Wilbert’s Fantasy and World Class ‘Q’

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 31, 2019 in Community, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Slow Food, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 15-16, 2019, Kansas City (MO) (and Olathe, KS )-

In 1959, Wilbert Harrison, a rhythm and blues singer from Charlotte, delivered the signature rendition of the whimsical tune, “Kansas City”- imagining a visit there would bring him romance, which would change his life.

Of course, it was pure fancy and the real Mr. Harrison probably spent no more time in KC than anyone else who didn’t live there. He did have a good idea, though. Kansas City has long been a place through which I have driven, en route to somewhere else. I visited the Truman Presidential Library, in nearby Independence, in 2011, but the big city eluded me-until today.

KCMO, simply put, has the most welcoming hostel in which I’ve yet stayed. Considering that I have had great experiences in all but one of the hostels I’ve visited in the past four years, that’s saying a volume. Honeycomb, and its owner/host, Elsa, make every guest feel like family. This is a woman who has lived a full life, most recently having made an interesting attempt to climb Mt. Everest, which she says will NOT be her last attempt. Then, there is Max, the house dog, who has his own skateboard, on which he can barely fit.

Max does his skateboard trick, for a piece of cheddar cheese.

There is much to see and do in Kansas City, so this will not be my last time stopping here. There were two immediate goals for this trip, though: Finding signature barbecue and getting a handle on downtown.

The first goal was achieved when,courtesy of Elsa, I headed towards Q 39, a medium-sized barbecue palace, in mid-town, and in a strip mall,yet. There are more stately-sounding barbecue restaurants, recommended by Lonely Planet and Fodor’s, but I’d come back here again, in a flash. Burnt tips have become this steak lover’s favourite, and no one does them better than Q 39’s kitchen staff.

Upon my return, the conversation with Elsa and three other guests, young men who are here for an extended work-visit, left me thinking that a need to slow the cross-country engine down, and actually spend 2-3 days, or more, in a place like KC, as I do in Massachusetts and Carson City-Reno. Family is as much in the mind and heart, as it is on a tree of ancestry. No, I’m not implying following Wilbert’s whimsical example; most women I encounter on the road are perfectly content with the men who are already in their lives. I am seeing the wisdom in matching my intensive mode of exploration with an actual time frame that fits.

Tuesday morning I left Honeycomb around 11 a.m. and headed to Union Station, far more than a place to catch a train.

As the skeleton implies, here is a top-notch Science City, which is offering a Stonehenge exhibit. Having been in Carnac and to Cahokia Mounds, I passed this one up, but for the small children going in with their parents, it had to have been a blast.

The interior lobby, though, gives Grand Central a run for its money.

The lobby has a couple of nice little food nooks, so I got a sandwich from Harvey’s, following up with a fine latte and fresh scone from Parisi. That set me back on the road, for a forty-five minute auto tour of downtown. Following this excursion, KC’s nice system of boulevards and parkways made wrestling with the construction zones at I-70’s on ramps completely unnecessary. I was past Kansas City, KS within a half-hour.

Continuing notes to self: Kansas is making a concerted effort at increasing its foliage. I make it a point to record all such scenes as I encounter.

NEXT: Solemnity and Noise in Eastern Colorado

Father of Waters and His Diligent Children

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 30, 2019 in Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 14-15, 2019, Wapello, IA-

Almost as essential as a visit to the Baha’i House of Worship, when crossing the country, is some time spent in the vicinity of the Mississippi River. Its residents, whether north or south, have a temperament, a work ethic, and a resilience, all their own.

My meeting with a steadfast and inspiring friend lasted about forty-five minutes. Afterward, I prayed in the House of Worship for a half hour further, then made my way out of Chicagoland, stopping for lunch and to do laundry, in Bolingbrook, on the Metropolitan area’s southern edge. A horrific accident, coupled with ongoing roadwork, had left I-59 backed up, on the northbound side, for at least four miles. I would have felt fine, had we southbounders shared part of our road with our hapless fellow-travelers. The heat, this afternoon, was back, with a vengeance, after two days of fairly mild temperatures.

On we went, though, and my necessaries were done, after two hours. Bolingbrook is a cosmopolitan little place, the type in which I am quite comfortable. The genial, but imposing, laundromat manager kept order by circulating among the families, stopping to comfort a boy of about ten or eleven, who was crying after having somehow disappointed his mother. She wasn’t acting angry nor was she scolding him. It was just that love which a child has for a parent, in which feeling like the parent has been let down, is the worst feeling in the world. Mr. D. seemed to know this, and had the boy calmed down, by quietly getting to ht heart of the matter.

