US 62 Journal

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" height=120 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="0ec8dfe1esnpes.jpg"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><B>Michael Czarnecki</B></FONT><B>     </B><B>|</B><B>     </B><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Michael Czarnecki"><U><B>home</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id17.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Brief Bio"><U>Brief Bio</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Poet"><U>Poet</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id75.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Themed Programs"><U>Themed Programs</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Colleges"><U>Colleges</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id72.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Writing Workshops"><U>Writing Workshops</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="PoetintheSchools"><U>Poet-in-the-Schools</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id19.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Oral Memoirist"><U>Oral Memoirist</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Maine Coast Journey"><U>Maine Coast Journey</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id73.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Community Project"><U>Community Project</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id21.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Some of My Writing"><U>Some of My Writing</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Palm of the Hand Writing"><U>Palm of the Hand Writing</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="US 62"><U>US 62</U></A>   |   <B>US 62 Journal</B>   |   <A HREF="id22.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Schedule"><U>Schedule</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id76.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fliers"><U>Fliers</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id23.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Books Available"><U>Books Available</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id26.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="References"><U>References</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Contact Me"><U>Contact Me</U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=360 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="0ec8dfc3.jpg"> <div> <I>US 62 Journal</I></div> <div> <B>Journey Pics</B></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 1</B></div> <bR> <div> Ah, the journey is underway!</div> <bR> <div> The evening before leaving we had a wonderful send-off from Niagara Falls. A big dinner with 7 other family members at 78 year-old Como's, an Italian restaurant and then a good reading at the Niagara Falls Library - near 30 people and an enjoyable open reading. Afterwards we took a walk by the falls - haven't seen them at night in a long time. Impressive, but as I always feel, there's too much other stuff taking up the scene, too built up around there. Now even more so with the burgeoning of the casino industry. </div> <bR> <div> Morning, I woke early, said goodbye to the family (boys were still sleeping - we said good-bye before going to bed - but I still whispered good-byes to them before leaving the motel room,) went over some last-minute things with Carolyn and headed out on the road. </div> <bR> <div> Before starting out I walked by the fall again. A little different in the early morning light - the lights of the cityscape at night took away more from the falls than I thought. This morning the city didn't intrude as much. </div> <bR> <div> I found the start of 62, a couple blocks away, took some first photos, and headed down the road south and then later west. 62 is interesting that way. Even US Highways run east - west and odd north - south. 62 may be unique in that through New York and Pennsylvania it is signed north and south and then from the Ohio border to El Paso, east west.</div> <bR> <div> A strange opening day of this journey, different than any other one I've been on. First off, all my other journeys were in the fall, or very late summer - my favorite season. It seems different starting in spring with bare trees and growth only starting to happen. Of course, that will change as the days go on and I move further south into spring!</div> <bR> <div> Secondly, this first day was a day of dredging up old haunts, places I lived in, worked, hung out while living in Buffalo those decades ago. Not a new journey start, but an old, old journey before the new one began.</div> <bR> <div> A strange experience. So much has changed. The stores I worked at long gone - newer bigger stores and more massive retail development taken over. University area businesses gated -  windows and doors. </div> <bR> <div> The house where my best male friend, Harry, lived in still there - still in nice shape, in the suburbs. But the memory of Harry hurt - his death at the hand of his son down in North Carolina back in the late 80s. Where, who, what would he be now - our friendship like if he hadn't been murdered?</div> <bR> <div> I searched for the four apartments I lived in back in the 70s. Found them all, I think. Two for sure, one other most likely and the fourth probably. Houses look so alike on these city streets and the details fade in memory. I photographed all the houses - they all seem so much worse for the wear these thirty years on.</div> <bR> <div> And the old family houses. The one we rented, the one we owned, two blocks apart. Sad the changes. Boarded up, many houses now vacant lots. Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Ed's house gone. A deteriorating one time long ago old Polish neighborhood. There was almost nothing to connect with anymore, no specific site bringing back a pleasant memory. I didn't linger long there.</div> <bR> <div> The one bright spot - Bocce's Pizza! I haven't had one for a long time now. It has been a staple of my life ever since 1969. Margaret, the daughter of the owner, was the girl I met on the #19 Bailey bus and the first person I fell in love with. Since then, Bocce's has been the pizza of choice for me in Buffalo. And great pizza too! On Saturday nights back in 1969- 1970 they would sell 1000 pizzas between 4 Pm and 12:30 AM! And just take out. An amazing place. </div> <bR> <div> The pizza was as good as ever. I bought a half - cheese, pepperoni, anchovies, hot peppers - and have some for lunch today too (I'm writing this in morn on Wed.) Jim, Margaret's brother and now owner, wasn't there, so I didn't connect with anyone, and Margaret hasn't been in touch for over a year now. But the pizzeria was there, the pizza connected like it always has, not like the other aspects of the city.</div> <bR> <div> The long drive out of the city area. The sadness, uneasiness, slight dejection continuing. The questioning yet of being on this journey. Then, just above Eden, into farm country, a quick look over at an electic pole and a big handmade sign:</div> <bR> <div> GO POETGUY! </div> <bR> <div> I laughed out loud, turned around and took a couple of pictures. I stopped at the nearest house to enquire - they knew nothing of who posted it. It made my day, dispelled my dejection, moved me lightly down 62, reinvigorated. Exactly what I needed at that exact time! I thanked whoever it was that posted the sign. But who?</div> <bR> <div> I arrived in Gowanda, touched base with the library, and took care of some minor problems. The cigarette lighter stopped working so the inverter I had wouldn't run or charge the laptop. A real problem. So I took things apart, rewired another adapter in and all is fine now.</div> <bR> <div> A great dinner at the Olympia Restaurant with a nice group of folks from the library and writers' group. Good conversation about Gowanda - history, stories, etc. Always nice to gather like that before a reading.</div> <bR> <div> The reading was wonderful too (see how much that sign was a turning point on this first day - everything fine after I saw it.) A nice audience, attentive, interested in a nice cozy space in the old library building. A good open reading too. I hope to return here again for another reading someday.</div> <bR> <div> My sister and her family came, they live a dozen or so miles away. And, it was they who posted the signs (I missed seeing one back in Buffalo hanging from a RR overpass - just as well, that wouldn't have been such an important moment as the second one - of course, maybe it had been removed before I got there.) Ah, family! A treasure!</div> <bR> <div> I stayed the night at their house, much more at ease with the journey ahead, smiling as I fell asleep - ah, yes, the adventures one has when on the road.