To Grandmother's House We Go

Door with peeling paint
Her first name was Ivy. She was the grandmother of my friend Morris, and she moved into this house in Mineral in the mid-1940's. Although the house was probably a single-family home originally, by the time Ivy moved in, it had been divided into two flats. She lived in the lower half of the house. Aunt Dot lived upstairs; she was the sister of one of Ivy's daughters-in-law. Not really an aunt, in other words, but that's how we say things here in The South.

Morris remembers visiting his grandmother, and staying overnight on weekends frequently. He & his brother would also spend at least one week each summer with her. The house is in Mineral, originally known as Tolersville. Morris recalls hearing the train wail in the quiet hours of deepest night, for the house is situated just a couple of streets over from the train tracks that run through town.

The town was known as Mineral at least as far back as 1902, when it was incorporated as such because of the many nearby mines. Fool's Gold (pyrite), as well as real gold, copper, sulphur, and iron ore were mined by various companies, and hauled out of Mineral over the railroad. At one time there were fifteen gold mines within two miles of town.

The picture above shows the current view of the guest room where Morris slept when he stayed with his grandmother. Like my own grandmother, Ivy was poor but feisty, and she enjoyed having her family in to visit. Although the home was small, with two bedrooms, a living room, and an eat-in kitchen, places were found for everyone to sleep. Privacy wasn't a priority when it came to family get-togethers. There were two double beds in the guest room, and the overflow would sleep on sofas or with Ivy.

All the women would pitch in to cook the family meals. Ivy had a "modern" stove in a corner, and a wood stove along the center of one wall. The kitchen was large, but there was no dining room, so meals were served in three sittings at the kitchen table. Ivy ate with the men at the first seating, since it was her house. Her presence probably discouraged food fights, also. The rest of the women took the second seating, and the kids ate last.

The women cleaned up after the meal, except for Aunt Kat who disappeared upstairs to her siser's flat with a promise to be back to help in a minute. The other women exchanged looks, because they knew they wouldn't see Kat & her manicured nails until the last pot was washed & dried. The men & children ran off to play.

Morris and I were on one of our explorations, this time through the countryside northwest of Richmond. We visited his mother's grave in Hanover County, and then continued into Louisa County, stopping in Mineral to see his grandmother's old place.

Both of our grandmothers lived through hard times in the Great Depression, and both spent most of their lives in rented homes. My grandmother bought her first home in the 1960's when she herself was in her 60's. Morris's grandmother lived at her home in Mineral until she died at the hospital in the 1980's. Both of our grandmothers were widowed in their 60's, and lived into their 90's. Both used wringer washers, and enjoyed their stories (soap operas) on afternoon television. You could hear the trains pass by from both houses; one in Mineral, the other in Morrison, Iowa. For their grandchildren, both created lasting memories of home-cooked meals and the fellowship of family.

Ivy never locked her doors. In fact, when new tenants moved in following her death, the landlord had to install locks on the doors. Now, the house has been vacant for many years. It was the first time that Morris had been inside since the estate sale. It was good to see him walking through the rooms, and hear him share his memories. Mineral is today a sleepy town with many of its businesses gone and old buildings demolished. Coleman Hotel, Mineral Hotel, Noel's Store, and the Mineral Tea Room exist only in photographs. The town has a population of a little over 400 souls, quite a drop since the 1910 census tallying 3,200.

Morris remembers when staying in Mineral meant excitement. We both grew up in suburban neighborhoods; you got in the car to go places. At his grandmother's, he was right in town, with trains chugging by, stores a short stroll away, and the fire station down the block. It was heaven for a child from suburban Richmond.

As we drove away for more adventures, we both reflected silently on our childhood memories. I would walk to the post office to fetch Grandma's mail, and return to her house for a glass of cold milk & a handful of homemade cookies. The postmistress, Jessie, would put a notice of our visit in the social column of the Grundy County Register, and it was always exciting to see our names in the newspaper. Grandma knew who lived in every house in town. Times sure have changed.

