Wednesday, July 28, 2021

The Book Barn (Niantic, CT)

 



A happy discovery. While exploring the Connecticut shoreline, with all its geographic and travel permutations because of the rivers flowing into Long Island Sound. Niantic, and the surrounding area, looked intriguing. Our goal was to find a small town to walk, wander, and eat. Some place that would be engaging and entertaining on a Sunday afternoon. I set the destination on my GPS for a place, The Book Barn, more because it was on the far side of town. The intriguing name provided a mystery to be discovered. Making our way through town, scouting locations, I aimed to turn around at the destination. But upon arrival, we decided that The Book Barn may should have been our destination in the first place.

Inside the main barn

A used bookstore that combines a love of gardening and animals with the pleasures of reading, The Book Barn is a hub of activity for bibliophiles and treasure seekers. It has outgrown the barn that originally contained the business into many outbuildings and stalls around the property. I told Angie, who was worried about some of the books getting wet, that some of the stalls approximated ones that line the Seine in Paris. People wander from building to building, looking for treasures. Signs, prints, and jokes (e.g., The Bridge over the River Koi) entertain and distract browsers. Today, the bookstore has spilled over into two other locations in Niantic, one just a tenth of a mile away and another in downtown Niantic.

Overwhelmed Shopper

On some level shopping was a bit overwhelming: Too many choices, and an assault on the senses. It was difficult to get my head organized because, not knowing that I was going to a used bookstore, I had not thought about what I would hunt for. By the end of the day, after visits to all three locations, I had purchased two books: A Penguin edition of Dickens’s American Notes for General Circulation and a juvenile book called Frank on a Gunboat by Harry Castleman, published in 1892, at $4 apiece.

Inattentive Assistant




Tuesday, July 27, 2021

Post Office Madison, Connecticut

 


“Gathering Seaweed from the Sound” by William Abbott Cheever 



Sunday, July 25, 2021

Moses H. Cone Memorial Park

 


On Memorial Day, I found myself walking a carriage road in Moses Cone Memorial National Park. Located at milepost 294 along the Blue Ridge Parkway, in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, the land once belonged to the Cone, who had amassed a fortune making denim and other textiles during the Gilded Age. Eventually, he would supply denim to the Levi Strauss company for the iconic their blue jeans.

Since it was a holiday, the traditional beginning of summer in the US, the park was quite busy. The parking lot was overflowing, and people were parking on the berm of the Parkway. I walked the carriage trail to the Flat Top Tower, a watchtower for fires. Once I got about a quarter of a mile away from the parking lot, there were substantially fewer other hikers. I overheard a young man query to his female companion, “I guess a five-mile walk is out of the question?” Looking at the flipflops she was wearing, there was no doubt as to her answer. I made the short side trip to see Cone’s gravesite, a noticeably big stone marked his grave and those of a few relatives. If the goal of a gravestone is to be remembered after you are gone, then I would say that the family’s site was successful. Many people made the quarter mile journey to see it. A horse drawn carriage make a side trip to take visitors to do the same.

The trail going under the Blue Ridge Parkway

I did not bring a camera to photograph birds; in fact, I had decided not to birdwatch but concentrate on the mountain scenery instead. As I neared the top, as if fate was chastising my decision, a scarlet tanager flew right at me. Arriving at the watchtower, many people who had struggled to make the 900-foot ascent, were resting after their successful climb. The atmosphere was jovial and communal.

The destination

When Cone died in 1908, he and his wife were childless. She would continue to live in the estate built on Flat Rock until her death, nearly four decades later. She left the estate to the local memorial hospital that bears Cone’s name, which in turn, was given to the National Park Service which the provision the park would use his name.

Monday, July 19, 2021

Kino Mĕstské Divadlo (Pelhřimov, Czech Republic)

 


Looking through some of the postcards I have collected of theaters over the years, this cinema in Pelhřimov seems very remote and far away. I have never visited this small city, and I am not sure I will. But the theater, which still stands and is now known as the Lubomír Lipský Theater (Divadlo Lubomíra Lipského), looks like many of the buildings in Prague. The postcard is dated 1959, during the Communist era, just prior to Prague Spring, which brought a flourishing of Czech Cinema that I love so much. Thinking about what people in central Czechoslovakia may have been watching, what the experience of attending a cinema during that era was like, is nearly unfathomable to me.

Location: Solní 1814, 393 01 Pelhřimov, Czechia


Tuesday, July 13, 2021

Dickens Quote

 

“Don’t be cross with us poor vagabonds. People must be amused. They can’t be always a learning, nor yet they can’t be always a working, they ain’t made for it. You must have us, Squire. Do the wise thing and the kind thing too, and make the best of us; not the wurse.”

