The little town on the northeast tip of Cape Ann, in eastern Massachusetts, has a definite place in our family lore- We went out to eat there, a few times, I worked in nearby Ipswich, and one of our family couples spent their honeymoon there.

Rockport jumps out at the visitor, as soon as one’s car is parked.

Here is Rockport Baptist Church, near the village green.

Strolling down the street brings many opportunities to view local art.

The Rockport Art Association has many shows and art walks, from May- October.

Each house is painted its own unique colour  and has its own style.

Rockport Town Hall may be seen from quite a ways out in the bay.

Above, the Unitarian-Universalist Church peeks out from behind the trees.  Below, some homes are set, along a narrow street, near Long Wharf.

Here is the clear ocean water, in front of Long Wharf’s sea wall.

Here is Long Wharf, Rockport’s signature man-made jetty.

This is Rockport’s public meeting hall.

Back along Long Wharf, there is a small botanical garden.

Bearskin Neck, north of Long Wharf, was an early area for shipbuilding.

Here are views of the north harbour.

A cormorant prepares to go get lunch.

Here is a perfect resting spot, right near a chocolate shop!

Rockport is 1/3 of an awesome vacation destination.  Next,  Halibut Point and Pigeon Cove.

This small lake, in the center of Wakefield, MA, was critical  to the Wampanoag and Penacook people, long before the British Puritans came to the area.  Wakefield, however, was established here, as Lynn Village, in 1638, because of the Mill River and Lake Quannipowitt.  The town was renamed, for Cyrus Wakefield, a furniture maker and town benefactor, in 1868.

On Labor Day, my brother, Glenn, and I walked the trail around the lake.  Of course, we started at the gazebo, on the Town Green.

Here is the Congregationalist Church.

Next to the church, and with its back to the lake, is the James Hartshorne House.

This structure is a former home for a cemetery caretaker.

Look carefully, and you will see a whooping crane.

This is the Wakefield branch of Gingerbread Construction Company.

That, my friends, is how I spent a good part of Labor Day.

July 27 was one of those days when I got everywhere, and nowhere, at once.  The day before was rather cut  and dried.  I set out from Ottawa, KS, at the right time, then got as far as Wellington, by lunchtime.  I chose Penny’s Diner, for obvious reasons.  My waitress was a lovely woman, but rather stern-looking, which was okay, since I’m not on the prowl.

I drove down to Enid, OK and spent the rest of the day at J. E. Glaze’s house, discussing certain matters with him, once he got done with work.  Early the next morning, J was still sleeping.  I left a jar of Wyoming Pickled Okra on his table, and set out towards Colorado, passing through the Oklahoma Panhandle, and these jarring scenes.

I stopped for lunch on Saturday in Laverne, OK, just south of the Kansas line.

I ended up driving on back roads, to the extent that my calculations about arrival time for meeting a former Xangan, who was in need of advice, in Manitou Springs, were way off.  I was able to reschedule the meeting for Tuesday, but it was still an “egg-on-the-face” moment.  After dinner in Larkspur, I just headed on up to my Colorado nest- in Northglenn.

Next:   At Long Last, Eldorado Springs.

I always enjoy a visit to a large college or university campus.  Harvard, the University of San Diego and the University of Texas at Austin are among those I’ve visited in the past few years, besides those of Arizona’s state  university system.

So, it was with great pleasure that I accepted an invitation from fellow blogger Jeff Markowitz (The Chalk Outline) to visit the early 18th Century splendours of Princeton University, on the morning of August 30.

We began, of course, with breakfast, at the venerable PJ’s Pancake House.

Once nourished, and filled with coffee, we set out, through Princeton’s bustling downtown.

As with any great campus, a tour of Princeton begins at the main administrative hall.

We were able  to look around the central hall, and then headed for Princeton’s large and venerable Chapel.

Princeton’s north campus contains most of the major academic halls, such as the Sciences Complex.

We came next to the Literature Building.

Our next stop was the central garden area.

Our jaunt through the south part of campus took us past the dormitories, many of which are turreted, as well as the gymnasium and a hockey rink.

Here, upon returning to the north side of the University, we encountered the statue of Princeton’s founder, John Witherspoon.

As I have been told by some kind people that I can still turn heads, and since Windows XP will not allow the rotation of photographs, I will now put the first notion to the test.

We returned to the town, after these photos were taken by a foreign student, and enjoyed a cool beverage, at Panera Bread, before visiting the historical cemetery, where Aaron Burr,  Jonathan Edwards (the fire and brimstone preacher, not the singer from the 1970’s) and pollster George Gallup, among others, are buried.  My camera battery ran out of juice before I could get shots of those graves, but not before I took a photo of the Robeson Center.  Paul Robeson was closely tied to Princeton, especially in his later years.

Jeff is a most gracious and engaging guide.  He has photos of this excursion on his own WP site, The Chalk Outline.  I  encourage those interested in his genre, Crime Fiction, to visit the site and read his interesting works.

As it happened, I ended Day 7 at my brother’s house in Saugus, MA.  It is from here that the next several posts will emanate.

I have driven past the Gateway Arch, in St. Louis, about a dozen times.   This time, it was early afternoon, and the Arch was as accessible as it would ever be.  So, going around the downtown area, heading ever so slightly north, and doubling back along the Mississippi River, I made my way to the Arch’s parking garage and saw the symbol of Manifest Destiny, in its best light.

The park grounds, and the river itself, are as vital to the ambiance of this midsection wonder, as the structure itself.   Add to these, the revitalized downtown of St. Louis, and there is a destination of which all Americans can be proud.