I stopped, briefly, in Peoria, to say prayers for the memory and soul’s progress of a native of that town, who had been a friend of ours in Dinetah, for several years. Nancy went back to Peoria for her final year or so, before passing on, earlier this year. The Clock Tower was about the only part of the River District that wasn’t blocked by construction, so it serves as a stand-in for the historic downtown area.

From Peoria, it was on to the Mississippi, in its northern segment. Crossing into Iowa, I found my first Riverside encounter in Bettendorf, the northwest quarter of the Quad Cities. (The other three being Moline and Rock Island, IL and Davenport, IA.)

The playground at Leach Park looks like it would engage a variety of child age groups.

Having had a childhood fascination with conical roofs, I would have gravitated towards that building, had it been in my local playground, way back when.

The Mississippi, though, remains the main draw.

This lodge-type structure is on Rock Island Arsenal, an island on the Illinois side, just west of the city of Rock Island. From the looks of things, it seems to have a role in flood control.

I was getting tired, as I passed through Davenport and Muscatine. When little Wapello appeared, I was grateful to see Roy-El Motel, just off the highway. As tourist traffic is light in these parts, the owners were glad to see me, too. This is a view of downtown Wapello. The town is named for a mild-mannered chief of the Meskwaki people, who led them to this area and enjoyed harmonious relations with the white settlers of the river front. I had a light breakfast at Chief Brew, where local farmers and retired folks gather, “three days a week, so we don’t get tired of one another.” The men were surprised to see someone from Arizona. I explained that I enjoy stopping along the River, to which one man said- “Bet you’d change your mind, after seeing one flood stage.”

There was no such deluge, this Monday morning, though.

The Father of Waters was enjoying his siesta. I headed on west, with the destination being Kansas City.

NEXT: Wilbert Harrison had it right.

A Temple and Its Concentric Circles

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 29, 2019 in Community, Historical, Matters of Faith, Slow Food, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 13-14, 2019, Wilmette-

I have made it a practice, when going back and forth across North America, to stop at least once at the Baha’i House of Worship, in this leafy North Shore suburb of Chicago. Often, it is only for two or three hours, before I’m off again, to whatever awaits. This time, though, I took an Airbnb room, near Wilmette’s Village Center, the better to meet with a trusted friend at her convenience.

The House of Worship is, rightfully, a point of pride for Wilmette’s residents, regardless of their faith, or lack thereof. The town has a full complement of Christian denominations and an active Jewish temple, as well as several Muslims. My host, an Iranian-American, who is not a Baha’i, spoke well of our Faith and of the Temple.

My day started, in Wrigleyville, with my helping the most vibrant of the group of hostelers, whom I mentioned yesterday, to charge her phone. The Hostel’s breakfast master whipped up some incredible pancakes and waffles. Then came the navigation from the parking garage I used, to curbside near the hostel. A distance of two blocks required me to go around Cape Horn, figuratively speaking. At one point, I stopped, twice, at the same STOP sign, then inched forward, only to be chastised by a traffic control officer for not stopping a THIRD time. No ticket ensued, after his partner rolled her eyes at him and signaled me to turn. That’s Chicago traffic, though, and never anything personal. A police officer at another spot let me turn onto Sheffield, and I found the perfect spot for loading my car back up.

No freeway was necessary, going to Wilmette. U.S. 41 North gives one a nice slice of Chicago’s northwest side, at a leisurely pace, without a humongous amount of traffic, of a Saturday morning. A fine lunch at Potbelly Sandwich Shop, amongst an eclectic crowd, set a fine mood for the rest of the drive to my evening’s abode. The ambiance is as important to me as the food itself. Listening to Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of “Sunshine of Your Love” was a bonus.

Above a Persian carpet shop sits a modest apartment. There, I took the spare room, and headed up to the House of Worship. My focus, after prayers and meditation, is always on the gardens, which surround the Temple, on each of its nine sides. I have shown these, in detail, in earlier posts. Here, though, is a small sample.

This is the North Shore Channel, which empties into Wilmette Harbor, between the House of Worship and Gillson Park, which has the village’s lovely beach.

