A Week and a Half Back...

A week and a half have passed since my return into Great Bend, the place in which I have resided since October of 2001.  Over the course of that time, I have seen to the repair of my car's passenger side front tire (at some point along my travels, I struck a nail, causing the slow leek I discovered in Paducah Kentucky) - or perhaps I should better say the replacement of said tire - I have reengaged a number of the people familiar to me in the Great Bend community; and I have encountered three stray kittens I tend to the best I am able.

Aside from those activities, little else has transpired of any note.  

The major sticking point is the business of moving my dad.  He has never cared for residing in Great Bend.  His only reason for living the past eleven years in the place has been my sister (he moved here during the summer of 2001, at the bequest of my sister) and myself.  I have been lax in venturing out into the world, perhaps a bit gun shy from my earlier failures involving such attempts; perhaps a bit lazy, wrapping myself in the ease of a comfortable existence.  

Now a crossroads is where I find myself upon life's road.  My travels of the past two months enlightened me to the reality of something more, something greater, something awaiting me to grasp it.  I proved to myself I could traverse the busy highways that may have troubled me in the past.  I even enjoyed the challenge of latching my car's tires onto a road and traveling as far as I was able.

There is more to life than mere comfort.  

First, though, my dad needs to be moved.  If I had carried any wisdom about me, I would have seen to his being moved prior to my trip.  With him located in a place more familiar to him, more comfortable to his needs, I easily would have pursued tracking down work and a life for myself in one of the places through which I passed.  Does that understanding I now have indicate I would return to where I visited?  I can't say.  I only know I love to travel.  I love to learn new things.  I thrive on the stories every place has to tell.  I would like to be the one to tell those stories.  As a solitary individual, it appears where I would best be suited.

First, though, comes my dad.  I can abandon him to a place for which he cares not.

My hope is to move him nearer his brother Jim or his sister Rosalie.  Both live along the eastern border of Kansas: my uncle in Paola Kansas, my aunt in Lowry City Missouri.  Dad has mentioned Topeka as where he would like to return, which I see as a terrible choice as he needs to be around family.

But if Topeka is where Dad wishes to be, Topeka is where I will move him.

The problem has been starting this proverbial ball rolling.  My original idea of him looking for some place when in Paola and Lowry City, it never came to any fruition.  He remained an extra night at Aunt Rosalies; he stayed one night at Uncle Jim's; and then he returned to Great Bend.  I do not understand it; thereby, I know not how to proceed.  I know I must proceed, as I feel my own existence drying up like a dead carcass left to rot on an old Western ghost-town plains.  I must propel him in this direction; otherwise, my own hopes to advance my life into the direction of a career where I can contribute something of worth to a business, to an enterprise being advanced, to ideas being proposed for the benefit of all - a place where hard work and effort are actually appreciated, rather than chastised and renounced - my own life is done.

Perhaps, such is selfish on my part - thinking of myself.  Perhaps, I should be more altruistic, sacrificing everything that I am so my dad can live out his life in whatever comfort and ease my steadfast and continual presence can bring.  

Or, perhaps, by attacking the challenging road which lies ahead (as I did venturing out on my trip and crisscrossing the many states of our country I did) and pursuing my dreams, I could deliver more happiness and contentment to my father than relegating myself backwards into the ease of a life of comfort. 

I just wish I could find some help.  Not a person who would manage all the heavy lifting for me; that's not the kind of help I need.  I need someone who knows the road and can offer directions along the correct path.  Over the course of my days, there have been too many wrong turns and missed turnoffs to ever say I have been traveling in the right direction.  How does one uncover work for which their experiences, and talents, and abilities are suited?  I haven't a clue.  But starting today, I will be once more venturing out onto the confusing and muddled Internet information highway hoping to spy some semblance of something somewhere.

In Labor... sort of

Okay.  I realize I am technically not "in labor", and women who go through labor, or who have been through labor, might become offended at my casual use of such a serious term.  I apologize if I do offend.  But as the circumstances of my foolish attempt at uploading a new video to YouTube has proven, over twelve hours of effort (effort I presumed was at its conclusion - only to be fooled into an additional twenty minutes of wait!), I find myself becoming rather stressed.  Thus, "in labor" seemed appropriate.

Being that a measure of time is availed to me, allow me a few moments to update on my progress. 

Yesterday morning, I drove away from Paducah Kentucky where I was enjoying a delightful mug of hot coffee with a roasted turkey and tomato pesto breakfast sandwich.  My original intent had been to leave there and drive to Lowry City Missouri where my aunt resides.  Then the thought crossed my mind I should venture off into a side trip and visit my nephew, who lived in Terre Haute Indiana.

