Greenbelt, "On The Town," "Treyf" and "Hamilton"

In the six years since I moved to Morgantown, Joe and I have become closer to my sister Robin, who lives 208 miles from us, in Greenbelt, Maryland. She bribes us to visit her, this time by offering tickets to "Hamilton" at Kennedy Center in Washington. Joe and I both love live theater, and we try to go often in Morgantown, but we are wrapped up in meetings, services, teaching and chores and don't always get out.

We had good weather to drive to and from Washington last Thursday and back this past Monday. I've been reading The Washington Post on Sundays, and I saw in the paper that "On The Town" a World War II-era musical with music by a 25-year old Leonard Bernstein was playing at Olney Theater in Maryland, sixteen miles from Robin's house. We arrived at her house in time for a nap, and she made us dinner. We got out to the 8:00 show in Olney. The music is glorious, and while the choreography wasn't the original Jerome Robbins move, it was great. In the show, three sailors arrive in New York at 6 A.M., with twenty-four hours leave. There's a line from two about how the third had saved their lives, and at the end they go back to an uncertain future on a warship in 1944. Meanwhile, they sing and dance, have fun and meet girls. I saw this show at UCLA years ago; Joe had never seen it. There is a movie, but most of Bernstein's complex score was cut, and many of the songs were replaced with generic pap. We both loved this fun, charming show with gorgeous music.

Joe and I walked around Greenbelt Lake Friday morning, then hit the local mall, shopping for discount clothes at Burlington Coat Factory and buying Joe's favorite coffee at Giant supermarket. Our Morgantown friends, Dan and Daya Solomon, who now live in Greenbelt, asked if we would be at Mishkan Torah, Greenbelt's synagogue, Friday night. We agreed to go. We were happy to see Dan and Daya and greet the rabbi hired last summer, Saul Oretsky, who was a member before he went off to rabbi school. He was my nephew's bar mitzvah tutor thirteen years ago.

It was cool and not raining Saturday, so I went walking around more in Greenbelt. Robin got us tickets to "Trayf," which means "not kosher," a play at Washington's Jewish Community Center. We had the adventure of driving into Washington, like driving and parking in San Francisco.. "Trayf" is a small play, with only four characters, about two black-hat Jewish men, each nineteen, and about to go their separate ways. It's a moving tale of faith (or lack thereof) and friendship.  We dined at Silver Diner, our go-to place in Greenbelt. Growing up in Maryland, at a time where every place was segregated, I love being at a restaurant with a multi-ethnic staff, a great menu, and where everyone is welcome.

Sunday was our big day. We got to Kennedy Center at noon for a 2:30 show, and ate in the cafe on the top level. Our seats were marked "obstructed view" which meant they were sold late and for five hundred dollars less than seats down the row. I have the two CD cast album from the show, and Joe and I listened to it in the car on the way to Greenbelt. We couldn't see one corner of the stage well in our cheap seats, but it didn't dampen our enthusiasm. "Hamilton," if you haven't heard about it is a fast-moving depiction of the life of Alexander Hamilton, where the main characters, Hamilton, George Washington, Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson, Lafayette and the sisters, Eliza and Angelica Schuyler, are portrayed by African-American, Caribbean or Mexican actors. The music, operatic in its scope, is modern rap and hip-hop, with a few ballads and novelty songs thrown in. Only King George III, played for broad comedy, is European-American.

It seems like it shouldn't work, but it does, and beautifully. That the actors don't look like their pictures on American currency, and the twenty-first century music makes everything seem more real, not less. If you've seen "1776" where the characters are stiff and the music trying to sound old, you can tell the difference. The dancers, men and women, are all dressed in the same outfits and perform the same steps. They are the townspeople in New York, where "Hamilton" is set.

This play opened before the last election, but it seems more relevant than ever-the intrigue, the political games, the infidelities are not different now. I even thought of the power struggles in Morgantown, of our young Council questioning the status quo, and the possibility of shifting alliances in our second year in office.

I haven't talked much about spending time with my sister, but I do enjoy being with her. She has been kind and generous to us both, and introduces us as "my brother and his husband" or "my brother and brother-in-law." Not everyone is that open about us with their friends. She and Joe are well-matched competitive Scrabble players.

We drove home after breakfast Monday, stopping for lunch in Cumberland, Maryland, at Queen City Creamery. Tomorrow (Friday) we're off to Buffalo to spend time with Joe's family and visit Canada.

