The Visit At Monticello

The day brought another beautiful blue sky, although clouds remained here and there. It was cool enough for us to feel comfortable wearing jackets, but it remained nice enough to be comfortable while walking.

Steps leading to a bus to the right and up the steps from Grandma is where we took the bus to Monticello.

All four grandchildren were perfect during the tour.

I was so proud of them.

They walked where they were supposed to go, they didn't talk out loud when they weren't supposed to speak, they didn't fidget. It was a perfect day. Adults in our tour told us how well-behaved they were.

At the end of the tour, the guide commented as well. It was fun for me to see the little ones listening intently as we walked through Jefferson's mansion.

It was my third time there.

The first visit was while I visited Cles and Leslie at graduation ceremonies at UNC. Cles finished his undergraduate degree in December, and while I was out there, they drove me to Charlottesville to see Monticello. We walked about comfortably.

I was shocked. The weather that evening felt like late September or early October. The only indication of winter was the absence of leaves on the trees.

This is my favorite picture of Annie and me with the four grandchildren. It was a fun day.

When Jack and Tommy were very small, we were on our way to Disneyland together, and the boys told me they wanted a Pop Pop hat. At that time, I wore Volkswagen hats.

I gave one blue. The other wore green. When we went to Monticello, Cles gave Jack and Anna UNC hats. He let Tommy sport a Michigan hat with a large embroidered "M," which brought comments

from Michigan fans all day. Tommy loved it.

Anna loved the "Carolina Blue" one and wore it all day, at least until I found her a pink one at the gift shop at Monticello. Jack has always been a UNC fan.

And as for our little Samantha, she sported the Levi jacket we found for her in Charlottesville. It was a beautiful day, one I'll always remember.

After the tour ended, we walked around the grounds. I timed it perfectly to be at the entrance. In the late 70's or early 80's, I saw Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt, when he was at Monticello.

I always wanted to go there. The last closing clip showed the serene view of Monticello, just as the Chinese gong struck on the hour. I always wanted to hear it.

The guide let Cles and me walk near the entrance to hear it. It was incredible. Although you have to be there to get the full effect, I put a another post just after this one that allows people to hear it.

You have to be close when you're there. The clock is old, and although you could once hear the gong down in the valley, a person has to be close to hear it now.

The Chinese Gong at Monticello

The Terrible Cost of Jet Lag

We made a stop in Shenandoah National Park to take some pictures. It was the last stop, and it was a bit cold outside, so Cles had the temperature in the car warm enough to be comfortable.

One thing you never want to do on a Pop Pop field trip is to fall asleep.

In my earlier years of teaching, I had a yacht horn, run by a can of compressed gas. It was loud, and no one dared fall asleep.

Jack knows the price of slumber, but jet lag is a horrible thing.

Raspberries!

A Trip To Find Virginia Pumpkins

We drove in two separate cars the day we visited the apple orchard to experience the festival, and I don't remember what we did while riding with Cles.

Leslie took Lydia and the crew to a site, where they selected a pumpkin for each grandchild and a white one for Leslie.

As Halloween approaches, I'm hoping they send us pictures of the Jack-O-Lanterns, because there wasn't time to do carving while we were there.

Besides, the fact that we left on October 8 means that carved pumpkins might not look really great by Halloween. It worked out for the best.

I hope Cles and Leslie send me copies of their creations. Cles inherited my art skills, although he has more gift than I have at it; however, Leslie's carved products always are incredibly fun and creative.

We arrived in rain, but the day we did the orchard and the pumpkin farm, the sky was Carolina blue, and the weather was warm.

It was a beautiful day.

Our First Days In Virginia: An Apple Festival In Charlottesville

Visiting this festival was something I've wanted to do for a long time, ever since Cles told me about he and Leslie going there one fall.

In fact, we planned this trip with it in mind. And that was before I knew about the doughnuts.

The only other thing I haven't seen is a Civil War reenactment.

There was one in the area during our stay, but last year during the commemoration, a brawl broke out among participants. I guess some things never change.

Since that happened last year, the consequences were canceling the one planned for October 2010. Hopefully the Yankees and Southern Boys will get along better in the future. I'd really like to see one.

Oh, and I also want to see the Madison and Monroe mansions as well. Then we can eventually concentrate on Jamestown or Williamsburg or Yorktown. Then there's always Baltimore and the things up there as well.

Gee, I guess we'll just have to move to Virginia or North Carolina.