Beach Blanket Dermabrasion

I've been a terribly indifferent blogger lately, no doubt disappointing all three of my faithful readers. Everyday life keeps me busy, and when I get home I've been too tired to do much more than check my mail when I settle in front of the computer. Nonetheless, I wanted to post a few pictures and let you know what I've been up to recently.

Early April marked three years of sobriety for me, and nine of us piled in our cars and drove out to the country to have a celebratory Sunday dinner. Boy, did we eat like pigs! We went to Tanglewood Ordinary, along Route 6 in Maidens, where the food is served family-style in heaping bowls at your table. There was a whole lot of "Pass the biscuits, please" being said at our table (can anyone name what song that's from? hint: it was the third of June...). We had fried chicken, country ham, pot roast, cornbread, biscuits, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, macaroni & cheese, cole slaw, black-eyed peas, and stewed tomatoes. Everything was made right there, and it was so good it made our toes curl.

We had time to relax on the porch while we waited for everyone to arrive. It couldn't have been a sweeter early Spring day.

Tanglewood Ordinary is much newer than it looks. The original two-room cabin was built in 1928, with additions added in 1935 & 1942. Starting out as a filling station and sandwich shop, it became a well-known honky-tonk with its downstairs dance hall. It was even a popular hang-out for lesbians back in the 1950's.

Below, the countryside stretches away in all directions from the restaurant. This photo was taken from the parking lot.

In early April, I went to a state assembly in Virginia Beach to give a presentation. I stayed at the (new) Cavalier Hotel, and I made sure I was up in time to see the sun rise over the ocean.

The new Cavalier Hotel was built in the 70's, and is a typical high-rise beachfront hotel. Across Atlantic Avenue sits the old Cavalier Hotel, which opened in 1927. The old hotel is only open now during high season. Back in the 20's, the Cavalier boasted its own railway spur which brought guests to its private depot. Guestroom bathtubs offered extra spigots for saltwater baths. One guest must not have found everything to his liking. Adolph Coors, founder of Coors Brewery, plunged to his death from the sixth floor in 1929.

Shuffleboard, anyone? Does anyone know how to play shuffleboard these days?

The coastal winds create sculptured & twisted trees. In areas that aren't trampled constantly by people, foliage just off the beach is dense, lush, and close to the ground.

Take a look at this piece of homemade coffee cake I snagged from the hospitality suite! It pays to be an early riser. The crunchy topping was an inch thick, and the cake paired well with a cup of coffee as I watched the sun climb over the Atlantic.



This past weekend I returned to Virginia Beach with Sadie & Sheldon for an overnight stay. Sheldon found a great bargain on oceanfront rooms by booking in March. We got to the hotel before our rooms were ready, so we walked out to the beach to catch some sun. I had forgotten how windy it is on the beach this early in the season. In high school, my friends & I would go to Fort Story where we could sun on the rocks above the sandy beach.

Saturday afternoon, I endured about thirty minutes of free, painful dermabrasion on the beach in front of the hotel. I lay prone on my beach towel, fruitlessly seeking Nirvana, as stinging sand blasted my skin. When I sat up, there was an outline of me on my sand-encrusted towel. I reflected that sandblasting is the method of carving epitaphs on granite tombstones, and I grumbled that I was returning to the hotel. By then the rooms were ready, and I washed about a half-pound of sand down the drain in the shower. The picture to the left, taken at Fort Story, shows the native seaside foliage when left unhindered. Seen up close, it reminds one of Br'er Rabbit's briar patch.

The photo below was taken from my hotel balcony.


Sunday, after checking out, we rode to Fort Story and took pictures of the lighthouses. Both stand on Cape Henry, and the brick lighthouse dates from 1792, and was the country's first federal construction project under the Constitution.




The newer light was erected in 1881.


Before we returned home, we drove across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, since Sadie had never seen it. Altogether, the bridge linking the mainland to Virginia's Eastern Shore is twenty-three miles long. When I was a tyke, and my grandparents were visiting from Iowa, my grandfather & I would sit on the beach to watch this engineering marvel being constructed. I'm sure that Grandpa's farmer friends heard all about it when he returned home.