I availed myself of two restaurants here in Wilmette: Ridgeview Grill, which I visited last summer, gave the same excellent fare and service on Saturday night; Walker Brothers Pancake House offered the finest of Sunday breakfasts. (Yes, San Diegans, your very own Richard Walker is a member of this family, and his superb Pancake House is a West Coast extension of the Wilmette establishment, which also has six other branches around Chicagoland’s North Shore.).Suffice it to say, I am getting spoiled by two days in a row of great pancakes.

With breakfast done, and 10 a.m. rolling around, I bid farewell to my host, J., and headed over to the House of Worship, to meet my friend. On the way, I encountered a crew fixing a broken water main, so prayers were offered for that situation as well. The Baha’i House of Worship in Wilmette (1953) was the second such Temple ever built, the first being in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan (1908). (It was confiscated by the Soviets, in the 1920’s, then was destroyed by an earthquake. The property remains vacant, under Turkmenistan government control.) There are now seven other Baha’i Houses of Worship – one for each continuously-inhabited continent, plus one in Samoa and one in Panama. National and Regional Baha’i Temples are being built, in several places around the globe. Each House of Worship is open to all, regardless of Faith.

Wilmette, this time, felt a lot more like home. The ripples of love and acceptance are radiating outward from this truly divine edifice.

The Way of Sacrifice

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 26, 2019 in Historical, Matters of Faith, Poetry, Spiritual

July 10, 2019, Pittsburgh-

Let your mind’s eye envision

the scene in Tabriz.

Hundreds of soldiers lined up,

thousands of onlookers behind them.

All are there to put an end

to the presence of a Light Being,

the Herald of a New Age;

the Divine Teacher, Who

became known as Al-Bab,

The Gate.

The rounds are fired,

the smoke clears,

and there is His devoted companion,

tied to Him,

before the shots were rendered;

now, just wandering about, in confusion,

That confusion spreads like wildfire.

Where is the Prisoner?

Why, He is finishing His business

with a follower,

in an office room,

elsewhere in the prison!

Al-Bab is taken outside,

once this matter has been

completed.

He is bound to His companion,

again.

A different regiment

fires its rounds.

The smoke clears,

the deed is done.

The bodies, left for the jackals

and wild dogs,

are retrieved in the night,

kept safe,

from one place of refuge

to another,

and finally laid to rest,

in March, 1909,

at His Tomb,

in Haifa, Israel.

There, we may honour Him,

at the Shrine of The Bab.

(This is a matter of historical record. Russian observers were present at the execution, were astounded and horrified, and made certain this matter was recorded in words, for posterity. Al-Bab was executed on July 9, 1850. We Baha’is commemorate His Martyrdom, each year. The date this year happened to fall on July 10, according to our commemorative calendar, which is based on lunar reckoning. I joined a group of Baha’is and friends of our Faith, in a quiet neighbourhood of southwest Pittsburgh, for today’s observance.)

Bastion of Honour

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 25, 2019 in Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Spiritual, Travel

July 9, 2019, West Point, NY-

My father, before his passing, expressed a desire to visit the United States Military Academy, at this wide spot on the west bank of the Hudson, 57 miles north of New York City. I don’t know if he ever made it there, but in case he hadn’t, I was determined to visit on both his behalf and as part of marking my own 50th anniversary of having joined the U.S. Army.

Unlike either of the still extant posts at which I served,West Point does allow visitors. The security check involves both a written document and a personal interview, lasting 3-5 minutes. Once those are accomplished, a visitor is given clearance to go to the Cemetery, to Trophy Point and, parking space available, to the fortress-like dormitories.

I set aside 3 hours, this afternoon, after being cleared by security, to look over the areas mentioned above. West Point, despite a handful of peccadilloes, over the years, remains largely a bastion of honour.

The Museum is the first place one sees, upon entering the Visitor Center parking lot. I save that great edifice for another time, preferring to get out and take in the out of doors sections of the Academy.

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From the edge of the parking lot, one may take in a serene view of the Hudson.

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On to the Visitor’s Center, with its display which depicts the quarters of a cadet, and of the cadet’s four years.

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The quarters are spartan.

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Once cleared by the dour and seemingly exhausted security officer, I drove to the Cemetery parking lot and took in a variety of mausoleums and tombs, reflecting our nation’s military heritage. Soldiers from George Armstrong Custer to William Westmoreland are laid to rest in these grounds.

Here is a montage of the statuary and resting places of West Point National Cemetery.