I could really become accustomed to the things I found there--Sweet Potato Pancakes and Pie, Bar-B-Que, Pulled Pork.

Holy Weightwatchers!

Spending the time with all our grandchildren in Virginia with Cles and Lydia was an incredible time. I hope the future finds all of us there, because I want it be something that happens more than once.

While being helped buying the cider and doughnuts and other things, I mentioned to a lady that we planned our vacation around their festival. She was pleased, but not as nearly as happy as I was tasting the things we found there that day.

There were a few more pictures to take before we left the orchard.

Cles wins!

Leslie joined in the fun too.

Carter Mountain Orchard Apple Festival

I'm not sure, but I don't think my grandchildren had ever been to an orchard, and the visit on this beautiful day in Virginia had to be something fun for them.

We arrived early in two cars, and luckily, there was only a short occasional wait, as we drove the narrow drive up the hill and watched for a parking spot.

My family let me out at the entrance, and I followed my nose to this spot that sold freshly made apple spice doughnuts. They were gone before I arrived. I picked up peach and apple salsa, bottles of both apple and five pepper jellies. Before they found me, I found fresh apple cider--warm and cold. Now it wasn't like the stuff my friend made with a handful of raisins and some secret alterations. But we had to let that sit outside for two or three weeks, before we could drink it.

I found a bottle of peach cider as well.

Cles and Lydia found me. By then, I found newly baked doughnuts they put on the shelf. There was a scramble, but as awkward as I am, I seem to move quickly when it comes to doughnuts. I guess it's like putting cheese in a maze for a rat.

As soon as I emerged out the door, just behind me, I noticed Cles already bought a dozen. But my sizable contribution came in handy. We polished all but six. And they still tasted incredible the next day.

Did I mention that little Sammy liked them too. I was so excited that I sat and teased her, making her laugh and dance. It's a disadvantage being a grandparent sometimes, because you forget why you don't do that just after they drink a bottle of formula.

I drew the attention of everyone. "Oh, shit," I said. I held little Sammy far in front of me, but she still projectile "yacked" all over my shirt. Luckily, it was a moment I had my mouth shut. Old guys do that you know. They sit or even walk about showing the inside of their oral cavity. I don't know why. Maybe it's an attempt to get more oxygen, or a way of concentrating on balance--mental and physical. Anyway, at least I had my mouth shut and glasses in place at the time.

People laughed. One man my age looked at me with a grin and moistened eyes. "Oh, doesn't a moment like that bring back memories grandpa?"

I was too focused on avoiding the stream of white stuff to feel offended at someone calling me grandpa. At least no one called me "hon."

The day with everyone was just another example of the fun we had in Virginia.

Apple Festival In Charlottesville At Carter Mountain Orchard

One reason I wanted to make this trip was to see this festival first hand. Cles told me about the fun he and Leslie had there, and it was something I knew we had to experience firsthand.

The view overlooking Charlottesville, similar to Monticello, on another adjacent mountain, had a beautiful view of the valley below.

The weather had been warm, and the leaves had only begun to change to their fall colors. It gave us a taste of what would appear a few weeks later.

Grandma and Leslie took the grandchildren into the orchard to pick some apples.
I wish I had gone with them. My family takes care of me, because rather than saying what they plan to do, they just do it. Had I gone, I would have risked falling as I walked on uneven sod and ground in the orchard.
Anna had fun that morning too. Unlike the rest of us, she color-coordinated her clothing that morning into her favorite combinations--usually consisting of pink, her signature color.
My Annie is always in the middle of the fun. Leslie and Annie watched the kids and Leslie took some incredible pictures.
The only thing more entertaining that seeing them smile for a photograph is taking all three of my children to a movie. They share a family characteristic: all three have a bizarre sense of humor. While Lydia was in Idaho Falls, I took the three to a movie. There were parts that I found humorous, and my grandchildren obviously did, but the rest of the full theater remained silent. Their laugh was the "mean" laugh. It's the one that brought me notoriety as a child and adult.

The Drive Through Shenandoah National Park

The fact that this picture is of a spot only a short distance from my son's house explains what we heard the night we arrived in Charlottesville.

Cles and Leslie's house is on a road with other homes, but the woods surrounding the back and sides give it an incredible sense of isolation from the madness of the world.

It was late, when we arrived from Dulles. The contrast of flying into DC and traveling through areas with lots of people made an unforgettable impression.