The Eastern Shore, below, is a quiet refuge compared to Virginia Beach.


Below, the Sunday morning beachfront as seen from my hotel room.

Prettige Kerstdagen!

Where in the world is Planet Bill? What does Prettige Kerstdagen mean? The questions will be (briefly) answered right away.
Prettige Kerstdagen means pleasant or merry Christmas in Dutch, and Planet Bill has temporarily relocated to Amsterdam. I have my trusty camera with me, but will have to wait until my return to the states before I post them for you.
I had a unplanned, unexpected opportunity to make a swell little visit to my friend, Suzanne, and took a flight to Amsterdam Monday. It's cold here! We arrived yesterday at mid-day, and spent the day relaxing at home, and this morning I am going with Suzanne to her shop in the Oud West section of the city.
I accompanied David, who is moving here with his two cats, Brenda & JJ. The cats traveled well, if reluctantly, and slept at our feet during the night flight. We all had to wait at Dulles for a few extra hours before departing for a replacement aircraft. Something about the original plane's toilets exploding or catching fire or somesuch. Once we got under way, the flight was quite pleasant, with minimum turbulence or squalling babies. The cats were models of composure, showing remarkable forbearance for spending over half a days time in travel carriers.
Stay tuned...more to follow!

Where Have I Been?

The year has flown by on winged feet, hasn't it? I decorated the office for Christmas earlier this week with a little silver tree with blue ornaments atop a bookcase, and a Santa and a red & green basket filled with chocolate candies on my desk. I already need to buy more candy; the people who drop in have been like vultures.

Friday night, after work, I went out to dinner with a buddy, and snapped the top photo of a porch in the Fan District. I'll be taking more pictures for you as more homes are decorated for the holidays. Many of the houses on Monument Avenue put on lavish displays, and I'm waiting for the illumination of the Christmas Cadillac.

I know that Christmas comes at a predictable time each year, but why do I always feel caught off guard? There's always too much to do in too little time. I enjoy the holidays, though, and I can certainly admire how my mother always seemed to have everything running according to schedule. She sent out boxes of Christmas cards, wrapped & packaged gifts and took them to the post office to mail to distant friends & relatives in time for Christmas delivery, and filled the cupboards with homemade goodies for guests. I remember the feeling of good cheer when people would drop in for a holiday visit. Christmas was a wonderful time of year in my childhood home. Here's a really easy recipe that my mom used to make, in addition to the cakes, pies, fudge, cookies & bars. These are so simple a child could make them, and they are quite tasty.

Butterscotch Crunchies
5 cups cornflakes
2 small packages butterscotch chips
3 tablespoons peanut butter
Melt butterscotch chips and peanut butter in a double-boiler until smooth. Place cornflakes in a large mixing bowl. Pour butterscotch mixture over cornflakes, and fold in carefully to coat thoroughly. Drop by spoonfuls onto wax paper. Allow to cool & set until firm.

This post, however, is more about autumn photographs, before it gets too late to share them with you. You will see the transition from early to late fall in the pictures. In October I traveled to Roanoke to attend an AA state assembly. Roanoke is three hours from Richmond by car, and it was the first time I've been back there since I got sober. I used to have extended business trips there, sometimes being there for months on an assignment. Boy, did I drink a lot out of loneliness and boredom in those days. I wasn't ready yet for sobriety, but I could have been meeting people & making new friends. This time I was in the midst of hundreds of people like me who enjoy the fun of a sober life.

I took the smaller highways, and the picture below was taken in the small town of Buckingham. The town was established in 1818, and the original courthouse was designed by Thomas Jefferson, but it burned down in 1869. Buckingham is home to Yogaville, where many of my friends have gone for retreats. I'm not sure what the building in the photo was before it was left to the elements, but I've been looking at it for years while passing through the small village, and wondering what it was.

(Possibly the Whately Mill from The Shuttered Room?)

