On the road by 7:30am after breakfast at McDonalds.  Made great time getting back.  Stopped at the Dillweed

for a quick break to stretch our legs, have a drink, and chat with Kyra and Debbie.  It was like we were long lost friends.  They made us feel so welcome.  We chatted about the trip and shared mutual Boston stories.  I dropped Kathy off at 10 Seneca Drive at 11:30am. We parted with hugs and mingled tears; such a blessing – the sisters saw that it was indeed the Very Best of Good!  Safe and sound and filled to the brim with love and memories and adventures under our belt and in our hearts.  And then, Wren Drive. 

It took hours to unload the car and put everything away.  Lots of laundry, lots of memories to sort through. Food and snacks to put away.  The grass was out of control, so I cut the grass, then washed the car.  I could not return the generously shared Honda back to Smail’s in its road-coated, bug smeared condition.  I was definitely home.

As I crawled into my comfy bed I thought about the week, and how I had started my 69^th year with a grand adventure with my best friend in the world (love you sis!).  I was looking at my last week of work at Smail Automotive after 52 years there.  Autmn had just got hired for her very first job on the eve of my retirement.  So much emotion, so many changes.  I am filing them away in my little memory book, so I can go back over them and relive them time after time. 

Each time Kath and I take a road trip together, I think it was the best one yet.  And Newport, Boston, and Plymouth WERE the best.  Where will we go next?  Back to Williamsburg?  Down to Savanah or Charleston?  Back to Newport?  It doesn’t matter where we go.  We can go to Smicksburg and have a wonderful time together. 

But exploring and experiencing new and well-familiar places  —  well, there’s nothing better.  Thanks, Kathy, for another wonderful vacation.

And by the way, I have enough money saved and can be packed in a half an hour.  Where to next?  The evening and the morning will be the BEST day –  and the sisters will say, “It’s VERY good!”

The drive was short, and we arrived just as the plantation was opening.  We watched the movie about the first settlers and about the rebuilding of the site.  The Wampanoag Indians, we learned, were native, and practiced their tribal traditions and way of life.  They were not interpreters or actors.  We saw summer quarters, winter quarters, gardens, animal furs of rugs, blankets and clothing, beads, and canoes being burned out.  They were burned to hollow the tree, not carved.  The tribal matriarch shared her stories and demonstrated her belt making.

I took Kathy’s picture in front of the winter quarters.  It seemed that if we got a photo in front of one of the Gilded Newport Mansions, which were summer cottages, we had to get one for winter, too.  She said after ‘paying that much’ for a summer home, the winter hut was all they could afford!  Fun!

We walked through the craft building, where trades people were demonstrating their skills.  It was very exacting and time-consuming and took great patience and a steady hand, neither of which I possessed!

When we reached the top of the path and rounded the bend, we came to the meeting house for the settlers.  Stepping out the other side was amazing.  The road (really a narrow path) led from the meeting house down to the water’s edge.  You could see nothing but water as far as you looked.  On each side of the path were replicas of original buildings.  Costumed interpreters told their stories, about their trip from England, about their families, about their lives once they arrived in the new world.  I was very surprised at the ornate and quality furniture pieces in each house.

We chatted a while with the  ‘doctor’, well versed in treating patients with the common ailments of the day with the herbs and plants from her very large garden.  There was a very funny interpreter who told stories about typical ancestral traditions passed down through generations.  There were goats and chickens roaming free; there were cows and horses in fenced-in yards. One house was set up for the children to role play, complete with toys and clothing of the day.

Again, it was hard to leave.  We left so much ‘unlearned’ behind.  A quick peek in the museum and a stroll through the gift shop, and we were once again back in the car with Cordelia heading us southwest, back to PA; back home.

About 3:30pm we were chatting away (as we always do when we travel together) when we saw a sign that said ‘Old Sturbridge Village’ six miles.  Kathy did a quick search and found that we were 20 minutes away and the Village was only open until 5pm.  And the cost was very steep, which made sense as it was booked as an all day adventure.  It was very hard not to turn off at that exit, but we determined that if we  (no, I mean WHEN we) went back to Newport, we would try to work Sturbridge Village into the plans.

