 1777, the seeds of a national culture were sown, from York.For no reason, other than levity, Jack Haley’s Tin Woodman is presented as “The Tinker”.
With a favourable image of York, and satisfied that this town treated a beloved family member well, I headed southward, with relatively little trouble, save brief interludes of Washington area traffic headed out of town, briefly visited treasured Harrisonburg and arrived in Marion, on the south end of Appalachian Virginia, in time to tumble into bed.
September 15, 2023, Marion, VA- Denim Coffee has a nondescript sign, and takes up a small storefront, across the street from the Pennsylvania State Capitol-and Strawberry Square. It also produces what, to me, is eastern Pennsylvania’s finest cup of coffee-and I know a thing or two about good java. The perky barista who greeted me this morning is another plus for the shop.
Harrisburg’s Best Little Coffee House
The coffee stop, and a walk through Strawberry Square-the delightful indoor mall that abuts the Capitol, on its southwest corner, are definite rewards for the visitor to Harrisburg, who will find a dignified, solidly-constructed complex, bordered to the north by Historic State Street, with its magnificent St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Grace Church. The Susquehanna River and its bridges add further luster to the community.
Harrisburg will see me again, but in the meantime, here are a few scenes of another part of the historical core of Keystone- which spreads from Gettysburg to Philadelphia’s Old City.
Pennyslvania State Capitol, from the north.Capitol viewed from the east.Capitol viewed from the west.Majestic view of the Pennysylvania State Capitol, from the south. Capitol Courtyard fountainView of State Street Bridge, from Capitol Mall, HarrisburgAs Pennsylvania translated in English means “Penn’s woods”, a grove on the Capitol grounds is certainly in order.Historic State Street, HarrisburgSt.Patrick’s Cathedral, HarrisburgInterior of St. Patrick’s CathedralGrace Church, Harrisburg
I have, in a few cases, entered a state capitol building and enjoyed its interior. I hope to do so in this Capitol, next Spring, as well as to focus on the Susquehanna, and its role in Harrisburg’s, and the state’s, growth.
The barista at Denim reminded me, strikingly, of my late cousin, Linda, who spent her final years in York, to the south of Harrisburg. It was in Linda’s memory that I went to York, the subject of the next post.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 