My route took me through Appomattox, where Lee surrendered to Grant. Most people assume that this was the official end of the Civil War, but it was not. It was certainly the nail in the coffin, however, and effectively determined the outcome of the war. When I was little, my parents & I took an overnight trip to tour the historic park, and we stayed at the motel pictured below. It looks pretty much the same as it did in the 1960's.


Here's an old country store & service station, which now sits empty at Mount Rush. By the way, the abandoned building is Mount Rush, because there's nothing else at this crossroads other than a house or two. This could be the business opportunity you have been waiting for.


Here's what I'm talking about. You can use the example below as your business model. On Route 60, on the outskirts of Buckingham, I found an old gas station that has been painted pink and turned into a massage parlor. I didn't have time to stop to inspect the interior, but it probably looks fabulous. I'm all about adaptive re-use.



Below is an example of the pleasant countryside. I'm so much happier when I am traveling on the forgotten highways. Interstate highways are fine if I absolutely have to travel as fast as possible, but I prefer the interesting sights that can only be seen when you travel the old roads.


Before it was time to put her boat to bed for the winter, Sadie took me out for an end-of-season cruise. We left around twilight, and it was a pleasant, slow ride. Darkness came swiftly, so there were not any opportunities for a shutterbug, but I did get an okay shot from the water of the Boathouse Restaurant glittering at night. Several of us have enjoyed their Sunday brunch, and the view of the James River as we dined.


One evening after work, I met my friend Linus at a nearby Starbucks for coffee & conversation. Linus recently had back surgery, so he's out & about in his neighborhood taking walks to aid his recovery. One advantage of a slow walk is being able to enjoy sights that are easily missed from a moving car. Linus urged me to take some daytime pictures of a beautiful little maple tree on Grove Avenue at the peak of its fall splendor, so I dashed by there the next day. I wasn't one bit disappointed.




I've been admiring a 1961 Chrysler that sits in a parking lot on the side of Church Hill, so I stopped to take a few shots one Sunday.
Ah, the exuberance of fins!



This '61 model has a friendly, slightly zany expression. The 1960 Chryslers looked bellicose.


This isn't the clearest picture because of the glare, but I can't resist an old dashboard. You can't see it from this angle, but this car featured the "pushbutton" transmission.


Morris & I decided to go on a ride one Saturday afternoon, and after some indecision about the direction to take, ended up driving south and then east. This put us in Hopewell, which is a tired little industrial town at the convergence of the Appomattox & James Rivers.

There is one section of Hopewell that neither one of us had visited called City Point. It was quite pretty and somnolent. We went on Thanksgiving weekend, so I figured that everyone was inside taking naps. We parked near old Appomattox Manor, and it was hard to believe that this silent & still setting was, briefly, one of the busiest ports in the world.

The rivers meet at City Point



Boy, if these walls could talk! Appomattox Manor remained in the same family from 1635 until 1979. Benedict Arnold led his British troops across the plantation during the American Revolution, and the property was used by General Grant as his headquarters during the Siege of Petersburg during the Civil War. Abraham Lincoln vacationed here just a few weeks before his death. At the time of the Civil War, Appomattox Manor was a 2300 acre James River plantation.

Federal forces recognized the strategic value of this point that watched the two rivers. An enormous supply depot & railroad facilities, and a huge hospital were built here, and the resulting port was the busiest in the world during the Petersburg siege. The capture of Petersburg and its railroads led to Lee's surrender about a week later.

When the Eppes family returned at war's end, the house was in shambles and the plantation was all but destroyed. Somehow, the family was able to prevail and rebuild.

A quaint & curious little building on City Point.
Town Hall? Schoolhouse? Quaker Meeting House?
There was no plaque to inform us.

Our last photograph shows an old house on the outskirts of downtown Claremont. When we left City Point, I asked Morris if he had ever been to Claremont. He replied that he had not ever been to Claremont. I asked him if he had ever heard of Claremont. He allowed that he had never heard of Claremont. So we went to Claremont.
Claremont has a population of 343.