Going back across the mountains gave us very limited exits with motels and/or gasoline.  I was getting low again, and I hate it when that happens!  We finally chose an obscure exit near Bloomsburg and filled the gas tank, then inquired as to a motel.  We found a very (and I mean VERY) basic, but safe and clean motel and didn’t even try to keep looking.  We ate dinner at Denny’s, settled in for the night, and breathed a sigh – whether of relief or resignation I don’t know.  Newport, Boston, and Plimoth were all behind us; home was in front of us.  And the evening and the morning were the fifth day; and the sisters saw that is WAS good…

The welcome sunshine peeked in our windows early Saturday morning.  We had our yummy toast, packed up the room, and lugged the luggage down three flights of stairs.  It was NOT any easier than going up.  We were on the road in good time, heading for Plymouth Rock, MA.  Kath tried to prepare me for what to expect, but it was a glorious drive, beautiful sky, calm blue waters.

As we pulled into the tiny town I glanced out my window.  It was breathtaking!  The little sailboats bobbing on the glassy water; the bright blue sky and the puffy white clouds.  Sunshine reflecting off sails and sea and stones.

It was very early in the morning, still, and there were very few people milling about.  We parked right across from the pillared structure that housed Plymouth Rock.  I walked across the road, through a bit of sand, and peered down.  The rock was decidedly much smaller than I had pictured, and quite a ways back from the water.  “1620” was emblazoned across the rock.  I had read somewhere that Plymouth Rock is America’s most unimpressive national monument.  Although I understood why, I didn’t agree.  Just standing there in the bright breezes touched me deeply.  This was America, right in front of me.  And I loved it.

After a few pictures we walked the paths around the bay.  The Mayflower (reproduction) was out for maintenance – so we’re pretty sure that was the ship we saw anchored across Mystic Harbor.  Just as we started back the path, the gift shops opened and we browsed around there, buying postcards and little magnets.   I felt like I didn’t want to leave.  This vacation was like rock-hopping.  Everything was wonderful, but there was still the NEXT thing.  In this case, Plimoth Plantation.

Sunshine and toast!  Great way to start the day.  Kath and I wore our Boston shirts, hand made especially for our trip by my daughter Kelly, through her business PLC Designs.  The shirts said: Americans – spilling tea since 1773.  Our first stop was the Boston Tea Party museum and ships.  It was by far my favorite stop in Boston (other than the actual Freedom Trail).  We attended a town meeting, and understood why the good citizens of Boston found it necessary to disguise themselves as Indians (we were all given a feather to put in our hair.  Of course no one would recognize us now!). 

 The Sons of Liberty, aka a very rowdy and determined group of ‘Indians,’ made our way down the planks onto the ship, where we threw boxes of tea into Boston Harbor.  The captain was very cooperative and didn’t even try to dissuade us.  He even gave us a tour of the ship, and explained the workings of the British East India Company, and we saw for ourselves the boxes and bails of tea stacked in the hold.

The museum had talking hologram picture frames that came to life in front of our eyes.  There was a skit of two women talking about the part their husbands had played in the rebellion, and at the end the women just disappeared into thin air!  However did they DO that? There is actually a wooden box that survived the dumping of the tea in 1773.  Interesting story attached to it as well.  Consider how long that wooden tea chest has survived! We also saw a 15 minute movie detailing not only the Tea Party but Paul Revere’s ride. (Again – check the facts.  The poem is not entirely accurate!).

When we finally came above ground again, we were in Abigail’s Tea Room. 

Reluctantly we left the harbor and headed back up to the trail. 

Our first stop was the Old Meeting House,where we looked at displays and eavesdropped on a school tour to pick up interesting facts. From there we went to King’s Chapel, and it was by far the most informative and interesting site on the trail. We spent a lot of time in there.

We climbed the bell tower of Old North Church, visited Copps Hill Burying Ground, took a long hike up to Bunker Hill, (see view of city from monument), toured the USS Constitution, then walked the entire trail – 2 ½ miles – from Bunker Hill and headed back to the Boston Commons.  We went back to Quincy Market and had Boston Pizza for a late afternoon meal before finishing up the final sites.  We found the old Corner Bookstore, and it was more than unique – with huge shelves of books, row after row, outside on the street!

You couldn’t be in Boston and not at least go past Cheers! and take a photo.  So …. 

Boston Commons was a welcome sight.  We were happy to reach the Longwood Inn and settle in for the night.  Boston was an amazing, wonderful, historic, welcoming, comfortable city.  It felt strange to think of leaving in the morning after only two days, but we had a glorious time.  Boston, she was a sweet lady!  And the evening and the morning were the fourth day, and the sisters saw that it was very good indeed!