Terre Haute is where my nephew has lived the past three years.  I have seen him only twice over the course of that time.  Unsure when I might be able to see him again, and being that my time was free and open as the sky overhead, I opted for this little side trip.

Terre Haute is where I compose this little sideline of a post, waiting and fretting over the exorbitant amount of time it is taking for this silly little nonsensical bit of video to upload.  But that's another issue.  I shouldn't allow myself to become so easily distracted.

While journeying on down the road, making my way here to Terre Haute yesterday, a new thought struck my mind.  Since I would be in the area, why not make another side trip into Springfield Illinois?  It is Abraham Lincoln's home.  It is where he is buried.  I did not stop the previous time I drove by in December of 2010 because of the need to rush, rush, rush..  This time I would make plans to stop.

I would already be there if not for the intrusion of the silly video.  If I had only uploaded a smaller version, it wouldn't be taking all day and all night to finish!

So, back on point, my intent, once I finally get gone from this motel where I am, is to depart, stop at Springfield; due to my late exit, I may stay in Springfield tonight, and then drift onto Lowry City to see my aunt.  Following that little adventure, it will be a visit to my uncle in Paola Kansas, followed by the journey back to Great Bend Kansas.  The video still has twelve minutes to go, but this is all I can think to write for now.

The Virginia Presidents

I begin this post sitting at a table within the comfortable environment of a Panera Bread.  The location is Paducah Kentucky, my first trip within this city - it rests comfortably on the other side of the Ohio River from where I am staying, the Motel 6 in Metropolis Illinois.  I aimed for the Motel 6 in Metropolis yesterday because of the price ( I required nothing more than a comfortable room; extravagant amenities were unnecessary) and my prior experience staying there.  They met what I required.

But I digress from the intent of this particular post.

My intent for this insane trip across half of the country was two-fold: to retrace the steps of my ancestors in their venture westward, as well as to search for opportunities in work.  I came up short on both ends, which prompted my movements into other directions.

me on the lawn of Monticello

When I decided it was time to begin heading back west, since my proximity to the commonwealth of Virginia (I still fail to comprehend "commonwealth" from "state") was only slight, I thought a trip to Charlottesville, to visit Thomas Jefferson's home of Monticello for a second time, was in order.  This single visit gradually transformed into a visit to all four Virginia presidents' homes: Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, James Madison, and George Washington.

me with Thomas Jefferson

Jeffferson and Monroe live within a couple of miles of one another.  The guide on the tour of Ash Lawn- Highland said it was because Monroe wished to live close to Jefferson, hence the reasoning for his building his home a mere two miles up the road.  There was never any reference to frequent visitations between the two presidents, like there was between Jefferson and Madison, who lived at Montpelier, thirty miles east of Monticello.  They are said to visit one another quite frequently.

me with James Monroe

Oddly, none of the guides, for any of the tours of Jefferson's, Monroe's, or Madison's ever referenced visitations either to or fro of George Washington.  Many things could account for this.  Washington's Mount Vernon home was another hundred miles further north.  Even within our own day and age, such a trip would be less than desired for anything other than absolute necessity.  Imagine the difficulties during Washington's time.  Then, of course, there is the consideration Washington died in 1799.  Jefferson lived on to 1826, while both Madison and Monroe lived into the 1830s.

Ash Lawn- Highland

Visiting all four of these homes was not something I considered until I recognized the ease of this opportunity availed me.  I was already in Charlottesville; it was a simple natural progression to visit Ash Lawn- Highland, which made a visit to Montpelier just as realistic.  Not knowing the next opportunity to visit the area, it was clearly imperative to do so now.  The question to visit Mount Vernon was not as simple.  A hundred miles north was not just down the road; and being that I had already visiting the historic site once, was it all that imperative to do so a second time?

James and Dolley Madison

James Madison's Temple at Montpelier

In my view, as one who firmly believes the lessons of history are moments necessary for teaching those of us here in the present what works in advancing towards the truth, and what is a tumbling deception into bondage and decay, learning from these four men who built this country into what is enjoyed today, it was vitally important to comprehend as much as was possible to the character and intent of these men as was possible - George Washington most notably, as it was his character which held this diverse and embattled nation together, but James Madison is not one to be overlooked in such a consideration.  As I learned through my visit to Montpelier, Madison spent months devouring book after book on history's prior examples of democratic republics.  Absent his wisdom on the matter, would the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia created what we live under today?  Every epoch needs an individual who will do what is right, despite any person affronts to himself. 