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 2</B></div> <bR> <div> Left my sister's house a little after seven. Found a “snack bag” left in the car for me. Felt like one of her kids - and she's the youngest of my four sisters. A nice surprise that I've already dipped into.</div> <bR> <div> Wasn't ready for breakfast in Gownada, I tend to eat a couple hours or so after getting up, so I continued on down the road south. In a few miles I came to a broad flat area that was very different than the hilly country I had been driving through. I was told at dinner the night before that this was an old ancient lake bed. It looked to stretch for a few miles in all directions, surrounded by distant hills.</div> <bR> <div> don't need signs to know</div> <div> certainly Amish country</div> <div> horse droppings on road</div> <bR> <div> Was passing through the area of a large and probably 50 or so year old Amish Community, much larger than the one back home on Wheeler Hill. I probably passed a dozen or so horse pulled buggies, carts, farm equipment.</div> <bR> <div> Another way to know it's Amish country is all the signs hanging out along the road: Baked Goods; Quilts; Candy Shop; Rugs and Crafts; Hemlock Lumber; Watchmaker; Kitchen Cabinets; Rustic Log Furniture etc. </div> <bR> <div> I stopped at a cheese shop but the only cheese they made was soft - ricotta, though they had a vast array of cheeses for sale. I didn't buy any.</div> <bR> <div> After a hearty breakfast at the Dinner Bell Restaurant in Frewsburg (where I worked on yesterday's journal and sent it out - the advantage of wireless broadband and laptop) I headed toward Pennsylvania.</div> <bR> <div> I want to quote a little passage from my just re-released Twenty Days on Route 20 book:</div> <bR> <div> “This experience made me think of <I>Knulp </I>by Hermann Hesse, written in 1915. A wonderful short book that nearly 20 years ago a friend read and knew it was about me, that I was Knulp, the wayward traveler bringing the experience of the road and the spirit of freedom into the lives of more settled people. Now, these many years later, still like Knulp, still the traveler bringing adventure into other lives.”</div> <bR> <div> Now it is nearly 30 years later and 1979 was the last time I saw that friend, Ann.</div> <bR> <div> Near the Pennsylvania border I passed a sign for the Audobon Nature Center. I had planned to stop there for a short hike, but now wasn't sure, I was running a little later than I wanted and had a fair ways to drive through picturesque Allegany River country and a reading to be at for the evening In Mercer. But, as I approached the road to the nature center I decided to stop, take a short little hike and write some haiku.</div> <bR> <div> I pulled into the parking lot, stepped out of the car and walked toward my trunk to get my hiking boots. In the next row over someone got out of their car, binoculars around neck, ready to hike. I looked, stopped, stared in disbelief. “Ann!” No mistaking her. She looked at me, didn't connect at first, but then as we spoke a little she knew who I was. A big hug amid the disbelief. I asked about her husband, who I knew too - he died 12 years ago. Another comforting hug, Then amazing sigh and excitement, joy at reconnecting and it felt like it was 1979 and there were no years in-between. A short visit, I had to get out on the road. But we are in touch again, plan to stay in touch.</div> <bR> <div> Serendipity. Is there any other word. Experiences like these have happened at other times in my life. What are the chances of the two of us getting out of our cars at the same moment in this remote setting, far from my home. I knew Ann lived somewhere in the region and had tried looking her and John up some years ago with no luck. And now . . .</div> <div> Joseph Campbell talks about when you are on the path you should be on doors open where you didn't even know there were doors. I guess Route 62 is the path I should be on! </div> <bR> <div> Yesterday morning's dejection seems like years away.</div> <bR> <div> Before leaving I did hike for a little bit alone, soaking up the experience with Ann and trying to take in a bit of the natural world. it was difficult, my being was elsewhere.</div> <bR> <div> Here's a few I did pen:</div> <bR> <div> historic preserve</div> <div> serendipitous meeting</div> <div> long ago old friend</div> <bR> <div> stepping onto deck</div> <div> goose suddenly honks away</div> <div> doesn't like me here</div> <bR> <div> frog splash in old pond</div> <div> Master Basho came to mind</div> <div> distant traffic roar</div> <bR> <div> three feet from path</div> <div> nesting goose incubates eggs</div> <div> hisses as I pass</div> <bR> <div> Attempts without being fully in the moment.</div> <bR> <div> Entered Pa - stopped briefly in historic Warren on the Allegany River. Old, well-kept place whose foundation was lumber and oil. I walked for a few blocks downtown and came across an old bookstore, the Allegany Book Mart. I had to enter. Good conversation with the owners about the area, creativity, my journey and a plan toi have a reading there when the Route 62 book is published. A great old building that they have just been using for the last year or so. I did buy one book, for Chapin, a Guide to the Wildlife of North America. </div> <bR> <div> From there 62 follows the Allegany River through forested hills. Cabins, houses, very little other traffic. I wanted to get out often, walk along the river, take a trail into the hills. I had to just pass through, a reading to be at later in the evening.</div> <bR> <div> Other little happenings along the way I don't have time to write about now. But, the evening in Mercer was wonderful. Again, a few of us went out for food beforehand and then 30 people turned out for the reading including Dorothy, a poet we published who lives in Pittsburgh, maybe 70 miles away or so, and is 82 years old. She came with her daughter and son-in-law. We had never met before and I have so enjoyed her work, spirit, poetic sensibility I was excited to finally connect in person. </div> <bR> <div> And another friend came all the way from Elmira, NY - she grew up in the area of Mercer, still has family there. I passed through her old home place, Jackson Center, before getting to Mercer.</div> <bR> <div> I've now had family or friends arrive at the first three readings of the journey. Will it continue? The next reading is tonight (again I'm writing in the morning) and Millersburg, OH is a lot further away from home.</div> <bR> <div> The reading I gave was the first poetry reading at the Mercer Library. With such a good turnout I hope they plan more. Many people asked if I'd be back again. I hope so, when the book comes out later this year or next. </div> <bR> <div> What a difference a day makes. I am into the journey now. Down the road I go.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 3</B></div> <bR> <div> 1</div> <div> Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,</div> <div> Healthy, free, the world before me,</div> <div> The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.</div> <bR> <div> Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,</div> <div> Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,</div> <div> Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,</div> <div> Strong and content I travel the open road.</div> <bR> <div> 15</div> <div> Allons! the road is before us!</div> <div> It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d!</div> <bR> <div> Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!</div> <div> Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!</div> <div> Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!</div> <div> Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court,</div> <div> and the judge expound the law.</div> <bR> <div> Comerado, I give you my hand!</div> <div> I give you my love more precious than money,</div> <div> I give you myself before preaching or law;</div> <div> Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?</div> <div> Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?</div> <bR> <div> Walt Whitman from “Song of the Open Road” in Leaves of Grass.</div> <bR> <div> A good friend and fellow poet sent me that late last night. I started the journal with the Whitman verses because I find I don’t read enough of Whitman as I should – we all probably don’t read enough of his work as we should. I mentioned Whitman at my reading last night, so interesting that Craig sent this to me.