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The Old Cadet Chapel, seen below, was brought here to the Cemetery Gate, from its prior location near the dormitories.

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From here, I walked to Gees Point, from which one may take in more serene views of the majestic Hudson River.

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This Helipad is primarily for the use of dignitaries, coming and going.

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This small house invokes the gentler side of the Academy. It serves as an officer’s residence.

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This is one of two paths, from the Main Road to Eisenhower Hall, that are “Use at own risk”. I took the risk.

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Below is a view of the Catholic Chapel.

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The Gothic dormitories could only be photographed from a distance, this evening, due to a dearth of parking.

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The legendary football/soccer stadium stands next to the dorms.

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Finally, the statue of Tadeusz Kosciusko stands watch, gazing towards the Hudson.

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So ended my first visit to my former superiors’ alma mater.

The Valley of Five Colleges

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 23, 2019 in Community, Education, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 8, 2019, Amherst, MA-

I learned much from my growing-up years in Saugus-certainly a lot more than some people, who knew me when, ever suspected. Some, especially in my family, still wonder how I’ve made it this far, ever managing to get out of my own way. Truth be known, what I learned as a child and teen determined what I retained from my college and university days, and from many experiences thereafter. I learned to survive in Saugus and how to thrive in Amherst.

Amherst both sheltered me from the real world and engaged the stretching of my comfort zone. I came to this place of five institutions of higher learning, at a time when the women’s movement was coming into full flower (no pun intended) and when the residue of the anti- war movement was settling into an ennui of apathy. Watergate rekindled a sense of outrage, for a time, but with Richard Nixon gone, by the Fall of 1974, many were back to focusing on I, Me and Mine.

I returned here today, for the first time since graduating in 1976, to see what, if anything, had really changed. Amherst College is still the centerpiece of downtown. The University of Massachusetts is the town’s largest employer. Mount Holyoke College, Smith College, and Hampshire College lie in a semi-circle to the south of Amherst, I took a stroll around Amherst College and downtown Amherst, before heading up to the University campus.

Here a few views of Amherst College.

The Loeb Center is a job placement hub for Amherst graduates.

Bassett is one of two planetariums in Amherst. Orchard Hill, on the University of Massachusetts campus, is the other.

Henry Ward Beecher was a pioneer in the abolitionist movement, but was later the focus of scandal, showing the two sides of even the most ardent of social reformers. Nonetheless, he is honoured by Amherst College as one of its most prominent alumni.

Lawrence Observatory, to which Bassett Planetarium is attached, is one of the first astronomical observatories in the United States, having been built in 1847.

My walk around Amherst town began with lunch. Fresh Side is a lovely Asian fusion cafe.

St. Brigid’s Roman Catholic Church is one of the most prominent non-college edifices in town.

Amherst Town Hall, though, is the signature Town Center building, across from the Town Green.

Fast forward a bit and I found myself gazing at the High Rise Dormitory, completed just before I attended the University.

Here is the Sciences Complex.

This scene appealed to me, as a fusion of two starkly different architectural styles.

I headed south, after a brief visit to the University Commons, and gazed towards Mt. Holyoke, from a highway rest stop. The Five Colleges were a solid unit in the 1970’s and are even more vital an educational force now. The concept of a unified and diverse educational consortium has only gained traction, in the decades since.

NEXT: Danbury, The Second Clarion of the American Revolution

On Differing With Ella Winter

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 21, 2019 in Community, Family, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 3-7, 2019, Saugus, MA-

The fine North Carolina author, Thomas Wolfe, famously used, “You can’t go home again.”as the title of a novel, which he never lived to publish. His associates took care of that, sometime after his death in 1938, and we have the title as one of the more memorable things with which he is associated. The quote, though, originated with an Australian writer, Ella Winter, who gave Wolfe permission to use it in his writing.

I’ve been going back to Saugus, continuously, since I left here at age 18. Service in the Army, college, a quixotic two years getting my bearings in Maine, and then Arizona, South Korea and back to Arizona, all have had a common denominator: Hometown has never gone away.

There have been changes: The population has grown, from 25,000 to about 38,000; traffic has increased accordingly; the once lily-white community has opened its doors to people of colour; Hilltop Steak House has given way to Restaurant 110; most of the neighbours have died or moved away.

