Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Franklin and Fulton Counties, Part Three: Fulton County

 Day four of this trip (December 15) was to Fulton County, just west of Franklin County over Tuscarora Mountain, in what was the wilderness before the American Revolution. It's twenty-two miles from Chambersburg, the seat of Franklin County, to McConnellsburg, the seat of Fulton County, along Pennsylvania Route 16, and U.S. 30, The Lincoln Highway. There are fewer than 15,000 residents, making Fulton the fourth smallest county in Pennsylvania by population. I've been to the smallest and third smallest, Cameron and Forest. This is also the county with the highest percentage of votes for the last president in the 2020 election in Pennsylvania, with more than 85% of the votes for the then-incumbent. The population is more than 98% White and English-speaking.

I left the motel in Chambersburg about nine for the short drive over the mountain. The weather was much cooler on the west side of the mountain, and overcast, just as Morgantown seems much cooler and cloudier than cities in Maryland across the mountains. There are eight places on the National Register of Historic Places, and I visited six of them. McConnellsburg is only a few square blocks in size. There is a pretty central business district along Route 16, and an imposing courthouse. 

A few miles north of town, in Dublin Township, is Burnt Cabins, named because the Native Americans sued settlers who had moved into their territory and the U.S. Government burned the settlers' cabins. It was a short-lived victory for the Native Americans. Today there is a small community, a church, a post office and an old grist mill. The Pennsylvania Turnpike is downhill from the village. 

On the way back to McConnellsburg, I visited Cowan's Gap State Park in Todd Township, a Works Progress Administration project with an artificial  lake, and beach, and historic cabins. I enjoyed the quiet there in the off-season.

Back in town, I looked for a place to eat. There were two restaurants on Lincoln Way, both closed at noon on a weekday, and a McDonald's and a Sheetz, the gas station-convenience store that is ubiquitous in Pennsylvania, West Virginia and some places in Maryland and Ohio. I opted for Sheetz, got a chicken, cheese and marinara sub on their "healthy" menu, toasted, an apple, a Diet Coke, and a cookie, for a total of about six dollars. The drink was free on points. I ordered on their touchscreen and the sandwich was waiting at the cashiers by the time I got my drink. They had a seating area off to the side. I was the only one eating there. The store was crowded; it must be where everyone goes who doesn't go to McDonald's. If I saw fifty people, five of us were masked. 

After lunch, I walked around a bit in town, then drove south on U.S. 522. which passes from McConnellsburg, Pennsylvania  to Hancock, Maryland to Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, to Winchester, Virginia over a sixty mile stretch. There are only three miles in Maryland separating Pennsylvania and West Virginia. I was home by four, in time for a nap and dinner.

Fulton House, about 1793, originally a hotel. 

I thought the brick building was the McConnell House, but I guess not. This was on  Lincoln Way, Route 16. U.S. 30 is a bypass up the hill from town.

Fulton County Courthouse, 1852

House decorated for Christmas with an old-time sleigh, McConnellsburg

The post office for Burnt Cabins is in this building

Burnt Cabins Grist Mill, 1840

Lake and beachfront at Cowan's Gap State Park

Across the lake at Cown's Gap

Historic cabin at Cowan's Gap State Park


Sunday, December 26, 2021

Franklin and Fulton Counties, Part Two : Along Route 16

 Have you ever had a day when you planned exactly what you wanted to do, and the weather and traffic worked well, and you were able to do everything? Me neither, except for December 14, 2021. I had planned to visit Pennsylvania Route 16, across southern Franklin County from Tuscarora Mountain on the west to the Blue Ridge on the east, through the towns (boroughs in Pennsylvania) of Mercersburg, Greencastle and Waynesboro to Blue Ridge Summit on the Maryland line. 

The weather was way too warm for mid-December (as it has been through most of December in the Middle Atlantic states), about 55 in the afternoon from just below freezing in the morning. I had breakfast at the motel, then headed out about 9 west on U.S. 30 to Fort Loudon at the base of Tuscarora Mountain, then south to the birthplace of James Buchanan, the United States President from 1857 to 1861, the years leading up to the Civil War. The plaques there say that Buchanan's father ran a stop for people heading over the mountain, the "frontier" after the American Revolution. People needed help getting over the mountain. The house where Buchanan was born is no longer there, but there is a monument to Buchanan. 

I headed southeast on Route 16 to Mercersburg. There is a historic district in the center of town, the Mercersburg Academy, where James Buchanan went to school, and the Lane House from 1828, where Harriet Lane, Buchanan's niece, was born. She served as hostess in the White House for her bachelor uncle. I don't have a pic of the Lane House.