General George Washington

My previous paragraph may not mean much, as it might fall into the foolishness of the ramble and the rant.  My intent was merely to convey the importance of learning from the example of people of character, those who did what was right in spite of the obstacles thrown in their path.  All four of these men died in debt.  They served their new country to their own ruination.  I know both Monroe and Madison, their homes were sold.  Monticello was eventually sold to pay Thomas Jefferson's debts; while Mount Vernon, retained within the Washington Family into the 1850s, it was eventually sold as well.  

Mount Vernon facing the Potomac River

None of these four became filthy rich, as we know such individuals of today who selfish hoard their own gain.  None of the four Virginia presidents were poor either.  They lived at a stature better than most of their day, but neither their homes, nor their characters, were those of an American aristocracy that directed attention their way as kings, or princes, or exalted god-like figures to be worshiped and adored.  No, Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe were Americans who understood something we seemed to either have lost, or it is hidden, from the eyes of most of their American progenitors today.  And those are the lessons all of us need to imbibe through visiting their homes, learning of their lives, and experiencing what they saw and knew.

These were not my final visits to any of these historic places.  They are too important to forget...

me visiting Mount Vernon

Leaving Charlottesville...

It is a Sunday morning, the start to a new week.  I am seated in a Panera Bread located on the outskirts of Charlottesville Virginia, pondering where I have been and where I have yet to travel.  Two days ago when venturing out into the unknown of the Montpelier area (or so I assumed), the length of the road - highway, actually - the traffic involved, and the rolling nature of the road's topography - sorry, "highway" - added to what I presumed as 'distance'.  My final destination that day, the Ebenezer Bed & Breakfast, was located elsewhere, Madison Virgnia, to be precise; but the Panera Bread I have frequented, the same in which I now reside, though from a distance of what I knew as Charlottesville, it still retained the location.

What does any of this matter?  None.  I merely consider the blurring of lines between one town and the next as a fascinating matter.  In Kansas, with the wide open spaces stretching out into all directions, the definition between communities is as pronounced as a simple dark line of graphite drawn on any tree pulp-of-a-sheet of paper.  Venture outside of Kansas - or, perhaps, even the MidWest itself - and those definitions become less  pronounced - a matter of no real importance; and yet, it fascinates me nonetheless.

The topography of a region, coupled with the concentration of the people, will create a differing mindset to adapt to whatever challenges might arise.  This is a subtle reality lost on the minds of those sitting in positions of authority.  The Founding Fathers seemingly grasped this truth, establishing us not under a national government, where all affairs of state would be governed from one central governing authority; but rather, they created a federal system of each individual state, county, and town governing itself.

Not entirely sure how I drifted off into that political tangent.  Ideological rants interest me not, so hopefully I steered clear from any of that pap.

Now, as to my time spent of the past four days: I visited Monticello, for the second time, three days ago.  This was followed by a visit to Ash Lawn-Highland, the home to James Monroe; which was added to yesterday by my visit to Montpelier, the home of James Madison.  Tomorrow I will complete my presidential travels here in Virginia with a return to Mount Vernon, the home of George Washington, as it rests a merely one hundred miles from where I sit.

When in the area, how can one resist?

 In fact, I may begin writing those within the halls of Congress and suggest a thought to strike me after I saw Montpelier.  Members of Congress should make such a pilgrimage.  Every  member  of Congress should visit all four of these homes, learn of these men, and be inspired to emulate them.  None were perfect; not a single one of them were "gods" to worship and adore as always being in the right with what is good and true.  On the contrary,  each carried their own faults.   All fell into debt.  All owned slaves and struggled deeply with the conundrum of keeping people in bondage while demanding freedom for themselves.


Perhaps it was this obvious contradiction that caused them to more thoroughly muse over the truths of freedom.  When observing others in bondage, while grasping for freedom for yourselves, maybe such an environment aided them in grasping these issues with more clarity than we apparently hold today.  Whatever it was, all 535 members of that body in D.C. should make the pilgrimage, they should be willing to imbibe what these four men of America's past understood, and perhaps this country will continue as the home of the free...

Day Number Three - in the remarkably Verdant Landscape of Virginia

It is early morning - 8:29 am on the East Coast; 7:29 am back in the home state of Kansas.  I am, once more, seated at a comfortable table at the local  Panera Bread in Charlottesville Virginia.  I enjoy it here because the food is good; the coffee runs plentiful; and my time is always well spent.  I can sit here and write, or read, while people walk passed in their to and fro moments, sauntering off towards whatever will speak for their days.

