Feeling Orange in Orange, Virginia

October 24, 2015 – Feeling Orange in Orange, Virginia

The Virginia I've known for nearly 30 years is not representative of the state as a whole. So a couple of days ago, the world oldest road tripper (aka Elliott) and I set out to explore a different side of Virginia. We didn't have to go far.  Less than two hours down Route 29 (Lee Highway) and Route 15 (James Madison Highway) brought us to the colorfully named town of Orange.  Set in the gently rolling hills east of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Orange was an ideal base for our exploration of the scenic area. 

An Orange Invasion in Orange, Virginia

I chose this destination for several reasons.  First of all, it gave us an opportunity to view the brilliant fall foliage in a rural setting.  Secondly, I was eager to see Montpelier, the historic home of President James Madison.  And last but certainly not least, we were eager to visit our dear friends Millicent and Andy on the farm they recently purchased in the vicinity.  While they have not permanently traded suburban living for the life of gentlemen farmers, they’re enjoying getaways to their old farmhouse and ten acres of land.

Millicent and Andy on the farm

The part of Virginia we visited is still primarily agricultural.  In fact, I listened to a few minutes of the farm report on TV while I used the treadmill in the hotel’s fitness center.  Orange, like many other small towns in the area, has a historic downtown with a compact array of commercial streets.  This is where you’ll find the courthouse, the post office, a couple of law offices and banks, churches (Baptist and Methodist), several antique stores, some real estate agents and a few restaurants.  Everything you need is here, just on a small scale than in suburbia.  

Elliott in historic Orange

Antique shopping

Seen in a store window on Main Street

Right away, Elliott and I noticed how easy it was to drive around town.  Much to my delight, there were ample parking places.  All the people we encountered were polite in a quaint old-fashioned way.  I heard “Yes, ma’am,” and “Yes, sir,” on several occasions when we conversed with locals.  I’m not saying I’d want to move to Orange, or a similar town, but there’s something appealing about a place where life seems easy.  In fact, as Elliott and I were strolling up and down the hilly streets, we remarked to each other that in many ways, Orange reminded us of the small French village where we lived a simple life for four years. 

Of course, a big reason I might not feel comfortable living in this part of Virginia is that I’m a born Yankee (although my ancestors were on the other side of the Atlantic during the Civil War) and this is Confederate country.  A monument to the Confederacy is prominently situated beside the courthouse.  I haven’t heard any talk of removing it, as some of the more progressive cities in northern Virginia have done with their Confederate statues. 

Another reason I’d be hesitant to relocate to this area is the dearth of ethnic restaurants.  Apart from a single Chinese restaurant and a lone Mexican place, the choices were confined to fast food and American cuisine.  However, at The Light Well on Main Street in Orange, we enjoyed an excellent dinner one night.  And my glass of merlot, produced by the nearby Barboursville Vineyards, was quite acceptable.

For those of you who are familiar with Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello or Washington’s Mount Vernon, James Madison’s home may be a bit of a disappointment.  It isn’t nearly as large or as well restored.  The visit was worthwhile, however, as I learned a lot about our fourth President from the film and guided tour.  For example, I didn’t know that James was a sickly child who read every volume in his father’s immense library by the time he was eleven years old.  He was mostly home schooled until his father sent him to college in New Jersey (to what is now Princeton University).  Although he was the youngest of the founding fathers, he was extremely well versed in history and government.  It was Madison who was given the task of writing a new plan of government for the United States when it became apparent that the Articles of Confederation were unworkable.  With regard to Madison’s personal life, I learned that he didn’t marry Dolley, a Quaker widow with a young son, until he was in his early forties. 

Archaeological work is going on at the site of the slave quarters (yes, Madison owned about 100 slaves), and the mansion is still undergoing restoration.  The goal is to furnish more rooms in the house, so that it accurately reflects the lifestyle of James and Dolley Madison during their later years.  Unfortunately, the grounds and the house are not very handicapped accessible.  In any event, Elliott stayed at the hotel to take his afternoon nap at the time I visited Montpelier.  Since photography was not allowed inside the house, I can’t share any photos of the interior.  But you can see the exterior and the beautiful view across Madison’s property to the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance.  