From there, I continued to Greencastle, a more upscale town, where there is also a historic district, containing an old-fashioned non-chain department store. I walked around in the warming weather.

By lunchtime, as I planned, I was in Waynesboro, the largest borough on Route 16. There is a several block long commercial and historic district. I found a few restaurants, but they were all closed at noon on a Tuesday. I finally spied Nikki's on Main Street near the center of town. No one was in there, and I thought it might be closed too, but the door was open and I walked in. It seemed an Asian fusion place with Kim-chi burritos. I don't know. I got a chicken ramen bowl, made with chicken broth. It wasn't cheap at $16.99, but it was huge and delicious, with chunks of chicken, noodles, scallions, green, um... something, not too salty. It was better than Grandma's chicken soup. A few more people came in after me. I wandered around the historic sites in town, and found suburban housing tracts, the reason why this county is included in Baltimore-Washington. It's far to the central cities, but fifty-four miles  to Gaithersburg in Montgomery County and  Owings Mills in Baltimore County.

I found out that Route 16 was the road from the frontier mountains, heading southeast through Waynesboro to Westminster or Emmitsburg, Maryland, then to Baltimore, the closest tidewater port city, by way of Reisterstown Road, near where I grew up. 

I headed to Blue Ridge Summit, on the Maryland Line, where there is a library in a former railroad station. Camp Louise, the Jewish girls' camp that was paired with Camp Airy, the camp for boys that I attended in the early '60s, had Blue Ridge Summit, Pennsylvania as its post office, even though the camp was in Maryland. 

I went north from there to find Penn State, Mont Alto, set up as the forestry school for the Penn State system. Mont Alto Park was Pennsylvania's first state park. I drove past there to the Appalachian Trail, along the Blue Ridge. I found a place to park just off the road, and determined to walk fifteen minutes up the trail. The trail is narrow and rocky, and I'm not in great shape, but I did it, snapping some pics along the way. 

From there, I drove back to the motel and crashed for an hour. I had figured out where Panera is located and ordered from the counter (not the touch screen). I sat in a corner away from others. Many of the people who came in had ordered carry out to pick up. 

I was happy that I checked off everything I wanted to do for the day, that the weather was beautiful (good for me, bad for the planet), that I learned a lot, had a good meal, and didn't get lost. 

Wednesday, I drove back west across Franklin County to Fulton County, where I spent a few hours before heading home. 

Monument to President James Buchanan, 1907, near Cove Gap

Buck Run, James Buchanan State Park

U.S. Post Office, Mercersburg

Mercersburg Historic District

Burgin Center for the Arts, Mercersburg Academy, 2006, 

On campus at Mercersburg Academy, now a boarding and commuter high school, formerly Marshall College

On the square, Baltimore Street, Greencastle

Stone and log house near Greencastle

Waynesboro Armory, 1938, now the office of a real estate firm

Waynesboro Theater, renovated 2015

Oller House, 1891-2, Waynesboro

Borough Hall, 1881, East Main Street, Waynesboro

Alexander Hamilton House (not the guy from Hamilton), 1816, East Main St., Waynesboro

Wall mural, Waynesboro


Royer-Nicodemus House, about 1812, Renfrew Park
                                            

Barn at Royer-Nicodemus Farm, Waynesboro

Waynesboro Historic District, Main Street

Blue Ridge Summit Library, originally Western Maryland Railroad Station, 1891

Mont Alto State Park

Penn State, Mont Alto

Along the Appalachian Trail near Mont Alto





Wednesday, December 22, 2021

Franklin and Fulton Counties in Pennsylvania, Part 1: Chambersburg

Franklin County does not look promising when one drives in on Interstate 81 from Maryland. There are acres of beige boxes off the interstate, each with a giant truck in front. The highway is two lanes in each direction and jammed with trucks. 

I had in my head that it was 132 miles from Morgantown to Chambersburg, but I had written down 162. I thought I would be in Chambersburg by twelve, but it was after one when I finally got there, hungry and with a full bladder. I wanted to park in the middle of downtown, but I neglected to stuff my pockets with quarters before I left home, so I couldn't park at the meters. I knew there was a shopping center a few blocks from the center of town, and I found free parking and a Chinese restaurant. The sign on the door said "Sorry. We will be closed on Mondays." It was Monday. I retraced my drive on US 30, Lincoln Way East (you know you're not in Virginia when the street is named "Lincoln") to Hardee's, a place I don't typically eat because of a homophobic owner thirty or forty years ago. They had free parking, the bathrooms were in a vestibule just inside the door, and clean, and a real person took my order. I had the breaded chicken sandwich, no fries, thanks. I felt like Anthony Bourdain, of blessed memory. I bit into the too-yellow roll and the fried, crusty piece of chicken finished with a mayonnaisey dressing and dill pickles. I had to look at the sandwich after biting into it, and try to think of something complimentary to say about this exotic cuisine. 

