Also Not Resolutions

The road ahead leads deeper into America.

Oh boy, I knew exactly what Jenna was talking about when she described gatherings of travel writers.  I call it the Commander McBragg syndrome. I always lose that game. I’ve never even been to Nepal.

I’ve seen more places than many people but not nearly as many as others. I hope to see more of the world before I’m done.

But something funny (not funny haha) happened to me earlier this year. As my husband merged our rented PT Cruiser onto the highway in Albuquerque at the start of a week-long road trip, I had a thrill of anticipation and realized that nothing makes me happier than hitting the road to look for America. That’s how my travel life started and I have come full circle back to it. I see my road ahead in the new decade winding ever more deeply into the geography and psyche of America.

I’ve seen a lot of our nation, more than many Americans, but I’ve only just begun. I hardly know the deep South (an upcoming trip to Savannah will help). Much of the middle of America remains mysterious to me. I yearn to know Nebraska and I’m consumed with curiosity about North Dakota.

And I’m ready to move on to some deep cuts. I’ve seen the Grand Canyon many times from the rim; now I want to raft it. I once spent about an hour in Baxter State Park in Maine (after a verrrrry long day of driving) and long to return and really see it. I’ve been to West Virginia twice; it’s a diamond in the rough that I need to know better.

I’m not making resolutions about where I’ll go and what I’ll see this year. Life has been complicated and stressful for several years and I’m not putting any unnecessary pressure on myself right now. My resolution is to permit myself to focus on the U.S.A.—which feels both exciting and like a relief. The world is so big … I probably won’t ever make it into the Century Club or come out on top with the Commander McBragg contingent. But I can get to know one place well, from sea to shining sea.

I look forward to having a fresh, shiny new decade in which to do it.

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New Year's Resolutions? Sort Of

It's a gaping hole in my U.S. travel experiences. Photo of Grand Canyon National Park courtesy of the National Park Service.

Last week I had drinks with a bunch of other travelish types. On the way there, the old nerves cropped up a bit. Get a gaggle of travel writers together and the conversation can turn competitive. Most know exactly how many countries and states and counties and tributaries they’ve visited and, yes, we do sit around discussing the oddest things we ever ate. (Mine: fried vein of cow udder in Sonora, Mexico. VERY bouncy.) I was feeling a bit off my game, hadn’t traveled all that much recently, and didn’t feel like playing what amounts to Travel Writer Risk.

But a funny thing happened on the way to my second bourbon. (Maker’s rocks. Thanks.) A bunch of us started talking about the places we hadn’t been in the U.S. The giant gaping holes in our closer-to-home travel experiences. It was fun. It felt like we were all admitting something a little dirty. I mean, a whole bunch of us hadn’t ever been to…wait for it…the Grand Canyon.

Thinking back on that conversation, I decided to make some travel resolutions. Normally, the whole New Year’s resolutions thing makes me cranky. I’m not a big fan of setting oneself up for failure. I’m perfectly capable of racking up failures without giving everybody I know advance notice of my plans. But with January just days away and my cross-country drive plans far from moving ahead, I might as well put a New Year’s resolutions spin on the whole shebang and, oh hell, toss in a few more.

So, my all-American travel resolutions for 2010:

1. Visit New Orleans. (Nope. Haven’t been. But I will admit that putting this on the list is pretty much like putting something on a to-do list after you’ve done it. My plane takes off for Louisiana at 6:30 a.m. on the 5th.)

2. Drive across the U.S. Live in Alaska for the summer. Drive back. (I will make this happen, dagnabit!)

3. Go to the Grand Canyon.

4. Go camping. (My family was not a camping family. But I think I could be a camping person. It’s time I got started. Got a tent I could borrow?)

5. Start my State Fair collection. I want to go to every State Fair. I haven’t been to any yet. (Yes. I know. I should be ashamed. Blah blah blah.)

6. See The Godfather. (OK, it’s not a travel resolution. But, really, a viewing is ridiculously overdue.)

OK, that’s enough for now. Any all-American travel resolutions on your list?

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Hope on the Boardwalk

I met Ojenga last January on the Atlantic City Boardwalk. On winter days, the seagulls outnumber the people wandering the boardwalk by about 1000 to one. But Ojenga’s out there drumming, day in day out, unless it’s really really freezing. When I met him, he’d just logged his 17th year on the boardwalk. Business had been pretty bad but Ojenga was hopeful. He was, easily, one of the most memorable people I met in 2009. His drumming, his hope, they made me feel better. So, with a new year approaching, I thought you might need a dose of Ojenga in your own life.

