72. MAMMOTH CAVE & NATIONAL CORVETTE MUSEUM

Kentucky

12/30/2010

Patricia – what is your problem with some of these crazy entries? These places are an hour from each other and have absolutely no connection in any way. I didn’t say one word about Shaker Village being in Harrodsburg and then you gave us this weird “Beaumont Inn & Harrodsburg” entry. I gave you a break on that one. But this one defies any sense of logic. I thought I could trust you again, Patricia. I thought we were through with these little games of yours. You’re just lucky Daniel is obsessed with cars right now, so we went to the darned museum and the caves.

First, the Corvette Museum – the only museum in the world dedicated to a single vehicle. It is filled with Corvettes. Lots of Corvettes were parked outside. Lesson: Corvette people like looking at other Corvettes.

The Corvette Museum didn’t do much for Laura and I (and probably not Philip) but for Daniel it was a religious experience. You have to understand Daniel’s preoccupation with cars to understand the unadulterated ecstasy this place gave him. “Car! Car! Car! Car!” he yelled while pointing at each vehicle. Every time he saw a new one it was a huge surprise and the gleeful explosion happened again. Unfortunately we literally had to drag him kicking and screaming when we left.

We stopped at a Wendy’s before we left town. Instead of handicap spaces they had “Corvette only” spaces. Yikes!

We then made our journey to Mammoth Cave – the world’s longest underground cavern system. We got a little lost and thought we would never make it. The GPS tried to send us up somebody’s driveway. Then his two huge dogs ran out and wanted to get run over. Eventually we found an alternate route. We got a little worried when we started seeing signs labeled “Warning: Road ends in water.” Like sensible people we just kept driving forward, but wouldn’t you know? The signs weren’t kidding. However, there’s a little ferry that moves back and forth whenever a car comes by. I say ferry, but it reminded me of a supped-up version of that little raft the Grim Reaper takes people across the River Styx. Nevertheless, it took about 15 seconds to cross the river and I then nominated the ferryman (stuck in a tollbooth-like control room) with the “Most Mind-numbingly Tedious Job” award.

They offer various tours of the cave, but due to having two kids with us and the fact that Laura is pregnant again (surprise!) we opted for the least strenuous. With Daniel strapped to my back and Philip strapped to Laura’s front we bought our tickets. We waited outside for the tour to begin. The ranger tour guide gave us a little spiel and right before we got on the bus he said, “Oh, you can’t bring a back carrier.” Now you tell us! Why didn’t the ticket lady tell me that? I was able to quickly run back to the car and drop off the carrier. I was going to have to carry Daniel in my arms the whole way. Good thing I’m so buff.

After the short bus ride we reached the cave entrance. Steve from Blue’s Clues (I swear he was our tour guide) explained that the covered overhang had been built for Ronald Reagan during a presidential visit. He seemed a little bitter about that since he said they never needed an overhang before.

The cave entrance was sealed by a huge door in a concrete bunker. Going inside did feel like entering a sci-fi movie. Artificial lights allowed us to see some pretty amazing formations, the most famous being the Frozen Niagara – a huge limestone cascade that looks like a stone waterfall. At one point Steve turned out all the lights so we could experience absolute darkness. They say in absolute darkness you can wave your hand in front of your face and not be able to see it. It’s true. I tried.

Steve brought us to a stopping point and then allowed us to backtrack at our own pace, which was pretty neat. We did allow Daniel to walk around a little bit. He enjoyed pointing out stalagmites and stalactites, but I don’t think he knows the difference.

And thus another trip ended. The five hour trip home was without incident, except for that time we nearly crashed into a toilet sitting on the highway. KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN-tucky!

71. THE LINCOLN TRAIL

Kentucky

12/30/2010

Another trail – this one all about the guy on the penny. As we have already learned, every state claims Honest Abe and Kentucky prides itself on being the “Birthplace of Lincoln.” So let’s go see where the Great Emancipator made his dramatic entrance.

His hometown has a bunch of places like an ice cream stand called “Lincoln Freeze” and “The Lincoln Country and Western Tavern” but there are some real Lincoln sites too. We first encountered Abe Lincoln’s childhood home. Then we saw Abe Lincoln’s school. At least, that’s what the historic plaque said. There was no building. Just a cow. Laura thinks the cow ate the school. I didn’t think that was likely. We talked about this for a while.

Eventually we reached the Abraham Lincoln Birthplace National Historic Park. They built an entire park around it. That’s how cool Lincoln is. There’s a big Lincoln Memorial-type Lincoln Memorial in the middle. Go inside and there is a “symbolic cabin.” Laura was mad that it wasn’t the real cabin, which is of course beaver food by now.

70. THE BOURBON TRAIL

Kentucky

12/30/2010

Before we could continue our journeys we had to fill up the gas tank. While I was pumping the gas this lady who worked at the gas station came up to me and started talking to me about where we were coming from and where we were headed. Really friendly lady. I chalked it up to that Southern hospitality you always hear about. When I got back in the car Laura brought my attention to the “We pump the gas” sign. Oops.

