KELLEY AND DAVE’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE, WEEK 7, KANSAS, ST LOUIS, LANCASTER COUNTY, REHOBOTH

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KELLEY AND DAVE’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE

The Big Trip West…Notes From the road: WEEK SEVEN.

Thursday, July 3.

Pam took us for an early morning walk touring her lovely neighborhood with Jasper, Pam’s standard poodle before leaving for breakfast at the local IHop. Over coffee and pancakes Pam gave us good advice about the next leg of our trip. Having lived around St Louis, Pam had a wealth of information to share. She advised us to spend some time in St Charles on the Missouri Riverbefore entering St Louis. She also said I must see the Missouri Botanical Gardens. Thank you Pam! Armed with places to eat and sights to see we drove the three rainy hours to the Missouri border.

We arrived in historic St Charles around 3pm and immediately parked the car then walked up the cobblestone streets for a late lunch and brew at the Trailhead Brewing Company. The rain magically let up after lunch so we took the opportunity to explore the historic town. We headed out past Boone’s Lick Trail Inn, a charming brick B&B with its towering hollyhocks in full bloom, and walked through town on brick sidewalks past shops and restaurants housed in buildings dating back to the late 1700s. St Charles was founded in 1769 by Louis Blanchette, a French Canadian fur trader and hunter and became the first European settlement on this river. Daniel Boone was one of the first settlers living in nearby St Charles County. The French influence in the architecture is a strong reminder of the character of the early St Charles settlers.

The town had obviously prepared well in advance for their three day celebration of the 4th of July. American flags hung from porch railings and doorways throughout town. All along the Katy Trail State Park, a 225 mile bike and walking path that hugs the old Missouri railway bed near the river, hundreds of small American flags tried to be perky on the gloomy rainy day. Tents were set up for the bluegrass concerts and the bandstand was prepped with high powered speakers for the evening’s show. We walked up to the Visitor’s Center to decide what to do and we found out the Lewis and Clark Museum closed at 5pm so we high tailed it with our umbrellas past the amusement stands and train station to the river’s edge where the museum was located. William Clark arrived in St Charles on May 16, 1804 to prepare boats and wait for Meriwether Lewis to arrive. They departed from St Charles on their epic journey on May 20 only advancing a short distance before they had to stop to wait out a storm. (I think I know how he felt). A replica keelboat and two pirogues were on display at the museum. We arrived at the museum at 4:40 but apparently in the spirit of the holiday, it was closed early, however we were able to peek at the boats and explore the period gardens along the flooded Missouri River.

The rain break was short lived and we were getting tired so we left for Fairview IL, just east of St Louis, to book a room where we retired early after a lousy dinner at the Olive Garden. Note to self: they have iceberg lettuce salad, spongy bread, sugared chicken Marsala, and no garlic in the garlic and wine mussels. Never again.

I did some research back at the hotel and found that the original Route 66, also known as “The Main Street of America” runs right through Missouri and there is a State Park dedicated to its memorabilia. Dave has been in fat city on this trip with all the connections to Route 66. There are historical displays and old roadhouses at the State Park where you can slip back in time, but on another trip.

Friday, July 4. The sun came out to greet us on this festive holiday. After a quick breakfast we drove to the Metro Train station in Fairview Heights, IL to board the train to St Louis. Along the tracks we saw two fawns and a young buck standing beside the train tracks oblivious to the noise and commotion, a reminder that although now urban, this was once a wild and beautiful prairie. In St Louis we waited for our connection at the bus terminal to get us to the Missouri Botanical Gardens. I had been thinking how convenient it would be to have a metro-bus system in Sarasota until we waited over an hour for our bus to arrive after our half our train ride. I don’t know if it was because it was a holiday or if this was their normal mode of operation but it took 2 hours of travel time to complete this short trip. There were no maps to be found and no one seemed to agree about which bus we should take but the painful ordeal was worth it.
The world famous Missouri Botanical Gardens is one of the best I’ve ever been to. The gardens proudly displayed Niki de Saint Phalle sculptures and Dale Chihuly’s colorful glass works of art. My favorites were his lotus flowers in the reflecting pool, and his amazing bright yellow glass trellises in the rose garden looking like beautiful bursts of sun rays announcing the splendor beyond. The botanical garden’s self-proclaimed best Japanese garden in the US had enormous sweet scented lotus flowers in full splendor in a garden at the edge of a pond. I was totally mesmerized. But the first thing that caught my eye was the astounding sculptures by Niki. Her playful, colorful, larger-than-life creations celebrate diversity, women, children, love, and joy. I immediately recognized her work having had my photograph taken with one of her sculptures at the San Diego Airport several years ago. Sadly I found out that the art that Niki so loved to create ultimately caused her death. The polyester resins used in her sculptures coated her lungs and she died of emphysema in 2002.

