Hi,
In and around Cincinnati we’ve visited three museums. They may not be the best or biggest in town and they certainly aren’t exhaustive of the options–the GPS sees dozens of museums in the metropolitan area. But they’re each, in their own way, pretty important public spaces, in my opinion.
The first is the American Sign Museum, run by a guy named Tod Swormstedt with ties to the industry that go back at least three generations. If I recall correctly, the family involvement began with his grandfather, the first editor of a trade publication “Sign of the Times,” I think. The Swormstedt family has been engaged in the industry world-wide ever since.
Tod’s passion has been to establish this museum, dedicated to preserving the best examples of the art and technology of this mode of informative and persuasive communication. It’s an easy place to find, and certainly worth a reflective look. www.signmuseum.net
The real reason that we went to Cincinnati was to see the Underground Railroad Museum ( http://www.freedomcenter.org/ ). We’d been following the history beginning in Maryland and checking out stops on the railroad in West Virginia and especially in Ohio along the way.
This museum is housed in a huge and magnificent new structure located on the Cincinnati waterfront. There are two theaters in the museum, one showing a series of well-done animations on the subject and the second with a pretty good brief narrative of the abolitionist history in Ripley Ohio. This last one was narrated by Oprah Winfrey. There were lots of places where some sort of durable composite tablets or wall-mounted flip charts summarized the experiences of this individual slave, or that particular abolitionist (or the many individuals who, once freed from slavery, themselves became conductors on the Railroad.) The cumulative effect was pretty powerful.
Not many people were reading these pieces while we were there, though. Nor were visitors paying much attention to the myriad two-dimensional cutouts of people, each with a few paragraphs of narrative attached. In fact, people walked out of every film clip I visited, except the two mentioned above. Some docents tried valiantly to engage youthful visitors and the audio tour seemed popular.
Actually, there weren’t that many people in the museum at all. We stayed there from the 11:00 AM opening until around 2:30 PM and I imagine we encountered fewer than 100 people. That may account for the very bored demeanor of the staff at the admission desk.
In fairness, I’m told that the Center has a top-notch genealogy center, which we didn’t take in. I also witnessed some pretty enthusiastic docents working hard to engage some of the patrons, but I was generally somewhat let down by the experience of visiting the Center. I’d learned more reading plaques in the small towns leading up to the museum in Cincinnati.
Still, it’s good that a place like this exists. Hopefully, the presentation will broaden and perhaps the patrons on this day represent nothing more than an off day at the museum.
So, heigh-ho, it’s off to Illinois we go with the intention of finding a camping place along the banks of the Ohio.
This involved a brief tuck into a corner of Kentucky and a short jaunt on an Interstate highway, our first since leaving Maryland nine days ago. Just outside of Petersburg, KY we passed an official brown government freeway sign announcing the Creation Museum at the next exit. Of course I had to visit and Denise, to her everlasting credit, didn’t object.
I knew a bit about the beliefs of Creationists, and was aware of a fairly recent decision on the part of some key proponents to change the Creationist proselytizing style from one of exhortation a less confrontational and more Socratic discussion about the “difference of opinion” over how the observable facts should be interpreted.
The museum is a masterpiece of propaganda, which I suspect the proprietors would agree with, take away the negative connotations of the term “propaganda” and substitute something like “focused education and persuasion.” Anyway, the place was packed with adults forking over $21.50 each to wander the many dioramas and interactive multi-media displays. The parking lot was full and traffic was directed by a gun-toting constable.
When we declined to invest over forty bucks in viewing the display and politely walked out we were shortly followed by a staff member who told us she was empowered to share with us her “staff discount” and could get us in at $8 apiece. That sort of commitment moved us and we invested.
What can I say: I thought the place was pretty well done; Denise tended to see the presentation as pretty creepy, especially the part about the Bible’s directive to go forth and “subdue” the planet. But we both agreed that it played well with the patrons, and they were doing a land office business. http://creationmuseum.org/
We’ve spent a couple of days recovering from this cultural history in a little Inn on the banks of the Ohio in Madison, Indiana. Very pleasant, very quiet, very restful and the hiking in the nearby state park wasn’t too strenuous.
Now it’s time to move along.
Bill
Creationist mannequins.
