So here I was, driving through northeastern Indiana, I was traveling with extra vigilance because the trip was part of the immersion experience for my next book (Turn Left at the Trojan Horse, coming soon to a bookstore near you). Specifically, I was headed for a town called Plato, one of many Greek-and-mythology-themed places that were part of my itinerary as I approximated a cross-country version of The Iliad and The Odyssey.
Plato is at the eastern fringe of one of the nation’s largest Amish communities. In fact, I had spent much of the previous day in the little town of Shipshewana, where there is a twice-a-week flea market in which some 860 vendors descend on the community of 536 people. There is also a museum there devoted to the history and culture of the Amish community (the Menno-Hof Museum). When late afternoon arrived, I took a horse-and-buggy ride into the countryside, where I was fed dinner by an Amish family – a enlightening, if slightly uncomfortable, experience.
So I wasn’t too surprised when I finally arrived in the little crossroads of Plato (and that’s pretty much all it is) and the first thing I witnessed was an Amish buggy clopping in the opposite direction. The second thing I encountered was basically the only commercial establishment in town – a business (LaGrange Monument Works) that sells tombstones.
But here’s the funny thing: Along the highway, right in front of the business, there stands a no passing zone sign. Can I possibly be the first person to get a chuckle out of this juxtaposition?
I revel in ironic signs like that, signs that break up a long drive by offering an opportunity for a spontaneous grin. I remember when Amy and I made our first visit to Yosemite, arriving at an RV campground at the Fishing Bridge area of the park. The current bridge itself is more than 70 years old now, and it used to be a very popular place to fish because it was apparently a major spawning area for cutthroat trout. But when the trout population began to dwindle in the early 1970s, the activity was curtailed.
So it was that we arrived to drive past a sign that said FISHING BRIDGE. And then, about ten feet later: CLOSED TO FISHING. That one’s in our scrapbook, along with snapshots of bison grazing and geysers spraying.
I’ve got one more. Right after my journey through Plato, I motored into Ohio and headed for a town called Pandora. Greek mythology aficionados may recall her as the woman who unleashed misery on mankind by opening the lid of a jar (or box) that was supposed to remain unopened. Out came a multitude of plagues – sorrow and mischief, spite and envy, everything from revenge to rheumatism. All that was left, sitting in the bottom of the jar, was hope.
So again, I wasn’t all that surprised when I arrived in the Rockwellian community in west-central Ohio to find an eatery called Pandora’s Lunch Box. But check out what I came across in the photo below. Given the tale behind the name, this cracked me up:
Posted: March 1, 2010 12:36 PM | Posted By:
Related Categories:
-
Last year, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to see some of the nation’s great locales that I haven’t yet visited. I listed 20 places on my to-do list – from Glacier National Park to Fenway Park – and I managed to cross five of them (including Key West and the Everglades) off the list this past summer.
I plan to cross off a few more this coming summer, including Burlington (Vermont), the Adirondacks and Acadia National Park. Meanwhile, I have another list that I’m resolved to solve. There are four quirky places (each sharing a similar motif) that I’d like to visit, if only to quench some curiosity:
Cadillac Ranch – Located in a cow pasture along I-40 just west of Amarillo, Texas, this is essentially a collection of used, graffiti-covered Cadillacs, half-buried, nose-first, all leaning in the same direction. Art, of course, is a matter of perspective. One person’s junkyard is another’s public sculpture masterpiece. But either way, it’s sort of irresistible. Besides, visitors are encouraged to add their own graffiti.
Carhenge – Like Cadillac Ranch, this attraction is open 24 hours a day, no admission (though donations are gladly accepted). And like the Ranch, there are mid-19th century cars involved. But these are painted gray and specifically buried or balanced to replicate Stonehenge, that mysterious Wonder of the World in England. All 38 stones of Stonehenge are represented. Also on site – outside of Alliance, Nebraska – is the Car Art Reserve. This consists of sculptures made entirely of cars and/or car parts.