There was a light rain, and the sound of the drizzle on the broadleaf trees, was interesting. I don't think I've heard anything like it before.

And crickets. Besides missing mountains, it's what I long to find some day, and if I can hear frogs and kill deer and mourning doves, I would feel like I'm in heaven.

I bought a little machine a few years ago, thinking that turning it on at night with the sounds of a mountain stream and crickets would help me sleep soundly. It worked with real crickets, so I thought I would give it a try.

After spending three or four nights sleeping and getting up in the morning without feeling rested, I realized I could sense--even while sleeping--the difference between the real thing and a strange machine making simulations.

I use it occasionally during the day, mainly to entertain grandchildren, but I don't use it at night, not ever.

There are, however, a few moments, when I am angry or tense that it is nice to have.

It calms me, just like the effect that music has always had on me. There is a type of serenity I feel when I find the right place. It's like taking a deep breath on the first day of summer, amid lilacs in blossom and robins in a morning dance. That's that hop they make on a lawn, chirping and listening and scanning the green for a crawling protein source.

But then again, I did always listen to Led Zeppelin just before I played football. It helped me feel rage, and I was ready for the first play of the game.

The only problem with that was my having created a monster rage that I needed to control not pander, but it was a handy tool for football.

I remember when Dr. Mulvey, my good friend and oncologist told me that he had never met anyone with such a passion for music. My Welsh grandmother would have smiled to hear that. She was my elementary music teacher, and she reminded everyone in class that passion for music was part of being Welsh.

Grandma also told us that we were warriors and poets too.

The poet part was not something anyone wanted at that time. I remember wanting to write a poem, when I was in high school. It was that 60's thing, but I didn't know how to start, and most of our teachers struggled helping us write a reasonable essay. Poetry was not on the agenda.

I learned that much later.

I miss those sounds of nature. My music will go with me anywhere, especially thanks to I-Pod. My entire music collection fits on my new 160 GB player, although it may be soon full before I add my soundtracks, jazz and classical music Cd's.

But I will find a place where I can enjoy nature again like I remember it.

I dream of having a small barn, surrounded by a little pasture. And what dream like this would be complete without a John Deere riding mower.

Pictures Of A Great Day At Shenandoah National Park

It only took us a few hours to do the drive. But the view was so incredible, something I will never forget.

The park encompasses part of the Blue Ridge Mountains, but you can also see them in the distance.

We hoped to see black bear that day, but Cles mentioned that they were skittish. It seems they associate people with hounds and guns out here, so they keep their distance from where people tend to be.

Had we started earlier and made it to Big

Meadows, we may have seen one, but

even that would have been difficult, except at a very early hour.

In that meadow, however, Cles told us about whitetail deer, and how hundreds grazed there with people walking near them. The occasional deer we saw at the side of the road were only the size of a very large dog, so I don't think there would have been a problem like getting too close to elk in Yellowstone.

And as for a deer attack, I only saw something like that once in a film clip shown on The David Letterman Show. My dad, however, had a scar from a deer

he shot. Thinking it was dead, he approached it to field dress the animal, and as he grabbed the antlers, it gored him a bit on his hand.

I don't remember the rest of the story, whether he was able to finish the job of taking the deer or not. The point my dad made was making sure an animal was really down before doing that.

My dad always had a point to telling a story, usually involving teaching me something I needed to remember to avoid "history repeating itself."

That last phrase was something my father was very particular about in his storytelling.

He was a firm believer that when the dog bites you the first time, it's all about "Shame on you!" After that, it's our own inability to recognize a lesson learned earlier.

My father was the first person to teach me about metaphors. He was my mentor, my best friend.

I've decided that not everyone has an opportunity like that in life. Only the lucky ones know this, and if they are wise, they seek to create that with their own children.

A friend at the last school, where I worked for 16 years always found me fun and interesting. He said this to me once: "Damn, I would have loved to have met your old man [dad]."

I added that last reference, because even after his passing at 57 in 1991, I still can't refer to him any other way than dad.

I called him daddeo once. I'd been watching this show about beatniks in the late 50's one evening. It was called The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.

My dad told me--under no uncertain terms--where I would find the imprint of his 10 1/2 C Redwing Shoe, if I ever called him that again.

That's why I know metaphors. He called the action a "reminder." It didn't happen often, but it was effective, because it was used like salt and pepper on a meal--just enough to let you know you were eating food. Too much or too little spoils the meal. Life is full of metaphors.