There are, though, things which endure: My mother is still living, quite well; two boyhood friends still live in the neighbourhood-one in his childhood home; Adams Avenue, the street of my youth, is still within walking distance of both Saugus Center and Cliftondale Square-as well as the West Side’s large shopping mall, Square One; traffic on U.S. Route One can still be daunting at times, though after dealing for so long with traffic in much larger cities, I know not to cringe.

We had the usual family gathering, this time at a niece’s large, beautiful new home, about 1 1/2 hours west of here and dropped in on a nephew and his family, in a town twenty minutes south of Saugus. These visits are fleeting, but far better than not seeing these gracious, beloved people at all. There was a visit to the aforementioned 110, where I got my fix of fried clams, a boyhood staple. There were the customary Hallmark movies and binge watching of old episodes of “Blue Bloods”, one of Mom’s favourites. There was a surprise, when Mom decided to check out a couple of Marvel films, on SyFy. She had enough, after “Iron Man”, but “Spider Man” was a hit.

I come from large families, on both sides. There are many cousins, some I haven’t seen in years, and a few aunts and uncles still living. The group will hopefully get together in late August. Though I won’t be there, people have to start with what they have available. I have been able to connect with a cousin in the Midwest, as you know, and will hopefully make more connections, in future visits. Gradually, the in-gathering progresses-with social media at least keeping the ties from fraying.

So, not to judge Ella Winter, for the circumstances of her life, but I CAN, and do, go home again. If nothing else, home remains in the heart. We four, and our extended family, want Mom to keep on, so long as life offers her a measure of blessing. May she keep the flame, until it’s time to pass the torch on.

NEXT: Amherst and Its Halls of Learning

The Two Faces of Newburgh

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 18, 2019 in Community, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 2, 2019, Newburgh , NY-

One of the things I often find myself doing, when going back and forth across the continent, is spending at least a few hours in a town or city that is struggling with a variety of social ills, yet still manages to keep a semblance of what made it tick. Newburgh, in the middle Hudson Valley, is one such place.

I spent last night, and this morning, in Oley, PA, at the home of friends who operate Glick’s Greenhouse. It’s always a pleasure to stop there, with a house full of people and one sometimes grouchy greenhouse dog. When I was about to leave, after breakfast and lunch served up by a budding eight-year-old chef, the proprietor of the Greenhouse showed me some of his nephew’s latest blossoms.

The evening brought me to the Hudson Valley, and Newburgh. I made the choice to focus on the Inner City, thus spending the night at Imperial Motel, which has seen better days, though still home to some of the most regal people on Earth. A wander about the downtown area showed both early 20th and contemporary 21st Century architecture.

The City Courthouse is a busy place. Newburgh is said to be the murder capital of New York State, so it isn’t a place for the distracted or the unwary.

There are plenty of safe havens, though. These two churches signify the legacy, and the promise, that exists in places like Newburgh, and its upriver cousin, Poughkeepsie (more on it, in the next post).

I spent a little time, here and there, along Newburgh’s Riverfront, with plenty of locals celebrating the majesty of the Hudson-and a few signs of decay in spots.

Here is a view of a crossing, from south of Newburgh.

Looks like the boat might need some work.

Nonetheless, there is an enduring charm about the great river and its banks.

From this area of Newburgh’s waterfront, several ferries take people across the Hudson, to Beacon.

I took a walk, from Imperial to a small “spa”, which is another term in the Northeast for a convenience store. The dour South Asian proprietor took no crap from any of the young men who cam in and out, basically trying one scam or another. I got my coffee, treated everyone politely, while walking with confidence and had no trouble. Then again, it was broad daylight. Most trouble here seems to come from domestic disputes, and in a city where too many men have lost hope, that violence comes all too easily.

Up on the bluffs heading out of town, there is a far different ambiance. This Korean-American establishment offers one mindset that is the basis for solving many social ills: “We are one family.”

NEXT: Poughkeepsie, without Popeye Doyle

A Capitol’s Quiet Hour

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 13, 2019 in children, Community, Historical, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

June 30, 2019, Raleigh-

Perhaps in a moment of selfishness, I chose to head to North Carolina’s Triad region, specifically to the Capitol, rather than to the west central area, north of Charlotte. This, though, is what my spirit guides were telling me was in order.

I found Raleigh in a quiet and pensive collective mood, whilst walking about the Capitol District on this morning, when many were engaged in acts of worship. I pretty much had the area to myself.

The great museums would not open until noon, by which time I was getting my laundry done, in south Raleigh’s International Market, a haven for the area’s Hispanic community.