The view from James Madison's house

James Madison's Montpelier

This journey was also significant for Pearl (the vehicle formerly known as Frosty) as it was her first road trip.  Let me explain about the name change.  It seems I have a transgender vehicle.  I originally gave my new car the name Frosty, which seemed appropriate on account of his/her white color.  However, shortly after he/she arrived at my home, Frosty called my attention to the fact that he/she wasn’t actually a bright snowy white, but rather a subtle iridized pearl-like shade, hence the name change to Pearl. 

It’s hard to believe that this was Elliott’s first overnight trip in over a year.  We loaded up Pearl with both walkers (3-wheel and 4-wheel), his medications, and of course, all the oxygen-related equipment.  Yes, it was a lot of work, but travel is always challenging, and it was good for him to have a change of routine and scenery.  Who knows?  Maybe another road trip is in our future.  

On Millicent and Andy's farm (in Ruckersville)

Boo!

October 17, 2015 – Boo!

Congressional Cemetery, Washington, DC

It was a dark and stormy night – no, wait a minute.  I’m not writing fiction.  It was actually a typical October afternoon, with a bit of sun and a lot of clouds in the sky, as I approached Congressional Cemetery for a pre-Halloween visit.  This cemetery, in the southeastern quadrant of the District of Columbia, is the final resting place of ordinary Washingtonians and many notable figures from all walks of life.  They include members of Congress, architects, musicians, explorers, and veterans of every war fought since the cemetery was established in 1807.  John Phillip Sousa and J. Edgar Hoover are only a couple of the well known individuals buried in Congressional Cemetery.  

 

Approaching the cemetery’s entrance on E Street, I peered through the open ironwork fence at the cascade of hillsides strewn with gravestones.  A cloud passed momentarily in front of the sun.  A stiff breeze made me wish I’d wrapped a scarf around my neck.  Too late now.  I had arrived at the main gate of what was once called the “national burying ground.”  I hesitated.  The double gate was closed.  I took a step closer and found it wasn’t locked.  I pulled open the gate, stepped inside, and heard the heavy metallic clang as it shut behind me. 

What drew me to this particular cemetery was more than its history.  I was making this visit in large part because of its association with Elliott.   You see, during Elliott’s childhood, Congressional Cemetery served as a playground for Elliott and his fearless young friends.  His house on Potomac Avenue was just a few short blocks away.  Rather than using the main gate, the boys would climb over the brick wall on 17^th Street to enter the cemetery.  The chunks of broken glass embedded in the top of the wall didn’t deter them.  They simply loosened them and removed them.  The cemetery’s grassy slopes and abundant stone markers were an ideal setting for games of hide and seek.  

The former Thompson residence on Potomac Avenue (where Elliott grew up)

I wish Elliott had been able to accompany me on this excursion.  I know how much he wanted to go.  But the past couple of weeks, since he suffered the compression fracture, have been especially difficult for him.  Even his strong painkillers haven’t brought him much relief.  He has tried to minimize his activities and spends much of his time resting.  It’s such a shame, especially because he had gotten so involved in working on designs for painting.  I remind him that the healing takes time and he’ll eventually feel better.  But patience isn’t all that appealing when you’re 103 years old.

On a much more positive note, we had a visit from the director of American University’s art museum last Monday.  Jack Rasmussen was familiar with Elliott’s work and he was very encouraging when he saw the paintings we have at the house.  We hope that this will lead to either a show or gallery representation.  Elliott’s last show was in 1990 and he hasn’t had gallery representation in quite a while.  I’ve wanted to get more involved in promoting his work for several years, but Elliott refused to cooperate – until very recently.  It must be the realization that he won’t be around forever.  If you’re interested in seeing some of his paintings, you can take a look at the website I set up.  The photographs aren’t professionally done, but I want to thank my stepson, Marshall, who spent many hours taking and editing the photos.  In the coming days, I plan to add information to the website, including a list of Elliott’s exhibitions. 