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I Know to You it May Sound Strange, But I Wish It Would Snow

On Saturday, my friend Cathy posted on Facebook this photo of her Pennsylvania neighborhood.

Photo by Cathy Gaines Mifsud

This is what it looked like in my Texas neighborhood. The temperature was about 55 degrees.

Photo by Sophia Dembling

I’d rather be where Cathy is.

Golly, her photo made me homesick for the East Coast. It stirred in me a deep pang of recollection of hunkering down indoors while the world outside transforms. You wear the cuddliest clothes you have, curl up on the couch, watch movies, eat too much. The light through the windows is blue, you can practically feel the snow muffling the house and streets. You go out for a tromp through the pristine white, then retreat back to the warm womb of home.

I love Texas winters. I really do. Especially in February, the cruelest month in New York City, when it seems all the world has turned to slush and the last vestiges of summer warmth in your blood has long since been chilled.

But up there, the first snow is always a novel thrill. You fall in love with it all over again and forget how beaten down you’ll be by February.

Or maybe it’s just me. I’ve never spent a winter in a really cold, snowy place other than NYC. I’ve only visited. My friend Helen in Vermont posted this on her status line the other day: “Winter is finally here–four below this morning, colder tonight as the polar air digs in. I’m at the acceptance stage, but maybe should go back to being pissed.”

I wonder how people in North Dakota or Buffalo, New York feel about the first snowfall.

Well, at least Dallas isn’t as bad a New Orleans, Miami, and San Diego. December should not be sultry. That’s just wrong. We get a little snow. It doesn’t last, but it’s nice when it falls. We get temperatures cold enough to justify a fire. (Sometimes we build fires even when the temperature doesn’t justify it, leaving the door so the house doesn’t get too hot.) We get to wear sweaters, sometimes even jackets and gloves. So that’s nice.

But not as nice as this.

Photo by Cathy Gaines Mifsud

We’ll be skipping Three-fer Friday this week, what with Christmas and all, so Jenna will check in on Wednesday and I’ll see you next week. I wish you all lots of warm fuzzies for the holiday.

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Three-fer Friday: This (Really Interesting) Old House

Home for the holidays? After that’s all wrapped up, how about decompressing with a trip through one of our favorite historic houses? Though some people believe I’ll go to hell for this, you might even want to play one of my favorite historic house tour games: What’s that? Just pick some random item in a room–there’s usually good stuff sitting on the mantel–and ask the guide what it was used for. (It’s not really mean mean. I always smile when I ask the questions and I apologize when I ask a stumper.)

Joining us for this Three-fer Friday trip through America’s historic homes is Caroline Tiger, a Philadelphia-based freelance writer who writes about quite the wide range of topics but really loves writing about design, France, and Philadelphia. Do yourself a favor and give her super stylish blog, design-phan, a read.

The slightly overstated droop in its roof and deliberately exaggerated tapering of its sandstone walls give the structure a cartoonish look. Photo by barnyardbbs via Flickr (Creative Commons license).

The Wharton Esherick Museum on a forested hilltop in Valley Forge, PA, resembles a fairytale cottage. Esherick, a pioneer of the Studio Furniture movement, thought buildings should appear to grow from their surroundings.  His walls taper like trees.

Every beam, shelf, and piece of sculpture–gleaming from years and layers of boiled linseed oil–was crafted by Esherick while he lived and worked here from the 1920s till his death in 1970. The man had a sense of humor. A docent told me the sculpture of a young woman sheepishly covering her crotch (“Adolescence”) immortalizes his daughter’s embarrassment over her parents’clothing-optional lifestyle. His kids, who turned their father’s home into a museum, left everything as it was. A dogeared copy of Walden still occupies the bookshelf over his bed.–Caroline Tiger

Imagine yourself here. Photo by Sophia Dembling.

How do I choose a favorite? The glorious mansions of Newport, Rhode Island? New York’s Tenement Museum, where my great-uncle Sam Jaffe was born? (Cool, right?) Or back to Oklahoma and the Selman Guest Ranch, where I had breakfast one day last year. The cozy 1920s ranch house, set on 14,000 spectacular acres is filled with unpretentious memorabilia from 100 years of Selman ranchers (Sue Selman and her progeny currently run it). It is among the most evocative houses I’ve ever visited, redolent of Oklahoma history as lived by one family. I wandered the rooms while breakfast sizzled fragrantly on the griddle and snapshots from an imagined past flitted through my mind.–Sophia

One of the Biltmore's 43 bathrooms. Photo courtesty of southerntabitha via Flickr (Creative Commons license).