Shabbat dinner at Robin's

Before temple Friday with our friends Dan ans Daya Solomon

At Silver Diner in Greenbelt

Robin and Joe playing Scrabble

At Greenbelt Lake, the great natural space preserved in Greenbelt

At Greenbelt Lake

Robin and Joe at Kennedy Center before the show

Intermission at Kennedy Center

On the Potomac at Kennedy Center

On the set of "Trayf" Saturday

The Haymaker Forest

Our City Council, where I represent our Seventh Ward,  agreed, 6-1 on first reading,  to buy a piece of forest in and adjacent to the city for park land that was about to be developed. A second reading was to be held on June 19, allowing us time to reconsider and get input from the public. Our local Fox News radio outlet asked all of the Councilors to come on the radio, and I agreed to come on the Friday before our meeting, June 15. The hosts, Dave and Sarah, were easier on me than they had been with the last two Councilors they interviewed, but they couldn't get me to say I would vote against this purchase. The big problem was the cost, at 5.2 million dollars. People were out all week on Facebook demonizing the Council generally, and me and Mark Brazaitis particularly about this purchase. I told Dave and Sarah I didn't think opponents would show up for a meeting, because they typically don't. They begged people to come out and oppose us on Tuesday and took my statement as a challenge.

After Friday's radio program, more ugly personal stuff was posted against me and Brazaitis, who has been the real force behind our plans for Haymaker, including someone who posted several times how much Brazaitis' family paid for their house. Our addresses are already public information. I kept track of the people who called us names or impugned our character in the days leading up to the meeting, twenty-nine in all. People who sent thoughtful e-mails and messages to me in particular, got thoughtful and polite answers back. If they wrote to all of the Councilors, I answered if they were from my ward.

I counted forty-eight speakers on the topic of Haymaker Forest on Tuesday, thirty-seven opposed, and eleven in favor. I had my list of the name-callers and character assassins, but only four showed up and one of them apologized for his online rudeness. The others were more rational than they had been online. Ultimately, we voted to postpone action. This means we could try to negotiate a lower price, or we could lose this land to development, which would be a shame.

Meanwhile, there is a court suit against the six of us Councilors who voted in favor of this purchase on first reading, and the online people are worried that I have a Nixon-like enemies list.

I handled all of this as well as I could. I beefed up my privacy settings on my personal Facebook page, although the page I manage, Barry Wendell, Morgantown Councilor, Ward 7, is open.

The issues, the real ones that people brought up, are the price we agreed to pay without a current assessment and that this was all brought up in a hurry at the end of May to be voted on June 5 and 19, and the deal closed by June 29. People complained that there was no plan for the park, and that it would not benefit most people in the city, only those in the area immediately adjacent to it (including Councilor Brazaitis.)

The argument for doing this was that there was already a bulldozer, and even if we felt it was a rip, the developers held all the cards. In our long-range plan for the city and county, Haymaker was supposed to be open space. Much of the property is outside city limits, where the deck is stacked in favor of developers, there is no zoning, and no need to put in curbs and gutters, sidewalks or even reasonably navigable streets.

We had a "process error." People in the City and County  felt we were not transparent about this purchase. Many, including Mark Caravazos, the city Fire Chief, felt that if we had that much money to spend, we could spend on existing parks, buy a fire truck and replace two fire stations that are obsolete.

The money wasn't going to be from the regular budget and we were going to have to raise it somehow, maybe with a levy on the ballot in April. Since the meeting, the radio broadcasts and the newspaper articles ( the newspaper and talk radio are owned by the same company), I've started getting letters praising Council for looking into the deep future and preserving a beautiful forest for trails. For me, I wanted future generations to marvel at the beauty of the forest and thank our present Council for being far-sighted. Maybe that's just a pipe dream, and we will be forgotten.

We did have a financial plan to buy the forest without going into the city budget; maybe it was too complex for people to get it. And we didn't make it clear enough that we were going to have a commission to decide how to use the park, where to put in trails, provide parking, and other amenities. The commission would also look for other parcels of land that could be repurposed as parks. There were already people from The West Virginia Land Trust and other organizations who offered to volunteer their services.

The budget problems in Morgantown go back decades. Part of the problem is that West Virginia University buys up business property in Morgantown and takes it off the tax rolls. The Monongalia County Commission has a huge tax increment financing district off I-79 just south of the Pennsylvania line that draws businesses. So far, there is only student housing and no schools or public parks, so expenses are kept low. There are many built-up areas just outside city limits that should be annexed, but developers don' t want to be subject to zoning and stricter building code enforcement. Some homeowners don't want to pay for the better police and fire protection, snow removal, and curbside recycling that Morgantown provides.

Taxes are not high here, but many elderly people live comfortably in homes they bought for $30,000 forty years ago that are now worth $300,000 and are taxed accordingly. People over sixty-five (me included) do get a tax break, but for many, that's not enough for them to be able to stay in their homes. I understand living on a fixed income. I was criticized for saying I would raise taxes when so many low-wage people depend on food pantries to get enough to eat. I suggested that strikes be organized against minimum wage employers like Target, Wal Mart and Kroger, and then I was blamed for "shaming poor people."

Those who live outside Morgantown but work inside the city limits pay a "user fee" that has been used to hire more police and to pave the city's streets. They believe that gives them a right to decide what the city does. It does not. Only those living in the city limits have a say. I suggested that people in the County areas concerned about what the City of Morgantown does ask to be annexed into the city.