Kentucky supplies more than 95% of the world’s bourbon whiskey, and a group of distilleries make up the Bourbon Trail. Being teetotalers we went for the history rather than the free samples and focused our attention on the Bourbon Heritage Center in Bardsville.

This is a modest museum where visitors are treated to a little film on the history of Bourbon, with a particular emphasis on Heaven Hill Distilleries and how much more awesome this particular brand is than all the others. Did I mention who runs the museum?

The apparent highlight of the museum is this giant keg-shaped room where visitors enter and are given free samples of many types of bourbon. Laura, the kids and I didn’t go in there, but everyone else was in there for a long time. I wonder who was driving everyone home?

If I sound flippant I’m not trying to be. In fact, both Laura and I agreed that it was interesting to learn about the creation of bourbon and its importance in Kentucky history. Even nondrinkers can appreciate that.

69. BEAUMONT INN & HARRODSBURG

Harrodsburg, Kentucky

12/29/2010

The Beaumont Inn has two distinctions – it is the oldest family-run inn in Kentucky and it rests in the oldest town west of the Appalachian Mountains. Despite its famous reputation (Franklin Roosevelt slept here) it’s not very pricey, especially in the – you guessed it – winter months… on a Wednesday. So we figured if it was good enough for Eleanor it was good enough for us and decided to stay the night.

We were now deep enough into Kentucky we were definitely in the official South. We were now “sugah” and “ya’ll” to everyone. And the Beaumont certainly has the Tara thing going for it. The inside is chock full of nineteenth century furniture. A few of the pieces have “Do not touch” signs, but for the most part the furniture is for the use of the guests. My favorite area was the front desk/library with original books from the inn’s early days as a girls’ school. If you’re ever there check out where some girls had scratched their names into one of the windows when the teachers weren’t around.

Our room was very nice, with a few wrinkles that would probably make us mad in a more modern hotel. The bathroom door wouldn’t close properly and one of the bedside lamps kept randomly going out. There also weren’t any extra plugs anywhere in the room, so if someone needed an outlet they’d be out of luck. No soap in the bathroom either. The ambience of the building and the friendly staff offset a lot of this though. It was obvious that a lot of love went into preserving this place despite a few little mistakes.

There is a restaurant attached to the inn – the Old Owl Tavern. The upstairs is for adults only and the downstairs is for families. This really is genius. We love our kids, but they could no doubt ruin the romantic mood for a couple of honeymooners. On the other hand, it was nice to not be barred from somewhere elegant because we’re a family.

Anyway, the food: I had a Hot Brown and a slice of Derby pie. KEEEEEEEEEEEN-TUCKY! Laura had a hamburger and spent the night battling food poisoning. Uh oh. Not what you’d expect at a place like this.

A stay at the Beaumont comes with a sit-down breakfast. We had better luck with this meal. This food was actually prepared in the hotel kitchen this time and was excellent. Their specialty is hot cakes. Sounds boring, but they really were the best pancakes we’ve ever eaten.

68. SHAKER VILLAGE OF PLEASANT HILL

Harrodsburg, Kentucky

12/29/2010

For those in the know the Shakers were a communal sect that flourished briefly during the nineteenth century and are now essentially extinct. Nonetheless, a few of their communes are preserved for historic reasons – the largest and most complete is Pleasant Hill just outside of Harrodsburg.

There’s basically a main street lined with Shaker buildings, a few of them containing costumed interpreters doing Shaker things – which means making little wooden crafts with traditional tools. I’ll be honest: As a general rule I’m not a big fan of costumed interpreters, but thankfully these people just dressed like Shakers and didn’t try to talk like them. None of that “Yon cell phone doth distracteth” stuff.

Interesting look into a footnote in American history. I think most people have heard of the Shakers but don’t really know who they were. I now have some great Shaker trivia next time they come up in casual conversation. Did you know that the Shakers were the first to sell seeds in those little paper envelopes? I do. I learned that at the Shaker Village. Ain’t I special?

Here’s another piece of trivia: Admission is half off in the winter months.

67. BEREA

Berea, Kentucky

12/29/2010

Berea College was founded as the first interracial, coed school in the South. Their mission is admirable – a prestigious college in which only low-income, high-achieving students are admitted. Tuition is free, except all students must work for the college – usually through their craft program. The craft culture has spread to the entire town and it is now one of those artisan hubs.

We started by visiting the college and its Log House Craft Gallery. This is where students sell their wares – apparently. Like many “small town secret gets big” places we’ve seen the Log House has gotten very big. Now it sells crafts from all over Kentucky, so it was hard to tell what items were made by students (if any) and which by professionals. It would have been nice if the distinction had been made. We were genuinely interested in seeing student work. Regardless, purchases do still help offset tuition, so that’s still good.

