It’s been a warm week here in D.C. – summer has definitely arrived. I’ve had some nice days to get out and explore the city this week, but also some hot and humid ones and a few epic thunderstorms as well. It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced summer in our nation’s capital, and there are definitely pluses and minuses. I will say that the lack of traffic anywhere at any time makes the heat of summer a little more tolerable. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, that lack of traffic definitely makes for cleaner air and clearer skies – something my camera sees even more than I do. That is one of the plusses of the situation. We’ve been enjoying some summer fruit too, which is one of the best things about summer anywhere. We’ve had beautiful cherries, watermelon, strawberries and others and I’m looking forward to peaches very soon.
Last Friday my stepfather made some wonderful homemade pizzas and we sat in the basement and played some games and listened to some music while we chowed down on a couple of pies. It was another great Forget-About-It Friday, which we are grateful for. This coming week we will tap our homebrew and see how it turned out, and begin our next batch as well – an American Cream Ale. I’m looking forward to having a taste and to keeping the brewing going while I’m home. It’s fun and there’s a (hopefully) fine finished product at the end. After the cream ale, I want to try something a little more complicated now that I’m getting my brewing confidence back up.
The rest of the weekend was pretty quiet. My mom spent Saturday cooking up a storm and we had a wonderful dinner on Saturday night as well. Sunday I spent some time reading my new (to me) book about the Gettysburg Address which I’m really enjoying. I also got some photos edited and published from our trip to Antietam last week, and got some writing done as well. It was a pretty relaxing weekend all around, but it felt good to accomplish a few things along the way.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. In this series I’ve chosen one picture per post which brings out strong memories for me and has a story attached to it. This picture is of the Santa Monica Pier in Los Angeles, California, the place I first watched the sun set into the Pacific.
I was as far from home as I’d ever been.
When I went to college, my goal was to work for the National Park Service. My major was Wildlife and Fishery Science with a minor in American History. I spent five years working on two degrees to prepare myself for my career, but in the days of the infancy of the internet I really didn’t know what that career would entail. While there, I worked in the banquet department at a beautiful resort hotel and golf course and made pretty decent money for a college kid. I was, therefore, pretty disappointed when I started looking for a real job only to find that the only Park Service jobs available to me were 3 month temporary positions in parks I’d never heard of making $8 an hour. I couldn’t believe it – after five years of good grades and two degrees from an excellent institution I was only going to make $8 an hour? That was significantly less than I was making in my current job. And in three months I’d have to start all over again?
I decided to think on it for a while and headed to my summer home of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. In my first “real world” lesson, I had to sign to a one-year lease to get a decent place to live, and went back to work at the restaurant I had worked at the previous two summers. Over the next year I worked a lot, drank too much and made some really good friends, some of whom are still my friends today, but didn’t make a lot of progress towards any career goals. I’d like to say it was fun, but looking back it just seemed like it was at the time. There were some great days, but life after college was supposed to be different.
After a year of spinning my wheels I found myself no further ahead than I had been when I arrived. I cut my losses, packed up my bags and headed north. I went back to Pennsylvania for a while, and then headed to Ocean City, Maryland for a few days to see what the work climate was like there. Nothing seemed to be working out, so I finally gave up and heading home to D.C
Antietam National Battlefield was the sight of the bloodiest day in American History and one of the best known battle of the American Civil War. Along Antietam Creek just north of the tiny town of Sharpsburg, Maryland, 100,000 soldiers marched into battle on September 17th, 1862. By the end of that day almost 23,000 were dead, wounded or missing.
After a Confederate victory at the 2nd Manassas/Bull Run, General Robert E. Lee pushed into the North for the first time. The Virginia countryside had been ravaged during the first year of the war, and Lee wanted to give it time to heal, plus a decisive victory in the North might bring President Lincoln to the negotiating table.
On September 15th, 1862, Lee crossed the Potomac River into Maryland and dug in along the high ground west of Antietam Creek. Union forces under Commanding General George McClellan moved in from the east. At dawn on September 17th, the battle began…
The photos below come from a cloudy visit to Antietam National Battlefield, the site of the bloodiest day in the American Civil War. Civil War Chronicles will trace the major battles of the Eastern Theater through photos and brief histories.