Claremont is a town that seems forgotten, almost like one of the Miskatonic hamlets in an H.P. Lovecraft story. You have to turn off a two-lane road, and travel several lonely miles up a road that dead-ends at Claremont. Clearly, the town experienced a period of commercial activity, and anticipated more prosperity than ever arrived. There is a tiny traffic roundabout, and a couple of rows of dilapidated vacant storefronts. There is at least one structure that may have been a hotel. A church or two. All have a forlorn look, as if the parade came and went, and they have given up on its return.

Boo, Y'all.

You know what's weird? It just occurred to me that I have no clear memories of the Halloween costumes I wore as a child. I can recall trick-or-treating, and sitting on the living room floor in a sugar-induced stupor surrounded by candy. I remember walking through the neighborhood streets on crisp, dark nights with Jimmy - the boy who lived behind us - our dads following a half-block back, keeping an eye on us. I can even recollect how my plastic Halloween masks felt uncomfortably bumpy & hard, as if they were trying to reshape my face. I just can't remember any of my costumes.

Well, not until I got older. Suzanne had a costume party one time when we were in high school, and I decided to go as a baby. My mother crafted some sort of giant diaper for me out of God knows what, and I carried a rattle. For some reason, I guess because I was half-naked, I decided that I needed a second costume from which I could emerge as a crying baby.

This "travel costume" was a spur of the moment idea, and I blame the outcome on the haste of the execution and the chilly night. It was too cold to ride around in a diaper, so I thought it would be brilliant to arrive in a - well, it just sounds ludicrous now that I think about it.

My mom was very indulgent about letting me select the color of my room, even when I was too young for such weighty responsibility, so when I chose a rancid mustard-gold paint in 4th grade, she cheerfully painted the walls and then told me I would have to live with it. By 7th grade, I was redecorating my room with two white walls & two malachite green walls, black curtains on the white wall & white curtains on the green wall, and black & white shag carpet. A black vinyl swivel chair and an orange beanbag chair provided a venue for conversations with friends and listening to my Jesus Christ Superstar album. After a few years, the beanbag either needed new beans, or -

I decided it would be a lark to show up at Suzanne's door as a beanbag chair. Of course, I needed help. I couldn't drive over there like that. I also needed help getting the beans out of the vinyl beanbag. The beans were really little styrofoam pellets, and my dad produced a spare outdoor trashcan so we could empty out the beanbag. Boy, those little pellets took on a life of their own when they were released from that chair cover. They did not want to settle down in that trashcan, and they flew about & stuck to everything. They also seemed to expand in the cool night air. My dad had to get a second trashcan to hold all of the styrofoam balls, and even then they seemed to spill over the edges like living lava.

I guess it was static electricity that made these little pellets so perky & pesky. Try as we might, we could not get the bag completely cleared of them, but it was time to go to the party so my friends zipped me up in the beanbag, hoisted me into the hatchback of my car, and off we went. The beanbag was really hot inside.

I rolled into the party, someone unzipped the bag, and a cranky baby coated with styrofoam balls wrestled his way out of the chair cover, like an infant turtle struggling free of its leathery egg shell. I'll bet Suzanne's mother was still finding styrofoam pellets when she was moving to a new home several years later.

Sadly, I didn't learn my lesson from this experience. A couple of years later while home on break from college, one of my dorm mates (also home in nearby Norfolk) had a costume party, and I went as a mummy. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to put on a complete set of long underwear and wrap myself in toilet paper. By the end of the evening, all of the toilet paper had fallen off in perforated squares, and I was simply a young man wearing nothing but long underwear in public.

Tuesday? Again?

I heard a news segment as I was getting ready for work this morning. I was in my bathroom shaving, and the clock radio in my bedroom featured a gentleman discussing an upcoming election.

The journalist talked about citizens who were unhappy with the incumbent President. They felt that his belligerent and damaging rhetoric had led to poor foreign relations. Their country had become isolated and feared. The President's re-election was uncertain because the nation's economy was in sad shape due to his policies.