OK, so it stretches the definition of “house” a bit. But, two years after my visit to Asheville, North Carolina‘s Biltmore Estate for Land Rover Experience Driving School, I’m still daydreaming of the parties (some elegant, others raucous) I would love to throw there. As I passed through a few dozen of the house’s 250 rooms, it was easy to picture groups of friends gathered in the library (stocked with 10,000 books), throwing strikes in the bowling alley, or drinking it up in the basement room that Cornelia Vanderbilt and friends painted with crazy murals during their own party. Though, as far as houses go, the Biltmore is planted firmly at massive–it’s America’s largest private home–it felt surprisingly cozy. And, oh, that library.–Jenna

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A Donut Story

There's a good reason why this statue is so little known.

Remember that old travel magazine I found?

In it was a two-page spread titled “America’s Little Known Statues” by Frank L. Remington. Among the statues highlighted is this donutty monument, with the caption:

“In Camden, Maine stands a monument to Henry Brewster who invented the hole in the doughnut after he heard his mother remark that the centers never baked through—thus setting a style for America.”

Wow. A statue honoring donuts? How had I missed this in all those summers in Maine? I had to know more, perhaps plan a pilgrimage. I contacted the Camden chamber of commerce to learn if the statue still stands. They connected me with the Walsh History Center at the Camden library where archivist Heather Bilodeau got on the case. And the plot thickened.

Sadly,  Camden has no donut statue. “According to local legend, Captain Hanson Crockett Gregory of Glen Cove, Maine was the inventor of the donut hole in 1847, and there is a plaque on Gregory’s homestead that tells the story,” Heather wrote to me. “One of my favorite locals (sadly now deceased) was Captain Gregory’s direct descendant, by the name of Fred Crockett. He compiled no less than 13 volumes of information on the donut story, and actually debated esteemed Hyannis attorney Henry Ellis at the 1940 World’s Fair at the Hotel Astor in New York City to defend Captain Gregory’s honor as the ‘true inventor’ of the donut hole.”

Interesting. But then, what of the photo? I sent it to Heather and she dug even deeper…

“I just came across an article in the Boston Herald, Oct 26, 1941, titled “Crisis Near in Battle of the Doughnut-Hole!” she soon responded. “ Victor Kahill, a sculptor from Portland, Maine, created the clay model pictured. The plan was to erect a bronze statue of Captain Gregory on top of Mt. Battie here in Camden. Much was made of the plans for this event, attracting the attention of attorney Henry Ellis. He claimed that his grandmother Sally Grenough, who was part Indian, told him the ‘true’ story that an Indian had shot an arrow through a frycake to scare the woman cooking it. Apparently Victor Kahill, seeing his chance of casting Captain Gregory go up in smoke, contacted Henry Ellis for an image of the Indian so he could revise the statue. Ellis replied rather tartly, ‘I can only show you where he is buried. Indians not interested in sculpting, only scalping.’” (With apologies to my Native American readers…)

So, there we have it, friends: The kind of important information you will learn ONLY here, on Flyover America.

And what do we learn from this?

1. The invention of the donut hole is hotly contested.
2. It is possible to write 13 volumes on pretty much anything.
3. Travel writers can’t be trusted

Many thanks to Heather Bilodeau.

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Your Photo in America's Wallets

This gaggle of birds thinks you oughta enter the contest. (2010 National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Pass)

Though I spend a fair bit of my procrastination free time wandering photography websites, the fine print has scared me away from pretty much every amateur photography contest I’ve considered entering. Clause 39 usually features something about your likeness in perpetuity and that they own the back left tire of your car. Or something. But, another, um, hobby is poking around the National Park Service site. On my latest ramble through the NPS internet wilderness, I stopped off to consider the National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Pass. At 80 bucks, it’s a big-time bargain. It gets you (and whichever three people you take with you in your auto) into all of the parks for the next year. A powerful thing to slip into your wallet, eh?

So, after pondering that bit of beauty for a while, I scrolled down the where-you-buy-it page. There it was: the photography contest of my dreams. I figured you might wanna know about it, too. Win the Share the Experience Official Federal Recreation Lands Photo Contest and they’ll put your photo on the 2011 National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Pass. Seriously, I think that’s just about the coolest photo contest I’ve ever come across. I don’t even care what the fine print says. They can have my back left tire. Hell, take the whole car. (OK, I don’t own a car.) Oh, the winner also gets a camera and a trip to the federal recreation area of her choice. Deadline for entries is December 31, 2009.