I hope you enjoy this post with photos and history from Forest Hills, a beautiful neighborhood in Northwest Washington D.C.
Resting quietly between Cleveland Park and Chevy Chase and bordered by Rock Creek Park to the east is the quaint neighborhood of Forest Hills. Those of us who grew up in the era of the Metro are probably more likely to think about this neighborhood as Van Ness/UDC. The station takes its name from Van Ness Street, the main cross street in the neighborhood, and the University of the District of Columbia. Since the northern border of the neighborhood is considered to be Nebraska Avenue, I grew up right across the street from Forest Hills.
Once home to a Native American soapstone quarry, Forest Hills has quite an interesting history. In 1763, long before the creation of Washington D.C., Col. Samuel Beale was granted a tract of land by Lord Baltimore and named the area Azadia. Much of this tract would later be purchased by Isaac Pierce who would build his namesake mill along Rock Creek. In 1814, Revolutionary War veteran and retired land surveyor John Adlum bought a 200 acre tract of land in the area to start a vineyard. He named his estate Springland Farm and went on to become one of the first commercial producers of wine in the country (Adlum is buried at Oak Hill Cemetery in Georgetown). During the Civil War, Forest Hills was the site of Fort Kearny – one of the ring of forts protecting the Capital City…
Hello everyone, well we’ve made it through another week. I hope it’s been a good one wherever you’re reading this from today. Mine has been really good – probably the best I’ve had since returning home to D.C. now 2 months ago. After a positive start to being sheltered in place and having some free time to catch up on some work and try some fun stay-at-home hobbies, I really hit a downward spiral there for a while as claustrophobia and cabin fever kicked in. With the extended and indefinite closure of my industry (travel and tourism), I found myself staring out at an uncertain and challenging future. I usually keep my anxiety levels in check by being in control of certain aspects of the situation and then allowing the rest to unfold as it will. Under these circumstances, my environment is more controlled than usual, but there are thousands of moving pieces around the world that I have no control over, but which will help shape my near and distant future. I find that to be incredibly frustrating, and with limitations on how I normally deal with my frustration as the gym is closed, travel is limited and my camera is gathering dust.
I’m the kind of person who usually turns inward to sort things out, dealing with them in my own head with little or no outside influence. This week though, I’ve had a lot of outside influences help pull me up out of the mud. First I got some nice messages from some of y’all which is always appreciated. Believe me, I love to hear from you so don’t hesitate to comment or message me. Second, I met with a couple of different friend groups over Zoom which is always good. Third, I went to see some of my friends in person – masked and 10 feet apart, but it was still great to actually see people in the flesh. I hate the fact that I’m home and can’t see my friends or their kids, and this was a chance to at least pop around and say hello. And lastly, my mom came up with a plan to get us out of the house and provide some outlet for being stuck at home indefinitely.
Last Thursday, we went for a walk in Rock Creek Park, the large green space which surrounds its namesake creek through the middle of the city. We took a look at the earthworks that were once Fort DeRussy…
Corpus Christi’s Marina Arts District is a wonderful story of urban renewal and public art. When Terry Sweeny moved to Corpus Christi in 2014, he found a city, like so many others, which had sold its soul to suburban sprawl. He also saw an area with tons of potential and set about trying to revitalize downtown. He joined forces with Brad Lomax, who had been working on revitalizing downtown Corpus Christi for years, and a dedicated group of like-minded citizens. The result is staggering. The colorful murals and public art projects make downtown look clean, sharp and vibrant. If you look closely enough, you’ll see that there are still plenty of empty storefronts looking for an opportunity to be resurrected, but they are hard to spot as your eyes are constantly drawn elsewhere. My favorite part is the wonderful seawall walk overlooking the marina on one side, and the Arts District on the other.
I enjoyed my time in the Marina Arts District even though I was there right as everything was closing up shop for a while due to the coronavirus. As I wandered around taking these photos, I heard wonderful music echoing up and down the empty streets. When I finally found where it was coming from, I sat for a few minutes to listen to the performance of a wonderful street musician in front of the shuttered Executive Surf Club. I needed a few songs in my day to blow thoughts of the virus away, and he gave me hope with his music. And hope is a wonderful thing. It is, in fact, the only thing more powerful than fear. I know I’ll be back in Corpus Christi at some point when all of this has blown over. I’m looking forward to it already.