Part of the Tar Heel story is told on the Museum of History’s grounds. The frame of a Catawba home is here, surrounded by the lushness of the Piedmont.

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North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences takes up the right flank of the Museum Quarter.

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The North Carolina Museum of History occupies the left hand side.

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Three figures greet the visitor to the Museum of History: A woman of Sauratown, Thomas Day and Frederick Augustus Olds. Sauratown is an isolated mountain region, northwest of Winston-Salem. The independence of area residents is commemorated by this statue of an unidentified woman. Thomas Day is celebrated as an example of how much a free Black man could achieve. He was a skilled cabinetmaker, of the Antebellum period. Frederick Augustus Olds, a journalist, was a relentless advocate of telling North Carolina’s story, especally of “human history” and of the advancement of both Boy and Girl Scouts.

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Here is the Promenade, in its fullness.

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North Carolina is the birthplace of three U.S. Presidents: Andrew Jackson, James Knox Polk and Andrew Johnson. They may not be the favourites of many people, but each pursued and achieved his goals. The State Capitol looms in the background.

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Here are more complete views of the State Capitol.

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This statue depicts a naval cadet, of the late Nineteenth Century. A woman passing by with her young daughter remarked to the child that it must have been most uncomfortable to have to wear such garb, in the heat of a Carolina summer.

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This bell tower, of First Presbyterian church, is framed by the Memorial Garden of the Harden family.

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At the opposite end of the Promenade, near the Natural Sciences Museum, is this statue depicting the naturalist Rachel Carson, listening to a story being told by a young boy. She was passionate about educating the young, as to the dangers posed by excessive chemical use, in the mid-Twentieth Century.

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My time with the Hispanic people showed that the Tar Heel tradition continues to promote the achievements of the individual, over a mass ideological swell. May that ethic long continue.

NEXT: Virginia’s Eastern Shore

Charleston’s Many Colours

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 11, 2019 in Community, Historical, Inspiration, Social, Spiritual, Travel

June 29, 2019, Charleston (SC)-

One of the most attractive features of any town or city is the way in which it displays colour-either in street art, botanic arrays, festivals or architecture. The cultural center of South Carolina has all four.

I came here specifically to visit Fort Sumter, about which more in the next post. What would keep me coming back are two things: The warm reception at the north side’s Not So Hostel and the riot of colour, just about everywhere.

Not So Hostel keeps its promise. Despite one passive-aggressive guest, the place was a serene compound and a fine place to climb to a top bunk and rest the night.

Driving in Charleston can be a bit dicey. Maybe it’s the heat, or maybe the narrow streets, but Charleston’s motorists can be as nasty to one another as any in a much larger city. That is one reason I enjoyed my two walks in the area. First came North Charleston’s Riverfront Park, the former Naval Base, on the banks of the Cooper River. The preserved mansions then served as both residences and administrative quarters.

Artifacts of the Base’s active days are interposed with the flora, which Theodore Roosevelt had reportedly wanted removed, so as to keep the place in fighting trim. The proper ladies of North Charleston had other ideas.

The poignancy of farewells and returns is equally captured, in this sculpture of a Navy family.

There are a few fountains, like this one, interspersed throughout the Charleston area, for people to cool themselves. Those in downtown Charleston had many children doing so.

The Cooper River presented itself as a focal point for a morning’s contemplation.

The gardens have gradually been restored, thanks to North Charleston’s horticultural societies.

I headed downtown, after the Fort Sumter excursion, with the goal of walking to The Battery and back up King Street. Downtown was suitably packed, on this Saturday afternoon. I found quite a few people were interested in seeing St. Philip’s Church, but it was closed.

This is about as close as I got to Rainbow Row.

Along the Battery, houses were meant to provide for the many.

These days, the many take comfort by walking along Charleston Harbor.

The Battery’s gazebo was a haven for one family, in the heat, for nearly twenty minutes. I took this photo, once they moved on to a fountain.

This obelisk is one of several monuments to veterans of the nation’s conflicts. Confederate monuments are among them.

Rainbow Row is emulated, here and there, along King Street.

My last view of downtown Charleston was of Circular Congregational Church, which was founded in 1681 and is still in use.

NEXT: Fort Sumter

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A Sagittarian Seeker

Sharing a life of inner and outer journeys

Category Archives: Spiritual

The Way of Sacrifice

Bastion of Honour

A Capitol’s Quiet Hour

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