I got four quarters from the nice young man at the counter and tried again downtown. Chambersburg has a pretty downtown, with a traffic circle at the junction of US 11 and US 30, the center of town. I found ten places on the National Register of Historic Places , and a synagogue that says it's been there a hundred years. I took a pic of the synagogue, in a narrow building at least a hundred years old, but it didn't show up on my phone/camera. Many of the stores were vacant. I found a bookstore (closed Monday), and there were a few stores with booths where people sell their old dishes, toys, books, records, CDs, clothes and general junk. I looked for the six CDs from my list, but couldn't find any of them. Many of the storefront windows had model trains set up with miniature snowy little towns. I found Wilson College at the north end of town. It's a pretty campus and I took a few pictures there. The nearby neighborhood has big old houses on wooded lots. 

The motel at "The Usual Chain" was two exits up from downtown, not walking distance to anything. There was a farm behind it. Chambersburg Mall was a short distance down the road. Like so many malls, it was almost empty. There was a movie theater and a J.C. Penney store open, and a mammoth store selling "stuff" in booths, like in town. Many of the booths looked like rooms in my house. I spent close to an hour there looking for the CDs on my list.  It doesn't help that I'm only looking for six titles. 

I looked for restaurants for dinner after my nap. All I could find were chains, all grouped around the exit off I-81 between downtown and my motel. I thought I would go to Panera, but I couldn't find it in the maze of parking lots. I found a Giant Food supermarket, which had some options, but nothing appealing. I ended up at Subway down the row from Giant, and, contrary to my usual custom, got carry-out, because I had hardly seen anyone in a mask, and listening to the radio, all I heard was that Covid infections were multiplying and hospitals in Pennsylvania were jam-packed. I listened to the television news, on cable from Washington. Wikipedia says Franklin County is part of the Washington-Baltimore SMSA. Washington is one hundred miles from Chambersburg. I planned out a complicated day ahead, along Route 16 from James Buchanan's Birthplace to Blue Ridge Summit and the Appalachian Trail. Part Two will be that, and part three will be Fulton County, twenty miles west of Chambersburg, where I spent most of Wednesday morning.

Memorial Fountain and Statue, 1878, Junction of US 30 and US 11 in downtown Chambersburg


Franklin County Courthouse, 1865. The prior courthouse was burned by Confederate  troops in 1864.

Coyle Free Library, 1891

Franklin County Jail, 1818. Cell block behind it is from 1880

Ritner Boarding House, also known as John Brown House, because he roomed there in 1859 prior to his raid on Harper's Ferry.

Masonic Temple, originally 1823-24

Storefront, Chambersburg Historic District. This is the office of a radio station now.

Townhouse Row, North Main St.

Shop window before Christmas on North Main St.

Wilson College Campus

Zion Reformed Church, 1811-1813


Thursday, November 25, 2021

Tick Tick Boom

 It's Thanksgiving, and my husband and I are visiting with my sister Robin in Greenbelt, Maryland. She has access online to everything out there on Hulu, HBO+, Netflix and I don't know what else. At home, I have a television that's not hooked up to anything except a DVD player. Robin suggested we watch "Tick Tick Boom," a new movie directed by Lin-Manuel Miranda about the life of Jonathan Larson, who wrote "Rent." 

Robin stopped the movie about five minutes in. Andrew Garfield, who portrays Larson, shows us around his cramped apartment in New York City, filled to the brim with records and tapes and bookshelves sagging under the weight of too many books. "That's just like Barry's house," Robin laughed. I didn't laugh. It's true; I have thousands of records, cassette tapes and CDs, and  sagging shelves full of books. 

I've never written a musical, and although I took two years of piano in my forties, and I have a piano at home, I don't play and can't play well at all. I have tried acting, and sang professionally in the Jewish community. It was a lot of work in professions where I wasn't greatly successful. 

That part of my life started in Miami, where I worked as a Spanish-bilingual SSI claims representative for Social Security. I went to career counseling through ORT, a Jewish social service organization. They said I was a pure artistic personality, and why was I working for the government? I had my reasons: steady pay, annual and sick leave, the promise of a pension. I decided to develop hobbies in the arts. I took up black and white photography at Miami-Dade Community College. 

When AIDS hit in 1982, I heard about it before many people because people who were ill applied for disability. At first, they were turned down if they weren't exhibiting symptoms, but then, some of them died before their appeals were completed. The agency started approving cases where a person alleged that they had AIDS. Some wouldn't admit to that because of the stigma.

