Archive for the ‘Travel’ Category
Chattahoochee Trimaran Follows Different Beat
By Sandy Katz
Mature Life Features
COLUMBUS, Ga. — A stroll along the Chattahoochee Riverwalk, a 12-mile linear park along the river, is a good way to get acquainted with this city and its history.
The Chattahoochee River slips along Georgia’s southwestern edge, separating it from Alabama. Hundreds of stern- and side-wheelers plied these waters between 1828 and 1939 servicing 240 landings between Columbus and Apalachicola, Fla.
The city’s 30-block Historic District houses everything from Civil War artifacts to one-of-a-kind Victorian structures. Heritage Corner, where walking tours begin, includes a cottage occupied by Dr. John Stith Pemberton, the originator of the Coca-Cola formula, and his family in the mid-19th century. Among the exhibits at the Coca-Cola Space Science Center is a Challenger Learning Center, one of several established after the 1986 shuttle disaster.
A more down-to-earth learning experience awaited us at Oxbow Meadows Environmental Learning Center. A self-guided trail on the former land-fill site led us through an area where animal and plant species that had disappeared have been reintroduced.
The Chattahoochee Indian Heritage Center in nearby Fort Mitchell celebrates the culture of tribes in this river valley from prehistoric times to the 1830s. From, there we headed to the National Infantry Museum at Fort Benning, a few miles south here that displays a collection of hardware used by Army infantrymen over the past three centuries. The Port Columbus Civil War Naval Center opened in early 2001 offers a comprehensive look at navies of that conflict.
On a trip down the Chattahoochee aboard the 42-foot trimaran, Dragonfly, we learned the lore of the region from historian/story-teller William “Billy” Winn. We were told about the Trail of Tears that followed an 1838 government edict to move more than 15,000 Cherokee and other Native Americans from their ancestral home the eastern states to areas in the West. After being collected in concentration camps, they were forced to trek nearly 1,000 miles to the Oklahoma Territory during a harsh winter. Thousands died of hunger, dysentery and exposure. The Native American description of the journey, “Nunahi-Duna-Dlo-Hili-I,” translates to “The Trail Where They Died.”
We disembarked at Florence Marine State Park and rode a motorcoach to Westville, near Lumkin, Ga., that’s a living museum. The village bustled with circa 1850s activities, from gingerbread-making to cooking sausage biscuits over a wood stove along with blacksmithing, quilting. and woodworking in the authentically restored buildings.
Then it was on to Georgia’s Little Grand Canyon, a series of defiles officially called Providence Canyon with miles of trails amid a kaleidoscope of earth colors and wildflowers, before returning to the Dragonfly and heading to a 600-year-old Indian village the following day. Called the Rood Creek Indian Mounds, it’s a large ceremonial center with nine temple mounds fortified by a pair of moats where its chief/priest lived in a temple atop the highest mound overlooking a ceremonial plaza.
Our downriver ride ended at the Eufaula National Wildlife Refuge, an 11,160-acre reserve that is a favorite place for waterfowl and other species of migratory and resident birds. One can take a self-guided drive, stroll an interpretive trail, and climb an observation tower to bring you up close and personal with nature in this area.
Columbus Riverwalk photo courtesy of Columbus Convention and Visitors Bureau
Slowing Down is Part of Mature Motorists’ Manual
By Cecil Scaglione
Mature Life Features
The “get ’em off the road” gang is after aging drivers again.
This happens every time anyone behind the wheel 75 or older gets into an accident. The more major the mishap, the more media coverage, and the louder the argument about yanking all silver-haired vehicle operators off the road.
Take away their licenses. Test them every year. Give ‘em a walker and let ‘em go.
They point to statistics that confirm their claim that senior drivers are the second-most accident-prone segment of American’s motoring public. That may be, but the single-most road-risky group are teen-aged drivers and no one suggests taking away their licenses when a group of teens are killed or maimed when their overloaded vehicle rolls over or smashes into another.