We took the tram tour through the gardens that highlight the various sections and exhibits. As we drove around I saw weddings being set up or taking place. While we listened to the tram’s narrator we passed hundreds of daylilies in bloom in colors I had never seen before. St Louis Philanthropist Henry Shaw (originally from England) created the gardens in the late 1800s. The English Woodland Garden, the Boxwood Garden, the Climatron and Demonstration Gardens were all wonderful fruits of his labors but the garden that inspired me most was the 14 acre Japanese Garden named Seiwa-en, which means the garden of pure, clear harmony and peace. Japanese gardens are usually quite simple and designed with snow in mind since snow is considered a flower in the garden. This simple garden with its four-acre lake, waterfalls, streams, dry gravel gardens and lotus flowers in full bloom, was pure magic.

I didn’t find out until later that we missed the Chinese Garden! The Grigg Nanjing Friendship Garden has an authentic Chinese pavilion, bridge, and moon gate, accented by traditional stones, carvings, water features, and plantings. It is modeled on the “scholar’s gardens” of the southern provinces of China, near Nanjing, which are smaller and less ornate than the Imperial gardens of the north. This garden is considered the most authentic of its size in the United States. I will definitely have to go back to see it.

The Linnean House, built in 1882 by Henry Shaw, is the oldest continually operated greenhouse west of the Mississippi River. It was named after Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), the botanist who created our standard scientific system of naming plants and animals. The Missouri Botanical Garden is well known for its horticulture research and the signage and research information available to the public is most impressive. Since it took us two hours to get to the gardens I made sure I stayed until the last bus left for town, soaking up every possible plant vibe in the park. (Of course the added bonus was that there was no charge for entry on the 4th of July!)

We met a very nice man going back into St Louis who told us about all the free museums in Forest Park, the historical mansions we could tour, and the Italian restaurants on the Hill. He took the time to get off the train (a convenient stop on the way to the river) to show us the old Union Station. The beautiful 110 year old station, now a National Historic Landmark, has been restored and is an excellent example of mixed-use redevelopment with its shops, restaurants and plaza for festivals and concerts. The old train station, once the largest and busiest passenger rail terminal in the world, is now home to the elegant Hyatt Regency Hotel with luxury offices, a lake and 4 active train tracks. Dave and I marveled at the impressive European style architecture in the restored station.

Our gentleman friend then told us where we could go to find the best view of the fireworks. Many people stayed for the free Live off the Levee concert with Joss Stone performing nearby (part of the Fair St Louis) but we had tickets to go up in the arch so we decided to bag the concert and head for the river.
We hopped on the metro (this time it was easy) to the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial known as the Gateway to the West. It is located along the now flooded Mississippi River. The Arch is the tallest national monument in the United States at 630 feet. Construction began February 12, 1963 and the last section of the monument was put into place on October 28, 1965. The Arch is a structure known as a catenary curve and is considered the most structurally sound arch shape. The span of the Arch legs at ground level is 630 feet, the same as its height. Made up of concrete and nine hundred tons of stainless steel, more than any other project in history, the monument actually shimmers in the late afternoon light. Each year, approximately a million visitors ride the tiny trams to the top of the Arch. These trams have been in operation for over 30 years carrying over 25 million passengers. I hoped that meant these trams weren’t ready for an overhaul. The Arch sways a maximum of 18" (9" each way) in a 150 mph wind but the normal sway is 1/2". It was a calm night and I wasn’t looking forward to any movement at the top.

