Well, we’re back
home after a 2,100-mile driving odyssey up the east coast and across the
Allegheny Mountains to flat land once again.
It’s good to be back in this sleek city, warm once again after a winter
that nearly lured the glaciers into a new southern crawl.
Our trip took us
first to St. Augustine, the oldest city in the country with its early Spanish
influence in evidence everywhere with a dallop of robber-baron opulence and a
huge assortment of charming contemporary bed-and-breakfast inns.
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| The dome of the Flagler College dormitory, once the Ponce de Leon Hotel in St. Augustine (JWB Photo, 2014) |
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| Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, where construction began in 1672 . (JWB Photo, 2014) |
From there we
continued up the coast to Savannah, Georgia, a gentle city with a park every
two blocks no matter which way we walked.
History and refinement is part of the air you breathe as you walk the
old brick paths on your way to the bars and shops carved out of the old cotton
warehouses along the Savannah River.
But there was also
misery here, and you feel that, too.
Before the cotton gin it took one slave a whole day to remove the seeds
from a pound of cotton. Four hundred
pounds made up a bale, and those warehouses were piled to the rafters with
those bales.
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| Just one of the many parks that beautify Savannah (JWB Photo, 2014) |
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| The 1858 fountain in Forsyth Park, Savannah (JWB Photo, 2014) |
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| One of hundreds of small gardens and courtyards that separate many of the homes in Savannah (JWB Photo, 2014) |
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| Great little bar we stopped in for an afternoon thirst-quencher. There are plenty from which to choose. (JWB Photo, 2014) |
On to Charlotte to
visit old and good friends and from there on to Arlington, Virginia to spend a
day or two with my kid sister, a time that included an unbelievable meal at the
Capital Grille and a quick Metro trip into the National Mall for a stroll
around the National Sculpture Garden.
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| Harry Weese's unbelievable Metro system, still fresh, vibrant and visually stunning after more than a half-century (JWB Photo, 2014) |
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| Joan Miró's Personnage Gothique, Oeseau-Eclai at the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden (JWB Photo, 2014) |
And then . . . a
stop outside New York City to visit our daughter and son-in-law, who
generously allowed us full and complete access to our granddaughters, Maddie,
just short of her third birthday, and little Faye who is using her seventh
month to experiment with hands-and-knees exploration.
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| The Highlight of the Trip -- Maddie and her little sister, Faye (JWB Photo, 2014) |
It was an 800-plus
mile hike from there to home with a stop at the Flossmoor Station Brewery, one
of the original brew houses in the area, for a great burger, an unbelievable
nacho, and a couple of great tasting Pullman brown ales.
It is an amazing
thing to drive into this beautiful city on a clear night in May after a long
time spent on the road. Chicago doesn’t
crowd you as you enter it; it’s not a city that insists that you love it. It stands back, separated from Lake Shore
Drive by the expanse of Grant Park, its glittering towers waiting for you to
come to them.
There isn’t a one
of those towers that, on a still spring night, doesn’t seem perfectly placed,
especially on this night, the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, with 300 East
Randolph proclaiming in letters five stories tall, Some Gave All. Waking up the next morning, with the bikers pushing their way up and down the drive and the boaters just heading out on a nearly windless lake, everything was right with the world.
We were where we belonged.
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| Welcome home to a city that allows you to love it with no conditions. (JWB Photo, 2014) |
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