Detractors of senior drivers suggest taking driving licenses away at a certain age. How about holding back drivers’ licenses to young people until they reach a certain age? Neither of these suggestions make sense. Just as there is a majority of older drivers who pose no hazard on the road, the same is true of teen drivers.
So age is not the problem.
The problem is common sense and competence behind the wheel.
It’s been estimated that more than 20 percent – that’s one out of five – of the nation’s drivers will be older than 65 by 2030. Results of a Massachusetts Institute of Technology study indicate that most — not all, most — older drivers limit or stop driving as they perceive their capabilities diminishing.
About 70 percent of more than 3,800 50-years-and-older drivers queried said they restricted their driving in a variety of ways. These included bad weather, heavy traffic, rush hour, at night, long distances, and freeways. Older drivers apparently develop strategies to compensate for failing vision, slower reflexes, stiffer joints, and medication, according to researchers. One thing they discovered was that older drivers are more at risk for injury to themselves as they grow fragile with age.
The transportation needs of some 70 percent of the people in this country who live in the suburbs or rural areas are a major hurdle to such simple solutions as yanking seniors out of their cars and forcing them into buses, subways, trolleys, and trains.
It’s also been proclaimed that the cost of car payments, auto insurance, fuel, upkeep, and maintenance can buy a lot of taxi-cab rides. But that alternative is not always available.
Pundits, politicians, and protestors are finding some common ground on mandating regular testing for drivers past a certain age. Older drivers can help their cause by supporting physical improvements such as signs that are larger and less complex, improved lighting and enhanced visibility at intersections, and remedial-driving programs.
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2004
Timeless Melbourne Keeps Up With the Times
By Tom Morrow
Mature Life Features
MELBOURNE —- A visit to Melbourne, Australia’s second-largest city, is more than just a jaunt 600 miles south from its big brother, Sydney. It’s a leap back to the mid-20th-century of electric-powered trolley cars and a Victorian England ambience emanating from government buildings and churches that trumpet the town’s history from amidst its gleaming new high-rise complexes.
An age-old tradition in Melbourne is meeting with friends at the copper-domed Flinders Street Station for a day of shopping and dining. This Victorian/Edwardian-designed structure built in 1910 is the most popular gathering place in this city of 4 million. All of the city’s suburban and cross-country trains flow into this terminal overlooking the Yarra River that runs north-south through the city. The Victoria state government launched a $1 million international design competition that closes Aug. 1, 2012, to refresh and rejuvenate this iconic hub.
Melbourne is the capital of the state of Victoria and is to Sydney what San Francisco is to Los Angeles. Like the City by the Bay, it offers just about any type of cuisine to satisfy both gourmet and gourmand. You’ll seldom meet a stranger here. Nearly everyone is eager to visit with visitors and ask if they’re enjoying the city and country. Melbourne offers everything you can buy in Sydney at lower prices. A new downtown showpiece is the sprawling riverside Crown Entertainment Complex, which includes a large casino, luxury hotel, restaurants, and shopping center with such luxury labels as Gucci, Prada, and Versace.
While half of the Australian population of 20 million live in the Sydney and Melbourne metropolitan areas, there is an abundance of wild life and open spaces. The best place to see most of the fauna native to this continent is the Healesville Wildlife Sanctuary 35 miles northeast of Melbourne. You can drive there, but beware of a traffic twist besides having to adjust to the left side of the road. There are toll roads in the freeway system but no toll booths. Maneuvering your way through this system even gives residents rashes so check online and with your rental-car agency to see about prepaid passes and other methods of payment.
Much of Australia is still what early America was like several decades ago — rugged with non-paved roads. Guide books caution about passing Outback “road trains.” These are huge trucks pulling three and four trailers. That’s how remote regions of the nation get their supplies.