In "Tick Tick Boom," Larson has gay friends who are ill with AIDS, and he is bereft and angry, like many of us were. I'm almost ten years older than Larson, and at thirty-three decided to give up being gay, marry a woman and have children. Just as Larson thinks he should have accomplished more by thirty, at thirty-three I thought I was too old to be gay, and it was too dangerous to continue to have the kind of random sexual experiences I was used to. The straight life didn't work out for me. I was lacking the knack for it, or maybe deep down I just couldn't sustain a relationship with a woman. 

I came back out of the closet in 1987. When testing became available, I took the test and turned up negative, and we learned what was safe and not safe. I was much more cautious about who I went with (I wanted a first and last name) and what we did. 

I read about how Jesse Helms (who has a cameo in the movie) and others demanded that creators of obscene art have their NEA grants rescinded. The NEA Four included Tim Miller, a performance artist based at Highways, a performance space in Santa Monica. California made up his grant on condition that he teach free classes in performance. I signed up right away. At forty, I was possibly the oldest one in Tim's gay men's class. I got to write stories and perform them with other men. There were people in the group who died from AIDS. I remember two in particular, one a gorgeous man in his early twenties who wrote poetry. We held a memorial for him where we each read one of his poems. The one I read was about having sex with a man who didn't speak to him, and he laments that he might have become the man's lover had the man been open to that. I visited another man in hospice care on Rosh Hashana. There was an older man visiting, my friend's father, a rancher in Wyoming, who hadn't spoken to his gay son in a few years. "You walked in on the big reunion scene," my friend joked from his bed. 

I saw Jonathan Larson's "Rent" when it came to Los Angeles. I spent weeks looking forward to seeing it. The play is about a performance art group. One of the characters has AIDS and dies. They wheel his gurney off stage, and everyone goes on with their life. I was furious, because you can't just go on with your life. Thirty years later, I still think about the men from the performance group who died from AIDS, as well as my other friends and acquaintances. It wasn't something that happened, then it was over. It colored the rest of our time in that group, just as my hurt and anger have remained with me all these years. 

"Tick Tick Boom" is a brave work of art. Jonathan Larson is not necessarily a sympathetic character. His music is good, but I wouldn't say it's great. The performers, the singers he uses for his showcase knocked me out. I guess I related to Larson the slob and the obsessive personality, and his gay friend who says "I was a mediocre actor in a town full of mediocre actors." That may not be an exact quote, but I can certainly relate after taking acting, singing and dancing lessons for years, studying music theory, piano, guitar and Hebrew at community college in my forties, and never being quite as good as I would have liked to be. 

I applaud Lin-Manuel Miranda for making "Tick Tick Boom" and all the excellent performers in it. I appreciate the look back at the good and the horror of 1990, when Larson was concerned about turning thirty and I was already forty and still struggling with what I would do when (if) I grew up.  I don't think this will be a hugely popular film, but it's important and for some of us an inspiration to keep going. It got me to stay up late to write this.

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

Indigenous Cities in Ohio

 I visited Columbus and Delaware in Ohio Sunday to Thursday. I don't expect anyone to change the name of these cities, but it's been suggested. Delaware is the name of both the city and county due north of Columbus and Columbus is the largest city in Franklin County, and the state capital of Ohio.

Columbus felt comfortable right away, a city that reminds me a little of my native Baltimore, with row houses and a large population of Black people and Jews. But Monday morning, listening to NPR in the car, the local news had a segment about how the Republican-dominated  legislature had divvied up the four Democratic-voting cities (Columbus, Cincinnati, Cleveland and Toledo) to keep Democrats from representing Democratic voters. Part of Columbus was thrown into a district with Trumpian traitor Jim Jordan. Mike DeWine, the supposedly-moderate Republican governor, was on the redistricting commission and approved this plan. Maybe I should stay in Morgantown. As a friend said "Count on America getting meaner and stupider over the next ten years."

The weather in Ohio was beautiful every day I was there, in the sixties and sunny, perfect for touring, but at least ten degrees above the average high, so not good for the planet. I looked around downtown Sunday afternoon. I found the state capitol building and a historic house. There were lots of signs saying "Downtown Columbus is open!" I'm sure the worst of the COVID pandemic was devastating to business. There are lots of restaurants downtown, most closed on Sunday. I liked that there are porta-potties scattered around downtown. 