Although it remained cloudy, we were cheered by our hot drinks and hearty breakfast, and set Cordelia on a direct route to Boston.  At one point she took us off the interstate into a small town, weaving us in and out of side streets and turning left and right every other block.  Whatever was she DOING?  But when we swung back onto the ramp for the interstate right outside of downtown Boston, we saw why she had taken us around.  Traffic was bumper to bumper – four lanes – into the city, through construction, crazy traffic.  Although we were impatient – so close yet so far away! – we were finally in BOSTON! I could hardly believe it.  A dream come true; something to check off my bucket list.  After one missed turn, we found the underground parking garage at Boston Commons, geared up for the day, and set off for the visitor’s center on Boston Commons to sign up for our walking tour of the Freedom Trail.

And just so you know.  The Freedom Trail is definitely a trail.  It is a bi-color brick path that starts at the Commons and ends at Bunker Hill – some 2 and a half miles – and twists through downtown Boston past the amazing historic sites and churches and cemeteries and houses and buildings.  I loved following this – it felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.  I was walking where John Adams, Paul Revere, patriots that gave everything they had to make this country great, had lived and walked.  But back to the tour.  We had a wonderful tour guide.  She was young and spirited and full of life and information.  We heard stories about Paul Revere’s ride (truth or fiction?  Read up!), stopped at Old North Church, explored the cemetery in the drenching downpour of rain, and acted out the Boston Massacre. (Two circular brick photos depict the site.) I felt breathless and excited and in total awe.

At the end of that adventure, which was almost two hours, we went to the Quincy Market and got lunch.  It’s like a giant food court from the mall; if Quincy Market didn’t have it, it didn’t exist!  Kathy had a Lobster Roll and I had a very juicy delicious burger right off the grill.  By the time lunch was over, we had dried off enough to trace our steps back and visit the inside of the places our tour guide had taken us past.  One of my favorites was Paul Revere’s house.  He was an amazing man – a dentist, an industrialist, a patriot – he had a LOT of kids and outlived most of them.

By this time we were pretty much at the end of our day – worn out and ready for our hotel.  We followed Cordelia’s directions to the other side of Boston – really only 7 miles but about 20 minutes’ drive! – to our Inn for the next two nights.  We stayed at the Longwood Inn, on Longwood Avenue in the Brookline section.

It was a beautifully quaint three story inn, very clean and in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood.  We checked in only to find that our quaint little inn had no elevator, and we were in the very back corner on the third floor!  Let me tell you that climbing all those flights of stairs with all our luggage was no picnic.

And speaking of picnics, we discovered that although we had access to laundry and full kitchen privileges, breakfast was not provided.  So we jumped in the Honda and went a few blocks into town.  We bought ice to refill our cooler, a loaf of bread and some butter, and went home to picnic on our beds with all the goodies from our trip bag.

I want to mention here that most of those goodies were a generous birthday gift from the girls at work – two big bags full of every type of snack and munchies you could imagine!  We didn’t need to buy anything, although we did sneak in a little chocolate on the side!  We had plenty.

It was crazy to say, but well before 9pm we were both tucked in bed with our books, reading ourselves to sleep.  There was still a lot to explore tomorrow in Boston.  And the evening and the morning were the third day – and the sisters saw that it was very good.

Although there were several more mansions to see, we had reached the end of the tour day.  We had wanted to do the Newport Cliff Walk

 along (you guessed it!) the cliff,

but it was again getting a bit overcast and cool.  We browsed the gift shop, where we bought a few post cards and I got a coffee table book on the Mansions of Newport.  Cordelia guided us off the island and to our motel, over a bridge, around in circles of a roundabout, and through a few intersections to our very convenient place for the night.  Of course it was next to a Walmart!  Good opportunity to stock up on what supplies we were short on.

I am not going to name the motel, as it was the worst night of our entire trip!  It was probably the second time in my life I felt uncomfortable in a location.  The room was clean, if not sparse, but offered almost no amenities – including security!  Not even free coffee in the non-existent lounge area. We got sort of settled and drove back across the bridge into downtown Newport and found a parking space near the wharf.  After a short walk around the cobbled streets we chose a restaurant right on the water among the yachts and fishing boats.  We could smell the sea air and feel the gentle breeze off the ocean.

Of course we had fish and chips.  We loved seeing the boats, some of which were bigger than twice my house!  They were just bobbing on the docks, the strings of globe lights reflecting against the other boats and the water.  We watched a few tour boats come and go, looking dwarfed against the yachts.