</div> <bR> <div> It’s 6 AM and I’m sitting at a table in a room at the old Hotel Millersburg, ca. 1847. A renovated old hotel right downtown a block away from where the reading was held. I partially bartered for a room here, like I did on the Route 20 journey and wrote about in “Twenty Days on Route 20”. (http://www.foothillspublishing.com/id23.htm)</div> <bR> <div> It feels better staying in an old place like this as opposed to a modern on the edge of town motel that lacks character and could be set anyplace in the world and you wouldn’t know the difference. Walk out – same kinds of parking lot, same nearby expressways with continuous traffic. Too much of that sterile sameness in modern life.</div> <bR> <div> Before leaving Mercer yesterday morning I stopped and toured the Mercer County Courthouse, a gothic building constructed early in the 20th century. Mercer center is situated on a hill that overlooks the surrounding countryside. The courthouse is very prominent and is visible from miles around. Besides the wonderful construction, marble and wood interior, what most impressed me were the four murals that adorned the dome, painted by Edward Simmons, a famous American muralist. The four murals are titled “Justice” “Innocence” “Power” and “Guilt”. Colorful, symbolic, impressive. I’m planning on getting some pictures put up on my website and will include these when I do – maybe by Saturday morning.</div> <bR> <div> Leaving Mercer, the morning air was cool and refreshing after last evening’s thunderstorms – during the reading at the library. Sunny too – a great day for the open road!</div> <bR> <div> Went through Sharon, PA and wanted to stop at an old silver bus-type diner – it was closed. Didn’t stop otherwise, but the small city was interesting to me – a 50’s look and feel to it.</div> <bR> <div> Crossing the Ohio border the US 62 signs changed from South designation to West. I wonder if any other US highway changed direction signing like that? 62 may be unique in that respect.</div> <bR> <div> Youngstown. An old steel/manufacturing city. First sign seen – Recycling and Slag!</div> <bR> <div> Youngstown felt too much like my first morning travels through the old neighborhoods of Buffalo – I didn’t want to revisit that scene again. I moved on and through without stopping.</div> <bR> <div> Beyond Youngstown 62 zigs and zags its way through rural and small town Ohio. Pastoral, quiet roadside America. But of course there are the housing “estates” cropping up on what used to be farmland. Names like “Briarwood” and “Hickory Ridge” that are similar to thousands of such developments crowding out the agricultural land of America.</div> <bR> <div> After Salem 62 straightens out heading west. Alliance, a nice mixture of new and old buildings and what seemed to be an overwhelming number of pizzerias!</div> <bR> <div> Canton. I didn’t intend to stop at the Pro Football Hall of Fame, but it was right there next to US 62 so . . .</div> <bR> <div> Often people are surprised that I, the poetguy, watch pro football on TV. More specifically, Buffalo Bills football. I’m a Buffalo raised kid and have followed the Bills since they first became a team in the old AFL – 1960. I don’t watch any other games and rarely watch any tv at all, but when Sundays roll around in Autumn I clear my schedule as much as possible and tune in on the Bills.</div> <bR> <div> The kind young lady let me enter the Hall for free after I told her about my journey. I spent about 20 minutes to do a quick tour and took a number of photos of Buffalo Bills exhibits and busts of hall of fame members (won’t post those on the website!) Would have been nice to linger more but a reading up ahead in Millersburg was calling me.</div> <bR> <div> While driving on a divided highway in Canton I turned on the radio for NPR news. On a journey like this I don’t play music or listen to the radio. I try to be as present as possible with the journey itself. But it was nearly on the hour and the divided highway was a divided highway and I hadn’t checked news since the journey began.</div> <bR> <div> Why?</div> <bR> <div> Iraq violence. Moussaoui trial. A murder somewhere in America. I turned it off. Didn’t need that intrusion.</div> <bR> <div> In Navarre a sign:</div> <bR> <div> Seeds, ‘taters, onion sets.</div> <bR> <div> Out in the country again. A difference here, flowering trees beginning to bloom.</div> <bR> <div> In Wilmot, a stand with an older gentleman sitting behind, “Florida Home Grown Produce.” Dozens of small baskets of red tomoatoes.</div> <bR> <div> 62 is a much smaller road here through the rolling woods and farmland of Amish country. This is the biggest concentration of Amish in the world. It is obvious. Buggies, horses, children walking home from school and a whole tourist industry based on Amish crafts, arts and lifestyle.</div> <bR> <div> Millersburg. Friendly people, nice historic village. The reading was sponsored by the Holmes County Public Library but was held at Goddard’s Restaurant, a friendly, easy-going, good food place run by gracious owners right in downtown Milersburg. It was an event geared toward younger writers as part of national poetry month. Microphone, people eating dinner. It went well, though not as well-attended as we might have liked. And again, as is so often the case, it is not numbers that matter in programs like this. The younger writers who shared poems were all wonderful. That was not something I could have done when I was their age. I didn’t read my first poem in public till I was 34!</div> <bR> <div> I had good food and conversation beforehand and connected with a number of people afterwards. Ah, to linger longer in a place like this. To get to know people better! Someday I’ll return.</div> <bR> <div> Ok, time to get packed up and back out on the road again.</div> <bR> <div> Feel free to pass this on to anyone you think might be interested.</div> <bR> <div> Also, I’ve posted the first two days on the website and intend to post all of the journals as I go along, though that might happen every few days or so and not be as up to date as the emails.</div> <bR> <div> And as usual, comments are always welcome. Though I may not answer them while traveling, I enjoy reading them. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 4</B></div> <bR> <div> Heavy thunderstorms before I left Millersburg, mid-morn. A lot of thunder and lightning and heavy downpours.</div> <bR> <div> Stopped at Goodwill store having its grand opening. Crowded. Did buy a mouse for the laptop, a dollar.</div> <bR> <div> Gray occasionally rainy morning driving. 62 curvy, windy farm and woods road. Felt very much like a county road back home in Steuben County. Old farm buildings and scattered new houses. Main difference being oil derricks and tanks here and there.</div> <bR> <div> Stopped at Ohio’s Longest Covered Bridge. I at first was excited and then realized it’s a new one, constructed in 1999. Part of the Mohican trail – I believe a horse/hiking trail through the Mohican Valley. But then I came to be not as disappointed. Sure, not old but pretty neat. It’s built on top of a long railroad bridge and the trail is the old dismantled railroad bed!</div> <bR> <div> Walked up to the bridge – good to get out on foot in the woods. Sycamore, cherry, poplar and hickory trees. Found a large hickory nut that I’ll try planting back home.</div> <bR> <div> Just finished a nice lunch at the Rusty Turkey restaurant in Danville. Never ate breakfast so this hit the spot – my stomach was starting to growl! Just been open three weeks and had a nice chat with the owner, who of course, writes poetry! She tells me that Route 62 is the way to Amish country from Columbus so a lot of traffic goes by on weekends and in the summer and fall.</div> <bR> <div> Ok, sun is shining out there, time to roll.</div> <bR> <div> ***********</div> <div> Pleasant country driving road with not very much enticing me to stop and get out of the car. At one road work stop I heard a cardinal singing over the sound of a mulcher grinding up roadside tree trimmings!</div> <bR> <div> Landscape flattening out a bit as I move toward another city, Columbus. Passing through New Albany I wonder if the name has any connection with Albany, NY. Maybe the early settlers came from there?</div> <bR> <div> Driving through Columbus I did turn on the radio to an oldies station, not the news! First song was John Lennon’s “Watching the Wheels” – a song I haven’t heard for a long time. I smiled at the lines:</div> <bR> <div> “No longer riding on the merry-go-round,</div> <div> I just had to let it go”</div> <bR> <div> Stopped briefly at Franklin Park on Broad Avenue. Flowering trees, cooing doves, robins, mallards, song sparrow singing, dog parking, traffic flowing by.</div> <bR> <div> brown cattail remnants</div> <div> chatter in warm spring breezes</div> <div> whisper of white pine</div> <bR> <div> On Broad Ave the Route 62 signs have suddenly changed back to South designation even though the street is going due west! Columbus, state capitol, wide street and very definitely government buildings downtown.