                                                          Ohio Statehouse, 1839-1861
                                                          Benjamin Smith House, 1860
                                                        Ohio National Bank, 1912


U.S. 40, Broad Street east of downtown,  is the main east-west local road, and I found a synagogue near downtown on Broad. Their website said they would have an online weekday prayer service Sunday night at 5:30. I tuned in, and they were excited that I was the tenth person, because they need ten to do a complete service. More people came in after me. They counted women for the ten and used a Conservative movement prayerbook. The afternoon and evening services run together, and they followed Conservative movement customs. My name was on my Zoom pic, and although I was glad to be there, I was disappointed that no one asked who I was. 

The desk clerk when I checked in at The Usual Chain was a dark-skinned woman in a Muslim head covering. The motel was in an isolated spot, near The Ohio Expo Center, which hosts the state fair and, as their website says "five of the top 10 annual events in Columbus." It was idle when I was there, which made the motel cheap, but meant there was only a chain fast-food place within easy walking distance. The clerk recommended a place near Ohio State University, not all that far, but the directions were difficult. She and I got to talking, and I found out that she was a refugee from Somalia, got out to Kenya as a child with her family, and then to Prince George's County, Maryland, where my sister lives. She graduated from the same high school my nephew went to, probably ten years earlier. The restaurant was one of three similar places I visited around Columbus, large, with people mostly unmasked, televisions all around the walls tuned to sports events. At this one, this sport was football with the Los Angeles Chargers. Los Angeles Chargers? They were in San Diego. I looked it up. There is a new stadium where Hollywood Park Race Track used to be in Inglewood, where two football teams play. I had no idea. Los Angeles didn't have even one football team when I left, and I don't think most people cared. The Rose Bowl in Pasadena sold out for soccer games, but "fútbol americano" was never popular. 

I decided to spend a day in the city of Columbus, visiting ten historic places, a synagogue and a shopping center. I also had an address for a bookstore, and some record stores, where I had hoped to score some of the seven CDs left to find from my project of collecting the two hundred top-selling CDs from 2000-2009, according to Billboard magazine. We all have our obsessions. 

I started my day at Ohio State University, just west of my motel. It's a beautiful campus, lined with trees clothed in their fall finery. I found a paleontological museum in Orton Hall, with bones of dinosaurs and a description of how Central Ohio looked millions of years ago. I could have spent the whole day on campus.


                                                Hayes Hall, Ohio State University, 1893
                                   Orton Hall, Ohio State University, 1893, from across South Oval


Next, I headed to the south end of the city, looking for "Hartman Stock Farm Historic District." I wasn't sure I saw it. There were mines with ponds on the west side of U.S. 23, and what looked like empty land on the east side. There was one old building, a small brick house. I learned that this was once a 5,000 acre farm, and that what I saw was possibly a foreman's house, most of the other structures being torn down. I stopped at a Wal-Mart because I needed a bathroom, then headed back up into town,

I visited German Village, a beautiful restored neighborhood south of downtown. That's where the bookstore I looked up is located. I found The Midnight Library,  a book I thought was on last year's "Best Fiction of 2020" from The Washington Post (it wasn't) and bought that. Goodreads voters called it the best novel of 2020, which is where I might have seen it. I've finished twenty-one of the fifty novels on The Washington Post's list, but the new list for 2021 may be out tomorrow or next week. Should I continue reading from this list or move on to the new list?

I found a few places downtown, then headed east. The older upscale neighborhoods are east of downtown along Broad Street. Some parts  of the street  are rundown now, but on some parts, the mansions are well-kept. I took some pics, and although I planned to go back to the Arboretum and walk around some of the parks, I didn't. 

                                            Ohio Finance Building, 1910, now small apartments
                                                        Downtown YMCA, 1924



                                                 Jones Mansion, 1889, East Broad Street
                                                Tifereth Israel Congregation, East Broad Street
                                               Miller House, 1915, Wolfe Park Neighborhood


It took a long time to find Easton Town Center, my goal for lunch. I finally pulled over and looked at a map on my phone. There was a much easier way to go, so I caught up with that route. Easton is an enormous upscale center, somewhat like The Grove in Los Angeles, only much bigger, with upscale stores like Nordstrom, and also an indoor mall. It was close to one and I was hungry. I thought I would go into a Turkish restaurant, until I saw the prices on the menu outside. Around the corner was a fast food place, like Panera only fancier. I got a small chicken bowl with dressing and a grilled cheese sandwich. "Small" was inaccurate. Both the sandwich and salad were enormous, and they gave me a strawberry dipped in chocolate with my order. I walked down to the enclosed mall, where there is a Graeter's ice cream store. I was introduced to Graeter's in Cincinnati, when Joe and I visited that city for his rabbi convention in 2019. I only had a single scoop of pumpkin ice cream. I am unrepentant. 