I must mention the two girls who were working at the store. They both seemed as though they were contemplating ending their own lives – if they didn’t fall asleep first. I asked one of the girls if she was a student. “Yeah,” she said. Then she yawned. I wasn’t too surprised. As romantic as Patricia makes this college sound, would I expect the students to be that different from anywhere else?

After our college experience we took a nice walk in the downtown art district, peeking into artsy ceramics and pottery places. Strangely, there were two chocolate places across the street from each other – “The Chocolate Factory” and “The Fudge Factory.” One was run by a man, the other a woman. Laura figures they were a divorced couple trying to stick it to each other.

We capped off the afternoon by eating leftover Christmas dinner in our car. Pretty classy, huh?

66. BLUEGRASS COUNTRY

Kentucky

12/29/2010

According to the Book, Kentucky’s bluegrass country covers 4,000 square miles and 15 counties. Getting a little vague there, Patricia.

Ok, so the big thing about this part of Kentucky is the horse culture and Patricia says there’s nowhere better to start than the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington. We left at 5:30 in the morning in order to get there in time for the 9:00 opening. We made record time and actually arrived around 8:30. It was pretty chilly outside and the workers were kind enough to let us wait in the lobby until the park opened, but it was a little awkward. They must have been thinking, “Wow. These people really like horses. A lot.”

Eventually the park officially opened and we were allowed to wander freely. We were the only people there, which made sense since who in their right minds goes to a park on a December morning? People who want to pay half off their admission – those kinds of people. We are those people.

Actually, the weather wasn’t too bad, although we didn’t get to see too many live horses. Philip was hypnotized by the horses we did see, while Daniel kept pointing at a service vehicle. “Car! Car! Car!” Yes, honey. There’re also horses here.

At the center of the park is the International Museum of the Horse, which is an indoor facility where we spent most of our time. This is a huge museum organized chronologically – starting from the evolution of the prehistoric horse all the way to modern moments in horse racing. Everything you have ever wanted to know (or not know) about horses seemed to be covered to non-equestrians like us. We felt thoroughly thoroughbred by the end. (Ok. That was lame.)

Laura had the most fun. When she entered the museum she took what looked like a business card from a slot. Throughout the museum were computerized kiosks. Each time she would swipe her card over the kiosk she would make decisions for a virtual horse she followed throughout the museum experience. This was a really cool touch.

65. ANTIETAM BATTLEFIELD

Sharpsburg, Maryland

10/2/2010

We spent the night in Frederick, Maryland at an Extended Stay Hotel. Using Priceline “Name Your Price” we swiped the room for $35. We didn’t realize that this is one of those places designed for long term stays (hence the name), so we had our own kitchen, with a stove and fridge. This is the least we’ve ever paid for a hotel and yet it was one of the highest quality. Highly recommended if you’re in the area.

After the funeral we began our journey home, stopping at the nearby Antietam Battlefield – site of the bloodiest single day in American military history. Now run by the National Park Service there is a $6 fee (which is valid for a three-day visit), but the men at the visitor’s center said they wouldn’t charge us for some reason. We paid anyway, but that was really nice of them. So a big shout out to those National Park Service guys, whoever you are!

There’s a modest museum, but the real experience is the self-guided driving tour. Neither Laura nor I are big Civil War people to be honest, but the driving tour did fire our imaginations. It’s very well laid-out, and moves you through the battle as if you are moving with the battle lines. The battlefields themselves are left basically as they were at the time of the battles, so it does give you that “I’m really here” feeling, without beating it over your head with huge monuments. The tour concludes with the Antietam Battle Cemetery, a very visual reminder of the carnage and senseless waste of life.

One oddity we must mention was the wedding going on at Burnside Bridge. Nothing says romance like the site of the largest loss of life in American history. Boo ya!

64. GARRETT COUNTY

Garrett County, Maryland

10/1/2010

Unexpectedly we had to make a trip to Maryland for a very tragic reason. One of Laura’s college circle was killed in a car accident and we decided to go to the funeral. Although the purpose of our trip was a sad one, along our route were two of the “Places”, which we briefly stopped at to break up the 14-hour round trip.

Right at the Pennsylvania-Maryland border is Garrett County – idyllic countryside centered around Deep Creek Lake. After four and a half hours the four of us were glad to stretch our legs at the beachfront at Deep Creek Lake State Park. Being October it was slightly chilly, but still quite comfortable. Nevertheless the beach was completely abandoned that evening, so we had the whole park to ourselves.

Philip – his usual casual self – enjoyed lying in the sand, cooing, smiling and kicking his feet around. He left behind a nice Philip-shaped crevice in the sand, defended by a wall of sand he had built up by his rigorous kicking.

Daniel immediately tried to climb on the jagged rocks and jump into the lake. That’s because Mommy was setting a bad example.

Actually, Daniel invented a game. While playing with the sand he discovered for the first time that he could clump it together. Not soon after, he discovered he could toss it on me. This is where Daddy set the bad example. I tossed some back. From then on it was war. In between volleys, Daniel would rush over to hug me, giggling all the way.