We have our work cut out for us. We have to make it clear to the residents of Morgantown and Monongalia County exactly what we are up to and how we can pay for it. At the same time, we need to fully fund all the city's services that are perpetually starved, even if it means raising taxes, pushing to annex businesses outside city limits, and confronting West Virginia University, The Monongalia County Commission, and media outlets in town who feel free to demonize us as individuals.

My hope is that we can work out a deal, at the much lower assessed value of the property, to create a beautiful public open space for Morgantown. Meanwhile, plans are afoot to confront our inadequate budget, and figure a way to make Morgantown, more than it is already, the best place to live in West Virginia.

Clarion County, Pennsylvania

I was sick last week. Feeling strong, I overdid the gym Friday last week (June 8), then rode my bike Saturday in too-warm weather for two hours, instead of my usual hour and twenty minutes. That afternoon, Joe and I went to a picnic sponsored by Mountaineers For Progress at White Park in Morgantown. I talked to a lot of people and ate all kinds of food. I was speaking with someone when I started to feel dizzy. We sat down as the conversation ended, then suddenly I was so dizzy I didn't think I could stand, and I thought I would wet and dump in my pants and throw up all at once. I made it to the nearby restroom, didn't throw up, and started to feel better. I missed having my picture taken with the group.

I stayed home Sunday and rested up, but planned to leave on this trip to Clarion County, about a hundred miles northeast of Pittsburgh, by Wednesday. At the gym Monday, I told my trainer what had happened, and I mentioned that I don't take my every-other-day diuretic when traveling, because it's hard to find a place to pee on short notice. She said " Oh, that might not be a good idea."

Wednesday was a water pill day, so I took one in the morning and hoped for the best, driving up back roads to Clarion. Fifteen minutes out, I was desperate and stopped in the little grocery store in Point Marion, the first town in Pennsylvania north of us on US 119.  A nice young man, tall and heavy set working there led me to the employees restroom. I was grateful, and bought a Cliff's Bar and a pack of gum. I noticed the kid was wearing a t-shirt that said  "Calabasas, CA 91302." I asked if he had been there, and he said "No, but Kanye West lives there." So this was about fandom from a dorky teen, probably about the music and not the politics. We talked a bit about California, his dreams of living in a big house in a wealthy Los Angeles suburb, and our mutual history of living in Florida. You never know.

It was about 135 miles from our house in Morgantown to the motel just south of Clarion. It took about four and a half hours, stopping a total of six times to pee. Remind me not to do that again. I was still feeling weak, but I was still wearing a recommended sunscreen to keep my basal cell skin cancer from recurring.

I thought I would try the food court in Clarion Mall before checking in to the motel, but there was no food court, only a "steakhouse" restaurant. Most of the storefronts in the mall were empty; there is a J.C. Penney store and a discount clothing store, which I checked out. I was immediately greeted by a worker there, who helped me find a lightweight jacket like the one I looked for last month in Chesterfield. We found one, an unknown brand, made in China, and a little heavier than I would have wanted. It was $19.99, and there is no tax on clothes in Pennsylvania, so took it. The stock guy said "It looks like you all day." It was after two and I hadn't eaten much, so I headed to the fast food place in the parking lot, got a grilled chicken sandwich and an iced tea, unsweet, to tide me over.

There are only five places on the National Register in Clarion County, and no synagogue. The historic courthouse is in the center of town, facing a park with monuments to the soldiers in the American Wars since the Civil War, with a historic house, open for tours, across the park. It was refreshing to see a monument to Union soldiers. I visited for only a few minutes before realizing I was exhausted and had to pee. I was also feeling a little unsteady. I checked into the motel and slept for an hour, catching up on my online presence for a bit, including e-mails and phone calls about the Haymaker Forest, a plot of land City Council might buy, and the most controversial thing we've done in our year in office. I didn't answer anyone.

Across from the mall and just south of the motel I saw "Sakura Buffet" and as is my custom, I tried it out for dinner. This was better than most of the Asian buffets I've visited, and since my weight has been down (not more than five pounds from my peak) I tried to take it easy. I still had a plateful of desserts, though, including two small scoops of ice cream. I'm not a saint. It was pouring down rain when I left the buffet, and there was a 7:30 showing of "Solo" at the mall across the way for $4.95. With digital projection, there are no more bad movie theaters. Still, there was nearly two hours until sunset, and the sky didn't look especially dark. I decided to check out the town, thinking  the weather might clear up.

The rain did clear up and I saw a rainbow over Main St. I stopped at Clarion University, a few blocks east of the courthouse, and toured the campus. In town, I found an early twentieth century public library, a bookstore (closed) with lots of lefty posters and stickers in the window. This in a county that voted 72% for Trump. The Chamber of Commerce is located in an old mansion. It was 8:30 before I got back to the room. I watched some of MSNBC, but was bored, so I re-updated my online presence and went to bed.

I had three more places on the National Register to find Wednesday before heading back to Morgantown. A small county less than two hundred miles away only gets an overnight. Two of the places were at the far western end of the county: Buchanan Furnace, an early iron furnace, supposedly built by James Buchanan before he became President, and Foxburg Golf Course, the oldest golf course in continuous use in the United States, since 1887.