The security was very high at this National Monument and likely the checkpoints were doubled for the 4th of July. There were long lines to get into the building and later, even longer lines to get into the park to see the fireworks. Our tour began after waiting with our pre-ordered tickets for over half an hour. There was much confusion here but once we were in our capsule things moved very fast. We began with our descent to the base of the monument 50 feet below the ground. At the base of the arch we waited another 20 minutes in a long narrow corridor for our space module type compartment door to open. I would not recommend this adventure for anyone who has claustrophobia!

We were assigned a number that corresponded to a small Alice in Wonderland style door. The door finally opened revealing the “MRI type tube” that was about 4 feet high and wide with 5 seats that somehow 5 of us rode up together in. Dave had to duck and collapse his long body to get in, bending his head to sit down. Small windows provided a “view” of the cement wall and mechanics pulling the tube up to the top. Clanking, clunking and grinding we made our way swiftly up taking only four minutes but it seemed much longer to the woman sitting next to me.

Once in the narrow crest of the arch I felt the whole monument sway giving me an unsettling feeling. I walked the short distance to the narrow windowed viewing platform inside the top of the arch. I could just barely stand up but I had to lean out to see through the tiny window to the buildings far below. I felt pretty uneasy and was not eager to stay too long. Our capsule came up on the north tower so for a change, we decided to go down on the South tower. Once back in the underground lobby we toured the Museum of Westward Expansion with its teepees, wagons and historical relics. Life-like early European settlers and Native Americans narrated their stories about life in the western plains. We had tickets to watch the excellent 45 minute National Geographic movie Lewis and Clark, Great Journey West that visually portrayed the arduous journey of the two young explorers and their intrepid Indian Guide Sacagawea.

As soon as the movie was over we rushed up the hill to Max and Irma’s in the Drury Plaza Hotel where we gobbled down a mediocre dinner before finding the perfect spot to watch the fireworks. The beautiful Historic Old Courthouse was lit up just outside the hotel where we planned to settle in for the fireworks display. The lawn was totally filled from the courthouse lawn all the way down to the flooded banks of the Mississippi River with anxious children and chattering adults. We had planned to take a riverboat cruise down the Mississippi but the banks were flooded and the walkways were under water. The river churned with logs and debris so all boat trips were cancelled.

Some people waited less patiently than others for the big 4th of July bang. Several of us passed the time waiting for the Big Display by watching the antics of two little boys about 2 years old who toddled about on the hill with unsteady limbs. The little white boy was very curious about his new friend with darker skin and hair pulled into a topknot on the crown of his head. The two very cautiously investigated each other alternately running for cover when their world appeared threatening. The little black boy dissolved into hysterical tears when he couldn’t play with his friend’s stroller and the other boy smiled and seemed to console him. Each boy settled down in his mother’s lap as soon as the first display of fireworks lit up the night sky.

The first bang began at 9:45 (the event was scheduled to start at 9:15) and ended after 15 or 20 minutes. The short but beautiful display was perfectly framed by St Louis’ Gateway Arch at the bottom of the hill. Now I haven’t compared other sites in St Louis, but I think we had the best seat in town. And although very nice, these fireworks can’t hold a candle to the fireworks in my little town of Jaffrey, NH where the system-overload spectacles start with the Grand Finale and continue with the same intensity accompanied with music for half an hour! To this day they are the best I’ve ever seen.

As we left the hill I watched children climb down from the large fire trucks parked at the foot of the beautifully lit courthouse. We walked (Dave on a Mission) to the Metro in the balmy evening under clear moonlit skies with patrons in horse and carriage clopping by. Dave became human again once he finished pushing me forward to get in line for the train. I’m signing this man up for therapy when we return. We enjoyed the banter on the Metro between the Cardinals (losers) and Cubs (victors) fans returning from that evening’s game in downtown St. Louis. (I could see the stadium filling up from the top of the Gateway Arch.) We were told that as the season progressed many fans from these opposing teams had come to fisticuffs on the train ride home.