This was a powerful moment for me. Although Daniel and I play all the time, this was different somehow. Although I know he loves his parents, during play he does sometimes treat me as a “toy.” Like all babies, he sees himself as the center of the world. For the first time I sensed he was starting to see me as a human being like him – he was getting enjoyment out of my enjoyment. Instead of him playing with me, I felt like we were finally playing together.

This was a sad weekend, but I’m glad we stopped to play.

63. PRIMANTI BROS.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

9/24/2010

The last stop on our journey was the Primanti Bros. sandwich shop. Again, some cosmic force was trying to stop us. When we got back to our car the parking lot was completely sealed in. Obviously, in order make twenty more bucks the parking lot guy let cars park in the entrance, so we had no escape. He must have believed everyone parking there was going to the game, which would continue for several more hours. And of course, parking lot guy was nowhere to be found. Luckily, we were parked facing the road. We gritted our teeth and just gunned it over the curb.

Primanti Bros. was truly a few minutes away and fairly empty as they waited for the after-game crowd, which we could now verify as a Pirates game thanks to the TVs in the restaurant. Greasy man-food, their shtick is that on the first day of business the brothers forgot to buy plates and silverware. Their solution: cram all the side dishes (like French fries and coleslaw) right into the sandwich, and serve the concoction on sheets of wax paper. A legend was born, etc., etc. What you get is full, very fast, because your entire meal is all in once place for you. The ambience is nice, the service was great, and if you’re going to eat standard bar food they’ve got a simple gimmick that works.

When we left, Houston and Pittsburgh were tied. Go Steelers! Um… I mean Pirates!

62. THE ANDY WARHOL MUSEUM

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

9/24/2010

The Andy Warhol Museum is the largest facility in the world dedicated to a single artist. Planning this trip around my cheapskate ways, there is a reason I’ve saved Pittsburgh for a Friday – the museum stays open until 10 on Fridays and admission is half-off after 5 pm. Unfortunately, some of my cheapness was undone because of a sporting event. Suddenly the $5 parking lots were $10 parking lots. We weren’t sure who was playing, but we saw a lot of people wearing Pittsburgh Pirates and Pittsburgh Steelers shirts. Laura concluded that the Pirates and the Steelers were playing each other that night. I tried to convince her how incredibly unlikely that was on so many levels, but she wouldn’t be put off.

Six floors of Warhol’s work are displayed in themed exhibits, with an apparent emphasis on his films. I guess that would be pretty cool to a Warhol fan since apparently most of these films are not available anywhere else. Aside from really being into soup, Warhol was also quite interested in male anatomy – so bear that in mind before you take YOUR infant children. (Not knowing anything about Warhol’s personal life before visiting, we were surprised since we perceived Warhol as the oxymoronic mainstream modern artist.)

I must mention that Daniel reached new heights of hilarity when we entered an installation piece called “Silver Clouds”, which is a bunch of giant helium-filled balloons blown around by fans. People are encouraged to play with them and Daniel needed little encouragement. Like most art museums you’re not allowed to take photos, but when the 18-year old Goth girl guarding us started texting her boyfriend we snapped a few shots anyway. We don’t think Andy would have minded too much.

Laura and I weren’t sure what to make of the museum. Only having a superficial awareness of Warhol’s most famous works before going to the museum, we were surprised at the evidence that he considered himself a devout Catholic in contrast to most of his actual lifestyle. We spent most of our trip home discussing his art (or even is it art?), was he a devout Catholic because he perceived himself to be? (Was he in many ways no different from many other religious people who struggle with vices, but just don’t have museums dedicated to them?) We discussed Warhol. We discussed his art. We discussed perception versus reality. (Isn’t that a huge question in pop art, anyway?) We’re still talking about it. So the museum made some sort of impact on us. We’re just not sure what.

61. PITTSBURGH'S STEEL HERITAGE

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

9/24/2010

Every year the staff at my school get a random Friday in September off as a comp day in exchange for working during our school’s open house – because we teachers don’t get enough vacation days as it is, apparently. Last year Laura and I were all ready to use the day for a short jaunt to Pittsburgh, only to discover most of the free world was there to stop us. This year we decided to be undeterred.

We left around 9 am for the three-hour journey, but it’s becoming clear that someone, somewhere out there isn’t too keen on us going to the Iron City. Although we didn’t know it at the time, a diesel truck and a paint truck collided on I-70. That’s an OSHA field day, right there. Miles and miles of the highway were shut down, so that three-hour drive crawled to a six-hour one. We thought about turning around a few times, but we would have faced the same problem going back, so we persevered. (The truck drivers are fine, just in case you think I’m a completely heartless guy.) Also, Laura and I were both impressed in how well the kids dealt with the situation.

With our schedule completely out of whack, it looked as though we might have to abbreviate our journey through “Pittsburgh’s steel heritage” – Schultz’ catch-all term for everything Andrew “I was the richest man in the world” Carnegie and his cronies laid their hands on.