It might take a while to learn about their games, which are mainly Old World — cricket, soccer and rugby. They also play and watch basketball, baseball, and football — they call it “gridiron” — but the national passion each fall and winter is Australian Rules Football. It’s a cross between rugby and soccer with just enough gridiron tossed in to create an exciting contact sport the locals call “Footy.”
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2003
Baltimore Crab Lovers Take the Cake
By Beverly Rahn Scaglione
Mature Life Features
Baltimore’s Washington Square
— Cecil Scaglione photo
BALTIMORE — It was time to test the proclamation that this town on the Patapsco River is the “Crab Cake Capital of the Continent.” We’d sampled crab cakes over the years prepared in kitchens throughout Pennsylvania, New York, Louisiana, California, Washington and Virginia, to mention a few. Our only rule was: eschew any that involved the “F” word – frozen.
We set up our command post in the Peabody Court Hotel perched on the edge of Washington Square, the platform for the nation’s first official monument to our first president that caps the tony Mount Vernon District. You can climb the 228 steps inside the 178-foot white marble memorial for $1. It was built in 1829 by Robert Mills, the same man who a couple of decades later designed the D.C. obelisk honoring Washington.
We strolled south past sauces and scents of the world emanating from restaurants along a dozen blocks of Charles Street leading to the waterfront’s inner harbor. We initiated our crab-cake mission at Phillips Harborplace restaurant. This outlet is part of the family firm that opened its first dining room in 1956 and currently makes more than 100,000 crab cakes a day for distribution around the globe.
As we munched on the signature miniature crab cakes and a soft-shell-crab sandwich, our server explained that the key to these seafood succulents is simple: “They’re 98 percent crab meat and prepared with tender loving care.”
Back at our hotel, we crossed the square to Mount Vernon Place Methodist Church to read the wall-mounted plaque commemorating it as the site of Francis Scott Key’s death. As we ambled back to the hotel, a relaxing resident hailed us from the stoop of his townhouse and, after opening courtesies, said Phillips’ crab cakes were atop his list. He also referred us to Little Italy, eight inner-city square blocks that boast more than two dozen restaurants.
“I’ve never had a bad meal in Little Italy,” he said. He just finds a restaurant that isn’t busy “and get served well because the competition is so keen.” We decided to try the crab cakes at Aldo’s restaurant, which he and others recommended highly. It was our first jumbo-lump kind. No one worth their crab-cake credentials will settle for less. Every crab has two large cartilage-free muscles, one on each side, that power and propel their rear fins. These are used for the top-of-the-line jumbo-lump crab cakes.
The next morning, we trundled back down to the bayfront where the tall ship USS Constellation – America’s last all-sail warship – anchors the revitalized harbor. We hopped onto one of the water taxis that depot there.
Our first stop was Tide Point, where we boarded a jitney to Fort McHenry, the inspiration for our national anthem. The garrison at this fort three miles from the city’s commercial core rebuffed an attack by the British fleet in September 1814. The 25-hour siege was witnessed by a young attorney named Francis Scott Key. When he saw the 32-foot U.S. banner still blowing in the wind behind the fort’s cannons after the British departed, he wrote a poem called “The Defense of Fort McHenry.” The words later were tacked onto the melody of a bawdy British beer-drinking ballad and became “The Star Spangled Banner.”
Back at Harborplace, we followed the red-brick road that wraps around the inlet past the National Aquarium and Maryland Science Center to get to the Rusty Scupper in our pursuit of crab-cake perfection. The crab cakes there were tanged with sweet mustard. As magnificent as these were, we had saved the best for our last day.
The unchallenged “Queen of Crab Cakes” works daily at the Lexington Market, which hasn’t closed its doors since 1792. This longest continuously operating market in the country is a 15-minute walk from the Peabody, but we toook a 10-minute detour through the Westminster Church burial grounds. Edgar Alan Poe’s grave is marked here by a concrete stone carved with a black bird and one of the writer’s most famous lines – “Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.'”