I headed out after a motel breakfast, minus the sunscreen, which has an odor to it, and, as it occurred to me during the night, might be making me ill. The "Country Roads" in Pennsylvania seem to be in better shape than those in West Virginia, and I found a historic marker for the Buchanan Furnace, but not the place itself. After the rain, it was cool, sunny and pretty out. I found the golf course, and met the manager, a guy in his sixties in a polo shirt and shorts, who told me the story of his life. They have a golf museum in the house you will see in the pictures, but the Professional Association won't recognize it. Despite the beautiful weather, I didn't see many people out. The manager said people come from Clarion, and also from Butler County, just north of Pittsburgh.

My next stop was Cook Forest State Park, at the opposite end of Clarion County, about twenty miles away. The forest was proposed as a park in 1910, but enabling legislation wasn't passed until 1927. The white pine and hemlock forest, considered the finest in the East is called "The Cathedral" and there are trails all through it. It is a National Natural Landmark and, according to National Geographic, one of America's top 50 state parks. The Indian Cabins, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, is listed as a historic,. I missed getting a pic. I spoke to a young woman at the visitor's center, and we decided I could do a short walk on one of the less-difficult trails. Lots of people were out hiking in the forest, the more out of shape on the flattest trail by a stream and other people climbing the hills. I did some of each. It was cool and breezy, with white spores of pollen, blowing like snow through the air. I said a prayer of gratitude for the steroid medications I have for my nose and mouth that prevent sneezing and wheezing, and allow me to enjoy nature. I couldn't help thinking about Haymaker Forest, on the south end of Morgantown, not as dramatic as Cook, but still a wondrously beautiful place. Our Council would be loved forever if it could be developed with hiking trails for the public.

I got back into town just after noon. I went back to the bookstore, now open. In the entrance was a record player spinning a Lou Reed album. I felt "at home." The store sells used books, new and old comics and some records. I spoke with the owner J.V. Miller, a transplant from Binghamton, New York. His wife teaches writing at Clarion, and he has a book of short stories, which I bought, along with a new DC Comic, "Man of Steel #1" some kind of Superman remake. Miller says there is a lefty element in Clarion, and a rabbi out in the country who writes poetry. Who knew?

I said goodbye and went for lunch at "Michelle's Place," a little restaurant with soup and wrap specials. I only had a bagel (not a real bagel) with cream cheese and an unsweet peach ginger iced tea, the daily special. The place is cozy, with tables and chairs and sofas; a good spot to hang out.

I drove home after 1:20, the quickest way, thirty miles longer, and taking an hour less time. Without the pill, I didn't need to stop so much, although I may have a tire problem (or perhaps just a tire gauge problem). I stopped twice to check the air pressure in the tires. I was home in time for Joe and I to attend a potluck and meeting of Mountaineers for Progress. Joe had cooked macaroni and cheese with broccoli from a Weight Watchers recipe. Everyone asked if I was okay, and I was able to say honestly "I feel fine, thanks."

Clarion County Courthouse, 1880s

statue of justice, on top of the courthouse

Civil War monument, Memorial Square

inscription on the Civil War monument

Former County Jail, 1870s, possibly vacant now

Vietnam Monument, Memorial Park, Clarion

Rainbow Tuesday evening, Clarion

former chapel, now a theater, Clarion University

Old Main, Clarion University

Sutton-Ditz House, 1840s, remodeled 1908, with Memorial Park's Korean War monument

East Main St, Clarion

Posters on a wall, Main St., Clarion

Presbyterian Church, late 19th century, Clarion

Early 20th-century house, now home of the Chamber of Commerce

Public Library, early 20th Century, Main St.

Post Office, 1930s, a WPA project

Foxburg Golf Course

Foxburg Golf Course - second floor is a museum

Cook Forest State Park - Toms Run

Trail in Cook Forest

Cook Forest

Along Toms Run, Cook Forest

Chesterfield County, Virginia

I have to drive home tomorrow, possibly in time for a 4:30 meeting and a 6:30 showing of the film "RBG," about Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Still, I want to do this now, because I haven't (yet) written about my April journey to Chester County, Pennsylvania.

This month, I visited Chesterfield County, Virginia. It is to Richmond what Chester County is to Philadelphia, both a suburb and a different place. Google Maps suggested driving to the Washington Beltway, then west and south to pick up 95 through Richmond, south to Chesterfield Court House, the name of a place, and the location of, um, the courthouse. That route was 327 miles, which is too far in my algorithm. They suggested a shorter route, through Cumberland, Maryland and zigzagging southeast, that was six minutes longer and only 293 miles. I had other ideas. The direct route looks like US 119 from downtown Morgantown through Grafton and onto US 250, which runs from Lake Erie to Norfolk, across the covered bridge in Philippi, then on to Elkins and across the mountains into Virginia. I figured I would pick up I-64 in Staunton, Virginia, a pretty town I have visited, and it would be easy from there.

