I will have the phone on, just give me a shout.
And when the call came I was on the phone with someone, called her right back. It was 11 AM. They had got tix to the 3:30 pm tour of Jefferson's house. She had PMed me the link. I did the mapquest, calculated the time, sushed the guardian angels warning me against being so spontaneous. It would be tight, but I knew there was no reason not to. I called her back and left a message I would see them at 3:30.
I was like Ennis going on a fishing trip. I showered, found a pair of jeans clean enough, grabbed the jacket that didn;t have the camera in the pocket, hopped in the car and called him up and said: "Your going to think I am crazy, but I am on my way to Monticello." He said: Yes, you are, but I am glad your going.
Dairy Queen drive thru just north of Rocky Mount, Virginia, I am the last of 6 cars that are not moving. I start to leave twice, both times the window opened and grocery bags full of fried food passed into the cab of the trucks carrying big people. Once them two were gone the line became unblocked and the 20 minutes I had to wait I was kept company by them same two.
"This is crazy, give up, just go back home, this is too much to try to do" said one.
"OMG, you are gonna be late, you are going to miss them and it is going to be a big ole' mess" and I finally turned to those two (in my mind) and told them I would worry about it down the road, I was not going to get worked up about it now.
On thru Roanoke, onto I81, north for an hour, on to I 64 and over Afton Mountain. I recalculated the time and I was going to be right on time. It felt wonderful. I talked to Ellemeno on the phone, they were in line for the shuttle bus, took the winding road to the parking lot and got my ticket. Walk around the corner and there they were at the front of the line, she waved me to come on over, ahead of the crowd.
There was Ellemeno, her sister I had met at the Husky restaurant/gas station in Dead Mans Flatts, Alberta, their mother, who shares her name with the Provence. Her bright eyed daughter and her easy going husband. It is always inneresting to meet a friends spouse. I would like to go on record that Ellememno's husband is the nicest guy. I didn;t get the impression he has ever been angry about anything. Her mother was cool too. I liked all of them.
So the bus came, and carried us up the paved carriage paths that had carried Washington, Adams, Madison, Lafayette, many others, to the grand old house on the crest of the little mountain. Surrounded by huge old trees, the time capsule of the ultimate Renaissance man. Amazing that it is still there.
Our tour guide told us how Jefferson had inherited debt, had lived in debt, and died in debt, and in what today would be true Walmart consumerism, he had a custom built house full of stuff. He successfully negotiated that world where he accepted the fact he did not live up to some ideal, and boldly plowed ahead with his life.
The tour guide told us of his plantations, his slaves, the people whose condition and situation he considered a crime, but to free them he reasoned would be tantamount to abandoning a child. And I wondered why this man of learning could not have found a third way, to educate and establish his slaves in the world. Of course it was illegal to teach them to read, he just boldly went ahead with what he had.
"Please do not touch the original wood work" she told a man in the group, to his considerable embarrassment, and I fished in my pocket for a quarter, and left it laying on the original chair rail in the room where his daughter schooled her many children's.
I had been there one time before, in 1989, and when we entered his bedroom there were his boots, sitting in the same place, the bed he died in with the same pinkish cover on it, like it was frozen in time. The 18 1/2 foot ceilings, the skylights, it was a tinkerers delight, one I could live in. Although no one knows how much it weighs.
We toured the cellars, the smoke houses, the blacksmiths shop, where I discovered a mystical connection betwixt Ellemeno and Scott' dog. We circled the place and then elected to take the path back to the parking lot, the parents swinging their soon to be to tall daughter betwixt them. On the way we passed the cemetery where the old Farmer lays buried, with his entourage of descendants. I pointed out the graves of the parents of Lucian Truescott, IV, who was a witness to the Stonewall raid in NYC.
We retreated to an Italian restaurant in Charlottesville for dinner. That family is so warm and open I just felt right at home with them. They were full of stories of conincidence and unusual happening, one of which I will share with you.
Many years ago Ellemenos mother and step father went to meet the Trailsways bus bringing her for an Xmess visit and the passangers, all came up and told them what a wonderful person she was and that she was an angel. It seems that on the trip she had turned to the woman sitting next to her and asked if other people were agreeable to sing Christmas carols would she. The woman hesitantly agreed. A few more were recruited and they mangled their way thru one. Then with the ice broke they tried another one, and soon the whole bus was singing. I could just see that in my head, like something out of the Andy Griffith show.
It is a gift to know you my friend, and your wonderful family. I look forward to the day I can visit you in Washington State. Until then.....
"Homo on the range,
where the deer and the antelope play,
where seldom is heard,
a discouraging word,
AND THE SKYS ARE NOT CLOUDY ALL DAY!"
Topic: Shakesthegrounds Rumblings (Read 2630693 times)