We were almost too full to move, but we walked back through the quaint little tourist shops along the docks.  That’s when Kath bought the Breakers mystery book.  There were so many unique and tempting things to see and explore!  We decided to search out the Castle Hill light house that was supposed to be only 3.5 miles from downtown.  Cordelia led us down the side streets, but we seemed to always miss the road.  There were no signs to point the way.  We ended up at the top of a private road to an exclusive dining club, where the gateman assured us that we were on the right road and gave us almost-good directions.  We found the wooden gate house (which I assumed would be the size of a small shed and was actually no larger than an outhouse!), parked in the grass as instructed, and found the mulched path through the very close woods.

It was by now growing dusk, and there were no other people around and no path markers.  But as I had never seen a lighthouse in person, we were up for the adventure. When we reached the top of the slight rise, we saw the top of the faded white stones and the black roof.  It looked like it was only a few feet tall and we laughed.  But once we cleared the woods we realized that we were at the top of a bluff, that we were only seeing the very top section of the lighthouse.  The mournful moan of the lighthouse warning echoed across the water; gulls swooped and flew overhead.  The waves splashed and crashed against the black, bleak rocks below us, almost straight down.

To give it credit, there were a set of wooden stairs in three sections that went to the bottom of the lighthouse to the shore.  We walked over close to the steps, and one look down told me I was not going to attempt that.  Kath was game, though, and reached for the wooden railing – which promptly shook, swayed and wiggled under her hand.  She looked at me and grinned and went down the first flight of stairs.  I moved back a little further and watched but still refused to go down.

When she reached the next level she turned around.  “I’m not going down any further.  Even I can’t make myself feel comfortable!”  We took a few pictures, safely back from the edge.  Darkness was slowly creeping in around us, and we hurried back down the path to the car.  It was dark by the time we reached the bridge and were back across the roundabout and at the motel. (looks deceptively calm, doesn’t it????)

Which was the second scary episode of the day.  I managed to fill the ice bucket then double-lock the doors and check the windows.  We were hoping for a quiet night, but heard untold numbers of thumps and knocks and things that go bump in the night.  There were even people yelling and stomping up and down the hallway.

We woke before the alarm to absolute buckets of pouring rain. We were showered, dressed and had the car packed by 7am.  We were out of there!  We ate breakfast at a Dunkin’ Donut across the street, and began to feel normal again.  The hotel notwithstanding, Newport was a fairytale place and I was drawn to the magic and grandeur of the mansions and the town.  It was definitely on my list of places to return to, sooner rather than later.   So the evening and the morning were the second day.  And the sisters felt that it was – all in all – very good…

The continental breakfast at the Super 8 offered a nice variety and was appropriately yummy.  Toast, oatmeal, sweet rolls, fruit, hot coffee and tea. We settled our account, turned in our motel keys, loaded the Honda, and were off again.  We had made good time and tracked great distance so our first destination – Newport Rhode Island – was within comfortable reach.  I was really nervous about going anywhere near New York City, but the new bridge and the expressway made it a breeze, and we didn’t even have to slow down.  Just to imagine that I was driving even within sight of New York City gave me a rush!  We were out and around the worst of it before I even realized what had happened.  As they say, “Wait. What???” The suspension bridge was almost a work of art in itself.  I felt comfortable driving and Cordelia was faithful and accurate in her instructions.

We entered Connecticut and before long saw a pulloff for a scenic view of Mystic Harbor.  The day was overcast but dry and we took several photos of the boats.  Kath made a comment about a wooden historic-looking masted ship docked across the bay.  She remembered a little bit of history from a previous visit and gave me a verbal sight-seeing synopsis as I drove.

Shortly before noon we crossed the bridge and drove into Newport.  It was a quaint, delightful little seaport, with brick side walks and touristy shops, and tons of boats and ships docked at the wharfs.  We wove slowly through the narrow streets, making our way to the first stop – the visitor’s center for the Gilded Mansions of Newport; the summer cottages (???) of the wealthy in the late 1800’s.  After parking, we went inside and chose our ticket grouping.  Five mansions, to be seen any time for the life of the purchaser.  So if we go back in, say, fifty years, we can see the ones we missed on this trip!  I personally can’t see myself driving back to Newport at the age of 119 years!  But, just possibly NEXT year! Something to look forward to – but I don’t want to jump too far ahead.  I was still looking forward to BOSTON!

We paid for our ticket choice, got a pamphlet and a map, and made our route.  First stop:  The Breakers!  Thankfully the overcast morning gave way to sunny skies and a comfortable breeze.  And also thankfully each mansion had its own free parking area adjacent to the house.  Even the sections of construction work outside

did not detract from the magnitude and magnificence of the mansion.  This home was built by Cornelius Vanderbilt II for his family’s summer home originally in 1885.  The home was named for the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks on the shore.

