Kane, Pennsylvania

On our road trip last month, we stayed in Kane, Pennsylvania. Jim discovered Elizabeth Wood Kane. Her husband, General Thomas Kane, fought in the Civil War, including at Gettysburg. We are familiar with him because he was a great protector and friend of the Latter-day Saints when the federal government was hostile to them. Kane and Brigham Young became friends and Brigham Young invited Thomas and Elizabeth to Utah. They took a road trip (much rougher than any I’ve ever been on) through Utah from Salt Lake City to St. George in southern Utah. Elizabeth wrote a memoir of the journey, Twelve Mormon Homes (1874).

Besides publishing books, Elizabeth was one of the first female students at the Pennsylvania Medical School. She was also a photographer, specializing in the outdoors when most photographers were creating indoor portraits.

After her husband died, Elizabeth built a mansion in Kane, Pennsylvania. Jim learned that this building is now a bed and breakfast and made a reservation. The rambling house creates quite an impression from the street.

We strolled to the preservation society, housed in an old train depot, and were disappointed that it was locked. A young family were there at the locked door. Then a young man came down the street with keys in his hand. He was planning to do some work in the office but invited us in to look around. (The building is usually only open in the evening.)

The young man was a wealth of information. Forsaking his own plans, he spent two hours with us, sharing his great love for his small town and its history. The preservation society also owns the Memorial Chapel where General Kane is buried. A larger-than-life statue of General Kane is in the front lawn. An identical bronze statue stands before the Utah State Capitol in Salt Lake City.

 

We got a huge slice of a small-town charm nestled near the Allegheny National Forest.

 

The old Pennsylvania license plates stated, "You have a friend in Pennsylvania"  Now it is true for us.

Home-making

 Today Jim and I drove to the home on the “little mountain” that Thomas Jefferson developed over 40 years of his life.

As a teenaged girl I was infatuated with the Thomas Jefferson of the movie, 1776, which was released as I was turning 16. Thomas Jefferson was tall (no boys in my junior high school were as tall as I was) and boyishly handsome with his red ponytail and knickers. Now I prefer the piercing blue eyes of William Daniels (John Adams), but in my girlish eyes it was all about Thomas and how he played the violin for his beautiful and beloved wife. 

Living in Massachusetts for the past 20 years, and influenced by my Adams-phil husband, my feelings for Jefferson had waned.

But Monticello rekindled my appreciation of the man. Jefferson designed so many thoughtful touches to his home. I love how he filled his entry hall with maps and objects of interest. He placed his bed in the wall, opening into both his study and bedroom, so convenient. And his books: he owned about 10,000. We moved closer to that number, buying four books in the gift shop at Monticello along with three at Mt. Vernon.

Both the tours of Mt. Vernon and Monticello emphasize the tremendous work that enslaved people were forced to do to create and maintain these plantations. I’m grateful for the ongoing work to document and bring to light the efforts of countless unnamed people and the need to live up to the ideals of American liberty for all people.

On a lighter note, I’m thinking about house decoration and home. We attended the Washington DC Temple open house with Xiomara and our grandchildren. Jim and I started our marriage there 43 years ago. We stayed with my oldest brother and his wife. Visiting my niece, a busy mother of five children, reminded both of us of raising our children. When R’el was about four, I helped her paint the alphabet, one upper-case and one lower-case letter on twenty-six manilla folders. We taped them together and posted them around the kitchen wall above our heads. We had no living room in those days, just a dedicated playroom with toy shelves and bookcases. How did we ever manage?

When younger moms have asked, I usually say, well, you only have 24 hours in a day. You do what you can and move forward.

But now we don’t have such a busy, demanding life. We can tour Virginia and let others raise children, focus on careers, sustain life. “Sustain life” is a phrase I latched on to in southern Indiana back in the eighties. At a church meeting a woman used it to describe her role as a mother of young children. There were certainly days where that was my goal. I hope I accomplished more; I know I tried.

As I sit here in Gordonsville, Virginia, listening to Bach on YouTube, I’m savoring the memory of our lunch today at La Michoacana restaurant we happened upon in Charlottesville and the sunshine on the mountaintop.

I’m looking forward to returning home and making it ever more of a home. Washington and Jefferson were gardeners: it’s time to plant mine.

Walking Paul Revere's Ride

    The other day, Jim walked to his barbershop in Lexington Center. He stopped at the Visitors’ Center and bought some history cards and a map of Paul Revere’s ride.

I had noticed that map last fall on a visit and was thrilled with his purchase.

Monday, Jim left for a 12-day road trip with his brother Jeff. Jeff’s wife, Nelly, died November 28. Jim and Jeff are both vaccinated, so the planned road trip (Salt Lake City to San Francisco and Seattle) commenced.

That afternoon, I walked the Minuteman Bike path to the historic Bedford Depot. I wandered around, finding the trailhead of the Concord Reformatory Trail and the Small-gauge Railway to Billerica. I passed by the Bedford Flag statue, my friend Brian's favorite monument.

In all, I walked 9.27 miles in under 3 hours.

I had spent Monday morning planning a bigger adventure: walking the length of Paul Revere’s ride. Tuesday morning I took an MBTA bus for the first time in well over a year, and the Red Line subway to North Station. I walked to Rachel and Paul Revere’s house in the North End and struck out for Lexington. I kept a comfortable pace, just under a 3-minute mile, and stopped for pictures of historic markers.

A detour to “Grandfather’s House” in Medford was delightful. It's a large Greek Revival house with imposing white columns. Tufts University owns the property and, yes, it is right on the Mystic River. There are even a few trees, though I'd hardly call it a woods.

I accidently got off High Street and walked over a mile longer than Paul’s ride. I’m usually a stickler for detail, but when I discovered my error, nearly 10 miles into the trek, I decided to press forward. Luckily I wasn't responsible to alert the residents of Medford's High Street between Woburn and Playstead Streets.

It was a delightful day, overcast and cool (48 degrees) to start, but the clouds lifted and much of the way was in complete sunshine. By walking, I got a real sense of the land and what Paul would have experienced (or rather, what the borrowed horse did).

The toughest section was climbing the glaciar-created Winter Hill in Somerville. The drumlin (an egg-shaped feature shaped by clay mounding under a glacier) has changed little since the 1630s, when Winter Hill Road was established (now called Broadway). Little geological change, but very different habitations and businesses.

    I saw no evidence of the “Winter Hill gang,” which was established in 1955 and, according to Wikipedia, is active in organized crime to this day. One of its most infamous members, Whitey Bulger, went into hiding in 1994 and was apprehended in Santa Monica, California in 2011. He was convicted of many crimes, including complicity in 19 murders.

           My feet started to get pretty sore around mile 13. A half-marathon is 13.1 miles and I've walked that distance many times. Last April 18th, I walked 16.59 miles in a 'virtual' half-marathon: a circuit to Bedford, Concord, Lincoln, and Lexington, including about 8 miles on the Battle Road in Concord.

    Now I've done 17.