Stonehenge – It’s the brainchild of an entrepreneur and road builder named Sam Hill. He envisioned a Quaker community in south-central Washington (on the outskirts of Goldendale), but he was the only Quaker who moved there. Instead, he built a French mansion on a cliff overlooking the Columbia River, which is now the quirky Maryhill Museum of Art (which includes original works by Rodin). Nearby sits an 80-year-old concrete replica of Stonehenge that Hill commissioned as a monument to the sacrifices of war. I’m not sure what the connection is, but it’s cheaper than sacrificing $$ to visit England.
Stonehenge II – Yep, there’s one more. About three-quarters the size of England’s original, this one is in the Texas outback, way off the beaten path, but not too far from the city of Kerrville. On either side of it are a couple of 13-foot-high Eastern Island statues, just for good measure. It’s sort of like putting a replica Statue of Liberty next to a replica Great Pyramid. But that’s just quibbling… (and that’s just Las Vegas).
There also used to be an attraction near Santa Fe, New Mexico known as – get this – Stonefridge: A Fridgehenge. That’s right – junked refrigerators placed in that familiar mystical pattern. It was created in 2003, but within a few years it had fallen into disrepair, and apparently it has since been removed.
Still, you have to admire American ingenuity. We take a world-class icon and make it our own, for better or for worse. So I vow to visit at least one of them.
Posted: December 30, 2009 1:51 PM | Posted By:
Related Categories:
-
Last week, I wrote about how sometimes the residents of small rural communities retain much of the culture of the immigrants who spawned the town – the windmills in Amsterdam (Montana), for instance, and the polka in Prague (Nebraska). But I’ve also found some surprises in internationally-named towns – unplanned evidence of the culture, you might say.
I’ll give you three examples:
JERUSALEM
It’s a tiny crossroads in the heart of Arkansas, where folks tend to raise chickens and hogs – and a beauty queen or two. Indeed, the most famous natives are a couple of identical twins who were crowned Miss Arkansas in succeeding years. Their names, and I couldn’t make this up: Leanne and Lynnanne Derryberry.
Before visiting Jerusalem, I did a little Web surfing, seeking anything I could find about the town. And one discovery stopped me in mid-surf. It was a genealogical reference to an Arkansas farmer who died there around the turn of the twentieth century. His name – and again, I couldn’t make this up: King David Byers.
So that’s what I found in Jerusalem – the grave of King David.
LONDON
This Wisconsin hamlet, not too far from the state capital of Madison, was founded when a new train route ran through the area. Today, the tracks are gone, replaced by a bike trail. Much of the rest of old London is gone, too – the three hotels, the cigar factory, the creamery, the movie house.
Now it’s an unincorporated rural community, but when I visited a few years ago I came across one thing that remained – appropriate to both the town’s origins and the name. At the center of town, on the corner of Main Street and County Route O, was – what else? – a pub.
The London Depot, it was called. And on the matchboxes, it announced simply this: “Warm Beer. Lousy Food. Indoor Pool.”
VERSAILLES
Located less than 30 miles from the city of Paris (each of them resting on either side of Lexington, amid Kentucky’s beautiful Bluegrass region), Versailles is the seat of Woodford County, a bustling little city of some 8,000 people. Driving along Versailles Road (otherwise known as U.S. 60), I passed a number of fast food joints. I expected that. What I didn’t expect was this: an honest-to-goodness castle.
It appeared atop a hill along the busy highway. A dozen turrets. Four corner towers. Twelve-foot walls. No access for the curious. Apparently, a coal magnate built it for his wife in the early 1970s – a 32-room, 10,400-square-foot residence inside the stone walls. But they divorced before it was complete, and – at least by the time I arrived in 2002 – nobody had ever lived there.
So there you have it: I found a pub in London, King David in Jerusalem, and a veritable palace in Versailles. You can find wonders in the small worlds close to home.
Posted: September 23, 2009 2:23 AM | Posted By:
Related Categories:
-
[]
|