Lastly, I’d like to share a couple of photos of another family member who’s getting in the Halloween mood.  Miss Sylvie can’t make up her mind about what costume to wear.  Should she be a witch, or a ballet dancer, or little pink riding hood?  Such a dilemma.  I’m sure Elisa and Christian will help her figure it out.  

A Halloween Witch

Ballerina

Little Pink Riding Hood

Uncovering a Treasure Trove

October 8, 2016 – Uncovering a Treasure Trove

Look what we discovered in the crawl space under the stairs!  Maps to buried treasure?  No, even better – rolled up paintings by Elliott Thompson.   

Six unstretched paintings from the HVD series

These six canvases were painted in the 1970s and were never even put on stretchers.  Hidden away for decades, they’re in pristine condition.  We discovered them when I was hauling four of Elliott’s very large paintings out of the crawl space.  These large paintings had been taken off their stretchers and rolled up prior to our move to France over 30 years ago.  We haven't unrolled any of the paintings yet.  The big reveal is scheduled for next Monday.

So the painting inventory continues to grow.  And the excitement of unearthing these works has re-energized Elliott.  He’s a working artist once again, which makes him a much happier person (as well as a much easier person to live with) despite having some new pains. 

On Tuesday morning, Elliott admitted that he’d been having pains in his back and chest for a few days.  He feared the worst, i.e. a heart attack, which in turn triggered an anxiety attack.  However, we were able to get in to see his doctor that morning and were reassured that his heart was fine.  As his doctor expected, X-rays showed that cause of Elliott’s pain was a compression fracture in his spine.  It will heal in 4-6 weeks and it hasn’t kept him from spending time in the studio, working on his designs and pouring over old correspondence, notes, and exhibition catalogues.     

Last night, we shared a celebratory dinner at Silver Diner.  Elliott got his usual sugar high from a big serving of waffles doused in maple syrup and a super-sized strawberry milkshake.  I allowed myself a sip of the milkshake and a bite of syrup-drenched waffle.  Of course, that’s not all I ate.  I had a bison burger with arugula, cremini mushrooms, and tomatoes, with a side of steamed vegetables.  According to my most recent blood tests, my blood sugar level and A1C remain stable and I’m trying to keep them from creeping up into dangerous territory.  Remembering how my diabetes destroyed my father’s health and quality of life is incentive enough for me.  

On the Sylvie front, my 12-week old granddaughter is already a bibliophile.  She favors Eric Carle’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar and a board book of Matisse cutouts called Dance for Joy.  Mom Elisa is doing a great job of introducing Sylvie to the joys of reading.   

photo by Elisa

I’m keeping busy with the usual activities.  Classes at GMU are going well.  In my jazz class, we’re learning about different swing bands from the 30s and in art history, we’re learning about Post-Painterly Abstraction, as seen in the works of Helen Frankenthaler, Morris Louis, Kenneth Noland, and Jules Olitski. 

With the cooler weather, I’m spending more time in the kitchen.  I cooked up a big batch of butternut squash soup a couple of days ago.  Over the years, I’ve tried so many different recipes for squash soup that are all delicious.  This version includes corn, black beans, cumin, red peppers, and cilantro.  It’s great with an avocado and tomato salad, and some sweet potato tortilla chips (Trader Joe’s) with Fall Harvest Salsa (also Trader Joe’s).  There's pumpkin in the salsa - yum! 

Great flavors for the season - from Trader Joe's

Finally, I’m working at least once a week at the Workhouse glass studio and getting ready for this season’s Mantua Made Market, where I’ll be selling fused glass once again.  Put a note on your calendar for Saturday, November 7 from 10 am until 2 pm.  

Why can't I rotate this photo 90 degrees?