The reason Google doesn't suggest 250 is that it is mostly a two-lane road which twists and turns over a number of mountains. It is somewhat treacherous and a slow drive. It's also gorgeous. It being May, I assumed snow would not block my route, which can happen in winter.

The drive was fun, and beautiful, the temperature dropping from 82 to 69 in the mountains, with pouring rain added as a challenge. For the first time, I wished our 2012 Suzuki were a performance vehicle, with more power and better handling. It did take me more than seven hours to drive, even though I didn't stop much. I went from Monongalia County's courthouse to Chesterfield County's shiny new government complex in 293 miles.

The motel, a branch of "The Usual Chain," is in Bellwood, mainly a jumble of cheap motels and gas stations off I-95 in an industrial area south of Richmond in Chesterfield County. It was close to 7 P.M. when I showed up, so no nap. I asked the desk clerk where to eat besides McDonald's and Burger King (both visible from the motel), and she suggested a Chinese place, a few blocks away. She didn't recommend walking, but I did. It wasn't far, on combined US 1 and 301. No sidewalk. I had chicken lo mein and egg drop soup, hot water with an egg dropped in and a plate of greasy noodles and chicken with a paper sack of fried crispy noodles. On the way back I stopped at a gas station/convenience store, where i bought an orange. The clerk, a young Arab guy, not bad looking, with a few extra buttons open on his shirt, scowled at me. How could he not be angry? I smiled and batted my eyelashes at him as a friendly gesture. At least he knew I wasn't a hostile white guy.

I tried to watch television a bit in the room. I saw the finale of "Dancing With The Stars." I was glad Adam Rippon won, although I gave a lot of points to Tonya Harding just for doing it. Of course, the two figure skaters made the finals. And the football player, whose name I didn't catch, was sexy enough. Still, the commercials annoyed me. I tuned them out while catching up on Facebook.

Richmond is an independent city, and most of the city south of the James River was annexed out of Chesterfield County. Manchester, the original county seat, became an independent city, then asked to be annexed to Richmond. I figured I would visit that part of Richmond this trip. I picked five historic places from The National Register in Chesterfield County and five in South  Richmond. I also, typically, looked up a big park, a Reform synagogue, a college, a shopping mall and an independent bookstore. I found all of these in Chesterfield County and more. I left the motel at 9:15 this morning and started with the south end of the county.

Virginia State University, the nation's first post-Civil War college for African-Americans (Negroes in the usage at the time) is at the far south end of the county, near Petersburg. It was farther away than I wanted to go. I visited instead the Chester campus of John Tyler College, a two-year institution with two campuses in the county. First, I looked for Point of Rocks, a plantation house on the James River. It's on private property and a sign at the entrance says you have to make an appointment in advance to see it. I moved on to the college campus, pretty, small. I noted magnolia trees and others I didn't recognize.

Chester is the largest place in Chesterfield County. Like Baltimore County, there are no incorporated towns, so everywhere is a "Census-Defined Place." Chester has a new, old-looking development with stores and apartments above. It didn't look like it was flourishing, although it seems like a good idea.

I had seen the old court house on my way in, but i went back today and visited the museum in the replica of the original courthouse, from 1754, torn down for the new old courthouse, constructed in 1917. I learned about the native tribes, the English settlers who came from Jamestown early in the 17th century, the story of Pocahontas, who lived nearby, and the massacre carried out by Powhatan tribe members against the English in 1622. There was a lot about tobacco, too. I found out that the monument to Confederate soldiers is from 1907. Conventional wisdom is that these were built in the time when "Jim Crow" laws, mandating segregation, were coming into place, and were intended to intimidate African-Americans. I would suggest that forty-two years after the end of the Civil War, the Confederate Veterans were in their sixties, and wanted to be remembered after they were gone.

West of the Courthouse is Pocahontas Park, a Civilian Conservation Corps project from the 1930s and early 1940s. This is a major park, now surrounded by suburbs, with well-marked trails, an amphitheater and two lakes. It comes from the same inspiration as Coopers Rock in West Virginia, only on relatively flat turf.

Kingsland is listed as a historic house across I-95 on the street where my motel is located. Wikipedia says it was moved in 1994 and reconstructed. It's apparently not at the address listed.

I looked also for a road marker on US 1 and 301 at Falling Creek. This is where the first North American Iron Works was built around 1620 and the United Daughters of the Confederacy put up a plaque at the first American wayside pull-off early in the last century. There is a park along the creek, fast-flowing and full after quite a bit of heavy rain. The Powhatan massacred all the workers at the mill in 1622. It was rebuilt later for metal and later grain, but only a few ruins remain. There is also the remains of a 19th century bridge, the last in Virginia, partially destroyed by flooding after Tropical Storm Gaston in 2004.