</div> <bR> <div> I thought of stopping but it was late afternoon and soon would be rush hour and I didn’t want to get caught up in that. I’m not drawn to the cities anyway and the traffic normally is more than I want to deal with.</div> <bR> <div> I missed a sign for a turn and ended up finding a most interesting building a few blocks from US 62. I did stop for this one. An oriental style building that was part of the Ohio Central RR. I took a number of pictures and will post them on the website in the next day or two.</div> <bR> <div> The building is not in use anymore. I talked to a young guy waiting at a bus stop and he said it was last used as a homeless shelter ending about 4 years ago. A real fascinating building that I’ll do a little research on someday.</div> <bR> <div> unexpected snow</div> <div> in speeding garbage truck’s wake</div> <div> white tree blossoms fall</div> <bR> <div> Grove City, neat, clean, brick buildings. I’m moving, feeling the need to stay in car, keep cruising 62.</div> <bR> <div> Land is flat now. Mostly farms with small patches of woods. Houses along the road are surrounded on three sides by cultivated land, sometimes very near to the houses.</div> <bR> <div> leaden cloud cover</div> <div> straight gray pavement stretches far</div> <div> blending into one</div> <bR> <div> Washington Court House. The village reminds me of Iowa for some reason I can’t quite place. I’ve enjoyed the communities of Iowa. have done a lot of work there in various places over the years, but its been a few now since being there. This makes me want to go back again, set up a little reading tour there.</div> <bR> <div> While in town a train whistle blows and I hear it rolling down the tracks, out of my sight.</div> <bR> <div> Settled into a motel in Hillsboro, OH. Heavy thunderstorms came through and there was a tornado watch in effect. I stood at the door with a few other people from near Cincinnati. We watched as lightning flashed continuously and the rain poured down. After awhile hail started to fall, pea-sized, and covered a bit of the ground before melting. I told them this was not a common experience back home. They were used to it and had experienced tornados where they live. I told them I’d like to see a tornado sometime, from a safe distance. the one guy told me about watching one from a mile or two away. There was an eerie silence where he was and then a roar like that of a jet. He stayed out while it passed. Fortunately it didn’t veer his way.</div> <bR> <div> So, a storm in the morning and a storm at night. Nice brackets to a mostly uneventful day. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 5</B></div> <bR> <div> Clear and very warm. Low 70s late morn as I leave Hillsboro.</div> <bR> <div> Ripley and the Ohio River! I stopped at little town park and right along the banks of the river two purple martin houses full of birds! I’ve never seen them before, only empty houses set on poles. Purple, noisy and a joy to watch.</div> <bR> <div> Talking with a woman at the shelter. She tells me this was an important underground railroad stop. Also a big tobacco growing region which is in decline now.</div> <bR> <div> I drove up to the Rankin House, high on a hill above the town and river. The old brick house was an underground railroad stop from 1828 – 1863, immortalized in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Wasn’t able to go inside, but I sat for awhile on the grounds outside trying to imagine what it may have been like 150 years ago.</div> <bR> <div> From the house a wonderful view up, down and across the Ohio River valley.</div> <bR> <div> cumulus shadows</div> <div> drift slowly across river</div> <div> hawk speeds by above</div> <bR> <div> Right after that excursion into the past of a century and a half ago I ate lunch at “Rockin’ Robins” soda bar. 50’s theme with posters, pictures, neon, jukebox and soda fountain taps. A hoppin’ place with people eating lunch and buying sodas and ice cream. Of course, a sizable part of the display material was Elvis Presley related. One poster advertised him performing somewhere with a statement on it, “Mothers, Lock Up You Daughters!”</div> <bR> <div> Played three songs on the jukebox but could only hear one because of all the talking going on, “Travelin’ Man” by Ricky Nelson. Seemed appropriate to play that one.</div> <bR> <div> Redbud trees in full bloom. This is the first time I’ve seen them, though I’ve read many references to them over the years. More of a purple, pinkish, lavender than red. Small trees that blossom before the leaves come out. They flame on the hillsides, with so many trees still bare, only a few starting to show green.</div> <bR> <div> The library in Ripley is one of the most interesting I’ve seen. A Carnegie Library built of red brick in a style reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright. I inquired inside and learned it is a Prairie style building (FLW built in that style) designed by an architect from Wisconsin.</div> <bR> <div> Outside the library on a brick column was a plaque designating the high water mark of the 1937 flood, the highest since the area was settled. The river rose 80’ above its banks and devastated huge areas.</div> <bR> <div> Crossed over the river and entered into Kentucky at Maysville. One of the first signs –</div> <bR> <div> Welcome to Maysville</div> <div> Home of Heather Renee French</div> <div> Miss America 2000</div> <bR> <div> A series of murals along the flood wall protecting the town depict various historical aspects of life here: tobacco farming; escaped slaves; steamboat days; native American hunting grounds; early settlers, etc. Nicely done over the last few years. Only a small portion of the whole wall is covered, I wonder if there are plans for more.</div> <bR> <div> Maysville is an old river town and many old buildings still remain, though it has the feel of mostly a lived-in town, not one that is a living museum.</div> <bR> <div> Coal plant down river from Maysville and a towboat pushing a series of coal laden barges toward the plant. Up river the unmistakable smokestack of a nuclear power plant.</div> <bR> <div> Hot – 83 degrees at 3:30! Like summer back home.</div> <bR> <div> Goodbye Ohio River, I will see you again in a few days.</div> <bR> <div> A little ways above Maysville I stop at an old reconstructed building, the Washington Baptist Chapel, with a cemetery alongside. The cemetery contained early graves of pioneers, native Americans, revolutionary war veterans. Old tombstones and some old tree stumps adding another element of age.</div> <bR> <div> pair of cooing doves</div> <div> perched on gray weathered tombstone</div> <div> stained with bird droppings</div> <bR> <div> Along the road – dandelions gone to seed!</div> <bR> <div> Must be a primary election coming up, signs everywhere.</div> <bR> <div> Elect Rooster Mitchell Jailer</div> <bR> <div> 62 is quite different here in Kentucky. It becomes a small narrower road winding along the ridge tops and occasionally dipping down below for a short ways. Curves, no shoulders and almost entirely double-lined. I wanted to stop many times for a picture but no place to pull over.</div> <bR> <div> Cynthiana, the largest town in the 40 miles or so from Maysville. A little larger town than I expected. Not shabby and not overly done. Again, a historic lived-in town. A working town feeling. County seat but only marginal feel of governmental officialdom.</div> <bR> <div> From there I called and then went to Artcroft, an artist retreat about 20 miles off of Route 62 that a FootHills poet connected me with. Beautiful ridge top place even further back off the road than our house! Robert and Maureen welcomed me warmly, fed me and we had wonderful conversation and a walk on a small part of their 400 acres just before dark. Tomorrow I hang here all day, giving an informal reading to a small group of people coming for poetry, conversation and pot luck food. A day of rest from the road.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 6</B></div> <bR> <div> small vase on dresser</div> <div> sprays of mustard, redbud blooms</div> <div> speak of other things</div> <bR> <div> After morning conversation and a good breakfast I took off for a solitary ramble over the hills and valleys of their land. A different environment than back home on Wheeler Hill, Where we have hills and valleys that are very defined, in rows almost, here the hills are everywhere and there’s no defined pattern. So I wandered, wrote haiku, took pictures and had a wonderful two and a half-hour sojourn.