Had a time warp zapped me back to 2004? Was I still asleep? I'd never, to my recollection, dreamed about politics. Then I realized that the news brief concerned Iran, and their upcoming Presidential election. I was awake, after all. I finished my ablutions, and went to my morning meeting.

In my last post, I included some pictures of Lauren & Andy's visit to Richmond. Before embarking on their flight back to Chicago, we went to breakfast at the Black Sheep, and I took a picture of the two of them.


The City of Richmond gave Lauren & Andy a nice parting gift in the form of a parking ticket, thoughtfully affixed to the windshield of their rental car. They gave me one, too, so I wouldn't feel left out. I was touched by the city's hospitality.

In addition to the great food at the Black Sheep, I like the eclectic decor. Each table has a unique set of vintage salt & pepper shakers. I am always reminded of my grandmother's S&P collection, which she displayed in an enormous shadowbox on the north wall of her kitchen. That is how my grandmother would have described the location. She used to drive my dad crazy by telling him things like "Oh, will you grab the cake cutter out of the west kitchen drawer?" or "You & Carolyn will be sleeping in the northeast bedroom." All of her directions were based on compass points.

After breakfast, I had Lauren & Andy follow me to nearby Hollywood Cemetery. There's nothing like 75,000 dead people to settle the stomach prior to a plane ride. Below are a couple of photos, the first being President John Tyler's grave. The black iron birdcage behind Tyler is the resting place of President James Monroe.


Let's take a quick look at John Tyler's Presidency:

• first U.S. President to assume office following the death of his predecessor. This event sparked controversy because of the ambiguous language of our Constitution regarding such circumstances, and caused many detractors to refer to Tyler as "His Accidency."


• first President to have a veto overridden


• first (and only?) President to have his entire Cabinet (with one exception) resign


• first President to have impeachment hearings initiated to remove him from office


• led the drive for the annexation of Texas, and began the process of annexing Hawaii


• because of his allegiance to the Confederacy after he left office, he is the only President whose death was not officially mourned in Washington

John Tyler was a slave owner all his life, and fathered fifteen legitimate children. He liked to dance, and added a sixty-eight foot ballroom to his home, making it the longest frame house in America at more than three-hundred feet. Tyler's plantation, Sherwood Forest, lies east of Richmond on the James River, and is open for tours.

Here's a view of the James River from Hollywood Cemetery's Presidents Circle.


For the lighter side of death and dissidence, I urge you to see a movie called Death at a Funeral, which I found hilarious and delightful. I'd say it's an adult movie, but it is not vulgar. It's a British black comedy about family & friends who gather for a funeral. Foreshadowing the misadventures that the day holds in store, the movie begins with the mortician delivering the wrong body for the funeral. It goes downhill for the family from there. It has a wonderful ensemble cast. If you watch this gem and dislike it, I will cheerfully refund your time.

Thanks, Dad!

I've had a nice Memorial Day weekend, and it was wonderful having three days in a row to do as I pleased. On Saturday I went with Sheldon and his mom to Eden, North Carolina, to visit his brother & family. We left early, and got back late. Sunday I slept late, and puttered around the house, ending the day at my neighbor Karen's for a cookout. Today I went to an early morning meeting, followed by breakfast with three friends at Joe's Inn. A movie at home and a nap finished up the afternoon.

Over the past few weeks I've been watching Ken Burn's documentary series on World War Two. As I expected, I have learned a lot. My dad served in the U.S. Navy during that war, but he rarely & reluctantly talked about his experiences. He was mainly assigned to the Pacific Theater, and fought at Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, Bougainvilla, Cape Esperance, Okinawa, and other hot spots. He served on a little ship, the destroyer USS Buchanan, which was one of the first vessels that sailed into Tokyo Harbor after the Japanese surrendered. He witnessed horrific action, and his normally cheerful face looked troubled whenever I questioned him about his war years.

Tonight, sitting in my den watching sitcoms and sipping coffee, I am grateful to my father and the many men & women like him who have made it possible for me to enjoy freedom in the United States. My life is easy, and I give thanks to those who keep me safe.