Our first stop was the Carnegie Science Center – a favorite of Laura’s that we had hoped to spend most of the day in, but since it was now 3 pm we only had two hours before they closed. Even with less time than we had hoped, this place was really fun – very interactive and extremely kid-friendly. Daniel ran amok, playing gleefully with all the exhibits. Bizarrely, his favorite “exhibit” was the handicap ramps – he seemed to think they were slides! Really sensitive to people’s disabilities, dude.

Anchored just outside the museum is a World War II-era submarine to explore. I took Daniel down there, but the cramped quarters freaked him out. Maybe a naval career isn’t in the works. Meanwhile, Laura played foosball with a robot. I’m not allowed to say who won. (Hint: It wasn’t her.) [Laura: HEY! It was 2-1!]

[Info that’s only really good for teachers: The admission price is pretty steep, but teachers can get a free ticket once a year. Just email the museum and their marketing manager will send you an email to print off. This isn’t very well advertised on their website, so take advantage if you can.]

After the museum we drove over to the Frick Art and Historical Center – former home of Henry Clay Frick, Andrew Carnegie’s business partner. The drive was supposed to take ten minutes, but again we were caught in a traffic disaster. A five-car pileup on the highway stretched that ten minutes into an hour.

When we finally reached the Frickin’ house we pulled into the parking lot where a sleepy-looking security guard stared blankly at us from his booth. After a little prompting he told us the house was closed. We asked if we could just look at the grounds. He said no. He didn’t look like he was prepared to stop us, but we left. What a Frickin’ waste of time!

Who cares about Henry Clay Frick anyway? Once called “America’s most hated man” his management strategy involved hiring gunmen to shoot striking workers. Where did this tragedy happen, you ask? Just down the road at the Homestead Works mill. We went there and read the historic plaque of “The Battle of Homestead Works” where in 1892 the workers successfully fought off their assailants after a 12-hour gunfight. The victory for the workers was short-lived when the Pennsylvania militia forcibly ended the strike, but the event remains a powerful symbol for labor unions.

RETURN TRIP - MARIETTA

Marietta, Ohio

8/13/2010

In what is quickly becoming an annual tradition we decided to revisit our honeymoon spot again for our anniversary – this time with an extra baby in tow.

This time we took a more indirect route – through the Schultz-recommended Covered Bridge Scenic Byway. At this point we’re no fools when it comes to these alleged covered bridges. An extra hour drive and we only saw one. It was still a pretty drive and beat the highway any day.

When we got to Marietta we headed immediately to the Barking Dog. Thanks to us they can stay in business for another year. We then went into the Tin Rabbit and the cranky old lady wasn’t there. (Cranky old lady, we hope you’re ok.) We strolled around the Antique Mall of Marietta before dropping in to Austyn’s for another incredible meal. (Our waitress told us Philip reminded her of her boyfriend: only happy with a bottle in his mouth.) It was here that Daniel had his first pizza – and loved every bite.

We spent the rest of the evening walking by the river bank where Laura and I spent our evenings two years ago. This time Daniel could chase the geese around. And Philip laughed when the warm breeze brushed his face. One weird thing - the dead pig washed up on the shore mildly ruined the romantic mood.

Coming back to Marietta is a very sobering way for us to reflect on how much our lives have changed in such a short time – and how much our family has grown.

How did we ever live being so lonely?

60. TWINS DAYS

Twinsburg, Ohio

8/7/2010

Most of my life I lived between 10 and 20 minutes from Twinsburg – I even student taught at Twinsburg High School – so I’ve always been aware of the Twins Days Festival. Not being a twin myself I never had any incentive to go. But where Patricia Schultz commands, I go.

We drove up to my old stomping grounds early in the morning to catch the “Double Take Parade.” Twins Days is the largest gathering of twins in the world and many of the twins show off fabulous floats and crazy costumes in this annual parade. Actually, no they don’t. What really happens is that a bunch of twins sort of wander down the street in whatever they happen to have on. Unless you have some sort of extreme fascination of staring at twins just for the sake of staring at twins this parade doesn’t have a lot of appeal.
Luckily, the parade led us right into the Glen Chamberlain Park where most of the Twins Days events and activities took place. Well, if there had been events and activities. The parade began at 9:00 and had basically petered out by 10:00. The first scheduled event wasn’t to occur until noon, but we assumed there would be plenty to do just wandering around the booths. We were wrong. These booths were your typical fairground carnival type, selling all the usual junk. Two hours of getting henna tattoos and eating elephant ears would be too much for anyone. What does this have to do with twins? There was one table set up by a group called “Mothers of Twins”, but that was it in the whole complex. There was literally nothing for twins or non-twins to do or see for the entire morning. Since the festival is held in a park we let Daniel run around and play for awhile, but we could have done that at home for free.