</div> <bR> <div> Some of the haiku:</div> <bR> <div> old oriole nest</div> <div> remnant of last year’s breeding</div> <div> soon new arrivals</div> <bR> <bR> <div> old rust fence line</div> <div> useful purpose far behind</div> <div> enters into tree</div> <bR> <bR> <div> following small trail</div> <div> others have passed this way too</div> <div> deer tracks in soft ground</div> <bR> <bR> <div> thorny wild plum</div> <div> white blossoms perfume spring air</div> <div> one old fruit remains</div> <bR> <div> The hike was just what I needed. I hope to get out on foot more in the next two weeks of the journey. The redbud and plum trees were exceptional. I ran into old stone walls, rabbits, squirrels, numerous birds (mostly bird calls – mockingbird, titmouse, cardinal, towhee, song sparrow, red-bellied woodpecker and others.) Inspiring. I could have easily stayed out for another couple hours.</div> <bR> <div> I didn’t take a watch with me so had no idea about time. Other folks were arriving between noon and 1 and was getting a little concerned about how late it might be, so I stopped my wandering and decided to work my way toward home. Well these unpatterned hills had me a little confused but I felt I was going in the right direction. Suddenly, coming down a hill there was a road where I didn’t expect one. I ambled down onto it pretty sure this wasn’t Johnson Road. I wasn’t even sure which way to go. I started one direction, went maybe 50 yards and decided I should go the other. I figured this road, whatever it was, probably connected with Johnson Rd. So I started walking thinking I’d run into a house soon, but didn’t. A few minutes later a pick-up came by and I waved it down. A country guy with a partially empty 12 pack of Budweiser on the floor gave me a ride back to Artcroft, probably a mile or more away.</div> <bR> <div> The small gathering was terrific. Two couples who live in the region came by. We talked of life, poetry, Kentucky, Route 62. Received a number of helpful tips about the road ahead and places to stop, see, explore. I read some poems and Jim read a few of his. A good poet. I encouraged him to consider submitting to FootHills.</div> <bR> <div> As is usual with potlucks, the food was great. One of the couples owns a catering and café business and the other has an organic farm. What more needs to be said? Just one comment about the cornbread that Jennifer made. It was from an heirloom white corn they grew, dried and grinded themselves.</div> <bR> <div> There is so much more I could write about the day, the conversation and connections made. I feel the beginnings of some friendships started. But the hour is late, I’m exhausted and I have a bit of traveling to do to make up for this day of not moving down the road. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Day 7</B></div> <bR> <div> First off, something I forgot yesterday - a link to a nice article about the trip in the Sunday edition of the Buffalo News:</div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="http://www.buffalonews.com/editorial/20060416/1073914.asp" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.buffalonews.com/editorial/200"><U>http://www.buffalonews.com/editorial/20060416/1073914.asp</U></A></div> <bR> <div> Secondly, I had trouble with email yesterday - starting in the afternoon I could only receive email, not send any out. I even called support but we couldn't figure out the problem after over an hour trying different things. Then I thought about it more, had an idea and called support back about 11:30 PM. My idea didn't work but in talking it through some more the technician figured out I was out of the main area and the smtp wasn't recognized for outgoing mail in this area. I could receive and also browse the internet, but can't send mail till I get back in the coverage area, the end of the day Tuesday. Whew! I wish I would have known that earlier, a lot of energy went into the problem on the phone and afterwards. At least now I know. I can send web email, but that's somewhat of a pain. I am doing it that way for this email, sending it home and then Carolyn will send to all of you. My web mail only allows one address at a time - over 300 would take awhile!</div> <bR> <div> In any event, a poem I wrote for Maureen and Robert in the morning at Artcroft. They had already left for the morning so I left it on the table with some signed books of mine:</div> <bR> <div> A light rain fills morning air</div> <div> occasional thunder rumbles over hills</div> <bR> <div> Bed made, morning shower behind</div> <div> car packed, I'm ready to leave</div> <bR> <div> Only a short stay here at Artcroft</div> <div> only a short time of getting to know</div> <bR> <div> Can home be any more comfortable?</div> <div> I leave, desiring to return again</div> <bR> <div> I departed in heavy rain and the 20 mile drive back to 62 in Cynthiana was in constant rain with numerous lightning flashes, some fairly close. The rain was so heavy I almost pulled over a couple of times, but there was no where to pull over. The roads are in great shape in Kentucky, but very little shoulder availability. Also a bit of ponding of water on the road in places. It was a slow, careful drive.</div> <bR> <div> Cynthiana is having a Raggedy Ann  Festival on the 22nd of April. There seems to be no connection to the creator of Raggedy Ann, Johnny Gruelle, other than the fact that his father was born in Cythiana and his granddaughter liked the town when here doing genealogical research. They call it the Cradle of Raggedy Ann. A cute logo, but stretching the cradle metaphor a little bit it seems.</div> <bR> <div> Was told yesterday that the Appalachian part of Kentucky lies about 25 miles east of Artcroft. The area I've been in certainly didn't have that stereotypical Appalachian feel or look to it. I would have liked to have traveled through it - some other time.</div> <bR> <div> The county I live in back home is actually part of the Appalachian region. In fact there was a bit of a recent political controversy over a comment a candidate for governor made calling it Appalachia. He was right though and there certainly are some stories I could tell from my experiences over the decades that would fit that stereotypical image of Appalachia. </div> <bR> <div> Passed by a big Toyota facility in Georgetown. This is Toyota's largest manufacturing plant outside of Japan. Started in the later 1980s, they make Camrys and other models. I'm driving a 1993 Camry - wonder if this is where it came off the line?</div> <bR> <div> Midway, a small historic town half way between Georgetown and Versailles, Franfort and Lexington. At one time there were two RR lines that crossed here, running between the above cities. Now only one remains. The 15 or so minutes I was in Midway (wanted to have breakfast there but no businesses were open, learned most are closed Mondays) a train went through the center of town hauling two cars full of small stones.</div> <bR> <div> Also the center of horse country here, bluegrass territory. Sprawling farms fenced in by dark brown, almost black fences. Different than the few horse farms back home which are usually surrounded by white fences. Different too in the sense that these are more than just farms. With long tree lined entranceways and big houses set way back, even out of sight from the road, they reminded me of plantations down south in Louisianna that I experienced when following the length of the Mississippi River in 1998.</div> <bR> <div> Debbie's Café in Versailles for breakfast. Basic café, small, a little run-down, but friendly waitress and good biscuits! As a couple of customers were leaving I asked them what one thing I should know about Versailles. The woman first off told me I was pronouncing it wrong. It's not like the French city but verSAYels - or something like that. She tried getting me to pronounce it like a Kentuckian but I was a hopeless student. But their one comment about Versailles was that it was a little town that is becoming a big town and losing its charm along the way. American development and progress.</div> <bR> <div> The waitress also told me that the movie “Elizabethtown” was actually filmed in Versailles. I'm actually in the real Elizabethtown, KY as I write this. So this is the second town on Route 62 that I learned about having a movie shot in it.</div> <bR> <div> Crossed the Kentucky River and stopped at the Wild Turkey Liquor Distillery. Visited the small store but a tour wasn't happening for another hour so I didn't linger that long. No free samples at the store and I didn't purchase any (money getting to be a little bit of a concern for me.) I did think of Uncle Ed and how we used to have a shot and a beer together once in awhile, along with my cousin Paul. I try to remember on Dec. 1 every year to have a shot and a beer for uncle Ed, the date that he died in 1975. Other than that, I'm not a hard liquor imbiber at all. Sake is my beverage of choice.