As we entered Lexington Market, Bill Devine was behind Faidley’s crustacean counter, which also sells muskrat and racoon during season. He introduced us to his wife, Nancy, whose grandfather opened the seafood stand in 1886. She was delighted to discuss her crab cakes. “Boiling takes the flavor and fat out of crabs,” she said, “so we steam them, or broil them. But my crab cakes are designed to be fried. That gives them the crusty exterior and moist interior. Fry them like a steak – very hot – to seal in the juices and flavors.” She said she makes the traditional claw-meat crab cakes as well as jumbo-lump.
“It takes about 24 crabs to make one pound of jumbo-lump crab meat. Each crab cake uses about six or seven ounces – whatever my hands can hold. They’re bigger than a baseball but smaller than a softball.”
The rest is Tender Loving Care. The results are Cosmic Crustacean Cuisine. And a new crab-cake rule: eschew them all until we return to Baltimore.
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2004
Poke Through the Past in Connecticut’s Farmington Valley
By Marlene Fanta Shyer
Mature Life Features
Seven gentle towns, tied together in a lesser-known region of Connecticut by proximity, commerce and a river, call themselves Farmington Valley and offer an easy weekend of history and art just 30 minutes on I-84 from the state capital, Hartford.
A car is a must to navigate Routes 44, 10 and 4, the area’s main arteries, which are less highways than country roads bordered by foliage and wide lawns instead of neon, American flags instead of billboards as they meander through Avon and Simsbury, Canton, Farmington, Granby, East Granby and New Hartford,
Our first stop was the sparkling white 1771 First Church of Christ in Farmington, famous
for its role in the saga of the slave-ship Amistad. In 1841, the Africans who arrived on this ship as slaves and who were freed through the efforts of John Quincy Adams, were sent to this area
because of its central location and geographical proximity to Hartford, then a transportation hub.
The newly freed men and women attended weekly services at this Congregational church, at
which town meetings to determine their fate were also held. In these pews sat the people who
raised the funds that allowed the Sierra Leone natives to return home. The minister, the avowed abolitionist Rev. Noah Porter, was the father of Sarah Porter, who later founded Miss Porter’s School. The school, which includes the late Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis among its alumna, is the church’s neighbor on Main Street.
A short drive away on Mountain Road is the Hill-Stead Museum, the jewel in the
local crown, that was the private residence of the Pope family who intended to use it as a
retirement home. Designed by their architect daughter, Theodate Pope, and built in 1901 on
152 acres, it stands as it stood then, complete with its first edition of Samuel Johnson’s dictionary
in the library, and a museum-caliber collection of art on its walls. In the midst of eclectic household furnishings, against a backdrop of wood paneling and wallpaper, hang the oils of Mary
Cassatt, Whistler, Degas, and Manet. There is so much detail in the decorative arts here, so many prints, clocks, Wedgwood, vases – a Pixis Corinthian jar is 2,500 years old – that we almost overlooked the Dürer etchings and renowned Monet paintings of grain stacks in the main drawing room.
To pick up treasures for your own homestead, head for Collinsville Center. Antique shops around here are more common than pedestrians, but the Collinsville Antiques Co. allows the militant shopper a block-long, two-story experience. There is everything from a $5 Goldwater-for-President campaign pin and 1920s license plates for $20 to a $4,000 Maurer safe to hold these plums.
For more genteel antiquing, try the Balcony Antiques in Canton, voted Number One in the state of Connecticut. If you know what you’re doing – it’s even more fun if you don’t — raise your hand during the bidding wars every Saturday night at the Canton Barn every Saturday night for housefuls of the ordinary and the extraordinary. There are no holds barred and no bottom price on anything. Everything is sold. Nothing is held back. But credit cards are not accepted. To learn more, go on line to http://www.cantonbarn.com.
For a proper dinner before all the action, head for the 1780 Pettibone Tavern in Simsbury, where you’re sure to hear about the on-site ghost of Abigail Pettibone, who was beheaded by her husband, and the 4,000 bottles of wine in the cellar. You can sit down to a filet mignon accompanied with crab meat and asparagus or a glazed salmon, or sit at the bar and order some steamers with butter.
One of the many ways to work off the good eating in Farmington Valley is a hike to Heublein Tower, which was the homestead of food-and-beverage magnate Gilbert Heublein. He built the 875-foot atop the highest point of Talcott so he could view most of central Connecticut. Or you can take a two-mile bike-hike along the Farmington River between Collinsville and Unionville. Tubing is popular when the weather’s hot and the water’s cool. Canoeing, fishing, and golf are all available.
So is shopping. It’s best in Old Avon Village, where the shops cluster and the words”candles” and “soaps” comes to mind. The tiny Petite Boutique may feel smaller than your bathroom but it’s packed full of hand-made jewelry and things the proprietor describes as “vintage” and “exotic”.
Vintage is a word very much at home in the Farmington Valley. It’s a getaway that brings one back to a time of fifes and drums. You may even have to stop to let a turtle cross a road. Or you might just want to slow down anyway. There’s probably an old cemetery or some other historical site just around the next bend.
For more information, go to www.farmingtonvalleyvisit.com.
(Farmington First Church of Christ Photo by S. Wacht, GeminEye Images)Mature Life Features, Copyright 2004
Memphis Ducks Add Color to “Home of the Blues”
By Sandy Katz
Mature Life Features
While Memphis calls itself the “Home of the Blues” and “Birthplace of Rock and Roll,” it retains an unhurried approach to life along with a healthy sense of humor. Nowhere is this more apparent than at the Peabody Hotel, a dignified local landmark that refuses to take itself seriously.
Twice a day, a flock of mallard ducks carry on a tradition dating back to the 1930s. The pampered Peabody poultry parade on a red carpet to the sound of a John Philip Sousa march on their way to the hotel lobby’s central fountain. After a day of frolicking and feasting on gourmet goodies, they waddle back home with the same ceremony.
The marching mallards are only one of many attractions in an around the hotel that’s the city’s social and business hub. Peabody Place, an indoor entertainment center next door, has 22 movie screens, plenty of dining and shopping opportunities, and a museum that features changing exhibits from various eras.
In sharp contrast is the National Civil Rights Museum at the nearby Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. This facility is dedicated to letting the public understand the lessons of the civil-rights movement and its worldwide impact on the human-rights movements.
It features such pioneers as Rosa Parks in an exhibit that a Montgomery, Ala., 1955 city bus and walk past a lifelike statue of Rosa Parks sitting in a front seat, where “she didn’t belong.” Her action is a landmark in American civil-rights history.
The Rock ‘n’ Soul Museum in the Gibson Guitar Building in the Beale Street Entertainment District houses the Smithsonian Institution’s artifacts, photos, words and music that tell of the rebellious hearts and echo the times that shaped “the Memphis Sound” rising from its Mississippi Delta roots in the 1930s. You’ll see B.B. King’s first “Lucille” guitar, and costumes worn by such performers as Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley.
Called the holy ground of American music, Memphis produced the top 20 hit songs by Elvis, Otis Redding, B.B. King, Jerry Lee Lewis and other music legends..
The Chucalissa Museum, a National Historic Landmark combining an archaeological park with a museum. Re-created amidst nature trails and picnic areas is a pre-Columbian community – an abandoned Choctaw village where Native Americans lived long ago.
The region’s natural and cultural history comes alive in the Memphis Pink Palace Museum and IMAX displays. A major feature is the 1920s mansion of Clarence Saunders, whose Piggly Wiggly self-service grocery store was the forerunner of today’s supermarkets.
Memphis also claims to be the “Barbecue Capital of the World” and the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest is held here each May.
But it’s back to the Peabodyd Hotel for the crème de la crème of Memphis restaurants: the Mobil four-star Chez Philippe. Exotic sauces, aromatic spices and exquisite presentation make this gourmet establishment the epitome of classic French cuisine.
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2003
Carib Cuisine Tour Begins at Cruz Bay, St. John
By Cathy Jacob Gaffney
Mature Life Features
I don’t travel to the Caribbean to eat the same fare I can get back in the States so forgive me if I sound a bit snobbish. Unfortunately, the immense popularity of St. John, the smallest and least-developed of the three U.S. Virgin Islands, which also includes St. Thomas and St. Croix, has made this vacation paradise a victim of its own success.
Case in point: Over the past few decades, the swelling throngs of honeymooners and sun worshipers who flock here during the December-to-April peak season have fueled a demand for menus ballyhooing buffalo wings, jalapeno poppers and — gasp! — hamburgers
So what do we dyed-in-the-tastebud foodies, who enjoy exploring the culinary oases of down-home joints boasting true West Indies fare as well upscale venues home to aspiring young chefs making bold new statements of gastronomic Caribbean creativity, do?
We take strength from the good news that St. John still boasts a smattering of eateries from both sides of the spectrum. But it pays to know where to look.
Arguably, the oldest and most respected fine-dining spot on the island is the fusion-oriented Asolare, a romantic gem overlooking Cruz Bay. The view is spectacular at night and, as might be expected, reservations are a must. Executive Chef Jonathan Balak was busy in the kitchen knocking out globally-inspired versions and visions of the traditional Indian samosa during our visit. This is prepared with black beans, sautéed Honshimeji mushrooms and red-curry Spanish romesco sauce, all of which arrived at our table as easy on the eye as it was pleasing to the palette.
Asolare’s eight-item menu reflects Chef Jonathan’s emphasis on quality over quantity: “I’d rather have a few things and do them really, really well, than have a large menu any day.”
Hands-down the newest kid on the cutting-edge dining block is Cruz Bay’s La Plancha de Mar, a casual, airy den. A trio of young chefs and co-owners – Mike Prout, Jonathan Fritts and Jason Howard — prepares everything on a traditional Spanish-style flat-top grill and draws inspiration from the culinary traditions of both southern Spain and southern France. All of which explains the uncommon pairing of French-style moules fritte (mussels in saffron-fennel broth served with garlic-herb fries) on the same menu as a Spanish-flavored romesco-stuffed chicken and a dish called Deconstructed Paella (risotto served alongside a skewer of shellfish, chorizo sausage, and braised chicken in a paprika broth).
If the crab-claw-shaped pastry filled with parmesan-and-bleu-cheese mousse is on the menu, order it.
Another don’t-miss upscale spot is Coral Bay’s Sweet Plantains, which specializes nightly one of several rotating West Indies-style fusion cuisines, including French-Caribbean and Indo-Caribbean. The latter features a memorable cardamom-spiced tapioca dessert.
To enjoy bona-fide Caribbean flavors St. John’s inhabitants began creating at home more than a century ago requires a brief drive from Cruz Bay to Windy Level Restaurant. Owner Glycerus Hernan oversees a special board of time-honored family recipes handed down over the generations that include curried goat and Creole-stewed chicken (both served with rice and peas), oxtail, and a hearty side dish called Provisions — a mix of cassava, plantains, yuca and banana. Wednesday’s outdoor barbecue grill draws a colorful mix of local laborers and in-the-know visitors.
Tucked into the east end of St. John since 1979 is Vie’s Snack Shack, a roadside stop operated by 11th generation resident Violet “Vie” Mahabir. On the menu are traditional island staples like garlic friend chicken and johnnycake, a New Orleans-style beignet that replaces powdered sugar with syrup.
Back in Coral Bay is Sylvia’s New Clean Plate Kitchen. Bob Marley plays on the stereo while St. Lucia native-owner Julietta Messon and her Jamaican-born cook Sylvia Nicholas woo patrons with tried-and-true West Indies staples ranging from jerk pork with bammie (cassava bread) to fungi (okra hush puppies) and Jamaica’s national dish of fresh salt fish and ackee. Wash it all down with a drink called Brush, a blend of bananas, molasses, strawberry and cream.
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2012
Photos by
James Gaffney
West Indies-style curried goat with bammie
Asolare’s samosa
Walla Walla Winds Through Washington History
Teapot Dome gas station operating
south of Walla Walla since 1922
By Sandy Katz
Mature Life Features
WALLA WALLA, Wash.—- This city of “many waters,” the name it got from the Cayuse Indians, sees itself as the cradle of Northwest history, partly because the state’s constitution was drafted here in the historic Reynolds Day. It’s also the 2001 winner of the Great American Main Street Award from the National Trust for Historic Preservation, and Sunset Magazine’s “Best Main Street in the West” title.
The frontier-era days are preserved in the Fort Walla Walla Museum. Situated on the 19th century military reserve, it showcases a life-size Lewis & Clark diorama, a 33-mule team, panoramic 1920s harvest mural, and a pioneer settlement of 16 buildings. Five large exhibit halls display a range of domestic, agricultural, commercial, and military items used by early residents. On Sundays, the museum features living history re-enactors in period costumes portraying lives of prominent Yakima Valley residents from the 1800s.
Nearby Dayton, an historic agricultural town, features the state’s oldest courthouse and depot, and has 83 homes on the National Historic Register.
An hour’s drive west of Walla Walla are the tri-cities of Pasco, Kennewick and Richland nestled in the heart of the state’s wine country. More than 50 wineries are clustered in a 50-mile radius at the southern tip of the 1.4-million acre Yakama Indian Reservation, known officially as the Yakama Nation. Just east of the reservation, on former Indian land, is the Hanford Atomic Energy Reservation that played a key role in the development of the world’s first atomic bomb in the 1940s. The Columbia River Exhibition of History, Science and Technology Museum in Richland showcases the area’s role in World War II’s Manhattan Project that produced the bomb as well as tells the story of the Columbia River basin and surrounding region. Exhibits deal with laser technology, robots, hazardous wastes, and the power of the harnessed atom.
Toppenish, 12 miles south of Yakima and the administrative center of the Yakama Nation, touts the slogan “Where the West Still Lives.” Once a center of Native American life until it was displaced by cattlemen, settlers, railroads, and farming, the town depicts its history in some 60 murals on the sides of buildings and walls.
The Yakama Nation Museum and Cultural Heritage Center features life-size dwellings of the Plateau People, dioramas, and exhibits augmented by narratives, music, and sound effects. The museum has a mannequin exhibit, “The Great Native American Leaders” and, through the nearby restaurant, can arrange tasting parties to sample such native food as fried bread and luk-a-meen (fish soup). A half-dozen tribal gatherings, known as powwows, held each year are open to the public
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2003
WHALE OF A PAST IN NANUCKET
By Pat Neisser, Mature Life Features
NANTUCKET, Mass. —- Time on this island is warped back to the 17th century whaling era.
This outcropping 30 miles off Cape Cod has gray- and white-shingled homes dating back more than a couple of hundred years, charming historic villages, ancient lighthouses, and miles of bike paths all wrapped up in pristine beaches.
Its popularity is such that traffic is at a standstill during July and August. Installing even one stop light drew the residents’ wrath, as did the idea of speed bumps. And limiting cars was a no-no to the Massachusetts Department of Transportation.
The time to come here is spring or fall. The very lowest rates are found during the “quiet season,” January through March, but many businesses are closed then. Spring, before tourists swarm over this 14-by-3 1/2-mile island, and fall, after they leave, offer stunning blue skies and cool crisp days on uncrowded cobblestone streets. Spring blooms into a bounty of colors. Fall’s crimson-colored leaves create a luxurious landscape. In either season, the island’s mood is relaxed. You’ll meet local residents and get to know the real Nantucket. Visitors are likely to include bird watchers as well as fishermen after striped bass and bluefish.
If feasible, leave your car on the mainland and take a flight or ferry here. Driving on the island is a nuisance. Shuttles, buses, and bikes do the job, and, mostly, you can walk. You can stroll through Nantucket Town where all the action is. Shops and restaurants dot the streets. Island specialities include scrimshaw (carved ivory), and gold and silver pendants called “Sailor’s Valentines” that once were made out of shells. Grass baskets and colorful sportswear are popular. During the cooler months, cable-knit sweaters and warm jackets are the norm.
Dining on the island is a particular pleasure. Among local specialties is the lobster-roll salad, famous along on the East Coast, as well as steaks and shellfish.
Whether you explore by yourself or take a tour, you’ll pass by cranberry bogs, through villages such as Siasconset (“Sconset” to the locals) clustered around the small bays, and fishermen plying the waters. There are some 800 restored homes and businesses built between 1690 and 1840 along with working lighthouses and historic museums.
The Nantucket Historical Association operates a series of museums and historic properties. Among them is the Whaling Museum, where you can learn the origin of the Nantucket Sleigh Ride.
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2003
Artists Color Taos’ Past
By Igor Lobanov and Silvia Shepard-Lobanov
Mature Life Features
TAOS, N. M. — Our earliest remembrance of this small town in northern New Mexico is of a quiet, dusty village that was a lodestone for painters, writers, and other free spirits. The year was 1940 and our family was spending the summer at a modest inn just off the main plaza. The clear air and bright sun at 7,000-feet on this high-desert plateau at the base of the Sangre de Christo Mountains produces an extraordinary quality of light.
Except when a rain squall sweeps in. One such remains in sharp memory. We had driven some 20 miles north of town on a dirt road that wound up a forested mountain slope to a five-room cabin 8,500 feet up. We were to have tea with Frieda Lawrence, widow of the controversial English novelist and poet D.H. Lawrence. The couple had lived on this peaceful forested slope for the portions of several years until shortly before his death from tuberculosis a decade earlier in France.
The ranch was the author’s respite for a troubled soul. He enjoyed cutting wood, hammering repairs to the building, baking bread, and galloping his horse through the woods. He even looked forward to milking his recalcitrant black-eyed cow, Susan, that would run away if he showed up wearing pants it did not like. Each morning, he could be found sitting under a tree, pen in hand, doing his writing.
“Lorenzo,” as Frieda called him, could be moody, joyful, loving or hateful — all in the same short period of time. Though he had traveled and lived over much of the world, his time here with the coterie of world-renowned people his presence drew — from Lillian Gish to Leopold Stokowski and Alduous Huxley to Margaret Sanger and many more — brought an ongoing artistic and intellectual richness to the community.
When we headed back to town, rain pelted the rutted track and our slipping and sliding car barely made it to the valley floor. On a return trip here in the winter of 1952, nighttime temperatures dropped below zero (Fahrenheit) making for chilly strolls through unheated galleries in the homes of some of its better known artists. To warm up there was the cozy bar in the Taos Inn where young novelist and former Korean War veteran Walter J. Sheldon played his guitar at one time to unwind from daily writing stints.
Taos has managed to weave its centuries-old Spanish and Native American cultures with a nationally recognized art colony. Painters Ernest Blumenschein and Bert Phillips arrived here from Paris in 1898 and founded the Taos Society of Artists that celebrates the community’s standing in the art world with annual festivals. This has created an expensive elements that include a sprinkling of upscale shops, well-lit galleries, fine restaurants, and ski resort said to equal Colorado’s Vail and Aspen.
One local official offered that Taos has “two industries – tourism and poverty.” The waiter who served you dinner last night may have created the art you purchased today.
South of town, you’ll find the 18th century adobe-walled San Francisco de Asis church celebrated in a series of Georgia O’Keeffe paintings. Three miles north of the central plaza is the 1,000-year-old Taos Pueblo (see photo), a World Heritage Site with small art colony of its own.
Mature Life Features, Copyright 2003
Mature Life Features 