Never fear, however. When noon came around our wait was richly rewarded by events and activities to whet the palate of even the most adventurous thrill-seeker. Nope. Just kidding. I hate to be cruel, but lameness thy name is Twins Days. First of all, let’s talk a little bit about organization. There were three events scheduled for the afternoon – “Entertainment”, “Twins Contests” and “Twins Talent Show” – but they were each scheduled as going on at the same time. (Their starting times were spread out by half an hour, but each event overlapped for a couple of hours after that.) It made no sense to us why organizers would have absolutely nothing going on the entire morning and then schedule every event to run at the same time.
We decided to bounce around the three activities, so we saw a little of all of them. “Entertainment” started first. A group called “The Average White Broads” sang close-harmony 1950s rock and roll songs. I thought they were fine, but Laura didn’t care for them. I hope the group didn’t notice she fell asleep! Just for the record, the broads aren’t triplets. The entertainment consisted of hired-in acts. (In other words, what you would find at any fair across the country.) We only stayed for part of their set since the “Twins Contests” were about to begin.

The “Twins Contests” were along the lines of “Oldest twins”, “Youngest twins”, “Most alike twins”, “Most unlike twins” (which Laura misheard as “Most unliked twins!”), etc. This was probably the least lame event. It was kind of neat to see the 95-year old twins win the oldest twins gold medal. It was their first time at the festival and they were less than one month older than another set of 95-year olds who had been coming for years. We wondered if the silver medalists were sore about being usurped.

We didn’t see too many of the contests because we wanted to get over to the talent show – the one part of the festival I had been looking forward to from the beginning and still had faith in. Wow. This was the most pathetic display of talentless-ness it has ever been my misfortune to witness. Little girls tripping over jump ropes, dropping batons, and singing off-key to cds with vocal tracks. Old ladies straining at a piano. And don’t get me started on the middle-aged men and their sign language choreography. Over a loudspeaker they kept announcing how many sets of twins and multiples were in attendance – at this point over 1600 – and this was the best talent they could come up with?

Gentle readers, perhaps you think I am being too mean? Lighten up, you say? So I don’t come off as an aimless complainer, here are some ideas to make Twins Days less boring: Why not have workshops for new parents of twins to get advice? (The youngest twins in attendance were less than two weeks old and we saw many, many parents toting newborns.) Genetic researchers were in attendance and were trying to get twins to participate in their studies. Why not have some of these researchers present some of their findings? That would have interest to the general public too. Maybe displays about famous twins and their accomplishments, discrimination against twins, twins in media, misconceptions about twins. There are a million ways to breathe new life into Twins Days.

I must mention that Friday night featured activities and events for twins only (the general public is not admitted), so maybe that’s fun for the twins. And I certainly don’t begrudge them that. No doubt for many twins and multiples the fellowship they receive at this festival is the whole point of going. I’m sure mothers and fathers of newborn twins have a lot to discuss. Kids who get stared at in school can see that they are not the only twins out there. I think that’s great. I really do. But I’m not sure what we were doing there. This was supposed to be one of the 1000 places to see before we die, but our verdict is that without some major changes this would have zero appeal to most non-twins.

59. SAUGATUCK

Saugatuck, Michigan

7/26/2010

Saugatuck was started as a sort of artist-haven and about a third of Schultz’s entry focuses on the Oxbow School of Art – a hundred-year old summer satellite of the Art Institute of Chicago.

We were surprised that there was no signage for the school anywhere. In fact, the school lies at the end of a very narrow road, far off the beaten path. If I hadn’t done my homework in advance we never would have found it. It doesn’t have a real address and cars can’t make it all the way to the school. We parked the car as close as we could and then hiked up a small, heavily wooded hill. At this point, I was still uncertain if we were in the right place, since we hadn’t seen any indication of any school. Just when I was starting to think it might be a good idea to turn around we entered into a clearing where a series of small buildings made up the campus. A wooden sign declared this indeed to be the Oxbow School of Art. A few dozen people were scattered over the clearing eating lunch, sitting on benches, in circles on the grass and over on a small pier. Many of them stared at us quizzically. It seemed as though we had fallen upon some strange, undiscovered tribe in the wilderness. It was clear we were invaders and we felt guilty. A woman approached us, and although she was very friendly she seemed confused when we explained what we were doing there. It was obvious that it was unusual for people to erupt from the woods “just to see the place.” The woman brought us to another lady in one of the buildings (presumably someone in charge) who seemed just as confused by our presence – although amused. She said we were free to walk along the lakeshore if we wished, but not to disturb the classes. We went back outside and someone was setting up easels. Lunch was ending and work was about to recommence. Sheepishly, we disappeared into the wilderness from whence we came.

Well, that was awkward. Thanks, Patricia. Thanks a lot.

All was not lost at Saugatuck because we spent most of the rest of the day at Oval Beach. MTV calls Oval Beach one of the best five beaches in the USA, so since we’ve been there that pretty makes us the hippest people in alive.

I don’t think most people think connect “Lake Michigan” and “tropical paradise” but that is pretty much what you get here. We couldn’t drag Daniel away from playing in the sand and swimming with Mommy.

Even Philip worked on his tan.

