This post has been transferred from my original blog. Peeking back in history and, although replicated, Jamestown Settlement is well worth the stroll. Knowing that my feet were planted in the same soil where some of my ancestors planted their new lives was serene. Jamestown's museum and historical area did a nice job sharing the truths of the trials of life there. Seriously impressed by the area. This post has been transferred from my original blog. The freshness of Autumn mornings surround me as I crunch through the mountains' fallen leaves and wander in her crisp and dense woods. Traveling into the calling hillsides brings a sort of euphoria; a calming freedom Camping in the dewy (and later stormy) dampness of an Appalachian fall is one of my favourite feelings, where all I know is my banjo, my drum, and my muddy boots. Sounds of the black bears and the howl of the woods, coupled with the smell of campfires and wet earth is so very enriching~ a feeling I hate to pack away. This post has been transferred from my original blog. I listen to vinyl and I don't own an I-Pod. To me, a conglomeration of the most stylish sounds and current radio standards that are heard, but rarely listened to, just can't compare to the feeling of lying on the living room floor, soaking in the beams that sneak in through the window and the melodies that sound just a bit gritty, knowing the record is spinning. And, sitting at home searching the song banks for 1 hit wonders just doesn't match up to the experience of thumbing through stacks of vinyl plates, searching for the perfect addition to the household noise. While I get the lure of the digital soundwaves (hey, even I frequent Pandora, especially at work), its stolen something from culture and rites of passage. Scouring neighborhoods of cities looking for true record stores, sifting through random wonders at yard sales, junk shops, and antique malls, and listening to the crackling static breaking through the speakers are intensely serene moments. This post has been transferred from my original blog. There's still a left field, brimming with retro relish and archives of memories. Most people stumble out of the box on accident, maybe while searching for the Dunkin Donuts or Papa John's. But then, there's the the strange birds, like me, who seek out the whistle stops. Route 66 is a fail-safe, goof-proof course for finding these out-dated heart breakers! Did you know that this Wigwam motel is one of seven villages that were built; and one of the only three that remain?
This post has been transferred from my original blog. The historic Route 66 is like paradise for a wanderer, such as myself, and has been since the 1920's. You see, nowadays, Route 66 is about escaping the hum drum of interstates and disvovering America--- the America with road-side diners open 24 hours, neon motel signs, and true gritty biker bars. Route 66 deliberately sways and twists, hunting America's Main Streets instead of bypassing them. Just like a paved East-West artery, Route 66 seeks out the hearts of the small towns in its path, offering life changing road trips for all the gypsies who "listen to the old tip". I think that Route 66 and its funky diners and motels and oddity stops embodies the American roadtrip. So, if you ever plan to motor west, take my way, the highway that is best
This post has been transferred from my original blog.
This post has been transferred from my original blog. So, I'm a Yooper. When I was still there, I didn't realize what a sense of pride I carried in that title. Now, unless you can point to your hometown on your hand, you probably have no clue as to what I'm speaking of. I'm talking about God's Country, Lumberjack Land, the Great North. The Upper Peninsula of Michigan-- a forgotten and secluded wonder-- a place that most people in the rest of the country don't even know exists. We have {a hodgepodge accent} our own language; {a balanced meal consists of beer, pasties, and fudge} our own delicacies; {wear red long johns and shoot muskets off the back porch} our own culture. I dropped part of my heart last time I was home and think I'm fine letting the U.P. keep it.We're the ones who drive 3 hours to explore old doors and jail cells. This is Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania. Jim Thorpe was an amazing athlete and Olympian in the early 20th century. As a Native American confined to 'Indian Boarding Schools' and then segregated college (in Carlisle Pennsylvania), Thorpe had to overcome immense racial prejudice to participate in the athletics he did. As for his personal life, its filled with a ton of soap opera-esque speculation, dissertion, and addiction... read about him. |
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