Charles Dickens, Hard Times, Chapter III-8 (Translated from Sleary’s lisp)

Thursday, July 8, 2021

Cumberland Island

 


Located just north of the Georgia-Florida border, Cumberland Island National Seashore is a 17-mile-long barrier island. Although various people and cultures have made the island home, today access is highly regulated to protect its fragile ecosystems. No more than 300 visitors are allowed on the island at a time and the only way to visit is by boat. The number of vehicles is low and the lone hotel, which is extremely exclusive, is a holdover from decades past.

The National Park Service runs a 30-minute ferry to and from Cumberland Island. Spaces on the boat, which also ferries bikes and camping equipment for visitors, are limited and reservations are a necessity during peak times. Even in mid-May, before schools were out, the boat was quite full. An interesting assortment of people on the boat, in varying degrees of preparedness, were on our outward journey. A couple from the Air Force, coincidentally he was from the Louisville area as well, were taking the ferry for a four-day backpacking trip on the island to explore the northern half and enjoy some beach time. Their trip contrasted with two young women in short bright yellow jumper and sandals looking like she was out for an evening at the beach bars, seemingly unprepared for the sun, lack of services, and heat while on the island. I overheard her say that she was “really hungover,” which usually means dehydration. I thought to myself her day might not go well, although I could be wrong. I was a little surprised by the number of people who took the ferry across, unload equipment and carted it across the approximately one-mile width of the island to spend a day at the beach; admittedly the seashore is quite secluded, beautiful, and not at all busy.

Arriving shortly before 10am and having six hours to wander and explore, to see animals, and observe humans is a real luxury – the luxury of time. The only deadline is the departure time for the return ferry.

The St. Marys River is the dividing border between Florida and Georgia. From the ferry, in the distance, a paper mill plant in the town of Fernandina Beach Florida, on Amelia Island, is visible. Built in the 1937, a time before roads and tourism were prevalent in the area, the plant processes trees, and like other paper mills can produce a foul odor that I equate with rotten eggs and/or sulfur. While many complain about the pollution and the smell, the company retorts that it contributes to local wages and taxes. It is the arguments between economic prosperity and environmental protection. When pitched in the dichotomous frame of either/or, it appears to be an intractable problem that it is not.


Why do most people come to Cumberland Island? Is it history or wildlife? The preserved natural beauty, the birds and wildlife, as well as pristine beaches are certainly a draw. I find my curiosity vacillating between history and nature while thinking about island and time spent there. To focus on the Cumberland Island’s human history, fascinating though it may be, is to do it a disservice. It is a beauty island, with nature repairing itself after decades of agriculture and invasive species. Three distinct terrains dominated on any preserved barrier island: the maritime forests, salt marshes, and sand dunes, each of which are easily accessible from the ferry dock.

Our picnic spot for lunch

As we wandered along the designated paths on the southern part of the island, it was fun to see many animals, including a raccoon, salamanders, armadillos, a few glimpses of deer, and, of course, the wild horses, that freely wander the island. Birdwatching, too, was fun. The mixture of ecosystems means that there is a wide variety. Eating lunch beneath the twisted limbs of the live oaks, we watched in astonishment northern parulas feeding their young. Breezes bring salt air that stunts the growth of the trees, creating a complex puzzle of twisted branches as they seek more sun. The trees create shade and relief from the punishing sun and heat. Although their breeding area covers Pennsylvania, I have never seen a northern parula in the state. With a diet consisting of insects, they are particularly fond of Spanish moss during the breeding season, which is plentiful on the Island.

Northern Parula chick waiting to be fed

Despite an abundance do wildlife, most of the signage on the island points the visitor’s attention to the legacy of the Carnegie family. In some ways this is a clever dodge, to divert people from concentrating on the years of slavery, plantations, and the treatment of those who were not powerful. However, a small sign at the dock, often missed because it is not in the direct line of sight when one leaves the ferry, explains to the visitor that human occupation of the island has occurred for several centuries, and this place was once called Tacatacuru. But the sparse amount of information about the Timucuan people reveals had little is known or understood about the culture and the lives of the people. Europeans began to arrive in the area during the sixteenth century, and most of our knowledge about the Timucuans, their language and culture is filtered through those European eyes. The large Spanish Mission of San Pedro de Mocama, which introduced Roman Catholicism to the local population, was part of the imperial contest for land, wealth, and influence in North America. Its exact location remains undiscovered, but its existence dominated political relationships and was a symbol of ownership in Spain’s struggles with the French and British colonial interests. 