</div> <bR> <div> On the Emma B Ward Elementary School sign in Lawrenceburg:</div> <bR> <div> Float like a butterfly</div> <div> Sting Like a Bee</div> <div> We are the Champs</div> <div> of Emma B</div> <bR> <div> Ah, Mohammed Ali, or I think he was Cassius Clay when he made those lines become part of boxing lore. I was never a boxing fan but became a fan of Ali for his political stand in opposing the Vietnam war. I think he was the only “celebrity” to suffer for having taken a principled stand on his convictions during that time period.</div> <bR> <div> Beyond Lawrenceburg the landscape turned from the bluegrass region back to hills and ridges and windy curvy 62 again. </div> <bR> <div> Noticed today that I'm starting to get “Driver's suntan” on my left arm!</div> <bR> <div> Bardstown (I should have set up a reading there!) is the inspiration for Stephen Foster's “My Old Kentucky Home.” There's also a state park here of that name that has tours of Foster's cousin's house, which was the actual house that he visited earlier and had in mind when he wrote the song.</div> <bR> <div> I didn't tour the house, again, money, but did watch part of PBS's American Masters program they had playing about Stephen Foster. Fascinating what I learned about him from the half hour or so that I watched. How he gave up being an accountant at 23 to follow the composer path and the ups and downs of that kind of life, with family to support and wanting to gain artistic society's respect as a serious composer. Most of his financial success as a composer came from writing “Blackface” music. He tried to bring a little dignity to that genre, but it still wasn't accepted in cultural circles of New York. He struggled with that, alcohol, a failed marriage and died young. But he probably was America's first great, popular composer. He wrote songs for Christy's Minstrels, a blackface group formed by Edwin Pearce Christy in Buffalo, NY (another connecting thread of 62) and which troupe the New Christy Minstrels of the late 50s and 60s took their name from.</div> <bR> <div> Dogwood trees in bloom here, the first I have seen. A woman at the state park tells me they just opened up today! I'm sure they'll be keeping me constant company in the days ahead.</div> <bR> <div> So, another day on the journey over, a full week gone by. Has it been that long already?</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Day 8</div> <bR> <div> The second week of the journey begins. And a late start from the motel as I had to go over publishing and business stuff with Carolyn.</div> <bR> <div> Before leaving the parking lot I got into a conversation with Richard, a truck driver who bases out of Elizabethtown with his wife, but they mainly live on the road in the truck. A talkative, friendly person. He's 54 years old and is expecting to live till he's 78. “Stay around long enough to tick a few people off.” he and his wife recently bought 37 acres of woods nearby with the hopes of building a cabin on it for retirement. Talked of adventures driving in ice storms, Amish buggies and how he always “slows way down and gives them wide berth because you never know when a horse might spook.” Spoke about how the world is deteriorating and when the end comes he hopes he has a couple of beers on hand to see it off.</div> <bR> <div> Sign west of Elizabethtown, “Highway of Holiness Church.”</div> <bR> <div> A holy day - perfectly sunny and a bit cooler temps.</div> <bR> <div> Railroad paralleling road. Drove by a big log yard along the tracks and then a couple of loaded log trucks drove by. Hardwood logs.</div> <bR> <div> Clarkson, a small rural/farm/RR town with no obvious historical/tourist focus. Just a small lived-in town! Pleasant.</div> <bR> <div> Passed over time zone line and believe the rest of the 62 journey is in Central Time Zone. After the 62 journey I do make my way up through Alberqueque, through Denver and to Scottsbluff for a reading at a college in Scottsbluff. I'll for sure be in Mountain Zone for some of that.</div> <bR> <div> Leitchfield and the first sign and business I see - Walmart. We don't shop at the store, partly because of not liking the fact that so many locally owned places are put out of business because of the Walmart invasion. There are other reasons too that I won't go into here. I cringe whenever I see one along the way, and there's been plenty of them.</div> <bR> <div> I've stayed totally away from any fast food/chain type of eating place. Not that I've eaten out much, mostly breakfasts and then the dinners before readings. Anytime I have stopped though it is always a local diner or restaurant. I could easily have been stopping at the chains - they are everywhere - and not just Walmart and McDonalds. I don't know how many Burger Kings, Pizza Huts, Dominoes, Rite Aides, Walgreens, Home Depots, K-marts, Loews etc. I have passed. Not that all chain businesses are bad - I certainly stop at some of those places back home and did buy a battery charger at Radio Shack while on the trip. But one could go cross country on a trip such as this, off the interstates, on relatively back-road Route 62 and NEVER need to stop at a local business at all. One could eat Mac-type food and stay in  the same few motels all the way from border to border without ever spending money at a local, one-of-a-kind, full-of-character establishment. And one of the sad things is I bet there's people that do that! Of course, I'm being prejudiced and judgmental here and I don't like to be that way. I should just leave it that I don't want to patronize those national chains and will do as absolutely as little as that as possible while on the journey.</div> <bR> <div> One last note then off the soap box. The road by Walmart was under construction - being widened, probably to accommodate the development of Walmart and other strip mall businesses in this relatively small town. Leitchfield another small town like Versailles becoming big and losing its charm?</div> <bR> <div> Stopped at the Grayson County Library in town and had a wonderful conversation with the director, Karen. First thing I noticed when I walked in was a poster advertising an upcoming movie series at the library, starting out with the newest King Kong movie and including some old classics such as a a double feature - Horse Feathers with the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges' Disorder in the Court. And, the movie racks had a great selection of older and even obscure films and programs - You Bet Your Life, Charlie Chaplin, Grapes of Wrath, a lot of 50s and 60s features. I'd certainly be  borrowing a lot of these if I lived here. </div> <bR> <div> Karen told me she had been through some of New York and was surprised to learn about one library that had a nice new addition to the building but wasn't using it because of the lack of furniture and shelving - there wasn't money available to buy the interior things! That was back in the mid-80s. And I told her of a library near where I live in NY that back in 1985 had a nice new building but no budget to buy books. I told her I was impressed with the movie selection and she replied that she tries to purchase movies that aren't available at the area video rental stores and also that quite a few had been donated. </div> <bR> <div> We also spoke about libraries as community meeting places. How the internet has changed library usage and the need for more programming at libraries. the movie series is a first for them, she's hoping it goes over well.</div> <bR> <div> I wish I had planned a reading at the library, Karen was enthusiastic and it was the kind of library I like. Maybe when the book comes out and I come down this way again.</div> <bR> <div> Gas was the cheapest of the journey here - $2.68. The clerk said it's going up though, soon. As I passed through town it was $2.79 on the western side.</div> <bR> <div> All the political signs I've been seeing throughout KY, and that's been a lot, are for a primary election on May 16, nearly a month away. It seems like every somewhat large intersection along the route has a gaggle of signs clustered together at one location. Do they really make any difference?</div> <bR> <div> On 62 I passed a sign claiming this part of 62 to be “Blue Moon of Kentucky Highway.” I thought that may have referred to a song but wasn't sure.</div> <bR> <div> Another sign - “Church of Joy.” It pointed to the left and I don't think it said a denomination.</div> <bR> <div> Redbud still in bloom here but with all the other trees mostly green it doesn't stand out quite as vividly as it did back in eastern KY where the other trees were mostly bare. The redbud is probably near the end of its bloom here so may be a little more faded too.</div> <bR> <div> Stopped along a creek for a little walk - good to get out of the car and onto earth. A large group of Cliff Swallows were flying over, around, up and down (what was that old Yardbirds song from later 60s - “over under sideways, down”?) over the field and creek, chattering all the time. and a bluebird was singing from a wire - same song we hear regularly on our 50 acres.