Inside we were given a ‘smart phone’ with headphones.  We could tour at our own pace, go through the rooms one at a time and hear the stories and descriptions as we went.  Marble floors, enormous staircases, indoor fountains, bedroom after bedroom after bedroom, TWENTY bathrooms, the library, sewing room, billiard room, sitting room, second floor loggia overlooking the water… It was all very grand, very opulent, very amazing.  It felt like we were drinking from a deep pool of cold water, thirsting for the beauty and the history and the stories of a people (the 400!) and a society that was unprecedented and unequaled.  My favorite part of this home was the view from the second floor loggia.

There was an alternate choice of additional stories about the Vanderbilts, and it was SO tempting to stop and listen to each one!  But time was limited, and if we wanted to see even two of these gilded mansions, we needed to stick to the main scripted tour.  Bummer.

And as a side note, if you like to read fiction books, check out Alyssa Maxwell’s Gilded Mansion book series.  The first one is entitled Murder at the Breakers and is a great read!  It was very fun to read the book, picturing the little town of Newport, the neighborhoods, and each room of the mansion as she took us on the quest of solving the murder. I just finished the third book – Murder at Beechwood -and it’s even better than the first! Already ordered the next three.  Read them!

From the Breakers we went to Chateau-Sur-Mer, built in 1852 in the Italianate villa style.  It belonged to William Shepard Wetmore after making his fortune in the China Trade.  Although much less impressive than The Breakers, it was still impressive.  The home is full of paintings and carvings and furnishings created world-wide and by artists well known in their trade.  The interior was of darker woods and paneling but very rich and textured.  My favorite part of this home was the exterior style with its four-story tower. And I was impressed by the fact that at one point Mr. Wetmore entertaining George Peabody of London with a party that had more than 3000 guests from Europe and America.  And the view at the time would have been impressive, as the name means literally ‘Castle by the Sea’.

We chose carefully, and our third mansion was the Elms.   This home was built by Pennsylvania coal magnate Edward Julius Berwind and was built as an adaptation of the chateau d’Asnieres near Paris.  In its day, the gardens boasted a brass band in the yard, and had the chatter of a throng of pet monkeys scampering about the lawn.  My favorites at this mansion were the impressive view of the breakers from the back, the sunken gardens with fountains and terraces, and the airy conservatory.

To be continued –  as the morning and the afternoon of the second day – And again, the sisters saw that it was good – with more to come!

One of my favorite quotes is from an old James Garner movie, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL SHERIFF.    

Jason, the main character, agrees to be a temporary sheriff with the understanding that ‘I’ve never made any secret of the fact that basically I’m on my way to Australia.’  Well, for years, I’ve never made any secret of the fact that basically I wanted to go to BOSTON!  And thanks to my favorite (albeit only) sister, on the evening of my 69^th birthday – one week before my planned retirement from Smail Auto – we headed east in a comfy Honda CRV (Thanks for your help with that, Mark Smail!) and began the big adventure.

As is our custom, we over-packed and had everything but the kitchen sink.  But if you count two coolers full of food and drinks and snacks, maybe we actually had that, as well.  We headed up Route 22, traveling on familiar roads for the first several hours. The views from scenic Route 22 both before and after Altoona were breathtaking.

The vistas were beautiful with just enough little towns and villages to keep the drive interesting.  As is always the case, we don’t run out of things to say, and the conversation and excitement were palpable!

We also had packed a snack/dinner so we didn’t have to spend either time or money eating out.  Kath had her phone’s GPS (fondly nicknamed Cordelia) set for the proper route, and Cordelia did not disappoint.  Kathy’s job was to interpret and translate Cordelia’s instructions; mine was to watch the road and the gas gage.  We work well together.  About 9pm we began searching for a motel within close distance that was reasonably priced.  We are very strict with both our schedules and our budgets! I didn’t mind driving as long as we had plenty of gas, and we were running below half a tank.  Finally about 9:30pm we took an exit to get gas, and secured a very nice, comfortable, safe, clean room at a Super 8 in Budd Lake New Jersey. 