I was so impressed with St Louis. Although we covered a lot of ground in the short time we were there, there are still so many things left to see and do in this town of the Blues. I hope to return to this remarkable city with its unique confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi rivers to drive the old Route 66, to go to the famed Butterfly House, to have dinner at an Italian restaurant on The Hill, to sip a cocktail listening to the blues in one of the many clubs, and to explore all the free museums in Forest Park. And of course take the river boat cruise down the Mississippi! St Louis, I’m comin’ back!

Saturday, July 05. Up at 6am, we left Fairview Heights Illinois for the next leg of our road trip, the long, flat ride east through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and West Virginia to Pennsylvania. As soon as we crossed over from Illinois to Indiana we stopped at the Indiana Visitor’s Center. I opened the car door in the middle of this flat farmland and smelled the new mown grass that instantly stirred pleasant memories of my early childhood north of Chicago playing with the frogs in the creek and collecting fireflies in a jar. The door to the visitor’s center displayed a handwritten sign warning not to wash your hands or drink the water. I asked the attendant what the problem was and he replied that the Wabash River had flooded the whole area. The waters had only recently receded from the downpours of the past few days enough to reopen Route 70.

We drove through the rolling farmland of Ohio with its tall silos and red-roofed barns into the mountainous northeast corner of West Virginia and finally in the late afternoon, reached the Pennsylvania border where we were welcomed with free coffee and cookies. The scenery quickly changed to feature picturesque wooden barns perched on rich green hills with cows and wild horses grazing in the lush green landscape. I had hoped to spend the night in Pittsburgh but found that it would add two hours to our trip that sadly, at this point we could not afford. I will have to plan a visit to that rich cultural center on our next northern trip.

We ended our day in the rural western Pennsylvania town of New Stanton just off of Route 70 at the Howard Johnson. I am surprised at the number of motels and hotels across the US that are run by East Indians. The Howard Johnson in New Stanton was no exception. All seemed well enough until we looked at the room. My mother, who was a fanatic about hospital corners and a well-made bed would have been aghast had she seen the state of “bed-madeness” in our room. At first I thought our bed was short-sheeted but after attempting to adjust the sheet I found out that there was no bottom sheet, the top sheet and blanket were too small for the bed and the too large, thin and slippery quilt had slid half way to the floor on one side of the bed. We were very tired, most other hotels were already booked and the place was clean enough so we re-made the bed and went to see about dinner. I asked the manager for a recommendation for a local, non-chain restaurant. He showed us a menu for the chain restaurant across the street telling us it was locally run. I said “I don’t want to go to a restaurant with a shiny menu showing pictures of my food.” He reluctantly offered another menu of an Italian restaurant within walking distance. Before we left for dinner I asked where the town center was and if there would be any fireworks that evening. He could not tell me where the town was and knew nothing about any fireworks.

The Pagano’s Italian Restaurant turned out to be a diamond in the rough. It served authentic Sicilian food in a tiny unassuming setting. We started with a smooth Chianti, accompanied by breadsticks and a homemade Italian dipping sauce that was divine. I had a delicious pasta dish with peas, ham, mozzarella and salami while Dave had chicken parmesan in a tasty tomato sauce. We were too full for dessert but not too full for a rich cappuccino with fresh imported beans from Italy. On the table was a fresh bouquet of carnations and baby’s breath. Frank Sinatra entertained us while we ate and the heady scent of carnations and the dated restaurant setting brought back pleasant memories of my junior and senior prom dances with carnation boutonnières and corsages. When we left the restaurant to walk back to our room, the fireworks began in earnest in the “town” over the hill. We were too tired to go looking for the show so we watched what we could from the balcony then headed inside to go online to map quest our drive to the family reunion the next day. Of course the promised WIFI did not work in the hotel so I went to iron Dave’s shirt and pants. The ironing board would not stand up by itself and the only outlet was in the bathroom so I propped the board up by the sink, dangled the iron over the board trying to keep everything from falling on my bare legs while making a stab at smartening his appearance for the next day. Now if the barking dog will settle down maybe we will get some sleep.

Sunday, July 6. Anderson Reunion Day. The night did not improve things much at this hotel. After the fire trucks screamed by for a seemingly interminable time, I tried to close the drapes to shut the light out from the many street signs but soon found it was a fixed see-through curtain. In the light of day and with mediocre sleep I discovered that the room was not as clean as I had first thought and the bathtub-shower floor was (ugh) actually slippery. I brought my own peanut butter to put on their English muffin for my breakfast and we hit the road for the family reunion in Coatesville.

