Howdy, Y'All

Sorry for the title, just engaging in a mindless stereotype. Nobody said Howdy to us today, and only one person said Y'all, which I find to be a perfectly useful expression and use myself from time to time. There.

A long, full day, as my aching bones and muscles will prove. We saw Monticello, Ashland (James Monroe's home, they were neighbors), and went on a sort of winery tour. There's a winery in between the two presidents' homes, and we got there at 12:30. They offer tours on the hour, but it must be a quiet time of year for them, so one of the women gave us a personal tour. Brief, but very interesting, followed by a wine tasting as performed by the Hubs (as I am not currently imbibing), and it was very amusing to watch him as well as the process. He has been to wineries before, and selected a case-worth of Virginia wines when he was done, some for himself, some to give as gifts. There's some Christmas shopping done.

We actually made our first purchase of the trip last night, from a street vendor, but it's taking forever for the picture to send itself from the iPhone to the laptop (so to speak; it's coming over in email), so I may have to show you that tomorrow, unless it gets here before I post. Our hotel is adjacent to what is called Charlottesville's historic district, a pedestrian mall with mostly cute trendy shops and restaurants in what appear to be very old buildings. It's quite charming. This afternoon, I bought two little trays from a potter, also a street vendor; I could have bought one of each thing she had, but I just couldn't come up with people to give them to. We've also had our various meals at this mall so far, all of which have been good.

I'm resending the picture.

In the meantime, I haven't totally gone through all the other pictures I took today while we were out, but I have put them on the laptop -- I should have taken the other picture with the camera and copied it off the memory card, but no, I thought the other way would be faster -- so I can show you a couple. It is quite lovely here, although I don't know that any one part of the country is any more beautiful than any other part; each has something to offer. That may sound strange, coming as I do from a state which is generally reviled as ugly and smelly, but seriously, that's just one section of the New Jersey Turnpike that everybody passes through on the way into New York City; it's not statewide. Anyway, Virginia.

My pictures are not so much touristy (sorry, Art!) as they are nature-y, but here are a few:


This is the pedestrian mall/historic district.


This is one view of Monticello. It wasn't nearly as big as I expected it to be, although a lot of it -- the kitchen, the stables, the storerooms -- are actually underneath the house. And yes, much about the house is very ingenious, as we would expect from Jefferson.


The view, of course, is magnificent, which is why he built the house here.

More pictures when I get home, I think, and get them re-named, and some others turned sideways. And I'll have more by then, too, not to mention I'll retake the other one I wanted to show you, along with the commentary that goes with that.

One of the things I did indeed expect at Monticello was that the issue of slavery would come up. My friend Ray, who cuts my hair, was born and raised in Mississippi, and has very definite views on slavery and on growing up in the black/white society of the south. A few years ago, he was traveling in South Carolina, and took a tour of a restored plantation, somewhat against his will. Part of the tour was the slave quarters. I asked Ray what that was like, and he drew a breath and answered "Like touring Auschwitz." So I had that in mind.

The tour guide this morning raised the issue of the Jefferson's paradoxical relationship to slavery, a topic that would be hard to avoid there. Even touring the house, one cannot be unaware that it was built primarily by slave labor and maintained by slave labor. One the people in the tour group commented that she saw a TV show or a movie on Jefferson and that he "treated his slaves well." I silently gave thanks that K wasn't there with us, because I know she would have gone right up to the woman and said something like "THEY WERE SLAVES." Even the tour guide replied in kind, although not rudely, saying something about the lack of personal freedom, and so on. She also said that Jefferson himself was surprised that the slaves didn't sleep more, that at night in their own homes, they would sing and tell stories, and so on. As if he couldn't imagine that they would want a life beyond him.

Okay, now it's a long entry, and I have not read any news or anything, so I need to catch up a bit. California, I assume, has not fallen into the ocean since last I heard anything, which is good because my nephew and other fine folk live right there in San Diego, but seriously, what is up with that proposition 8 thing? Nephew tells me that San Diego is actually a very conservative area, what with the naval base there and all, but I would guess that he lives in the heart of wherever the hippie-type folk are living. Not enough of them to make a difference, sadly.

I sign off. Last night, the Hubs and I both fell asleep before nine. I think we may make it to ten tonight. (Crap, it's only eight now? I may have to reconsider that.)



WATCHING L/O :: ENTRY #1902
READING: The Nine by Jeffrey Toobin