By this time, it was 12:30, and I was hungry. I saw online that there was a Wegman's on US 60, west of Richmond, near Midlothian, and thought about lunch there. Route 150 is an expressway around the south and west  sides of Richmond, and I took that from US 1 ( Jefferson Davis Highway, still) to US 60. I headed west on US 60, clogged with cars, and lined with auto parts stores, fast food joints, and a hundred little shopping centers. I stopped at 1 P.M. at Chesterfield Towne (sic) Center, the big enclosed mall. It's one floor, has a Macy's and a food court. I  was going to visit there anyway, so I thought I would just eat in the food court. I didn't want to make Wegman's an extra stop. I went for a chicken gyro, figuring it at least had lettuce and tomato on it. It was huge, and came with fries, which I ate, drowned in ketchup, which is not a vegetable. At least I didn't have sugar in my iced tea.

I couldn't find my lightweight jacket when I left the house yesterday, and that jacket dates from 2011, so it could easily be replaced. There is an H & M for men in the mall and they had a lightweight jacket I liked for $34.99. I thought I might get it after lunch and checking out Macy's, where I found Kenneth Cole and Calvin Klein dress slacks on sale, regularly $85 and $95, respectively. I tried them on in my usual size, and they were too small. I could wear the Coles, but not the Kleins. Turning into my mother, I said "I'll lose ten pounds and they'll fit," and bought them anyway. The clerk who took my credit card was a short guy about my age, bald and with a mustache and wearing slightly dressy jeans, so dressed as I dress. His name tag said "Sonny" so I assume he is Filipino, as they have names like that. They don't have the Kenneth Cole jeans I found at Macy's in New York in December 2016, and have pretty much worn out.

I returned to H&M and looked at that jacket and some shirts I liked. I know I'm 68 and fat, but I like to dress hipster. People often say I look "dapper." Two young women were working in the front of the store, chatting with each other. I tried to catch their eyes, but they studiously ignored me. Just to see if there was anyone else working in the store, I walked to the back. Sure enough, there was another woman at the cash register. I looked right at her, but she wouldn't acknowledge I was there. I walked out. I guess maybe it's the policy of H&M not to wait on people they don't think should wear their clothes.

I had one more place on the National Register, a pretty brick Gothic-style Baptist church from the 1820s out US 60 through Midlothian almost past the exhausting parade of colonial-style shopping centers. From there I headed back near the mall, then north to find the nearby Reform synagogue. It is set in a woodsy neighborhood of colonial-style houses and shopping centers, a relatively modest modern building.

My last stop in Chesterfield County was a bookstore, specializing in old books. I arrived there at 3:45 to find that they closed at 3 P.M. It was only fifteen minutes back to the motel. I fell asleep at 4:25, woke up once and went back to sleep until 5:30.

I heard thunder when I woke up and saw a torrential downpour out the window. I turned on the TV news and found that there was a "Severe thunderstorm watch" until 9 P.M. But the weatherman's map showed that the storms were passing through, and after a few minutes, it had stooped raining. I decided to head up US 1 to historic Manchester, in the City of Richmond, but once the county seat of Chesterfield County, and also some of the old tobacco factories and riverfront neighborhoods in South Richmond. The weather had cleared up where I was, but north on US 1 the sky was deep black. As I entered Richmond, it started to rain, then pour. It got so bad, I pulled into the parking lot of an auto repair shop to wait it out. Meanwhile, I could see water up over the curb on the street. After about fifteen minutes, I decided to head back south. It was like in those public service ads that say "Don't Drive Into Standing Water." I did anyway, as did the few other cars on the road. It was probably two feet deep in spots and still raining. The radio said there was flooding on the roads. No kidding. But once I left the city, it all cleared up again. I continued south on Route 1, past where I was staying back to Chester, figuring I could get a bagel and a cup of yogurt at a grocery store, or maybe find a salad bar. There was nothing but auto shops, Mexican places and the worst of the fast food chains. I finally stopped and asked Google maps to find me a Kroger. There was one nearby, near the old courthouse, but it was 7:20 and they had just finished cleaning out the salad bar, and the bagels were gone. I bought a banana and a pear for later, and figured I'd eat at McDonald's. Then I saw a Shoney's across the street. I drove there. People were looking dazed on the parking lot, and seemed to not know what to do with their cars. I chalked this up to the age of people who eat at Shoney's.
Then I saw the sign "Tuesday $6.99 Senior buffet." Oh.

Long story not as long as it could be, I embraced my senior citizenship, and although I told myself I wouldn't eat too much, I just had a little piece of fried chicken, and some bread pudding and banana pudding and chocolate pudding, and two kinds of pasta. Still, I had baked fish and salad and fruit. And "unsweet" iced tea. I'm not losing any weight. It was starting to rain and it was getting dark (15 minutes earlier than in Morgantown) when I left, stuffed. It occurred to me that the old people at Shoney's are not any older than I am, nor any more dysfunctional in their cognitive abilities.