Myself?  When I eventually depart from here, my plans are for an early lunch at a business called 'Michie's Tavern'.  I visited this period restaurant the last time I was here, December of 2010; and again, the food was good, the time was well spent, the experience was well worth it.high--

The place is not difficult to find, resting comfortably on the road leading to Monticello - perhaps a mile out.

Just thought I would take a moment to report on an observation I just had.  One characteristic to Panera Bread that might be one of the additional draws is its blend of both white collar and blue collar individuals.  Businessmen and workers, they both frequent these elegant, yet decidedly un-aristocratic halls.  I could quite easily envision some highfalutin CEO, with ironed socks, creased slacks, and starched shorts, spending time here, meeting with others, working on business, etc. etc.  Just a quick observation of things...

Back to my own business at hand - I am looking forward to my early lunch at Michie's Tavern, where they feed a soul well, before driving on down the same road to Ashland, President James Monroe's home.  Only God Himself knows when I will be able to return to the area.  The opportunities availed me, I need to take advantage of them.

Following my visit to Ashland, it's off to Montepelier in Orange Virginia, the home of another famous Founding Father and President of the United States, James Madison.  Again, it's all that "taking advantage of the opportunities availed thee".  In a practical sense, I should be heading west; but 'practical' never made for the interesting life.

One last thing, in regards to accommodations for this evening.  I discovered a nice bed & breakfast in the Montpelier area where they are offering a loft bedroom for an excellent price.  As B&Bs are always superior to the stale conditions of the square-roomed hotel room, and as the cabin I stayed in the past two nights at the KOA campground here was less than appealing (my previous two stays at other KOAs was exceptional), this showed itself as another opportunity not to be passed by.

Venturing Back Into Virginia

A half an hour shy of the noon hour, with a good cup of coffee by my side and an asiago cheese bagel providing me a measure of sustenance this first morning to a new month, I sit unsure how much time I may have to write, to consider, to muse over the possibilities to this day.  Panera Bread, where I sit here in Williamsburg Virginia, as I learned the hard way two weeks earlier, limits their Internet access during their peak hours.  Thus, this being the noon lunch hour, I may find myself cut off just as I begin.

Therefore, to begin...

The entire month of July saw me residing within the state of North Carolina.  For roughly a week, I occupied a cabin at the Smithfield/Raleigh KOA Campgrounds at Four Oaks.  No complaints.  The people were exceptional.  The accommodations, I found quite appealing.  From there, I moved on towards the coast, to Elizabeth City, the county seat for Pasquotank County, the area of the state where my family appears to have emerged.  I also found records for Sextons in Camden County, Tyrell County, and Perquimans County; but Pasquotank was the most common and thus the next area of my destination in sight.

Oddly - or expectantly, I don't know - locating accommodations within Elizabeth City, especially when funds run with frugal limitations, was no easy, simple task.  The Motel 6 where I stayed a few days in Metropolis Illinois, the girl there told me they leased their rooms out by the week, and the cost for such a lease from them ran just over $200.

This became my target cost.  Two hundreds dollars for a week's rent.  If I could locate a simple room, with a bathroom in tow, my time spent in Elizabeth City would be blessed by God as the right move, the correct direction, the on-course course.

The best price I came across, from two hours of calling this place, that place, and the other was $350.  I cared nothing for $350.  It seemed too much for a simple room with a bath.  Yet, if that was the best I could find, that was the best I could find.

When I pulled into the parking lot for the hotel offering this price, and finding myself extremely disappointed for what appeared less-than-satisfactory, I started calling numbers one more time.  This is when I came onto The Beechtree Inn, just outside of Hertford North Carolina, twenty miles from Elizabeth City, straight down highway 17.

Three-and-a-half weeks after that Saturday afternoon, I leave that place, extremely happy and pleased God led me to a place where I did not wish to leave.  Even after my genealogical quest which led me 1500 miles from the center of the state where I was born hit a treed-in-wall, I did not wish to leave.  The people were golden.  The environment was serene.  I hope one day comes when I can return.

This brings me to now, today, this very moment, just shy of noon with Panera filling its tables with occupying guests seeking food and sustenance.

It's lunchtime!  What else is one to expect?

Charlottesville Virginia, the home of Thomas Jefferson's Monticello, is only two hundred nineteen miles from The Beechtree Inn at Hertford North Carolina.  I saw Monticello a year and a half ago during the cold of the winter months.  I always sought to visit it during the more amenable weather of the spring or fall.

My single day of visiting its grounds those many cold months ago reminds me of my several weeks at Beechtree.  Perhaps, it's a Southern thing.  I don't know.  With God's help, I will reach it's borders today, visit it tomorrow, and maybe learn something to carry by my side as I venture further and farther in this expansive adventure called life.