</div> <bR> <div> Stopped at a LOCAL store in Rosine, the Blue Moon Variety Shop. Keri Beth there told me that the Blue Moon Highway refers to a Bill Monroe song, “The Blue Moon of Kentucky.” Bill was born here in the town. He's known as the father of bluegrass. She seemed mildly surprised that I knew of him. Of course, a legend of American music. Also told me about an independent film being made in town, “The Red Velvet Cake,” that will be having casting calls Thursday at The Barn across the road, where they also hjave every Friday night Bluegrass performances. She was more than mildly surprised I didn't know what Red Velvet Cake was. A chocolate cake colored red with food dye. her mom makes the BEST red velvet cake there is, with homemade frosting. The film is about a grandmother telling life stories to her granddaughter.</div> <bR> <div> Could have lingered longer talking to Keri Beth, but the road called. Before leaving Rosine though I took pictures of the Barn and the sign commemorating Bill Monroe.</div> <bR> <div> Entered Muhlenberg County and immediately thought of John Prine's song, “Paradise.” The actual town of Paradise was a little south of 62 and know longer exists. TVA tore it down, not Peabody Coal as written by John Prine. </div> <bR> <div> Another musical connection along this route - Central City had a sign proclaiming </div> <div> “Everly Brothers Blvd 62” at the entrance to town. Everly family from here and the older of the boys, I forget which one, was born here. The Everly Brothers started an annual benefit concert here a number of years ago with proceeds going to there foundation that provides scholarships and economic development money for the area. There is a monument to them in town but I didn't swing by there.</div> <bR> <div> The drive along 62 after Central City was pleasant rolling fields, woods, houses. Nothing calling me to stop but an enjoyable “country” drive. </div> <bR> <div> Put up for the night in Princeton. Another dry county. A glass of red wine would have been nice with my microwaved-in-the-room burritos, chips and salsa. Ah well. </div> <bR> <div> Day 9   (PICS)</div> <bR> <div> A journey like this, like all the other cross-country journeys I've taken, is really just a passing through. Even though I'm only averaging about 110 miles a day, there is very little I get to experience. I stop here and pass by dozens of possibilities to stop, explore, experience. I see a lot as I drive by and experience a little in the places I do stop. Ah, to take a whole year for such a journey, lingering as long as I like wherever I want! But no, that would be too much away from home, the family, the hill. 20 days is just about right and I will experience what I can and not be concerned about the places I didn't explore.</div> <bR> <div> I almost didn't explore Princeton this morning. The motel I stayed in was at the far edge of town so I came close to just continuing down the road west. Instead I decided to take a few minutes to at least check out the center of town, a small county seat of around 6,000 people. Well, the few minutes turned into a few hours and a terrific morning of connecting.</div> <bR> <div> Princeton appeared to be one of those towns that has kept its local character and vitalness. The main street was lined with local businesses that often had gone out of business in other locales - an old theater, hardware store, clothing shop, shoe repair and bootery, furniture store. All of these local businesses. Nice to see, especially with a Walmart on the outskirts of town. </div> <bR> <div> I took a few pictures and then talked with the local mailman, Mickey, who was making his rounds of the businesses. He told me the theater sat empty for a number of years and then was bought by a local politician, reopened and it's been a real success. The nearest movie theater is about 40 miles away. Also told me of a few other places I should check out before I leave.</div> <bR> <div> The first was a place I would probably have missed if he didn't tell me about it. </div> <bR> <div> shaded entranceway</div> <div> zig zag steps between buildings</div> <div> big spring waits below</div> <bR> <div> cavernous outpour</div> <div> cool spring water emerges</div> <div> gently flows away</div> <bR> <div> Big Spring comes out from an underground cave that much of the center of town sits above. A small little park has been set up around where the spring comes out into the light from the dark depths. A very peaceful, beautiful place. The spring flows out over some rocks and a pool has been made where it gathers a bit before moving on. There's a few benches, a wooden walking bridge over the stream and tall trees surrounding the area. I could have lingered there for hours, writing, reading, just being.</div> <bR> <div> I left after about 10 minutes and walked over to the second place Mickey said I needed to stop at, just down the block a little ways - Newsom's Old Mill Store.</div> <bR> <div> The store is located in an old building (dating back to around 1850, originally a woolen mill) at the far end of Main Street. Outside were trays of vegetable and flower plants for sale, with a few people picking out plants. More like a late May scene back home.</div> <bR> <div> When I stepped inside it was as if I had walked into a time warp, sort of. There were boxes and crates of bulk food, jars of pickled items lining shelves, an old meat and cheese counter, wooden signs, baskets hanging from above and jars, metal buckets and bushel baskets full of bulk seeds - corn, beans, peas - dozens of different varieties, onion sets,. potatoes and more! There was also the cooler with bottled water and other beverages for sale and off toward the side a printer and computer! Some modernity, but that didn't at all interfere with the feeling of being in a general store from days gone by.</div> <bR> <div> The person who I gathered was Nancy, the owner (I knew this from looking at information posted in the store) was busy with a few customers so I continued to browse around. On a table where there were books for sale I noticed a sign, “Poetry. No charge - Take some! Nancy.” So, I took a few of the little broadsides to read later. </div> <bR> <div> Nancy was helping an elderly lady who wanted some Whippoorwill peas for planting, an old variety. Nancy didn't have any but called a supplier to check and found they weren't available. Then the phone rang again and I heard Nancy say something about soaking in milk - she was giving directions for what to do with one of their specialty hams they are famous for. </div> <bR> <div> Eventually I was able to get a little time to talk with Nancy. Her grandfather, Hosea Newsom, the “Garden Seeds and Plant Man”, started the store in 1917. It was taken over by his son, Nancy's father, Col. Bill when Hosea died. Bill was only 18. Then Nancy took it over in 1987 after a fire in the store. She told me that a lot of their business is away from the store - through mail and internet. James Beard discovered their hams in 1975 and they've been praised by many the food editors of numerous magazines. The hams are free of sodium nitrate and nitrites, slow-cured and limited in number. A hand-crafted ham, so to speak.</div> <bR> <div> Between customers, Nancy and I spoke of business, poetry, life experiences, spirit, beans and peas, history and many other things. She said at one point, “You were meant to stop here.” I could have stayed all day and there's so much more I could write about the time there, but . . . Always moving on.</div> <bR> <div> We did exchange things with each other. I gave her a few poetry books and in return she loaded me up with various bean and pea seeds, a book, more poems and a bag of sesame snacks. </div> <bR> <div> I hesitatingly left, took a few more pictures and then continued on the journey.</div> <bR> <div> I need to get out on the road again, the morning is getting late, so just a few things about the rest of the day. </div> <bR> <div> Paducah, a small city at the confluence of the Ohio and Tennessee rivers. I almost didn't swing into the downtown area a couple of miles off of 62 because it was so hot. But again, I did and had a nice hour or so along the riverfront, once again on the Ohio, four days after that first Ohio river stop in Ripley, OH. </div> <bR> <div> Like in Maysville, the flood wall had a series of murals depicting the history of the area. There were many more of them than in Maysville though, maybe three dozen or so, I didn't count. Also, almost everyone of them had a metal plaque displayed with historical information about the particular mural. Very nicely done, artistically and informationally. I didn't read very many of them as it was hot and I did want to get moving again. </div> <bR> <div> On the other side of the flood walls was a nice park area running along the riverfront. People strolled, sat on benches, took pictures. The city makes the riverfront an enriching experience for residents and visitors. Paducah was devastated by the 1937 flood, people had to seek higher ground for nearly three weeks. Yet, that doesn't stop them from making the river a part of their life.