                                                        At Easton Town Center

I noted the huge difference between Wal-Mart south of town,  German Village, and Easton Town Center. The people at Wal-Mart were getting by, barely, I could tell from the attitudes, the old Pontiacs in the parking lot, and the way the store is basically a warehouse. It's huge and sells everything, so I can see going there for one-stop shopping. German Village is an old neighborhood, restored, with smaller stores, non-chain places, and gift shops. Easton is also huge, but expensive and upscale. It's a place to buy new designer clothes retail (the horror!) and to be seen as well-to-do. I don't shop at Wal-Mart, but I could see where I might have had there been one in central Los Angeles thirty years ago, and I used to put on one of my two good outfits and take the bus to Century City where I had saved up to have lunch outdoors, in a place like Easton Town Center. German Village is the kind of place I like to visit, and as I did, go to the discount book store. 

I headed back to the neighborhood near Ohio State where two record stores were located. One didn't carry CDs at all, and the other had a few, but not what I was looking for. I can't buy more vinyl; I have no place to put more records, and barely room for CDs. I wonder sometimes what will become of my vast recorded music library when I'm gone, or how much I could sell or give away if we ever move.

I finally made it back to the motel around five and slept for an hour. I didn't want a big dinner, so I looked up where there was a chain subshop, or a chain donut place where I might get a bagel. The donut shop was a seven-minute drive, so I took that. It was in a convenience store which had both the subs and the donut place, which only had donuts, no bagels. I went for the sub. I tuned in at 6:30 to the Mon County Democratic Party monthly meeting. This is my natural peer group in Morgantown. 

I didn't go out again when the meeting was over after eight, but plotted out Tuesday, where I planned to visit five other places in Franklin County, two historic places per city. 

The places were Canal Winchester, Washington Township, Worthington, Dublin, and Westerville. These were the places with the most listings on the National Register of Historic Places. I could have picked one city or township and found ten or fifteen sites, but this seemed more interesting.

Barnhardt- Bolenbaugh House is from 1908 and on a quiet main street in Canal Winchester, at the southern end of Franklin County. Part of the town is in Fairfield County. The house looks like many of the house in South Park and Chancery Hill in Morgantown. I missed the second house, because I thought it was in Lithopolis, an even smaller, tourist-oriented town south of Canal Winchester. The address I had existed in both places.

                                         Barnhardt-Bolenbaugh House, 1908, Canal Winchester 

Canal Winchester is near US Route 33, as is Washington Township in the northwest corner of Franklin County. I followed US 33 north through downtown Columbus and along the Scioto River to Washington Township, just west of Dublin. Again, I only found one of the two places I was looking for, the J.L. Hamilton residence, built as a rural schoolhouse between 1860 and 1870. 

                          J.L. Hamilton House, 1860-1870, a school at one time, Washington Township


There was lots of new commercial development out there on the edge of Franklin County. I stopped in to a  chain Mexican place for lunch and a bathroom. Someone came out of the men's room, so I went in. The toilet was clogged with paper towels, so I walked out. They also had the system used by many places where they don't take your order at a counter, but  you have to use a touch-screen. Not my style. Across the parking lot was one of those fancier beer-and-big-screen TV sports bars. I ordered a chicken parmigiana sandwich with spaghetti as a side instead of fries. The sandwich  was enormous, and fried, but I ate all of it anyway. The booth had pictures of members of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. My booth had Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith. The pictures were all at least fifty years old. The young man who served me was surprised to hear that the members of Aerosmith are all close to my age. He had only heard of Led Zeppelin. I wrote on napkin that he should listen to "Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac to get to know that group. The piped in music was from the 1980s, including covers of 1960s soul music. I also recommended earlier versions of the songs to him. I can't help it. 

Next to the restaurant was a store from our phone carrier. Joe and I have new phones that will work on 5G, whatever that is. My new phone never worked right, and I suspected it was because they had transferred everything over from our old phones, practically relics from the Paleolithic. I had done some things that were not helpful to my old phone. I can't explain it. The problem was that when I pulled up "camera" or "messages" instead of just giving me those, it asked a lot of questions that I couldn't answer. The first young man who looked at it couldn't figure it out. We waited for the boss, also under twenty-five, to finish with another customer to help out. The background music in this store was from the 1950s, pre-rock and roll, and it turned out that was the boss's idea. He had slicked back light brown hair and a little moustache, a wool scarf around his neck. He looked like a Parisian roué from a French Nouvelle Vague film of the late 1950s. We chatted a bit while he figured out what the problem was with the phone, which he eventually did, and since then everything has worked. He told me he lives in Delaware with a wife, and said it is the best place on Earth. Delaware County was Day Three of this trip, so I was anticipating great things. 