While this nod to indigenous history raises interesting points, it is the histories of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that demands most of the park’s attention. The backdrop of slavery and the American Civil War plays a part in the island’s history, especially since Robert E. Lee’s father was interred on the island for a time. But it is the post-war industrialization of the country, and the rise of rich industrialists that figure prominently. Thomas M. Carnegie, brother of famed philanthropist Andrew, began building a 59-room mansion called Dungeness in 1884. Its dock is the one used by the National Park Service to ferry passengers from St. Marys each day. Thomas died just two years later in Pittsburgh, never seeing his vacation home completed. His wife Lucy, along with nine children, would finish the project as well as several others on the island. In the years that follow, she oversaw the construction of other estates for her children, including Greyfield, Stafford Plantation, and Plum Orchard. The story of the Carnegie family is fascinating and reaches into the core of many American towns with the libraries built by Andrew Carnegie’s fortune. It made his name familiar, and his legacy remains relevant as the architecturally appealing libraries demand protection and restoration more than a century later.  

Dungeness today
After Lucy’s death in 1916, Dungeness largely remain unoccupied. Her daughter Nancy’s wedding was held there in 1929 as the last major event in the mansion’s history. It was destroyed by fire in 1959. While the ruins are off limits to the visitor, it is fun to peer inside and have a look at faded glory. As I circumnavigated the nineteenth century mansion, a monument to industrialization and grad wealth, it struck me we rarely think about our homes in the future, after we are gone. In all probability my home will exist after I am gone, but what is its fate? Who will live there? How will it come to an end? I watched the wild horses graze in the front lawn by a fountain that has not worked in an exceptionally long time as I thought about it. I imagine they are saying to themselves, “yet another human taking photos of ruins that we see every day.”  I know they do not, but why do we feel compelled to photograph, consider, and ponder the ruins of such a mansion? One cannot help but think about Citizen Kane, surrounded by all his physical treasures in his old age, many of which will end up in the incinerator.

Wild horses roam the grand front yard of Dungeness

The now abandoned settlement of High Point, an abandoned black community on the north end of the island, is likewise compelling. Founded in the late nineteenth century, the community consisted of former enslaved people and their descendants. The focal point of the site, which is under the auspices of the National Park Service, is the First African Baptist Church built from salvage lumber in 1937. Located fifteen miles north of the ferry dock, the community is difficult to access, especially so for day trippers to the island.

One of the estates where blacks on Cumberland Island would have worked as servants and caretakers was Plum Orchard, the home of George Lauder Carnegie. He was the son of Thomas and nephew of Andrew Carnegie. George married Margaret Copley Thaw, who was widowed in the early 1920s. Margaret left Cumberland Island, traveled, and spent time in New York City after George’s death. Two years after her husband’s death she married the Count de Périgny and became a Countess; however, the following year she was sued by Madeline Modica for alienation of affections. Her husband, a car salesman, had developed a friendship with Margaret. But the New York newspapers were skeptical that she would have had a romantic relationship with Emmanuel Victor Modica describing him as “dark, has large eyes and is of slender build,” presumably suggesting that an affair with the countess would be shocking. In the race conscious 1920s, recent Italian immigrants were not considered acceptable marriage or companion materials for society women. Shortly after the scandal, Margaret and her new husband left the United States and settled on his farm in colonial Kenya where she died in 1942.

Wilson's Plover

Royal Tern

Northern Parula

A brown-headed Cowbird catching a ride on a wild horse



Sunday, July 4, 2021

The Glens

 

Watkins Glen State Park

Sometimes there are words in English that we take for granted and do not ponder the etymology or full meaning of it. Glen, a term used to describe narrow valley in the mountain districts of Scotland and Ireland, was one of those words for me. Since the appearance of the word in English in the sixteenth century, it has been applied further afield, including in the Finger Lakes region of New York.

Voted as the third-best state park in the United States in 2015, Watkins Glen, with its many waterfalls and accessible location, is a popular destination. Its popularity has not detracted from its beauty, but the sheer volume of visitors can make the photographer frustration frustrated looking for the perfect shot of a waterfall. Long and narrow, the park encompasses the glen created by Glen Creek, which is a name that seems somehow redundant given the definition. The most popular trail in the park, the Gorge Trail, is a mile-and-a-half long and surveys 19 waterfalls. I do not think it enters most of the visitors’ minds that there is a 500-foor change in elevation over the course of the trail. Thus, at the upper end of the trail, bedraggled people who are not accustomed to walking, or wearing inappropriate shoes for the occasion, area readily evident struggling to finish the trail.



We drove the picturesque route between Seneca Falls and the village of Watkins Glen, not realizing that there was a lot of farmland and not many places to stop for services. As we approach the south end of Seneca Lake, we passed winery after winery, with an occasional brewery thrown in, with gorgeous views of the valley and the lake. One can only imagine that the weekends during the summer were incredibly busy. After research, I had decided to enter at the park’s upper entrance. A nice location, with large shade trees and away from the crowds of the main entrance. As a result, for the most part, we were walking against the line of people, downstream as it were. People could catch a tram from the upper parking lot to the main entrance, thus the traffic downstream was not as significance. We could enjoy the falls without increasing fatigue from a steady upward climb.