The mountainous drive on I 70 followed by the many-tunneled PA Turnpike was quite beautiful with mist and fog still clinging to the hills. Large windmills stood poised for the breeze that would clear the area of the fog. We drove through 4 of the 7 large tunnels, crossed the Susquehanna River passed signs to Dickenson and Penn State on to I 183 to Lancaster where we drove by a beautiful old star barn inaccessible to my camera.

We had arrived two hours ahead of time so we relaxed (yay Dave!) and took a tour through the Pennsylvania Dutch Amish Country. Dave and I had both been there as children and we remembered all the hex signs on the barns. This time there wasn’t a hex sign in sight. Not one, not anywhere. I began to wonder what happened to make all the farms remove the painted signs from their barns and houses. Instead of the familiar hex signs that I had associated with the Pennsylvania Dutch we saw the now popular burnished metal stars affixed to barns and homes. A boring and less colorful substitution lacking in heritage if you ask me, but nobody did.

Aside from the hex removals, the farms were much as I remembered them with their tall silos and spreading farm houses peacefully dotting the rich rolling green landscapes. When I got out to photograph the farms I could hear the clip clop of horses’ hooves on the pavement as buggies of Amish families rode by on their way back from Sunday meetings or suppers (open buggies are driven by single men and closed buggies indicate a married couple or family. I don’t think women have an option.)

Visiting Lancaster is always a wonderful step back in time. Morgan work horses were lazing in their paddocks on their day off and little girls in white caps and long black dresses waved to their friends passing by in their Sunday buggy rides. The air, rich with the heavy scents of fresh mown grass, manure and sweet clover, made me long for a nice iced tea, a good book and a porch swing over looking the gentle pastureland.
The reunion of 65 Andersons at the Freedom Village Retirement Home in Coatesville was a busy affair with cousins and uncles, grandparents, siblings, and children of all ages communing, re-uning, and consuming the various foods that “Aunt Jean” ordered. Joe, the eldest of the five Anderson brothers, was unable to attend the party so we went to visit him in the assisted care wing. I walked with Dave up to Joe’s room to take a family picture of the brothers. I was privileged to be there when Joe’s daughter Kassy who traveled from Hawaii to be at the reunion, bent down to bid her father goodbye. Joe is a man of few words. He paused after Kassy’s farewell and then said “I think of you every time the sun sets”. I melted into a puddle of tears.

We rejoined the larger group with big guys and little guys all over the place. The children were just finishing one of the games that Jean had planned when it was time to leave. I suggested that we try for a family photo of the remaining Andersons. It was amazing to see about 55 of the remaining group assemble on the long winding staircase in the main living room. There were so many of them each head was a little dot on my screen. I will have to blow up the photo to wall size to make out who is who.

In Jennersville Dave’s brother Skip and wife Pat put up with our traveling antics giving us a comfortable bed and feeding us a wonderful homemade blueberry pie after our Italian dinner in town where I had a surprisingly good thin crust pizza.

Monday, July 7. After a big pancake breakfast we washed several weeks of western dirt off our car and as usually happens, it brought on the rain. No matter, at least now when I lean into the trunk I won’t be covered in red dirt. We packed up again, said our goodbyes to Skip and Pat and drove through the beautiful Pennsylvania countryside on the way to Maryland. When I stopped to photograph the old red Gilpin’s Falls Covered Bridge, c. 1860, one of the few remaining covered bridges in Maryland, I stumbled upon bushes bearing hundreds of beautiful red raspberries. As I tasted the ripe red berries and began picking in earnest. Dave leaned out to warn me that they were likely heavily sprayed with pesticide. For the rest of the day I imagined my lips getting numb while the poison slowly seeped through my body.

We arrived at Amy’s (I survived the raspberry incident) unpacked and went to a new Asian restaurant with the unlikely name of Olive and Sesame for dinner. We shared some delicious pork dumpling appetizers but my Caterpillar Roll couldn’t hold a candle to the one I had at Telluride’s Asian restaurant, Honga’s Lotus Petal.