My next stop was Dublin, one of the larger suburban towns, which extends north into Delaware County. The Artz House was built about 1870 as a private home near the center of Dublin. It is now a restaurant. There is a beautiful modern branch of the Columbus library across the street with a café on the lower level. I'm jealous they we don't have something like it in Morgantown. I found the Asher Brand House, a large brick house with Victorian features, also from around 1870, on the edge of Dublin.

                                               Artz House, about 1870, now a restaurant
                                           Dublin Branch of Columbus  Library, opened 2019
                                                       Asher Brand House, about 1870

The Demas Adams House, from 1818, sits on the historic public square in the town of Worthington. The Aurora Buttles House seems to be off a Main Street and hard to find. Instead I walked down High St., an upscale commercial area in the center of Worthington and found Worthington Inn, part of the city's historic district. Built in 1810 as a home, there were additions and remodeling over the years. From the outside it looks late nineteenth century. There is a restaurant, condominiums and offices in the building now.

                                                      Demas-Adams House, 1818
                                      Worthington Inn, originally 1831, remodeled many times


Westerville is east of the other towns I visited in the north end of the county. I found the Akire House, now used as office space. It was built by Garrit Sharp, a local Methodist, who was active in the Underground Railroad, smuggling escaped slaves north through Ohio. I also visited Otterbein University in Westerville. I photographed the Carnegie Library at Otterbein, from about 1904, now used as the college admissions office.

                                               Akire House, 1849, now used as office space

        Carnegie Library, Westerville, 1904, now the admissions office for Otterbein University

I drove back through Columbus on Ohio Route 3, Cleveland Avenue, through some of the less affluent parts of Columbus. I'm always glad to see all of a city, even the parts you're not supposed to see. I napped briefly before my phone dinged me to tell me I had a meeting at 7. I visited our local chain supermarket, stocking up on cottage cheese, individual servings of less-sugary breakfast cereal, milk and an orange, and feasted on them as my meeting started. It was a campaign kick-off for a favorite state delegate. I got to sleep at a reasonable hour.

Wednesday was "Delaware County" today. This was the trip I canceled the second week in March 2020 as the first COVID-19 cases showed up. I picked 10 historic places from the National Register, plus the old county courthouse. I usually look for a synagogue, but in this county of over 200,000 people, there is no synagogue. Three places were in townships near the southern border, the part near Columbus, three were in the city of Delaware, three in Delaware Township, near Delaware City, and one in Ashley, a small town way in the northeastern part of the county. 

I found all of them, although I didn't always get a picture. Two houses in Delaware Township and one in Liberty Township were on a busy street with no place to pull over to snap a shot. I started from my motel in Columbus and drove to the southeastern part of Delaware County, to Harlem Township, where I found the John Cook Farmhouse. I traveled I-270, lined with shiny new office towers and garden apartment complexes, across the northern part of Franklin County, before crossing north into Delaware County. There are signs saying "Stop Overdevelopment" in Harlem Township, which is rural once you get a few miles into the county. I found the house at the intersection of two quiet country roads and took a picture with the car stopped in the middle of the street. 

                                                       John Cook Farm, 1863

Two townships west, on the border of Franklin County along US 23 was Highbanks Metro Park. The Register said "Highbanks Park Works." I had no idea what that was, so I drove through the park until I saw a historic marker for a mill along the Olentangy River.  That wasn't it, and I wanted to get to Delaware City before lunch. I found a brochure in the park, that showed earthworks left by a Native American tribe 1,000 years ago, down a trail, 2.3 miles of hiking round trip. I thought I would get back if I had time, which looked doubtful. 

Delaware is a pretty, old and old-fashioned town on North Sandusky Street, south of Marion and Sandusky. I scored two hours of free parking in front of the old courthouse, and snapped pics of the former court house, the historic library next door and the Jail and Sheriff's residence around the corner. I found a video game store that I hoped would have one of the seven music CDs I'm looking for to complete my collection. I spoke to the proprietor of the store, an unkempt man, who told me he was forty, although I would have guessed younger. We talked some about politics and he told me lived all over the world because his late father was a "black ops" contractor for the government. His mother died a year ago of COVID. He claimed to have every kind of video cartridge for games, and every device to play them back to the 1980s. I'm reading Ready Player One, and he said he had also read it, and was looking forward to Ready Player Two, which I told him was already out in hardback. Like Wade in Ready Player One, whose avatar is named Parzival, the man in the store has read lots of fantasy series, Harry Potter many times, others that I never heard of, and he's working on Tolkien. He suggested I try the store "Pat's Endangered Species" to find audio CDs. "It's across the street from a restaurant called 'Buns'," he said, "around the corner on W. Winter St." 