Tags: Retire, Retirement, Road Trip
I was all set to tell you about the geology and geography of Southern Ohio and how it related to that of West Virginia, and then this naked guy materialized in a golf cart.
But really, geography and geology are very important things and should preempt him for the moment, if for no reasons other than size and seniority. You see my point, don’t you?
The small roads that we’re traveling on in Southern Ohio are every bit as well-paved as the small-road route we took through West Virginia. So far, it’s mostly the larger highways that seem to be in desperate shape in Ohio.
As far as topography goes, the Hocking Hills area of the state has contours reminiscent of West Virginia, but with fewer ridges and softer stone.
Apparently the formation of the State went something like this: There was a huge and shallow inland ocean covering the midsection of what we now call the United States. Over the millennia lots of little mollusks died and otherwise laid down limestone deposits along the shores. This was the foundation for what we presently think of as West Virginia. Eventually the middle of Pennsylvania rose up, mountains were formed there and to the west and they immediately began to erode. The sand washed out of these new mountains and was flushed westward where it formed sandstone deposits in Southern Ohio. After a bit longer, those sandstone deposits also folded up, perhaps after crashing into West Virginia which had been doing a bit of uplifting on its’ own.
One result of the Ohio uprising is the Hocking Hills area with surprising sandstone cliffs, cool trails on the valley floor, and delightful waterfalls under a canopy of hardwoods. Wonderful geology, pretty good hiking, beautiful forests and no shortage of humidity.
We spent much of the day walking, lazing about and grazing from the cooler and picnic basket, and leisurely driving the small state and county roads that meander west in the direction of Cincinnati (where we’re headed for chili.)
We stopped to look at 6 or 8 covered bridges, including one that was sheltering a 76 year old farmer who had been bringing in the hay before a sudden downpour. He thought there was a good chance he was going to lose that cutting of hay. I suppose that he was right.
We also hiked the Cantwell Cliffs for a couple of hours and later walked the area of the Selp Burial Mound near Bainbridge, Ohio. It was getting late but I thought we could make a good run at getting to the Serpent Mound near Peebles before calling it a day and we set off on the most direct route, which just happened to be a Scenic Byway.
It was nearly 4:30 PM when we arrived at the Serpent Mound. So we decided to begin the following day with a close look at the Mound, rather than rush through before finding a campsite for the night.
The Ranger staffing the Ohio Historical Society’s museum at the Serpent Mound advised us that he personally knew nothing of the camping possibilities close by but he let us look at his only copy of a listing of campgrounds provided by the Adams County Chamber of Commerce. I called the closest one: Cedar Trails Campground.
“Sure” the fellow said, “we have lots of room, fifteen dollars a night” and he gave me directions.
We wound back off the scenic byway, we crossed bridges, we turned left and then right at forks, and watching as the road first narrowed through fields of corn and then became gravel. I’d have thought we were lost, except that his directions were spot on.
Just at the promised turning a single sign appeared: “Cedar Trails Campground.” And so we turned in. We were far enough from the “highway” that I was pretty sure we would have a quiet night.
We parked near the small wood-sided building beneath the “Office” sign and I walked in, but no one was in the single room. So I walked back out and was standing there beside Denise and looking about when a naked guy drove up in a green golf cart. He seemed to be expecting us.
He was uniformly tan, so I stifled my first impulse–to point out that he didn’t seem to be wearing any clothes, and instead I inquired if we’d inadvertently stumbled into a nudist camp. Of course, that’s exactly what we’d done.
For his part, Ken–for that was the naked guy’s name–had neglected to mention that fact when I called. The Cedar Trails Campground is pretty far off the beaten track and I suppose that the folks who materialize there generally know what’s in store before they arrive.
Anyway, business was slow on a Tuesday, with just three or four couples on the 50 acre site so he graciously welcomed us to pitch our tent. In truth it looked to be a magnificent campground facility, and since it was getting late, and since we were already there and, what-the-hell–why not? And so we stayed.
We passed what was an uneventful and quiet night, if you discount the torrential downpour during dinner, and woke to a damp but comfortable dawn. We proceeded to breakfast and then break camp and hang a few things to dry before returning to the Serpent Mound for some misty early morning contemplation about the origins of culture and the significance of various human symbols.