</div> <bR> <div> That has always been one of the negatives about back home. The Chemung River flows through both cities and nothing is developed with making that waterfront a positive experience. It's as if the river is a danger because it flooded once and might happen again so we need to wall it off and keep people away. The small cities of Corning and Elmira suffered floods, though not as severe as the 1937 Ohio River flood. But you can have flood protection and still make the waterfront accessible and a part of the life of the cities. Paducah has done it and so have many other cities along rivers that have experienced serious flooding.</div> <bR> <div> Wanted to stay in Wickliffe, KY for the night and visit the Wickliffe Mounds historic site, but the only motel was closed. I did stop at the mounds site, had a nice talk with the manager of the state site but couldn't get a tour because they were closing. </div> <bR> <div> So, I'm now in Charleston, MO and it's time to get out on the road again!</div> <bR> <div> (I've posted some pictures from the day on the website.)</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Day 11</div> <bR> <div> A friend sent me an email the other day:</div> <bR> <div> “Yo, bro - what's your hurry? Just passing through...aren't we all! But, what's your hurry?”</div> <bR> <div> Scheduled readings sometimes dictate the need to be moving on. I could have lingered back in Princeton but new I had two programs in Pocahontas coming up and didn't want to have to push too far in one day. The moving on becoming the journey too, not just the being in one place.</div> <bR> <div> Reminds me of the old hitchhiking days. A third of the time over those 30,000 miles traveled with pack and thumb I stayed at people's houses with out ever asking, they just offered to put me up. Some of those experiences were wonderful and life-shaping. Yet, though I could have lingered longer in some places, stayed for more than a day or two (or week in one case) the road always called, felt the need to move on somewhere else, see new territory, meet new people. The moving itself pleasurable, looked forward to. The wanderlust.</div> <bR> <div> There are places I would have liked to stay longer on this trip, but the road continually calls too. Again, a matter of choices and when the choices are both desirable something good gets left out in the bargain. </div> <bR> <div> An evening and a whole next day in Pocahontas, AR and I feel I could linger here much longer. While here I've asked seven different people I've had incidental contact with to tell me one thing I should know about Pocahontas. Each and everyone said the people - friendly, sincere. From my little time here I would have to agree.</div> <bR> <div> The town itself is small, maybe 7,000 people or so, and lies along the Black River. A block from 62 is the historic downtown area comprising of Courthouse Square and the immediate area around it. The other side of 62 is the Black River Overlook park. 62 is the newer business area with stores, restaurants etc. </div> <bR> <div> I presented a program to the Serendipity Group at Black River Technical College. This is a once-a-month group of seniors who read material ahead of time and then get together to discuss, reflect, share thoughts and ideas. The current month's topic is alienation so I spoke to that theme, sharing stories and poems. A very lively, interested group. We had lunch first, then the program. Good discussion during the presentation and then afterwards. </div> <bR> <div> Alienation - being a poet in America. More so trying to make a living being a poet in America. But the more I go out on the road, touch lives, am touched by lives of others, hear of the interest and longing, yes, maybe even longing in others for creativity and connecting such as I'm doing, I think that feeling of poetic alienation in 21st century America is a myth. Yes, when I mention I'm a poet to people I meet often there's not much of a response or connection with that bit of information. But that could be true if I said I was a computer technician, an auto mechanic, a wine salesman. But other times people respond by thinking that's cool, mention to me that they used to or currently write poems. And the audiences for the readings on this journey have been terrific. People have been turning out who have never been to a reading before. I received the following email from the Niagara falls Library:</div> <bR> <div> “Some of the people who attended your reading in Niagara Falls were so excited about us having it that we are having a poetry and music program with an open reading at the end of May.”</div> <bR> <div> And there's been similar interest that has lingered after I've passed through other places. We can alienate ourselves from the mainstream, feel like poets are not appreciated, or we can dive in and connect with people beyond the writing and literary centers of America. </div> <bR> <div> Spent the afternoon after the program wandering around Pocahontas. The town is celebrating its sesquicentennial this fall and have a museum space in a storefront on the square. A good talk with the woman there about the town, what it was like, how it has changed. </div> <bR> <div> The four blocks around the old courthouse (which is the center of the square) used to have stores that pretty much provided most every need people had, like many other small towns of America. Now, more are offices than stores, only three or four shops in the four block area. A couple or so vacant buildings, but not dilapidated. The downtown area is nicely kept up and is a pleasant place to be in. Wrought iron railings around elevated sidewalks, some of which are brick. Places to sit and decorative plantings worked into the architecture of the street and sidewalks. The sesquicentennial celebration coming up may spur a little more interest in keeping up the center of town. So much of the retail center is now out on the strip, again, like most towns in America.</div> <bR> <div> I then went across 62 to the Black River Overlook. Another pleasant place to linger in. Built in 1997, it features benched, decorative plantings, shelters from the hot sun and a Century Wall which was a 2000 project that honors the 100 (actually 109) most influential Americans of the 20th Century, as selected by a panel of people with suggestions coming in from the public. Three walls, each covering approximately a third of the century, contain portrait engravings of the 109 people selected. An interesting mix of people. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> **************************</div> <bR> <div> In the evening I presented a program at the Eddie Mae Herron Center, the old African-American school in Pocahontas. Another great turnout and event. We had pie beforehand and the I presented a talk on assumptions and prejudices. The electricity was out (we learned later that a truck accident in town took out the power for much of the area) so as it was getting dark I used a flashlight to read from and then someone arrived with a lantern. A different experience that everyone just flowed along with.</div> <bR> <div> I learned so much there. It felt good to present a program at a place that is being used for education and a remembrance of what things were like in America. The place has the support of much of the community and has just in the last few years been restored and opened as a cultural/historic/educational center. The newer floor was taken off and the old hardwood floor is now visible with the many of the numbers that were painted on for cakewalks years ago. Pat, the director, went to school there back in the 50s and was so excited to see the numbers still on the floor! She participated in many of the cakewalks held at the old school.</div> <bR> <div> There is so much more I can write about the Herron center, stories I heard, what I saw, learned. That will have to wait for the book. But, it is a good thing they are doing here in Pocahontas with making this old school from not that long ago segregated America into a place that puts value on history, pride, education and the breaking down of assumptions and prejudices.</div> <bR> <div> Ok, time to move west again. I know I will be back to Pocahontas sometime in the not-too-distant future, as much as we can know anything.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>