Good stuff, right?

Need inspiration? Check out the past winners.

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If You're Going to Buy Us a Goofy Souvenir, Make It Something Like This

We’re none of us immune to the pull of the gift shop. I’m a sucker for souvenirs, though I choose carefully. It’s a thin line between charming and cheesy. I don’t mind crossing it, but with care. So if you’re thinking about getting us a little something while you exit through the gift shop, today’s threefer will give you some ideas.

Joining us today is our buddy Rob Verger, who once spent 24 hours in Kennedy Airport for a story. We met Rob when we were all blogging for World Hum, where he still contributes articles and slide shows. Rob also has chatted up Buzz Aldrin and Malcolm Gladwell for Boston Globe articles, and he has taught undergraduate writing at Columbia University.

***

PhD theses could be written about contradictions like this souvenir Eskimo knife: “The Packaging of the Idea of the Authentic.” Photo by Rob Verger.

When I was young, my family and I took a trip to Alaska organized by Princess Cruises: it involved a train, a cruise that edged up to glaciers, and stops at touristy places designed to capture the frontier experience. I still have a souvenir from that trip: an ulu knife, the traditional knife of the Eskimos. I must have gotten it on the train. The funny thing about it is that it’s a replica of a practical device—an “authentic” tool of the Eskimos—packaged for tourists. PhD theses have probably been written about such contradictions. But I don’t care. It’s a cool, cheesy souvenir, and when I was a kid I was in love with the idea of Alaska that was captured by the knife. Actually, I’m still in love with the idea of Alaska. —Rob

Waiting for Old Faithful. NPS photo by Ed Austin & Herb Jones; 1987.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve brought more than a few things home from trips. But if you happen to pass through a gift shop at Yellowstone in the near future, could you pick up Old Faithful salt-and-pepper shakers for me? I’m still mourning the loss of the pair my stupid ex broke. While I wouldn’t mind owning this nifty antique set, the ones I REALLY want are the hokey cartoony ones that make the geyser blast look like a big white mushroom. Sadly, the Yellowstone General Store does not sell them on their site. They should swap them into the spot now occupied by the bear wine caddy. That thing is hideous.–Jenna

My favored souvenir these days is a patriotic mug from wonderful Woodward Oklahoma.

I’m pragmatic. I’m not big on stuff that just sits around looking cute. I like my tsotskes to work for me, to serve a purpose. Refrigerator magnets. Tote bags. Dish towels. Right now, I’m into mugs. Among my souvenirs is a “Votes for Women” mug from Newport, RI and a Veselka mug from the old country, NYC’s East Village. My current favorite is “America at Its Best” from Woodward, OK. It’s got flag-waving children and everything. Unlike bric-a-brac that sit behind glass, practical souvenirs are transient. Towels wear out, mugs break. I’m always sad when that happens. Then I buy new ones on new trips.–Sophia

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Travelers Roasting by an Open Fire

I’m a big fan of the fireplace. If my hotel room has a fireplace, I make time to sit in front of it no matter how much seeing and doing I’ve done all day. Forget Jacuzzi tubs. They take forever to fill and sound like an idling jet-engine. Go for the fireplace instead.

When I travel on press junkets, I’m usually given very nice rooms. On my own, I’m not too hoity-toity for Red Roof Inn. Here’s my advice for your vacation dollar: If you’re traveling for adventure or a lark, the room doesn’t matter. But for an indulgent weekend, cut back elsewhere and spring for a nice room. With a fireplace.

I could barely tear myself away from my room at the Blacksmith Inn in Bailey’s Harbor, Wisconsin recently. A fireplace, a view of Lake Michigan, complimentary tea, cookies and popcorn in the cozy lobby … where did I have to go that was so important?

La Posada de Santa Fe

My room with the kiva fireplace at La Posada de Santa Fe, was like a cozy cave to retreat to from the bustle of the Plaza, just blocks away. My room at the equally luxe El Monte Sagrado in Taos had a strangely perilous shower and tub in the center of the room, but it also had a big leather couch by a gas stove.

Inn at Cedar Falls outside. I was inside by the fireplace.

I’ve already reminisced numerous times about my day spent in front of the fire at the Inn at Cedar Falls, so I won’t mention it again here. Ditto the fire pit outside Keyah Grande, where I spent a lovely evening with a charming acquaintance and wine.

And finally leaving the hotel, I have a very tender (and admittedly tipsy) memory of sitting by the fire pit at Nepenthe Restaurant in Big Sur with a dear friend, long gone. The memory alone warms me.