                                        Delaware County Sheriff's Office and County Jail, 1878
                                                 Old Delaware County Courthouse, 1868
                                                      Delaware Carnegie Library, 1906

I stopped for lunch at Buns. I sat in the back in an enclosed patio. It was crowded; no one was masked. I didn't see anyone masked in Delaware County. I had chicken kabob on a rice pilaf with a Greek salad, reasonably healthy and not too exotic. I fit in with the mostly elderly, all White crowd. The waitress was a young woman, skinny with tattoos on her arms, possibly dyed black hair, and lots of make up. I liked her right away. After lunch, I crossed the street to the record store. The proprietor there was an older man (my age) playing a jazz record, possibly John Coltrane, although I didn't recognize the specific tunes. I showed him my list. He said "These are things kids bought at Wal-Mart. I don't have them." Except he did have Macy Gray's CD "On How It Is," number 129 on my list, for three dollars. One down, six to go. 

Ohio Wesleyan University is a few blocks south of downtown Delaware, a pretty, wooded campus, the older part east of Sandusky Street, with some newer buildings on the west side. There's a pedestrian-controlled traffic light to facilitate student movement across the busy street. I took pics of Elliott Hall, from 1833, built as a resort hotel before the school was established, and a few other buildings. 


                                                                  Elliott Hall, 1833
                            Above three: older and newer  buildings at Ohio Wesleyan University
                                                  Selby Field, Ohio Wesleyan University

I headed south to the three places in Delaware Township. There are a series of mill worker houses along Stratford Rd., where I couldn't stop, and an 1859 farmhouse just down the street that I could see but I couldn't get a picture of either. Off U.S. 23 there's a stone church from 1842, that has a small parking lot where I could pull in and get a pic. Added bonus: an orange Porsche in the parking lot, probably from the early 1980s. The mill houses and the church, which is now an office building, were part of a town called Stratford. The surrounding area is increasingly suburban, with fast food places, big box stores, and office buildings, interspersed with new townhouse developments. A bit south, there is a stone house from 1850 in Liberty Township. I went by, but again, it was on a busy road and I couldn't pull off to take a picture.

            Former Stratford Methodist Episcopal Church, now offices, Delaware Township, 1840s

I had picked a house on the National Register in the far northeastern part of Delaware County, in a town called Ashley.It was an exuberant pink Victorian, worth the trip. 

                                          Self-portrait with house in Ashley from 1901

That left me with the Native American mounds in Highbanks Metropark, way at the other end of Delaware County. It was a warm and sunny afternoon, especially for November, but already 4:30 P.M. I wanted to take a nap at the hotel by 4, but decided to give this a go, even though the hike was listed as "strenuous" and would take until after dark. I had my map of the park, and there were people out walking. The route was quiet, with tall trees with orange, red and brown leaves. I followed the map I had. I crossed wooden bridges over steep gorges and little streams. I spoke to the trees, and having become one of those old mystics you read about, I felt that the trees appreciated it. I thanked them for their beauty. The mound is just a hill of dirt, possibly an ancient fortification, but it's awe-inspiring to realize that the people who built it were settled on this land before the Natives the Europeans found. The trail ends at an overlook on a surprisingly high cliff over the Olentangy River. I got a pic which I think my phone's camera lightened, since it was almost dark out. I came back through the park to the road, but not exactly where I thought I would be. I couldn't find my car, but calmed down and walked toward the entrance to the park. It was black out, and I found a parking lot that seemed like the right place. My car is black, and I couldn't see if there was a car there, so I hit the unlock button, the car blinked at me, and sure enough, I was in the right place. 

                                                     Highbank Park Works, 800-1300 C.E.
                                 Overlook in Highbanks MetroPark at the Olentangy River


I should have looked at the map, but I thought I knew how to get back to my motel in Columbus. I was wrong, but after some delay, I got back. I had stopped at a Kroger on U.S. 23 and bought a pear, and had that with the remaining milk, cereal and cottage cheese for dinner in the motel. I had prunes and pistachios for a snack later that I had brought with me.

Thursday was another too-warm day, not that I was complaining. I had breakfast provided by the motel, and was out by nine. Google Maps was correct that it is 204 miles from the motel to our house in Morgantown. I stopped for gas at the station nearest to our house, and was home before one P.M. for a late lunch. It was 78 F. in Morgantown, a record high for the date.

This was the biggest trip in Year Ten, July 2021 to June 2022. I've now covered 204 counties since I moved to Morgantown in July 2012, and I hope to have 220, including eight more that I missed because of the pandemic, by the end of June 2022.

I apologize for getting my finger in so many of the pictures. My only excuse is that I wasn't good at using my new phone/camera.