Returning to Cedar Trails, we bade Ken and Fred and JoAnne, the owners and builders of the Cedar Trails Campground, farewell and we set off to Cincinnati in search of the Underground Railroad Museum, American Sign Museum and the Skyline Chili restaurant. About which, more, later.
But before I let you go, guess what?
I get that nekked business. It reminds me of skinny dipping in Oregon and hot springs in the woods. It really is quite comfortable to walk about in the altogether in the great outdoors in the company of others. Try it sometime, even if by accident.
Bill
Lunch in Ripley, Ohio, an Abolitionist hotbed. Additional photos filed in the “Road Trip” page.
Tags: Retire, Retirement, Road Trip
Hi,
After two years of “retirement” we’ve still got the American pattern pretty well ingrained. The urge is to push for a few more miles, pass through one more county, and just another hour before we stop for the day. The tendency is to want to get there as quickly as possible.
But suppose “there” is no further than the “here” where one already is? That pace is a wonderful luxury, one that doesn’t come easily yet. But we’re working on it.
For practice we stop at nearly every roadside sign. We walk through small towns that we’d never even see from the Interstate. We read all of the local newspapers from beginning to end and, best of all, we take the time to talk it over while enjoying a second cup of coffee or a slice of the best peach pie this side of Augusta.
I’m pretty sure that we can learn to do this. We’ve sure mastered much more difficult stuff. And most of it wasn’t this much fun.
Today, our fourth day on the road, we made it past the Greenbrier Resort. This is a swank resort for the hoity-toity Eastern Rich and is secreted away in an inaccessible corner of West Virginia. Oddly, right down the street we passed a sign for the Area Council of Workers United, “Organizing for Our Future.” Naturally, I wheeled back for a closer look. Turns out it’s the Laborers, the Carpenters, and the Hotel and Restaurant Employees.
In light of recent events within their particular wedge of the labor movement, I hope they manage to hang on to the optimism implicit in their sign.
Yesterday we stopped where a stream has eroded a good sized hill, exposing an upfolded rift of layered stone. It’s called “The Devil’s Backbone,” for those of you who are familiar with this part of the state.
We got out and walked across the road for a better look and were rewarded with the sight of three West Virginian women in their early twenties who were working the riffles and pools at the foot of the rock. It looked like they were casting worms and I imagined them meeting after work and trying for a pan of trout before supper and a night out. Denise noticed that they were all wearing makeup.
My sense in that the women of West Virginia have had a camaraderie in at least some sports that goes back long before Title IX.
Good on them.
Tomorrow we’ll make in to Ohio, where the roads aren’t in nearly as good shape as they are in West Virginia and the topography is less challenging.
Bill
The Devil’s Backbone, West Virginia
Tags: Denise Hanna, Labor Unions, Retire, Retirement, Road Trip
Unlike Ontario, where golf appears to be the common avocation of citizens and the true calling of real estate speculators, no one in West Virginia appears to care for the game. Maybe this is due to the inherent sensibleness of West Virginians. Or maybe it’s because there’s not a spot of level ground in the State.
Anyway, in three days of driving in WV, we’ve seen one 9 hole course, one pretty creative little driving range set in a seam between two wooded ridges and one Golf Club, The Oakhurst Golf Club. As it happens, this Golf Club was the first one established in the United States and the game, as played on their course, hasn’t changed much since that time. Hickory-shafted clubs, sand tees, gutta-percha balls and all like that.
I’m thinking that West Virginians are more likely to spend their leisure time pursuing animals and other outdoor activities. By this I mean that hunting is BIG, taxidermy is a sought-after service–and one doesn’t have to look too far. There are lots of places to buy and sell guns and gun-related equipment, and every rural equivalent of a 7-11 convenience store will sell you a permit to fish or will check your game after a day in the field. There’s a lively sector of the underground economy in the processing of game.
But there’s much more to do with this state, believe-you me.
The terrain over most of the State is very, very difficult to traverse. The roads are small, narrow, winding, and they go straight up and straight down innumerable ridges and valleys. As a result, the towns of West Virginia are isolated. But the people are anything but remote. Engaged and engaging and helpful are a better characterization, if I were inclined to make one.
Not only is the terrain difficult to traverse, it is impossible to build a highway through it. Even the super-powerful Senator Robert Byrd has only managed occasional stretches of isolated superhighway that plunge back into the two-lane blacktop from which they spring with no warning or apparent justification.