Thus ended our successful conquest of Lower Michigan. It took us six hours to drive home and as we moved further south and east it was very obvious to see how much the environment transitioned away from the gorgeous diversity of western Michigan. What a beautiful state.

58. FREDERICK MEIJER GARDENS

Grand Rapids, Michigan

7/26/2010

Since we spent way longer on the Old Mission Peninsula than we had thought we would the almost four hour drive to Grand Rapids that night seemed very daunting. We were back to using the GPS and it sent us on some very indirect, unpaved country roads. They all had names based upon the lengths of the roads – 8 Mile Road, 29 ½ Mile Road, etc. Who settled this place? Robots?

We eventually made it to the Grand Rapids Best Western. Again, a very nice hotel we got very cheaply using Priceline’s Name-Your-Own-Price feature. Thanks, William Shatner.

In the morning we took the short drive to the Frederick Meijer Gardens. Apparently, the founder of the Meijer grocery chain was really into collecting modern art. Now his collection is peppered around a hundred-odd acres of botanical gardens.

I thought this was a bit pricey for what it was - $12 a person. When I showed the ticket lady my little AAA keychain card she insisted on seeing my actual full-sized wallet card. This is for a 50 cent discount, lady. Speaking of which, I know I used to praise these AAA discounts, but more often than not I’ve noticed these “50 cents off!” deals. In this case, that’s barely 4%. Well, whoop-dee-doo!

Anyway, onto the gardens. The plant life was very pretty, but we weren’t too in love with the art. I know all art is subjective, and modern art doubly so. At one point on our walk I saw a large, slanted cube on display. A couple of yards away was another black cube. The same artist? I wondered. Nope. This cube had a little sign next to it explaining that the statue was being renovated. I was staring at a pedestal. I couldn’t tell the difference. Am I a philistine or what?

The centerpiece of the collection is The American Horse, based on sketches by Leonardo. In which case shouldn’t it have been called The Venetian Horse? Never mind.

There was also a very large children’s garden. Daniel had a lot of fun playing with a room-sized model of the Great Lakes, with little boats and mini-waterfalls to splash in.

Daniel made a friend and made me proud. A little one-year old boy gibber-jabbered to him, and Daniel gibber-jabbered back. Despite being baby talk it seemed like a real conversation. They splashed around for a little bit and then Daniel picked up a toy sailboat and gave it to his new friend to play with. What a cool kid, huh?

57. TRAVERSE CITY & GRAND TRAVERSE BAY

Traverse City, Michigan

7/25/2010

We traveled back down M-22 and re-entered Traverse City for a proper exploration.

Our first stop was Schultz-authorized Sleder’s Tavern for dinner. The food was good, but we received the worst service of our entire lives. We stood in the entrance, babes in arms, while several staff members passed by us, looked at us, and ignored us. After five minutes a waitress said, “She’ll be right there.” Who’s she? “She” showed up five minutes later and brought us to a table. I asked for a high chair. She said she’d go get one, disappeared into the night and we never saw her again. Five minutes later a male waiter came and asked for our drink orders. I asked for a high chair again. The man disappeared. Several minutes later he returned with our drinks and took our food order. (It is at this point I need to mention the details of the kid’s meal we ordered for Daniel – it promised pieces of cod [apparently not to be confused with cod pieces], fries, a drink, and an “ice cream treat.”) Still no high chair, by the way. I asked about the high chair again and he said, “I was going to get it.” Off he went. Five minutes later the chair arrived. After a long while our food did too. No drink for Daniel, though. I asked about it and the man said again, “I was going to get it.” Daniel’s drink arrived after awhile again. By now, Laura had almost finished her lemonade. The waiter pointed at it and said, “What is that?” “Lemonade,” my wife replied. “Oh,” said the waiter, scribbled something down and walked away. Apparently he missed the lecture on “Ask the lady with the empty glass if she’d like a refill” that day at waiter college. That was the last we saw of him. We waited about fifteen minutes for Daniel’s “ice cream treat.” Eventually, I had to go to the bartender to ask about it. I said, “I think our waiter abandoned us. We were supposed to get some sort of ice cream with the kid’s meal.” “Oh,” the bartender replied. She pressed a display on her computer which turned the icon of our table from yellow to red. Then she went into the back and returned with one of those little ice cream cups with the tongue depressor spoon.

Admittedly, the food was pretty good, but the service really ruined the experience for us. One other thing I have to mention is that the place is decorated with various game animal heads. The centerpiece is “Randolph the Moose.” If you kiss the moose, employees start clanging a loud bell. Once one person kisses the moose, everyone has to kiss the moose. So the bell must be rung. Every time. They’ve been doing this for 128 years. No doubt this particular tradition got old 127 years and 364 days ago.

(Strangely, when I used to summer camp at Camp Manatoc in the Boy Scouts a similar “Kiss the moose” tradition existed in our dining hall. Is there a connection?)