Arriving at the park’s main entrance, which is adjacent to the center of the village, signs illustrate the history of the park and area. The state park, as we know it today, was originally developed opened by George Freer, a private entrepreneur, with the marketing of newspaper editor Morvalden Ells, on 4 July 1863.   After another owner, the State of New York acquired the land in 1906, and took over the operation of the park in 1911. After a devastating flood in 1935, prompted by 12 inched of rainfall in three hours, the park was rebuilt by the Civilian Conservation Corps, which was largely responsible for the bridges and paths that walkers on the Gorge Trail use today.

Of course, prior to that, the land was part of the indigenous Seneca homelands, who fished and farmed the area as part of the larger Iroquois (Hodinöhsö:ni’) Confederacy.  With the arrival of European colonist, conflict and hardship ensued, and the land gradually became the possession of the white people. This history is recognized, no doubt belatedly, with a statue of a Seneca man and woman near the main entrance of the park.  

The South Rim trail would be an interesting walk because it is part of the 584-mile Fingers Lake Trail, running from the Catskills in the east to the Allegheny National Forest in western New York. But this would not have taken us back to our car. Instead, we decided to take the North Rim Trail back, which until recently known as “Indian Trail,” perhaps the name change is a nod toward more cultural sensitivity. The trail begins with steps that lead to the rim of the gorge with views of the creek and trail running below, then a gradual ascent back to our parking spot. It was devoid of most people; however, we encounter a few walking their dogs who are not allowed on the Gorge Trail. The trail offered an opportunity for quiet reflection that the rushing waters, with the adrenaline rush that inevitably develops, and the large number of people do not. Emerging from months of social distancing, it is difficult to transition back to crowded noisy places. Besides, we enjoyed the chipmunks darting back and forth and squealing in angst and nervousness as we approached.

After our hike we wandered in the village for a little while, finding an old movie theater, a depression era post office with its artwork removed, and a series of small shops. Working our way back toward Moravia and Skaneateles, we serendipitously saw Ithaca Falls and pulled over to explore. The creek supplied power to several industries in the early nineteenth century, and easily accessible by foot, but finding a parking spot was more challenging. A little further we stopped at a relaxing brewpub, Salt Point Brewing Company, for pizza and appetizers in the early evening.

Ithaca Falls (Ithaca, NY)


The following day found us at Fillmore Glen, a lesser known although intriguing state park in Moravia. Named after the thirteenth president of the United States, Millard Fillmore, the park sits near the southern end of Owasco Lake. Fillmore was president during the early 1850s and was the last person from the Whig party to serve in the office. Later, he joined and became a leading figure in the American Party as its nominee during the 1856 election. The party was popularly known as the “Know-Nothing” Party. The core tenants of the party were anti-immigrant and particularly anti-Catholic policies. During the time of increased Irish immigration, largely because of the 1840s Famine, the Know-Nothings sought to deny entry and citizenship fearing an undermining of American culture, religion, and wellbeing. When asked about nativism, party members were instructed to reply that they “knew nothing” of the particularly reprehensible views about Irish and Catholics.

The Cow Sheds' (Fillmore Glen State Park)


None of this history is recounted in the park. Instead, a replica cabin of Fillmore’s boyhood home sits largely disregarded by most visitors. The primary attraction of the park is the beautiful gorge, lightly traveled, with several waterfalls feeding Owasco Lake. In terms of states parks, Fillmore Glen is a nice counterpoint to Watkins Glen. Quiet, uncomplicated, with abiding beauty, it offers challenging hikes because of the landscape and the opportunity to observe and reflect.



Friday, July 2, 2021

The Glen Theater (Watkins Glen, NY)

 

The Glen Theater (June 2021)

Opened in 1924 and in operation well into the twenty-first century. The building next door was acquired for a second screen relatively recently. According to local sources, the cinema closed in 2019. When I visited in June 2021, it did not look permanently closed. But in the aftermath of the pandemic, it is difficult to discern what might happen.

The theater, which is just a few blocks from Seneca Lake, appears not to have been affected by the devastating fire that destroyed nearly half of the business district of the village in January 1934.


United Theatre (Westerly, RI)

 


Located on Canal Street in Westerly, just yards from the Connecticut border, the United opened in 1926. It served the community until 1986, when it closed. After a few missteps, the theater was reopened in 2014 and continues to show films (opened after the pandemic).

Location: 5 Canal Street, Westerly, RI