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Handmade in the United States: A Gift Guide (From MT to WY)

That's what we're talking about. Photo courtesy of thelastminute via Flickr (Creative Commons license).

You still haven’t finished your shopping?* What am I going to do with you? Well, get to it. Here, handmade goods from or about or somehow just having to do with states from Montana on through to Wyoming. (Hankering for the AL to MO set? I got your back.)

Montana: Hmmm, I may need to read (or watch) Watership Down again after getting a look at this embroidered rabbit. Really, there’s nothing in the HAREandDRUM shop I wouldn’t want to own. $40

Nebraska: There’s nothing pedestrian (aside from the shop name) of this North Platte knitter’s goods. How cool is this kid’s dragon hat? $22

Nevada: Bookplates. Elegant bookplates. And you can personalize them. $8

New Hampshire: This bowl is an instant good mood. Seriously–it’s painted with little birds and they’re chit chatting. It’s precious but not in a cloying way. $40

New Jersey: Tell ’em where you’re from in style. (And if they still poke fun? Tell ’em where they can go.) OK, the charms aren’t handmade. They’re vintage. So sue me. $45

New Mexico: A chain and felted flower necklace. I never thought I would put the words tough and whimsy together but…now I can. (And I want.) $56

New York: Lovely little glass marble magnets! A reindeer print on a page of French philosophy! Ornaments decorated with vintage stamps from around the world! I want it all. Adrenaline rush over. Need a nap. $10, $10, 3 for $27

North Carolina: It’s the coffee table book of rings. Everybody will comment on it. Seriously. It’s a 2″-long brass cicada. And it’s beautiful. $34

North Dakota: If you give somebody this bag, you had best be ready to head out for the night. This is an out-on-the-town bag. Slate-blue leather with a black leather flower. Gor-geous! $60

Ohio: You don’t have to go all the way to Japan to buy a kokeshi doll. An artist in Dayton is turning out some oddly beautiful and very sweet versions of the little wooden dolls. Pick your favorite character from, wait for it, Battlestar Galactica or Star Wars. Wookie! Some ninjas, too. $20

Oklahoma: Oooooooo….that is one freakin’ cute sock monkey. Her name is Mae. (Did you really think I was going to start singing Oklahoma? So not.) $30

Oregon: Sassy knitted hat alert! Totally has that retro modern thing going on. (Wait, is there a retro modern thing going on? Or is that just in my head?) $18

Pennsylvania: Hand-engraved champagne glasses. The tree design will remind you of that long beautiful walk you took together…. Gack. They’re just pretty. Enjoy. $35.85

Rhode Island: I don’t usually like cat things but I do like these Woobie Kins. Yes, that’s right: Woobie Kins. They’re made of fleece. Kids will want to hug them. You might, too. Just trust me. Click. $20

South Carolina: Horses are nice. And a decorative horse cutout on a pillow is much easier to take care of than a real horse. (This one is ivory silk dupioni on gray wool flannel.) $20

South Dakota: This may be the only kangaroo in South Dakota. Catch him before he hops away on his tiny crocheted legs. $25

Tennessee: Don’t you dare forget Fido! And mebbe the peppermint hard tack biscuits will help with that little breath odor issue. $8.99

Texas: So, like, these people are really into narwhals and they put graphics of narwhals riding Segways onto t-shirts. And, yeah, you’ve gotta know somebody who needs one. $22

Utah: This little kid t-shirt has a cement truck on it. Maybe for the mini-me of the narwhal t-shirt guy in your life? $15

Vermont: Artist Ryan Fowler lives in Chicago for work but his bold graphic art prints all make it clear that he left his art, er, heart in Vermont. The lumberjack is just terrific. $90

Virginia: Old charms get gussied up. The Virginia Band & Orchestra Directors Association necklace has a bit of romance to it. $30

Washington: Possibly the most appealing slipper socks I have ever come across. And I’m a girl who likes her slipper socks. $30-$45

West Virginia: I don’t really know anybody who would want to wear a necklace hung with a (tiny) knitted felt sheep but I also don’t know anybody who wouldn’t want to own it. $35

Wisconsin: Used to be a funky button. Now it’s a cool ring. $12

Wyoming: Now this is the way to end this thing! Not only is it handmade but it’s made to go over your hand. And it even says “Made in the USA” right on it! Yup, it’s a barbecue mitt made out of an old lead shot bag. Durned good stuff. $15

*Don’t worry. I’d actually be horrified if you’d finished.

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