I noticed I was wary here, as I often am in The South, including in my native Maryland. Although I didn't get into Richmond as planned, Chesterfield is fairly cosmopolitan, despite the sprawl and the apparent lack of public transportation. There has always been a large African-American presence here, and now there are many Latin-Americans and Middle Eastern people. I tried to be relaxed and jokey with the few people I met; they weren't having it. I didn't see recycling or much bicycling infrastructure. Lots of churches, and colonial-style shopping centers, fast-food places and car washes. West of Richmond, it's a bigger suburb and  on Midlothian Pike (US 60),  just an annoying parade of retail with no thought to planning at all.

Still, I give the county a "good" rating. The President beat Hillary Clinton by a few points, but didn't get a majority. Many voters went third-party and the Democrat won in the last Governor election. Other than the "minority" people, I think the well-off suburbanites (a large chunk of the population) can see through the demagoguery and the lies and, even if they usually vote Republican, are done with this guy.

There's incredible history here, going back to the earliest English settlements, through the Civil War (Lee stopped here between Richmond and Appomattox), and of course, I didn't see Richmond, which is right here adjacent. A woman I asked about sunscreen in Macy's raved about a particular neighborhood in Richmond, where I could get non-allergenic sunscreen, and was disappointed when I said I wouldn't get there this trip. If I lived around here, I would more likely be in the city than out in Chesterfield County.

Home tomorrow (Wednesday). I still have to figure a route.

Old House Picnic Area, Monongalia National Forest, Pocahontas County, West Virginia, where I stopped for lunch Tuesday on US 250

Monument to Confederate Soldiers, 1907, Chesterfield Court House

Chester Campus, John Tyler Community College

New mixed-use development, Chester

1917 Chesterfield County Courthouse

Replica of the 1754 Courthouse, used as a museum

Amphitheater in Pocahontas State Park

Beaver Lake, Pocahontas State Park

Civilian Conservation Corps Museum, Pocahontas State Park

Water lily on Beaver Lake, Pocahontas State Park

Roadside Monument on US 1, placed by the United Daughters of the Confederacy

Partially destroyed 1828 bridge over Falls Creek

Bethel Baptist Church, early 19th century, Midlothian

Temple Or Ami, near Bon Air

Evan's Wedding / Key West

Arriving at Key West airport

A performer on the pier before sunset

Sunset in Key West

Dusk from the pier

Near our hotel with the lighthouse

Hemingway House

Robin and Joe at Hemingway House Friday. It was cool for there.

The Butterfly Museum

Self-portrait with a mural near our hotel

March For Our Lives- Key West

The rally at the end of the March For Our Lives

March For Our Lives- somewhat manipulated photo

At the Botanical Garden

A memorial at The African Cemetery at Higgs Beach. Africans from captured slave ships, after importing slaves was banned, were brought to Key West, before being resettled in Liberia. Many of them died and were buried near the beach.

The Key West AIDS Memorial

Key West City Hall, with a rainbow flag flying

Eduardo Gato House. Gato was a Cuban immigrant who got rich in the cigar business, 1890s

The Armory, 1903

Evan and Kellie at the wedding

Right to left, my sister Robin, cousins Valerie and Marjorie

L to R, cousins Cindy, Terry, Jim, Sue

U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Samuel Ingham, 1934, Monday morning

Key West is an island in the Caribbean between Everglades National Park in Florida and the coast of Cuba. It's 120 miles southwest of Miami along the southern end of US Route 1, through a whole chain of islands. Sometime in the 1980s, the 8-Mile Bridge, a former railroad bridge used for cars, and narrow enough that driving it while passing another car coming the other way made you catch your breath and fear for your life, was replaced with a modern highway. There used to be a boat from Flamingo, at the end of Everglades Park, and some kind of plane from some little town on the west coast of Florida.

My friend Alan used to fly from Baltimore to Miami, where I lived from 1978 to 1984, for Veteran's Day, before "season," and we would drive down to Key West and stay in a gay guest house. One year there were four gay guest houses, another year, there were sixteen. In my mind we went all six Novembers I was in Miami, but I know we didn't go in 1983, my last year in Florida.

Joe and I were there the last weekend in March for my nephew Evan's wedding. Evan and Kellie asked Joe to perform the ceremony, and Evan's mother, my sister Robin, paid for our plane fare and hotel. I hadn't been in Key West in probably thirty-six years. We drove from Morgantown to Pittsburgh on Thursday the 23rd, flew to Atlanta, then Key West. That all went smoothly. Robin's flight from Washington was canceled because of a snowstorm, but she managed to get to Key West, somehow, Thursday night. Joe and I saw the sunset with most of the tourists on the island before Robin arrived. We had dinner later that night with Robin and Susie, Robin's traveling companion, and the mother of Robert, one of Evan's closest friends, outdoors in relatively cool weather.

L to R: Me, Robin, Joe, Susie

We stayed at Lighthouse Court, a guest house made up of little cottages around a pool and outdoor bar. There was a booklet in the office with the history of the place. It had been a gay venue, but was now a "family" hotel. The cab driver and the clerks at the hotel, to our surprise, were Russian-born. Less surprising was that the maids and janitors were Jamaican, and once they found out we were gay, the maids flirted with me. The original Key Westers, called "Conchs" (pronounced "Conks") were Black people from The Bahamas. There are still some of them there, but the island is gentrifying, and even small houses have become expensive to buy, and can rent for  five or six thousand monthly in the winter.