Hello everyone, I hope this update finds you all well. Although I had been socially isolated for almost two weeks before traveling home to DC, this was my first full week sheltered in place. To be honest, it was a pretty good week, the terrible news on TV notwithstanding.
It’s springtime here in DC, and the days have been really nice and the nights cool but pleasant. The spring flowers are in bloom and are exploding with color all over our neighborhood. While DC is known for the cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin downtown, there are actually plenty of them throughout the city. The tulips are fantastic and my mother’s azaleas are in full bloom. Because the traffic is so minimal right now, the air is cleaner and you can actually smell the flowers when you’re outside. It’s a wonderful sensory experience. The flowers are definitely brightening my days and helping keep my spirits up.
The city is very quiet right now, which I’m also really enjoying. Most people who live in touristy areas will tell you their favorite time of year is the off-season, when things quiet down and they get their town back for a while. In DC, we like the holiday weekends because the transient population goes home, and the traffic dies down and the city rests for a few days. It’s been like Memorial Day Weekend since I’ve gotten back, and I’m loving it.
Like many towns in America with Spanish Colonial roots, Goliad started out as a presidio (fort) and mission, both located on the San Antonio River. Presidio La Bahia and Mission Nuestra Señora del Espíritu Santo de Zúñiga had originally been located elsewhere, but were moved to their current location in 1749. One of the first schools in Texas was founded nearby in 1804. During the Mexican War for Independence, the presidio was a strategic target and changed hands between the Spanish loyalists and Mexican rebels several times. In 1829 La Bahia, the village which had grown up near the fort, changed its name to Goliad, an anagram of the name Hidalgo (minus the “H”) in honor of Father Miguel Hidalgo, a hero of the Mexican Revolution.
In the opening days of the Texas Revolution, American mercenaries captured the fort and held it for six months. It was within the fort’s walls that the first Texas Declaration of Independence was signed. In March of 1836, the American garrison, under the command of Colonel James Fannin, was defeated at the nearby Battle of Coleto. Under the agreement that they would be treated as prisoners of war, they surrendered and were marched back to the fort. A week later, on Palm Sunday, under the orders of Mexican President Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, 342 of these men, including James Fannin, were marched out of the fort and executed. Just over three weeks after the massacre, at the decisive battle at San Jacinto, Sam Houston rallied his troops with cries of “Remember the Alamo, Remember Goliad” as he led his rebel army on to victory and Texas independence…
Port Lavaca is a lovely and quiet port town on Matagorda Bay and serves as the county seat of Calhoun County. Originally named simply La Vaca (“the cow”), the town was laid out in 1840 after Comanche raids forced people to abandon their homes in nearby Linnville. In addition to the port, the newly laid out town became the coastal terminus of a stagecoach route from Victoria, and eventually connected to the San Antonio and Mexican Gulf Railroad. In the early days, they did a fair trade in not just cattle, but also cotton, wool, pecans and precious metals. La Vaca lost its role as County Seat to nearby Indianola in 1852 but after a terrible hurricane hit the coast in 1886, it was moved back to La Vaca and remains there today. The port still plays a major role in the town’s economy, as do fishing and shrimping, but manufacturing employs many of the town’s residents today. I enjoyed my short stay in Port Lavaca with its charming downtown, beautiful marina and friendly people. I can see why locals refer to their hometown as “Paradise on the Bay”.
Originally home to the Karankawa people, Palacios was first settled by Europeans in the 1820s. In 1901, the land was purchased by a development company, divided into lots and sold to people looking to settle along the beautiful coast of the Gulf of Mexico. The Southern Pacific Railroad came through about the same time, providing overland access to the town-site. Over the next 20 years, the town grew as a resort community, and many businesses opened their doors to provide for the tourists flocking to the beaches. After World War I, a National Guard base called Camp Hulen opened nearby. The camp would be taken over by the War Department in World War II, eventually accommodating almost 15,000 soldiers. The base was also the site of a POW camp during the war. In the years following the war, Camp Hulen was closed and in 1961 Hurricane Carla slammed into the coast causing major damage. Today, Palacios is a quiet, pleasant seaside community of about 5,000. Home to about 400 shrimping boats, it has been called the Shrimp Capital of Texas. During my visit I found it quiet enough to enjoy its small-town tranquility but bustling enough to know it’s still alive and well. I had only planned on stopping for a few minutes to enjoy some sun by the water, and ended up staying most of the day, taking these photos, enjoying the views and chatting with the locals. I hope you enjoy these photos of Palacio, Texas, Matagorda County’s City by the Sea.