Tuesday, July 08. On the road again. Mid-morning five of us packed into Amy’s new Honda (Dave and Amy in the front seat, “us kids” in the back) and we headed out to a mini family vacation at Rehoboth Beach. As I peered from the back seat I saw scenic marshes that surround the charming towns of Easton and St. Michaels. We pushed on past lunchtime through cornfields and farm stands until we arrived hungry at Jimmy’s Grille and Family Restaurant in Bridgeville, Delaware. A local favorite, Jimmy’s features an impressive pie case upon entry but the big draw for me was the chicken croquets with sweet potato soufflé and fresh collard greens. But wait! There was also a cup of lima bean and dumpling soup. I talked Amy into splitting the heavy meal and we were not disappointed. It has been 50 years (gulp!) since I had chicken croquets as a child with my family when touring Intercourse, PA in the heart of Amish Country. For years I had searched for this dish and after all this time I finally found it on a menu here in Delaware. The conical shaped, crispy-browned outsides were filled with moist white chicken meat and sat like little pyramids in a pool of light gravy. The sweet cinnamon flavored soufflé was light and fluffy and tasted more like a dessert than a side of vegetables. The greens were the perfect complement with their earthy flavor and texture. But the soup was a big surprise. The light tomato broth held small pieces of dumplings, bits of corn and was loaded with fresh green lima beans. The whole meal was delicious but way to heavy to even consider their mile high banana cake or one of their enormous lemon meringue pies. I rationalized that I could afford to indulge like that every 50 years.

We all checked into the Atlantis Inn a few blocks from the boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach. Billed as the “Nation’s Summer Capital”, Rehoboth Beach with its old wooden boardwalk separating the arcades, saltwater taffy and French fry stands from the beautiful stretches of white benches, sand dunes and pounding east coast surf, offers a glimpse of what Coney Island or Atlantic City must have been like in its prime. There are no high-rises in this beach front town giving the feeling that you might have just stepped into a wonderful time warp. Children build sandcastles, people walk or ride bicycles down the mile long boardwalk and miles of brightly colored beach umbrellas provide shade and rest to the sun weary beachgoers.
Rehoboth Beach recently underwent a major revitalization with the restoration of the 1963 Rehoboth Beach Bandstand and the renovation of many of the resort’s downtown buildings bringing back their quaint architectural style and charming ambiance. The bandstand offers free concerts and movies throughout the summer in this very walk-able town.

The two cousins hit the pool with Amy as Parent-In-Charge while Dave and I explored the beach town in an attempt to walk off my big lunch. Dave’s cousin Gail and her husband Greg have a Real Estate business in town so we stopped to say hello and get our bearings before we headed back to get ready for (oh no!) another meal.

Jennifer arrived with Sarah in time to go to dinner at the Summer House three blocks up the street. By the time we left our room to meet the kids for dinner a fast moving rainstorm thundered through town with strong winds and lightening with sirens calling firemen to their posts. We waited for the storm to pass before setting out which also gave me more time to digest my lunch before imbibing once again. Gail was able to join us at one of her favorite restaurants and Dave enjoyed his special time with his two daughters, three of his grandchildren and cousin Gail. The menu did not allow for small indulgences but I tried to eat light by ordering a salad and appetizer. Alas, the walnut and goat cheese salad was delicious but huge and the risotto and scallops appetizer, although promising to be small and light, was far from it. But good. Once again I waddled out from eating way too much. No Mas!

Gail said goodbye and we walked up the crowded street to the boardwalk and the rides at the arcade. The thunderstorm put a bit of a damper on the evening. The arcade was open but the rides were closed due to the recent storm. In fact several businesses were operating on auxiliary power or simply without lights. It was cooler after the rain so we walked back stopping at the ice cream and salt water taffy shops (I had to try their saltwater taffy to see if it held up against Goldenrod’s Taffy in York Beach, ME). Amy and Jen retired with the kids and I, anticipating a nice long rest, retired to our room with the paper thin walls and the party of teenagers next door reveling till 2am until the old lady quashed their fun.

Wednesday, July 09. Dodging sprinkles, