I feel certain that some readers of my recently published collection “Magnolia Elegy: Place In the Edisto Fork” were surprised that I wrote of my father as I did. Among those surprised could be some that knew him as I did, others that knew him under different circumstances, and some that didn’t know him.

My surprise is, that, in the several months since publication, no one—my siblings included—has discussed with me my relationship with “Thomas,” and how I came to write about it. I hope that means that they read the book through, and saw me seem to reconcile—to come to terms—with my dominant, detached, parent.

As we each made our way through the past “Father’s Day,” we saw tributes in the media, social and mass, to Fathers past and present.

“I feel lucky not to have a father so wonderful that I feel I could never live up to his example or so terrible that he haunts me. Maybe it’s easier to become yourself in reaction to someone who’s neither evil nor saintly. Might the middling fathers be, in a practical sense, the best ones?” - Ada Calhoun

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The sausage that we made from our own Berkshire pigs when I was growing up, and during my young adulthood, was the best that I ever had. I thought once that we had found its equal, but it was temporary. It is difficult to sustain that kind of quality on a commercial scale. That flavor and quality became casualty to growth.

On the other hand, we recently picked up local pastured pork sausage and pork chops from Trofel, a health food store in Cheticamp, Nova Scotia, Canada that we had shopped in before and liked a lot. We were not disappointed. The meat was fresh and flavorful still as we remembered it from 5 years before. The quality had been sustained.

Perhaps you can’t go home again, but the sausage that we made on the farm when we were young can be revisited. You grind fresh lean meat from humanely raised and processed pigs, pigs with Berkshire and other breeds with high meat quality in their parentage, seasoned perfectly with salt, black pepper, red pepper and a suggestion of sage. It should contain only enough fat to grease the skillet when it cooks, and you will know it when you have arrived. It is consistently the freshest and leanest taste ever, and the best I ever had.

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Queen Esther “Rae” Franklin 1932 - 2016

-Photo courtesy of her family

Queen Esther became a member of our new small family 50 years ago in the late 1960s – Tanne and the children and I called her Rae. Rae quickly became our friend. It was a joy to watch Rae and Tanne and then Cile all work together like sisters. I have heard Tanne say that Rae was her best friend during those years, and that the hardest part of leaving the Place in 1984 was to leave Rae. I am sure that Cile would have said much the same. I wish that Cile could have written this piece.

Queen Esther is a wonderful name for her as it would have been for earlier kinswomen of hers such as: her Mother “Miss Julia” Muck Franklin; and her Aunts and Cousins Rhoda Franklin James, Emma Franklin Hilliard and Blanche Franklin Spell – tall, generous noble women.

Here in the Edisto Fork where Cooper Swamp, Snake Swamp and the Two Rivers get together to help form the ocean, families of all colors have toiled together for progress, hopefully (although slowly) progress for all. At times like this you might be tempted to quote William Faulkner about the past, and Dr. M. L. King about the future, but I would rather say that the love and friendship of Rae and her ancestors changed the lives of our families, that her molding of our children’s character has changed their lives and the lives of some of those around them, so that Rae in her life has contributed to Dr. King’s prophesy “. . . the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice”.

Queen Esther Franklin was a tall noble generous woman loved by Cile and Tanne and the children Penina, Oliver, Deaver and Tatum. We like to think that she loved us.

We will never forget her.

__________________

Adapted from reflections offered August 19, 2016 as part of the celebration gathering for Rae at Edisto Fork United Methodist Church.

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At long last.

“Magnolia Elegy: Place In the Edisto Fork” pays homage to an Agrarian time and place. It tells of the passing of that Time and the loss of that Place—undespairing, seeking no pity—through the eyes of the writer, the third generation of his placeholder family. It is memoir of a Place in the Lowcountry, and the inhabitants: animal, vegetable, and human—and how the land shaped them as they strove to shape the land.

The storyteller tells tales from the family oral tradition, and from the early writings of family members. He tells stories from his own memory and from theirs. He tells the stories that aren’t already lost, and alludes to those that have been lost. Throughout the telling he threads recognition of the unreliable nature of memory, particularly within family dynamic and dysfunction (coming to terms with a parent).

And, so goes five generations of story, seeded with the hopeful wisdom of the old ones, informed by reading and travel, presided over by Thomas—the elder—and his code of self-serving. The setting is a Place on the Orangeburg Scarp, in the plain of the Edisto River fork. The telling includes the lay of the land, the fields, the allure of the woods, the work performed, and the food—including recipes for the preparation of the mid-day meals.

“Magnolia Elegy: Place In the Edisto Fork” is available from your local independent bookseller, the publisher, and most of the other usual suspects.

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Novosibirsk in 2017 - Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia

When we headed out to the Maritimes last July (2012), the stuff I took with me included an MS Windows PC laptop so that I could remotely get the monthly bills out and production payroll done, and I took my new pride and joy MacBook Air for everything else. Soon after arriving in Nova Scotia the Windows laptop went graveyard dead (I did have a backup of everything) leaving me somewhat crippled in my ability to remotely access the Windows network at the office. The immediate problem was solved by implementation of Parallels Desktop on the MacBook, which amounts to running a Windows PC in a virtual partition on the Mac. That enabled me to run the business applications that I needed during our trip (Bay of Fundy, Cape Breton, and Newfoundland). Once I got home there was some fine tuning to do because my old HP LaserJet P1006 printer, notorious for not playing well with others (printer sharing), would not print correctly from the Parallels box.

I worked some on the phone with Parallels technical support. Then the case was escalated and I got a call from a Seattle area code and Dmitry was on the phone. We worked together for a while and the problem was solved. I asked Dmitry if he was in the Seattle area or off-shore. He laughed and said he was “half-way around the world in Siberia” and had me Google the Wikipedia link to Novosibirsk. I said OK I’ve got it and Dmitry said to me “see the tall building with the big banner to the left of the highway?”. I replied “Yes”. Dmitry said to me “the banner says Parallels - wave to me!”. We had a good laugh and I asked him about Lake Baikal and he said it is a long drive from Novosibirsk. I told him that I had long wished to visit Lake Baikal while riding on the Trans-Siberian Railway. He said “It is very cool ride…, lots of food, …and girls!”

I told him that I would call him when I got ready to get my ticket, and he could give me the tour.

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On a Sunday afternoon about 1950, we were in the backlot behind the stables. Thomas and his town friend Mac and I were witnessing the mating of a Berkshire boar and sow so that pedigree could be attested to and registration papers could be issued for any resulting piglets. The coupling of most farm animals is kind of wham-bam with no thank you ma’am, but that is not true with pigs who seem to enjoy it more. A lull in the conversation had been reached but that was never a problem with Mac who exclaimed; “you know Thomas, one thing that has got the right name is a hog . . . and another is a goose!”. I don’t recall any comment in response from Thomas. His eyes suddenly twinkled, but his lips remained closed and on the level.

As an Oldone I would not disagree with Mr. Mac and would add “ . . . and another is Atonement . . . and Redemption”.

Berkshire Sow and Pigs at the Farm circa 1950

Berkshire Boar on the job at the Farm circa 1950

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I have walked in eight decades – by accidents of birth – and my memory is, at best, incomplete. I feel certain that there are things that I have experienced and things that I have learned that I am mistaken about. Such is memory.

I often wish I could ask about events in our past and I think for a fleeting moment “I need to ask mother”. But Libba has been gone some decades.

I had long known the old Chinese proverb “When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground”. I have experienced the loss. I then learned that it is an old African proverb – so there you go. It is, nonetheless, an important concept in Senegalese or Chinese; except that it seems sexist don’t you think? Let’s just say that when an old one dies a library burns.

My very first memory (monochrome), took place at the Northwest corner of the Farm compound where the large cast iron bell for “calling all hands” was mounted. Thomas was away on this day and Libba “called all hands” and tore down an old barn that had been falling down for as long as she could endure. They removed it by the time the squire returned. I don’t recall any aftermath. As we know it is conceivable that he didn’t notice. According to Libba this day took place during late winter 1941. I was born a month or so later. So there you go?

I am the oldest one in the immediate family, so if anyone ever wishes to ask, and my library has burned – then I hope this “blog” will have helped.

This post is a slightly edited version of a page that was posted at the birth of this blog in January 2013.

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After a week at Five Islands and a week at Parker’s Cove we moved over to the Halifax area at the juncture of the South Shore and the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia. Halifax is a beautiful historic city with much to see and do with a great music scene in the bars down on the docks. An urban soul could find enough to keep them occupied for several days. Our rural souls just hit the high spots, being sure to visit the farmer’s market, and got out of town at the end of the day.

A pint and a lobster roll in my Indian Taco (Spearfish Creek) ball cap.

Our Halifax streets and harbor chariot.

While in the Halifax area we visited the harbor town of Lunenburg which was established in 1753 and is a World Heritage Site. It was the weekend of the schooner races and while having lunch we had an up close view of the authentic schooners promenading the harbor in a stiff breeze. We saw the Bluenose II in dry dock. Take a look at these websites if you are nautical.

We drove around the Aspotagan Peninsula and Margarets Bay to Peggys Cove which is one of the most photographed spots in North America. Margaret’s Bay is the site of the crash of Swissair Flight 111 in 1998 and there are memorials both at Peggys Cove and at Baywater on the western shore of the bay opposite Peggys Cove. All of this country is picturesque, but some of our photos look like there are ants crawling over rocks — those are other tourists — a job for Photoshop I suppose.

Peggys Cove

Notice that the tide line is “normal” here on the Atlantic compared to the radical tides 50 miles away on the other side of the Island in the Bay of Fundy.

Saint John’s Anglican Church, Peggys Cove

All of our photos of the photogenic Peggys Point light are crawling with people and therefore not appealing. Check out the web site.

This marked the end of our stay on the main island of Nova Scotia.

We departed the next day on the almost 400Km journey to Baddeck, on Cape Breton Island. Baddeck is a thriving tourist village located conveniently in the center of the Island. It is on the North shore of Bras d”Or Lake, an inland sea which cleaves Cape Breton Island from end to end. Baddeck would be our headquarters for most of the rest of our stay in the Maritimes. From there we took week long trips to the Cape Breton Highlands and across Cabot Strait to Newfoundland. The most remarkable points of interest that are readily accessible from Baddeck are:

Highland Village, Iona, Nova Scotia, a living history museum and cultural centre that celebrates the Gaelic experience in Nova Scotia. This is one of the best executed and most informative reenactment museums that we have seen. Don’t miss it.

Louisbourg National Historic Site, Louisbourg, Nova Scotia. The largest reconstruction project in North America, the original settlement was founded in 1713 by the French and developed over several decades as a center for fishing and trade. The site was besieged twice before being destroyed by the English in the 1760s. Archeologists are reconstructing the fortress as it was in the 18th century.

The Baddeck Gathering Ceilidhs. Every evening from June to mid-October enjoy Cape Breton fiddle music King Cole Tea and Oat cakes for refreshment.

Normaway Inn on Egypt Road in the Margaree Valley “Three Fiddler Concert, Ceilidh and Square Dance” from June to October.

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When I conceived of building a weblog and taking up “blogging” I had some notions about how that would work. Watch out!

I had a notion that it could work like “team memory” in that others (notably friends and family) would chip in with feedback and comments, some critical, that would fuel the process and make the effort a creative community of sorts, and enhance the accuracy of the stories told. So far that hasn’t happened; which is of course because I haven’t figured out how to cultivate feedback and comments. I can see that there are many blogs that characteristically have that limitation - and there are many still visible blogs that appear to have died on the vine; they have not been posted to in months or years. The bottom line is, I think, that receiving no feedback increases the content of self (absorption?), and decreases the amount of material and ideas about which to blog.

I (there’s that word again) had a notion that I would not like the self absorption element of blogging. I was correct. The 1983 movie “The Big Chill” is considered to be the ultimate 1980’s baby boomer movie and includes smashing music and acting. The story tells about a few days in the mid-life of old friends who were school mates in Ann Arbor, and who have gathered at a country church at Beaufort, South Carolina for the funeral of a dear friend who has taken his own life. There is a brief conversation among 3 of the men as to whether the ultimate act of self absorption is suicide or auto-eroticism (not the word they used). But that was before Facebook and blogging came along. I don’t need anything in my life to make me more self absorbed so I have some work to do.

I had a notion that family stories could be told (together). I did not have the notion that more and more folk are turned off by the internet. Turned off by the incessant noise and the tsunami of totally bogus stuff and by the very real security threats; turned off such that they really don’t care to winnow the wheat and the chaff, and that they consequently more and more refuse to click on a link to anything. There are some who are using the Boston Marathon Bombing story as an illustration that those who can read would have been better served to read the Times or the Globe each day and never turn on anything electric.

I had a notion that writers get up every morning and write for three hours - and then do whatever else needs to be done with a focus on social activities (face to face live in person), correspondence, and reading (hard copy). Well, there you go again. I do have some work to do.

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The responsibilities have responses
      the cares have been given
The "ashes" have been blessed and scattered.  

I am free
      in the moment.  

It won't last long.

          - March 27, 2025

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     Sussex girl you are a daisy 

          in the Appalachy mist

          your smile straight 
          from the heart strings of
          a young love springtime kiss

          We hold on to the moment 
          like it’s Heaven passing through.

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I read in the December 10, 2012 issue of The New Yorker about the 5K and 10K races run in the mud at Orchard Beach, Pelham Bay Park, in the Bronx. Until that moment I did not know that the Not Since Moses Run that T and I had attended at Five Islands on the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia was part of a Merrell series. I just got around to doing the research and you guessed it, wrong again - it is not - so there you go. Although sponsored by Merrell, and although much of the format is similar (for instance many pairs of muddy running shoes are discarded to be gathered up, washed and donated to charity), the “Not Since Moses Run” is its own mud race.

In an inlet on the Bay of Fundy (Five Islands, Nova Scotia) on Sunday morning July 22, 2012 at 8 o’clock we were standing by a stream over 20 feet below the high tide level watching 1200 people who had each paid $50 entry fees run 5K or 10K over mud, rocks and water. The “Not Since Moses Run” has been going on now for several years and the money from the entry fees serves the community, and everyone has a lot of fun. We had never seen so many people have so much fun in the mud.

The 5K start.

The leader returns

The volunteer in red above is Karyn who is Stage Manager at the Ship’s Company Theatre in Parrsboro, NS. She is an Appalachian State graduate from Charlotte, NC.

The inlet at 5 Islands Campground at low tide.

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All of you that have followed this blog know of my love for Newfoundland - for the place and most of all for the inhabitants. Imagine my rapture when I discovered that the novel by Annie Proulx that I was reading, after the first 25 pages set in New York, takes the leading characters back home to The Rock. From that point on Proulx’s work is permeated with place, people and patois.

I had been looking around for a novel by Proulx after reading her short story in The New Yorker Summer Fiction Issue. At the public library I decided against her several volumes of Wyoming stories and chose The Shipping News because I was aware that it was an earlier award winning work. The book jacket announces it the winner of the U. S. National Book Award. That edition was apparently printed before it won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. The book is worthy. I am in awe.

“And it may be that love sometimes occurs without pain or misery” - E. Annie Proulx

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Out beyond wrong and right there is a field

I will meet you there

- Rumi

“Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion” is the sub-title of The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt, published in 2012, and reviewed as follows:

“Haidt’s research has revolutionized the field of moral psychology. This elegantly written book has far-reaching implications for anyone interested in anthropology, politics, religion, or the many controversies that divide modern societies. If you want to know why you hold your moral beliefs and why many people disagree with you, read this book..”

—Simon Baron-Cohen, Cambridge University, Author of Zero Degrees of Empathy and The Science of Evil

“Jonathan Haidt is one of smartest and most creative psychologists alive, and his newest book, The Righteous Mind is a tour de force—a brave, brilliant and eloquent exploration of the most important issues of our time. It will challenge the way you think about liberals and conservatives, atheism and religion, good and evil.”

—Paul Bloom, Brooks and Suzanne Ragen Professor of Psychology, Yale University

“A landmark contribution to humanity’s understanding of itself. . . . Haidt is looking for more than victory. He’s looking for wisdom. That’s what makes The Righteous Mind well worth reading.”

—The New York Times Book Review

“An eye-opening and deceptively ambitious best seller . . . undoubtedly one of the most talked-about books of the year.”

—The Wall Street Journal

“Splendidly written, sophisticated and stimulating. It may well change how you think and talk about politics, religion and human nature.”

—NPR

“Ingenious prose. . . . Beautifully written, Haidt’s book shines a new and creative light on moral psychology and presents a provocative message.”

—Science

Nobody can tell you what to think or what to believe but you might want to read this book, particularly if you would like to see understanding in place of anger.

Also see The Science of Righteousness by Michael Shermer in the June 2012 Scientific American.

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There are many wonderful reasons to visit Nova Scotia, and Cape Breton Island is at the top of the list. Depending on your taste you may say that the Cabot Trail or the Bra d’Or Lake or the historic interpretive centers are the reason to visit Cape Breton but if you love music then you will be immersed in a culture of traditional music all the time everywhere. Whether a Ceilidh or a “kitchen party”, whether Gaelic or Acadian or Newfoundland, these music sessions will be a memory long after your visit is past.

As I said in an earlier post, we attended our first Ceilidh at The Baddeck Gathering. Jennifer Bowman was on the upright piano accompanying fiddler Donna Marie DeWolfe (and serving as musicologist for the tourists in the crowd). That was our introduction to up close Cape Breton fiddle and to Donna Marie who took up the fiddle 7 years before (at the age of 10) and she can really play. She has a wonderful sound and is very athletic - the heel and toe slapping of her leather sandals amount to a four piece rhythm section.

Our introduction to local music in Nova Scotia had come earlier at a restaurant in 5 Islands during the weekend of the Not Since Moses Run. There we heard the Halifax bar band “Celtic Rant”. Compared to our Southern Appalachian Scotts-Irish music, they had added the keyboard to the fiddle, pipes, mandolin, and guitar but there was no banjo. We learned some great local favorite bar songs (”The Queen of Old Argyle”) and a wonderful Irish closing time benediction from the 1600s, “The Parting Glass”.

While we were camping in the Cape Breton Highlands Park, we walked into The Doryman Pub one night in Cheticamp and there was Donna Marie DeWolfe again. We recognized her parents and introduced ourselves. They were driving her around to performances several nights a week that summer and we visited with them that night. They are nice folks and very proud parents. When we saw Donna Marie again at a concert at the Judique Music Center (below), her mother exclaimed “Donna Marie is following you around”. We said we were Donna Marie groupies.

On Sunday August 19, 2012, we attended the Kintyre Farm Benefit Concert in Judique Community Center next door to the Celtic Music Interpretive Center, Judique, Nova Scotia. The concert was about 2.5 hours and all of the performers volunteered their time.

Our rock star fiddler Donna Marie DeWolfe above in the center, the artist in the rear with long hair and big guitar is Tom Daniels from Newfoundland and is Gabrielle McLellan’s accompanist, and the woman up front on the right is a very good fiddler but I am embarrassed to say that we didn’t catch her name. It is important to note that all of these artists are fine musicians and performers.

The Grand Finale. On the far left is Shelly Campbell and in heels and short skirt is Gabrielle McLellan. Many of these performers are instructors at the Buddy McMaster School of Fiddling which is held during the week of the Celtic Colours International Festival. I am told that the Celtic Colours festival is musical reason enough for a trip to Cape Breton Island from anywhere.

The fiddler above is Shelly Campbell at the Baddeck Gathering on Tuesday, August 21, 2012. She is very friendly, as are most of the Cape Breton Islanders, and says she is ready to come to Asheville. The step dancer is a walk-on and one of the best we saw. The accompanist is Alan Dewar who is Music Director at the Judique Center, and accompanied Natalie McMaster on tour from 2000 - 2006; he likely played the Porter Center with her when she performed there.

During this Ceilidh I notice an old guy (’bout my age) come in wearing a cowboy hat. When the tea and oat cake break came I noticed him working the room and I read his lips as he asked people if they were the ones from NC - he had seen our truck with the NC tags parked on the street. He plays banjo (a rarity in Cape Breton) and played in NC for 20 years - jammed once with David Holt. His sister Laura Boosinger plays banjo in Asheville, sometimes with David Holt, and lives on Beaver Dam Road. His name is William Jr. “Banjoman” Johnson and he invited us to come next evening to the Wednesday night concert (dance starts at 10PM) in the barn at the Normaway Inn on Egypt Road in Margaree Valley. I wore my cowboy hat in his honor and he had us upgraded to reserved seats right down front. We heard Kyle MacNeil, Brenda Stubbert and Allan Cameron accompanied by Sheamus MacNeil. The MacNeils are brothers and are members of the Barra MacNeils, a well known band of six siblings. Kyle told me that they had played some gigs in a bar in Asheville.

We left Cape Breton the next morning on the ferry to Newfoundland.

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While on Cape Breton in the summer of 2012, our primary base of operations was at a lake front campground just south of Baddeck. We spent all of our nights there except for one very pleasant week camping at Cape Breton Highlands National Park just north of Cheticamp.

While at Baddeck we concentrated on history and local music. At Iona the Highland Village site is a very well done reenactment of the Scottish Gael migration to “Nova Scotia”. The several hours we spent walking this site and listening to the script of the re-enactors (in Gaelic if requested) was a great introduction to the Gaelic part of Nova Scotia heritage.

We also spent a day touring Fortress Louisbourg National Historic Site which is a huge reconstruction and reenactment site that deals with the early French presence in the Maritime Provinces. The French call Nova Scotia “L’Acadie”. There are many regions with a dominant Acadian French presence in Nova Scotia, such as St. Mary’s Bay, Chezzetcook, and the coast of Cape Breton Island around Cheticamp.

We attended our first Ceilidh at The Baddeck Gathering. Jennifer Bowman was on the upright piano accompanying fiddler Donna Marie DeWolfe (and serving as musicologist for the tourists in the crowd). Donna Marie took up the fiddle 7 years before (at the age of 10) and she can play. She has a wonderful sound and is very athletic - the heel and toe slapping of her leather sandals amount to a four piece rhythm section. Our introduction to local music in Nova Scotia had come earlier at a restaurant in 5 Islands during the weekend of the Not Since Moses Run. There we heard the Halifax bar band “Celtic Rant”. We took notice that, in comparison to our southern appalachian Scotts-Irish music, they had added the keyboard to the fiddle, pipes, mandolin, guitar and there was no banjo. We learned some great local favorite bar songs (”The Queen of Old Argyle”) and a wonderful Irish closing time benediction “The Parting Glass” from the 1600s.

After a few days, we left Baddeck and moved over to camp for a week in the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. The campground there is one of the most pleasant and well managed that we used on the two month trip, and the Cape Breton Highlands Park, the Cabot Trail highway, and the hiking trails in that area are magnificent.

From the Skyline Trail above the Gulf of St Lawrence with Cheticamp Island on the horizon

We hiked the Skyline Trail soon after our arrival. The trail is a 5.7 mile loop out to a headland cliff over 1000 feet above the sea. Back in Cheticamp that night, we walked into The Doryman Pub and there was Donna Marie DeWolfe again. We had a strong hunch that a couple in the room happened to be her parents so we introduced ourselves. They were driving her around to performances several nights a week that summer and we visited with them that night. They are nice folks and very proud parents. When we saw Donna Marie again at a concert at the Judique Music Center, her mother exclaimed “Donna Marie is following you around”. We said we were Donna Marie groupies.

The following day we hiked out of the campground through an Acadian forest up the Salmon Pools Trail which is 7.6 miles round trip. Following are photos of T and the pools in the Cheticamp River canyon.

While at Cape Breton Highlands NP we hiked Skyline Trail, Salmon Pools, Le Chemin du Buttereau, Le Buttereau, Corney Brook and the Acadian Trail over 4 days for a total of 28 miles of gorgeous scenery. We took one day to drive the Cabot Trail around as far as Ingonish for lunch. We took a very long side trip (about 30 miles of not so good road) from Cape North up to Meat Cove, where we had intended to have lunch, but there were no services, not even a vending machine. There are campsites and cabins to rent.

Meat Cove, the northern most settlement in Nova Scotia, looking north across Cabot Strait

On the Cabot Trail north of Ingonish

On the Cabot Trail north of Ingonish

Enragée Point Light, Cape Enragée, Cheticamp Island

Cheticamp village from the Island

A fairly typical Cape Breton household woodpile at Cheticamp

We stayed a week at the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, and Cheticamp provided very good support services, even an excellent health food store (Trofle) with grass fed meats, etc. We left Cheticamp and returned to the campground at Baddeck to prepare for our crossing to Newfoundland.

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Out beyond wrong and right there is a field

I will meet you there

- Rumi

            Going to the Sun -Photo by Tom T Traywick

My siblings and I share the same genetics but our hair is of different colors and lengths and we have each taken markedly different paths through life. We have a lot of birth order stuff going on but we were, of course, oblivious to it while it was happening. I am the oldest and was an only child for 25 months until my other brother Jim was born and he was the baby for 25 months until my other brother Joe was born. Joe was the baby for 8 years until Sue was born. So then Sue was the messianic baby girl (indeed only child) which allowed Joe to remain the baby boy and Jim steadfastly held on to the middle child slot. As for me I think I never noticed that I was not an only child. Jack Douglas published “My Brother Was An Only Child” in 1959 (one of the funniest books of any century) and the rest of us tended to describe our other brother Jim in those terms.

One of them considers me to be a liberal, one figures me to be a socialist, and the other is pretty sure that I am a communist. I think that they are each wrong - out beyond wrong, for I am a Realist, or I strive to be. But I am happy to say that, at least for us, there is a field out beyond wrong and right, and the four of us meet there from time to time. There is not one of us who had not learned from each of the others - but each is possessed of a righteous mind.

No matter our ideological alignment we each have a dose of Righteous in our way - we can’t help it, we got it from Thomas and each other. Brother Jim would refer to this as “the Is-ness of the Was” (which may be original with him according to Google - which wouldn’t surprise me).

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While we were in Nova Scotia in the summer of 2012, we took a day trip from Annapolis Royal down to Yarmouth. We noted that the town of Yarmouth seemed to be on the wane as a result of the ferry from Maine having ceased operations in 2009.

The Ferry Is Back

In May, a new luxury ferry began operating daily between *Portland, Maine and Yarmouth. I feel sure that a lot of work was done by Nova Scotia promoters to get this done, and I understand that subsidies are involved on both sides of the water. I have read that, at least through June, the ferry is running at less than capacity and introductory fares are very reasonable.

Yarmouth 2012

When we visited on June 28, 2012; we dined on the docks and walked about the village visiting art galleries, museums, and shops and we took a walking tour of the historic residential district just a block from the waterfront.

          - Photos by Old Ones Dream

A New Down East Travel Opportunity

There are over 800 land miles between *Portland, Maine and the southeast shore of Nova Scotia. By the ferry it is 11 hours and includes an ocean cruise with all the amenities.

*The Cat maintained the schedule from Portland to Yarmouth until its lease with the City of Portland expired in 2018. At this writing in January 2026, the ferry from Maine to Nova Scotia is from Bar Harbor, Maine to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia — The Cat high speed ferry operated from May to October by Northumberland Ferries.

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We left Parker’s Cove, just north of Annapolis Royale, Nova Scotia, first thing of a morning, drove down 101 to exit 26, and dropped off onto 217, which took us down Digby Neck a little over 50 miles to Freeport where the second ferry goes over to Westport on Brier Island.

One of the reasons that we chose Freeport Whale and Seabird Tours at Freeport NS for our whale-watching excursion was that we had seen written that one of the good restaurants in Nova Scotia is located at the dock and that the ticket office for the whale-watching tour is located in the restaurant, Lavena’s Catch Cafe.

When we arrived, we confirmed our reservations for whale watching and got a table for lunch on the deck, where we watched the workboats go by in the inlet separating Long Island from Brier Island, and the comings and goings of the Brier Island Ferry. I didn’t pay strict attention to everything on the menu because I spied Liver and Onions, and there I stalled. I had been on a menu of “catch” for about 2 weeks and it seemed like the time and the place for Liver and Onions.

While we waited to be served, Tanne was “working the room” and at the next table she found Heather, who graduated from high school with her, 50 years before, and then moved away and made her life in Wisconsin. We had a delightful 50-year reunion visit with Heather and her husband, and that continued in the afternoon onboard the Georgie Porgie for the whale-watching tour.

          Heather and Tanne on the Georgie Porgie

I wish that I had taken a picture of my meal, but I did not expect to find “the best I ever had” Liver and Onions at a maritime cafe in Nova Scotia, and so I was guilty of underestimating the meal. I did not realize what I had until I tore into it. The very generous portion of liver was tender and tasty, mounded with onions and bacon, and served with coleslaw and sweet potato fries.

Beef liver and onions is comfort food to me and always brings back memories of the dinner table at the farm and meals prepared by Shot, meals which caused fertilizer and seed salesmen to schedule their sales call for around 11:45 AM. Also, the liver and onions, sometimes served as a menu special by Falls Landing in Brevard, North Carolina, is a pretty good standard for comparison as well, but the best I ever had was had that day at Lavena’s Catch Cafe in Freeport, on Digby Neck in Nova Scotia.

The Georgie Porgie arrived at the dock and disembarked the folk from the morning tour. The tour boat is a working lobster boat during lobster season and becomes a whale-watching tour boat when lobster season closes (locally May 31). Captain Tim Crocker runs the boat, exchanging information and sightings with other boats, while the passengers are entertained and informed by a knowledgeable local guide.

We boarded Georgie Porgie and headed north into the Bay of Fundy where, within about 20 minutes, we were among humpback whales—and we remained among whales for about two hours.

These girls are over 40 feet and 40 tons. We saw one with a calf which was only about 12 feet long but very playful. They are very sociable creatures.

Later in the afternoon, we suddenly headed up northeast at full throttle for about 5 minutes and came about. Our guide announced that we had “won the whale-watching lottery” and pointed out to us a North Atlantic Right Whale she termed “one of only 400 remaining on Earth.” Maybe they have a deal with the North Atlantic Right Whale to promote Nova Scotia tourism and they do that every day—but it could have been a “Southern Left Whale” and none of us would have known the difference at 50 meters.

We had a great time. We saw and cavorted with more whales than we could have expected, the equipment performed well, and the personnel were very gracious and informative. The trip exceeded our expectations and we give it a 5-star review.

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Mesa Verde National Park is one of the best preserved of the populated areas that were part of the large Ancestral Puebloan community known as Chaco, a civilization with trading partners from the Pacific Ocean to the Mississippi River and south to Mesoamerica.

Driving Time Required

In the West, the good places take some work. We first learned this in September of 1981 when we camped across the northern route in Canada from Thunder Bay to Kapuskasing. Our chosen campsite at Thunder Bay, Ontario, was out on the Sibley Peninsula in Lake Superior in Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. We drove over 20 miles to the campsite after we turned on to the gravel road. It was on that trip that our family vocabulary expanded to include words such as “Nipigon” and “Labatt Blue”.

So on this Four Corners trip in 2014 our driving time was similiarly increased. The visitors center for The Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands NP is 25 miles from the highway, and the Needles District visitors center of Canyonlands is 35 miles off of US 191.

The entrance and visitor’s center for Mesa Verde NP is about 10 miles east of Cortez, Colorado on US 160. After the entrance you can see the top of the “Green Mesa” rising 1600 feet above you. The 21 mile winding drive up to the top and on to the Spruce Tree House ruins, Archeological Museum, Cafe, and Bookstore affords you some of the most beautiful long distance views in North America.

Discovering Spruce Tree House

We arrived at Spruce Tree House at about noon on April 7, 2014 and took the hike down to the cliff side site. Mesa Verde is very well preserved because the villages are built in high dry cliff alcoves and very well protected from the weather. The National Park Service brochure states that Spruce Tree House is “the park’s best preserved cliff dwelling”. The site is open daily from March 8 for self guided tours and was the only site that had opened yet on the day we visited. Other sites would open as weather and snow and ice melt permitted until all sites would be opened on May 22 until November 1.

            Our first glimpse of Spruce Tree House tucked up under the lip of the top of the Mesa. - Photo by Tom T Traywick

            Spruce Tree House - Photo by Tom T Traywick

            Spruce Tree House - Photo by Tom T Traywick

            Spruce Tree House - Photo by Tom T Traywick

             Spruce Tree House - Photo by Tom T Traywick

            Spruce Tree House - Photo by Tom T Traywick

             Spruce Tree House - Photo by Tom T Traywick

The Ancestral Puebloans of Mesa Verde

... long before Europeans explored North America, ... Ancestral Puebloans made Mesa Verde their home from about A.D. 550 to 1300. For more than 700 years they and their descendants lived and flourished here, eventually building elaborate stone communities in the sheltered alcoves of the canyon walls. Then, in the late A.D. 1200s, in the span of a generation or two, they left their homes and moved away. Mesa Verde National Park preserves a spectacular reminder of this ancient culture. The park contains over 4,000 known archeological sites including cliff dwellings and the mesa top sites of pit houses, pueblos, masonry towers, and farming structures. (U. S. National Park Service)

In the Home of the Ancients

Human history of the Ancient Ones, the Anasazi, the Old Ones, the Ancestral Puebloan People of the first millennia AD, seems to exude from the stones of these sites. Since this was a “Spring Break” week, there were school children present but they were not their normal exuberant selves, but noticeably subdued and reverent. The European visitors were particularly studious of the artifacts in the museum. If you love history, you will be moved by a sense of the wisdom and valor of the ancients, in this their home.

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