Hello Everyone, I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to post anything these last two weeks, but it’s been quite a strange time. Two weeks ago I was writing to you from Texas with every intention of pushing on with this journey, come what may. I was well stocked with food, water, fuel and everything else I needed to survive for at least a month if need be. I headed south to South Padre Island where I holed up for almost a week, keeping my distance from everyone and everything and trying to read enough to make some educated decisions about what to do next. The beach was beautiful, and warm, and quiet and I enjoyed my daily walks, reading my books and enjoying a private Happy Hour with my feet in the sand every day as the sun went down. As I came to understand the coronavirus, how it was likely to spread and the best ways to minimize the damage it would cause, I realized we were going to be in this for way longer than a couple of weeks. I also read a post from a friend of mine who had contracted the virus and what that experience was like. While he is on his way to a full recovery, I realized that what he went through was not something I wanted to experience while living in the back of my van in 80 degree temperatures. To compound the situation, one of my teeth broke the night I arrived on South Padre, and while I was lucky to be able to get an emergency root canal in nearby Brownsville, I got in on the last day the dentist would be open. I was blessed to get this taken care of, but it made me realize how precariously perched I was so far from home during a worldwide crisis. Reading more, I came to realize that the governor of Texas was not putting into place the appropriate measures and was lagging way behind other states in that regard. I also came to understand that while there were no reported cases in that part of Texas, there was also almost zero testing going on which created a false sense of security. That all being said, I was truly impressed with the measures the local governments were enacting there on South Padre and in surrounding towns, closing all non-essential businesses and laying out simple to understand policies to keep their citizens safe. Finally, the day before I was going to splurge for a hotel room for the night, clean up and write my weekly This Week post, that same local government issued a Shelter in Place order. I couldn’t pay for a hotel for weeks on end with no end in sight, and I couldn’t sit in my van all day either. I could move on, but with nothing open it would be somewhat futile so what would be the point? As difficult as the decision was, it became clear that heading towards home was the safest, most responsible decision, so we fueled up and started on the 30+ hour drive back to Washington D.C.
Hello Friends, boy what a difference a week makes, huh? Last week at this time things were very different than they are now. While the coronavirus was definitely making news a week ago, over the course of this week whole countries have been shut down. American travel restrictions have gone into place and cities have started to shut down non-essential businesses. Grocery shelves are bare across the country and while panic hasn’t set in yet, at least here in Texas, some of the big cities on the coasts are on high alert. New phrases like “social distancing” and “self-quarantine” have entered our lexicons, and people are, and should be worried. To read about my plans and what life has been like this week and also to get an understanding of the importance of some of the public buildings I use on a regular basis, please be sure you read my post on the coronavirus HERE. I was also sad this week to see that the Trace Theater in Port Gibson, Mississippi, which I had photographed just a few weeks ago, had caught fire and burned out pretty badly. In addition, it was the 9 year anniversary of the tsunami which rocked Japan and started the Fukushima mess - another tragedy I lived through as I was teaching in rural southern Japan at the time. It’s been a tough week out here. I decided to finally finish watching Treme, the HBO show about the rebuilding of New Orleans after Katrina, something else I was a part of for two years, and it reminded me that this too shall pass and soon this will just be a memory.
Very soon after I hit “Publish” on last week’s This Week on the Road post, my friend Christian called to tell me the Houston Rodeo had been cancelled for the rest of its run over concerns regarding the coronavirus. I’ll admit I was pretty disappointed because I was looking forward to it, but it seems now like it was for the best. There will be other rodeos in the future, and better safe than sorry in a case like this.
When I found out about the rodeo, I decided to pack up and head out of town. I made my way south to Galveston Island on the Gulf Coast. I had spent some time in Galveston before, but many years ago. It’s a beautiful place with an old, historic city on the bay side and a decent beach on the gulf side