But, By God, that terrain is magnificent to see and even better to be in. It rivals anything I’ve enjoyed in the Cascades of Oregon or the Olympics in Washington State. Scenery in West Virginia is on a par with Utah’s Zion and Colorado’s Estes Park, although it’s built on an entirely different ecological system.
Take lunch the first day out, for example. Nearly at random, we followed a sign that advised “Public Stream Access,” turning down a narrow track that switched back and forth through a leafy bower and down a thickly wooded hillside ending at a public boat launch on the Susquehanna River. There we passed a lovely hour at lunch, joined only by a soaring hawk, some sort of crane on the opposite bank and the sporadic flap of a jumping fish. If I’d driven directly, we were probably 2, maybe 2 and 1/2 hours from home. But I’d deliberately meandered, trying to overcome the impulse to get through West Virginia and on to Ohio as quickly as possible. And we’d stumbled into the first glimpse of West Virginian paradise.
Dinner that night included massive amounts fresh sweet corn that we purchased from the farmer just outside Berkley Springs. It was the juiciest I’ve had in quite a little while. Not much for flavor, though. It was good outdoor food, which we prepared and ate at our site in the Cacapon Hideaway Campground, itself a major accomplishment.
After noting and ignoring the chain across what we took to be the main entrance, we off-roaded back towards Charlie’s place. Charlie was happy enough to see us, having just returned from vacation Even though he had not planned to open up the campground just yet, he made an exception for us and pointed to the back way in. We selected a magnificent campsite about two-thirds of the way through the 100 acres that are The Cacapon Hideaway Campground. We were the only campers in the place and walked up and down the whole place after dinner.
For the life of me, I can’t guess where a guy who lives like Charlie would go on vacation–although I CAN be pretty certain that it wasn’t west of the Ohio River or north of the New York border, neither of which has Charlie crossed yet.
We laid down to a comfortable night in a hemlock forest under a full, or nearly full moon with a couple of screech owls for company and slept well even before the buzzing of the insects died down.
There are not many things I’d go on television to advertise, apart from the union but one is the ThermaRest Sleeping Pad, Basecamp Model. I don’t say that just because they are manufactured in Seattle, although they are. The Basecamp is a good night’s sleep in an easy to handle roll and is worth every made-in-USA cent. I don’t know that I’d contemplate this expedition without it.
Tags: Retire, Retirement, Road Trip, Therm-a-Rest
Hi,
I’ve recently noticed something occurring in my life that I hadn’t anticipated, at least not yet. Perhaps some of you have had a similar experience. If you haven’t, and your luck holds, you will. And maybe you won’t like it any more than I do.
I shiver to think that it may be a recurring feature from here on in.
Recently, a couple of my older friends, men, independently told me about the first time they caught the eye of a young woman and were delighted and flattered until the realization dawned that any flirting was not directed at them but another, younger, person beside or behind them. In fact, I read the story of this very thing happening to a blogging acquaintance in Washington only a couple of weeks ago. I suppose that as boomers age this could be a pandemic in the making. Maybe about half of you are of the opinion that the awakening is long overdue, I don’t know. Anyway, this isn’t my version of that story. Not yet anyway.
During the last twenty-five or so years of working on the job I’d been accustomed to people misjudging my age. I’ve typically been pegged as some five or seven years younger than I actually am. I am pleased to report that this has continued and carried over to our lives in the Dominican Republic, where I can lose as many as seven or eight years on a good day.
But an interesting thing has happened in the United States. It seems that once people learn of my employment status (“retired”), all sorts of filters and assumptions come into play. Many Americans seem to anticipate, in no particular order, grandchildren, a lack of exercise, opposition to taxes, not much of a sense of adventure, an element of physical decline and a general inclination to repose more and engage less.
To the extent that this is true, I suppose it’s a good thing to realize. More importantly, it’s pretty important to not allow the odd preconceptions of others to unduly shape my own, at least about something so near and dear as me.
In any event, we’re planning to depart for an extended road trip as described during the shakedown trip to Canada earlier this month. We’ll visit West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, more or less. We plan to spend a couple of months at this before adjourning to the Dominican in October.
Help us out. What do you know about in those states, that should not be missed?
Bill
Tags: Retire, Retirement, Road Trip