The Arch may be seen from 20 miles out.  From the top, via an elevator, one may view nearly twice that distance.    I forewent the latter view that afternoon of July 25.  Here, however, is the real deal, from the outside.

As I rounded the corner, towards the historic Old Courthouse, one member of a group of young men gathered on the lawn called out “Hey, buddy, can you spare a …smile?”  Perfect, for such an amazingly lovely day.    Here is the Old Courthouse, a worthy venue for families and history buffs, alike.

My last stop was the concourse, on the first floor of the Arch, where I had to undergo an emptying of the pockets and remove my belt, TSA-style, in order to use the restroom.  There is a worthwhile Heritage Museum and a couple of chain restaurants there, as well.

I left St.  Louis ahead of rush hour traffic, zipping westward on I-70.  By dinner time, I was in central Missouri, and sustenance presented itself handsomely, at Panhead Billy’s Barbecue, in Kingdom City.

As with most such places, the outward appearance of Panhead’s belied the quality of both food and service.  The young man and woman who shared serving honours bent over backwards to make me feel special, and the catfish had been caught in the Missouri, earlier that day.

After dinner, I drove through the rain, past  Kansas City and eastern Kansas, stopping for the night in Ottawa, and the southeast Kansas swelter.

The next two days would take me through more familiar turf:  northwest Oklahoma and southeast Colorado.

After a juice breakfast at Glick Farm, I spent about an hour or so, in conversation with Beth, David and their little nephew. The next stop on my itinerary was to be George Washington’s Headquarters, in Morristown, NJ.  I crossed the Delaware River with little fanfare and no illustrator on hand, around Noon.

Having time to spare before visiting Penny’s parents in Pompton Plains, I was able to spend 1 1/2 hours at this small, but important, site in the annals of the War for American Independence.

A guided tour of the Ford mansion, where General Washington stayed with his entourage during the planning and execution of the defense of central New Jersey, in  the midst of our nation’s struggle to gain independence from Britain, shows these rooms and scenes.

Here is the exterior of Ford Mansion.

Having done a measure of justice to this major site in the life of our first Commander-in-Chief, I headed to a visit and dinner with my guardian angel’s folks.

Next:  Day 7, A Guided Tour of Princeton

I left Memphis and headed east, along I-40, at a serious clip, stopping only to stretch and keep track of some communications that were important to me.  One stretch stop was Parker’s Crossroads, west of Nashville.

I drove around a bit in Nashville, but disquiet kept me going.  I did stop, briefly, at Crossville, to check my messages at a community college, and was reassured that all was well, with a few very important people.  Knoxville, Bristol, Radford, Roanoke and Harrisonburg came and went.  I stopped in Staunton, where Sleep Inn and Rubber Ducky awaited.

Thus, Day 4 of my current journey came to an end.

The next morning dawned cool and wet- no Shenandoah trek on Day 5, as my FB friends may recall.

I kept on going, to Lebanon, PA,

to meet the first pair of friends, and the first of two back-to-back meals, at The Gin Mill.

Here are Sandra and Natalie.

I had an hour or so of pleasant conversation with these two ladies, then headed south a bit, to Oley, PA and Glick Farm.

The meal, prepared by Beth, consisted of Caprese Salad, Wax Beans/Ham and Potato Casserole/Homemade Root Beer.

After dinner, we took a ride to Oley’s covered bridges.  One of them was sufficiently in light to be photographed.

I was fortunate to have a nice country bed in which to rest the night.  Day 5 was quite the fine one.

After the emotional and physical intensity of my spiritual quest, a day wandering the back roads of Iowa and Illinois, en route to Chicago, was a goodly treat.  After the unique experience of grooming and changing clothes in the Rest Area restroom, I found my pay deposit had gone through, and headed for the banks of the Mississippi, at Bettendorf, IA.  I was greeted by a gaggle of Canadian geese.

The next sight was that of a casino riverboat, poking up over the river wall.

Then, there were the smaller boats, at Bettendorf Marina.

This picturesque town is the smallest of the Quad Cities, which also include Davenport, IA, and the Illinois cities of Moline and Rock Island.  I went on, though, towards a pair of towns associated with the early life of Ronald Reagan:  Tampico and Dixon, IL.

Tampico was the 40th President’s birthplace.  It has a definite “tomorrow is soon enough” feel, which may explain a few of the more interesting moments of the Reagan era.  Here, in this town park, I half-expected Robert Preston to lead a marching band onto the lawn.

The grain elevator is the most impressive structure for miles around.  The gazebo down the street is definitely decked out for a special event.

Tampico does make a strong statement about its favourite son, in a prominent place.

Dixon, a bit further to the east, is a bustling small city, and gave young “Dutch” his direction and drive.

Here are some scenes of the Rock River, at Dixon.

Downtown Dixon has a surprising variety of places to eat and relax.

I chose the Gingko Tree Cafe and Traditional Wellness Center, which offers the healthy menu items, that are supposedly rare in the Midwest.

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Before heading to Chicago, on the back road, I took a few shots of the Reagan Boyhood Home National Historical Site.

Then, there was the uniquely-coloured house.

I drove through the Fox River Valley, unable to contact a Facebook/WP friend, and on through Chicago, up to my favourite structure in the Windy City’s realm:  The Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette, some twelve miles north of the Chicago Loop.

I went into this great temple of the spirit, feeling queasy and uncertain of myself, despite the relatively pleasant day I had, that Wednesday, July 24.  By the time I saw the city of Chicago in my rear view mirror, two hours later, a welcome feeling of calm had set in, and carried me forward to Bloomington/Normal, my default spot for resting between Chicago and St. Louis.

Next:  Cahokia Mounds, by Day