When we left Sleder’s another couple was entering. The woman asked us how it was. I admitted that the service was lousy. She then mentioned that she and her husband were going to eat there because it was mentioned in “this book.” Could they have meant THE book? The love of my life? The core of my being? YES! I then proceeded to rabbit on about our adventures while these poor people slowly starved to death on the steps of this restaurant. Eventually, an ashamed and disgraced Laura dragged me away.

Ok, so the restaurant wasn’t so hot, but we didn’t come to the bay to eat. Sticking out in the middle of Grand Traverse Bay is the narrow Old Mission Peninsula. It kind of looks like Michigan is flipping Canada the bird. (Still sore about the War of 1812.) We decided to drive up and down the peninsula – about an hour round trip. Along the way Daniel discovered a new way to amuse himself – bopping back and forth in his car seat. There was something strangely hilarious about it and the more we laughed the more he did it, which only led to more laughter. Maybe it was the hours in the car that had made us all loopy that night, but the three of us were caught up in a cycle of laughing – the tears streaming down your cheeks kind. Oh, Daniel – never grow up!

We soon reached the tip of the peninsula, anchored by an old lighthouse and a stunning panoramic view. We got there just as the sun was starting to set. Thomas Kinkade, eat your heart out.

Laura took Daniel out into the shallow waters bay and I’ve never seen him have so much fun in his little life. This was a spontaneous decision, so we didn’t have his swimming gear. By the end of the evening he was filthy and his clothes were drenched, but he didn’t care. Neither did we.

56. LEELANAU PENINSULA

Michigan

7/25/2010

We rounded Grand Traverse Bay on our way over to the Leelanau Peninsula. Patricia also includes Traverse City in the golden triangle, so technically we coexisted in three of the 1000 places at once. Yes. We are that awesome.

We worked our way as far west as we could and then back up and around the peninsula. Most of the west coast consists of the Sleeping Bear Dune State Park. It costs $10 for a day pass (don’t tell Woody Guthrie) and that grants you access to the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. Along the way are various overlooks where you can stop, get out and look at the monkey. Daniel looked standing on an overlook dangling hundreds of feet over Lake Michigan. Child services have been informed.

There’s also one covered bridge – so it can tie with Parke County as the covered bridge capital of the world.

After the park we continued on the coast-hugging highway M-22. I noticed a car with an “M-22” bumper sticker, so we’re at least as cool as that guy. We soon reached Leland. We stopped in at the Schultz-recommended Carlson’s Fishery. Out back is their boat. The fishermen bring fresh catches through the back down and then they sell it from the front door. That’s about as fresh as you can get. We would have loved to have bought some, but we had no way to cook it.

We sat by the pier for awhile and watched the boats drift by, while Daniel snacked on a little dish of cherry ice cream. (Did you know this region of Michigan supplies 75% of the world’s cherry crop? I didn’t, but Patricia Schultz told me. You should really buy her book.)

55. LITTLE TRAVERSE BAY

Michigan

7/25/2010

Midway between Grayling and Little Traverse Bay is Gaylord – our stopping point for the night. We stayed in the Alpine Lodge Magnuson Hotel – a really nice hotel, practically giving away rooms on Priceline. It’s worth checking out these “off-brand” hotels sometimes.

Little Traverse Bay is speckled with a few small beach-front towns. We started the morning with Mass at St. Francis Xavier in Petoskey. When we walked in to the church we were shocked – it is an exact duplicate of St. Thomas Aquinas in Zanesville, Ohio (some 500 miles away) where Laura and I were married. The similarity was uncanny – from the stained glass windows, to the statuary, to the stations of the cross –everything was absolutely identical. Must have been the same architect. Hey, if something works…

After Mass we wandered through the town’s upscale Gaslight District (so-called because of the gas lamps lining the streets). Aimed at the super-rich, we poked our noses into a clothes boutique. A pair of ripped jeans: only $249.

We browsed through the Schultz-approved Symons General Store, chocked full of imported goodies. I shamelessly took a free sample of Swiss coffee I could never afford.

There’s no point in going to a bay and not seeing the bay. While Laura fed Philip I took Daniel on a stroll down the pier to look at the water splashing against rocks and all the different boats. Much excited pointed ensued from Daniel. (Translation: “I like this!”)

Next we drove a little further up the bay to Harbor Springs, which made Petoskey look like a shanty-town in comparison. It’s bad when we see a hotel and then you realize it’s not a hotel – it’s a house. Our main goal of visiting Harbor Springs was to eat at Juilleret’s Soda Fountain, the oldest restaurant in Michigan. I had called before going on this trip and discovered they were closing down for good on August 1st. In fact, the day we arrived was one of the only days until that closing date in which they would be open to the public at all. When we went in there were price tags on everything, bolted down or otherwise. There were pictures in the window of some of the soda fountain treats they had been serving up since 1895. There was none of that available now. The equipment was shut down and the unhappy-looking employees (probably the Juilleret family) could only offer some burgers and a few bottles of soda. Another timeless institution bites the dust. Sad.