We lugged our luggage into the room and after a dive into the snack bag, we were more than happy to just fall into bed. So travel and the evening and morning were the first day! And the sisters saw that it was good…

I honestly didn’t think I could do it!  When you’ve done something for 52 years it’s very hard to make that change.  I walked into Bud Smail Lincoln Mercury, hired as a posting clerk, in June of 1967.  I was still in high school, and it was a summer job – which turned into an after school job and then into a full time job.  That job morphed into so many different responsibilities and job descriptions that I could fill a notebook.  It goes without saying that I did not choose most of them, and I did not enjoy a lot of them!  But Bud, especially, was great to work for, and those early years were a learning, growing, blossoming time for me.  I went back to school in my senior year and switched to secretarial classes and soon was typing and short-handing up a storm.  I used those skills to the MAX through my entire 52 years of employment at Smail Auto. 

Through the years the structure of the auto industry changed, the people I worked with changed, management changed, ownership (although still Smails) changed.  It was no longer just Bud Jr and a handful of close knit employees.  Life got bigger, the industry got tougher, and Bud Smail Lincoln Mercury grew to ten franchises and even more physical buildings.  And I often felt lost in the vastness of it all.  But I stuck it out, did my best, and on June 28th, 2019, I walked out of Bud Smail Ford Lincoln Mazda for the last time as an employee.  I thought I’d cry, or feel lost, or be terribly frightened at the major life change.  But I didn’t.  I walked out the door with a small box of desktop items, put them in my car, and went home!  I seriously don’t even remember what I did – other than take a two mile walk around the block! – but I felt free and light and unconcerned.  Like I had stepped through a portal into another dimension. Since that time I have kept busy and seriously wonder how I worked so many hours and still got anything else done!  Life is good!  GOD is good! 

But that last week held a few fun events for me.  First off, Mark and Kelly Smail took me to lunch at Jaffre’s.  I’ve known Kelly since the first day she was hired as an F&I manager, and we had been very close in those early days!  It was a lovely time of fond remembrances and laughter!  On Wednesday Smail’s gave a catered (Elegant Tents) luncheon in the Ford showroom, complete with cake and special guest Ellen Smail.  Thanks so much, Ellen, for coming!  I was honored and humbled!  Before ‘food’, Jim gave me a check to put toward the purchase of my car, which I have been talking about buying for 6 months  — and hope to purchase by the end of this year.  Jeff and Lindsey and Jim all had little stories to tell, and very kind things to say about my long years with them.  Right before we ate, Cindy (controller), said “WAIT!  We have one more thing!”  I heard this rattling noise and here they came, pushing a metal cart with my beloved IBM Selectric Typewriter! It was the one thing that I really coveted – they just don’t make them like that any more!  It was sort of understood that as the only remaining ‘dinosaur’ in the complex it would stay put.  I can tell you that it made my day!  There was even a plaque with thanks for my years of devotion to Smail. 

On Thursday, Lenny and the maintenance crew cooked burgers on their grill outside their building and invited the select inner circle.  It was a laid-back luncheon and the third delicious meal in my honor.  Amazing people, lifelong memories.  So Friday, we took a few final pictures, and and I closed the book on that final chapter of my Smail working life. 

But not to worry; the new book that I am about to write will be filled with adventure and excitement and SPARE TIME!  I will file away the memories in separate little places, and be certain to only pull out the good ones.  A huge thank you to all those people who have crossed my path during those 52 years – I am who I am today, because of all of you!  God Bless!

I love July 4th!  It represents to me not only freedom, but purpose and belonging and loyalty.  This nation, under God, is where I call home; where my family is, and where love is.  I love the history of the founding fathers, the dedication of brave men and women who sacrificed and fought and worked to make this county great.  I love the symbols that represent all these things that I love. 

Yesterday Autmn spent the day, and made me breakfast.  We both had things to do, so while we were working at our chores, I put several discs in the CD player, songs of tribute to America, music from Colonial Williamsburg, and songs honoring the 4th of July.  She rolled her eyes at me as I marched through the hall, singing Dixie and American the Beautiful.  But when asked, she didn’t want me to turn them off. 

When we drove out to the store, we bought a box of sparklers, which we stood in the driveway in broad daylight and waved them around.  So this morning, I was ready to celebrate!  I had the flags out, and the music on, and wonderful memories of stories and experiences to inspire me.  A picnic lunch with my family brought laughter and great food; then an afternoon and evening of pulling weeds on the hill (only me, I’m sure!!!) rounded out my day.  I’ll close it off by watching 4th of July movie countdown on the Hallmark Channel. 

However you spent your day, whoever you were with, whatever memories or experiences you had, I hope you took time to thank God for our great country, our amazing freedoms, and the love that surrounds our minds and hearts every single day.  Happy Birthday, America!  We love you!