Key West is completely different now from the early 1980s. There are flights from Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Tampa and Atlanta, a speedy boat from Naples (a much larger city than it was c. 1980) and the road from Miami has been rebuilt.  There was still a sign in the airport for a "clothing optional " gay resort (probably where Alan and I stayed), and there is an intersection in the middle of town with faded rainbow crosswalks. Nowadays, Jimmy Buffett is the local hero; there are lots of bars and restaurants, and although I don't drink, we had delicious food everywhere we ate. The streets were jammed with tourists, mostly families,which was not true in my previous visits.

The wedding was at five Sunday at Ernest Hemingway's House, now a museum. We toured there Friday, and also visited the Butterfly Museum, which was beautiful. Kellie's parents and grandparents came in Friday, and Robin took us all out to dinner Friday night.

Standing: Joe, Linda (Kellie's Mom), me, Robin. Seated: Mike (Kellie's father) and Kellie's grandparents

Saturday was the "March For Life" in Washington, organized by students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, in response to the murders of their fellow students by a gunman on February 14. As a supporter of a ban on assault-type weapons, I felt guilty vacationing when I could be part of this mass movement. We had brunch with Evan and Kellie and their friends and our families, then joined Key West's "March For Life," several hundred people marching from one end of Duval Street, the main street of town, to the other. We dined Saturday with Robin and our cousins Marjorie and Valerie, daughters of my mother's late brother.

L to R: me, Joe, Robin,  Valerie and Marjorie

We were free Sunday early, so I looked up five places on the National Register, and the town's Reform synagogue, which we had glimpsed on the cab ride from the airport to the hotel. We found the synagogue and an old-fashioned luxury hotel, a beach and a traditional residential neighborhood. Nearby was a Civil War-era fort, largely in ruins with many of the bricks carried off for other building projects. The Union controlled Key West during the war, we learned, and there is now a botanical garden there. The guide told us that there had been a broad canopy of trees, which were blown away by Hurricane Irma last year. Near the fort, we also found a memorial to the African Cemetery, where people rescued from slave ships and brought to Key West, who were ill and died, were buried in unmarked graves. Next to that is the AIDS Memorial. Many names were inscribed on marble slabs on the ground, not just locals, but people who visited Key West in its gay heyday. We recognized some of the names, like Michael Bennett, the choreographer behind "A Chorus Line." The beginning of the AIDS crisis helps explain the end of Key West as a wide-open gay resort.

I don't remember what I did there in the old days, but I know Alan and I didn't go in November of 1983, because we wanted to take ourselves out of the risk pool. I was living in Los Angeles by November of 1984. Seeing that memorial reminded me, and Joe too, of our many friends we lost to AIDS.

We walked quite a bit that morning, but came back to the hotel in time for lunch nearby and a nap. I took a dip in the heated pool at the hotel.

The wedding was beautiful. I've watched "Say Yes To The Dress" with my sister at her house, and when Kellie walked down the aisle in the perfect dress for her, I knew it would be a great wedding. Joe was in full Rabbi mode, and had everyone laughing and Evan and Kellie's friends asking" Where did you find this rabbi?" The weather was sunny and warm, and still warm after the sun went down. I hadn't seen my paternal cousins, Susan and Terry, in many years, so I was glad they were able to come with their spouses and meet Joe. Evan has had many of the same friends since early childhood, like Susie's son Robert, and his two sisters, and Brian, a neighbor growing up. Brian's parents were also there. Kellie's mom Linda, young-looking and vivacious, was there with Kellie's dad, Mike, and I met Kellie's two sisters and brother, and immediately felt close to them. Kellie's grandma Nancy attended with her husband, and we got along well. I hadn't seen Evan's dad, Jimmy, in a while, but we hung out in our hotel room before the wedding and caught up. I thought about my parents, Evan's grandparents, and how they would have loved to be there, as well as Jimmy's parents, Bill and Betty, who loved Evan dearly. All four of Evan's grandparents lived in Florida at one time.

The wedding was over at 10, per the rules of Hemingway House, and although Mr. and Mrs. Olson invited us out for drinks with their crew later, we declined, and were fast asleep by 11.

Joe and I had a little time Monday before our flight, so we walked a bit more, and saw more sites before heading back to the airport.

We loved being in Key West. March weather had been dreadful in Morgantown, and having lived in Miami for six years, and having visited Key West, I remembered how much I loved the feel of the place. Joe had never been to Key West, and he was charmed by it. Most of all, I was delighted to see my nephew, who I met at his bris when he was a week old, marry the love of his life, accompanied by family and his big friends who used to be little kids. The icing on the wedding cake was to have my own Joe perform the ceremony, as clergy and part of our family.

Update: Robin corrected me on who was at which dinner, and had pics, which I posted in the text, to prove it!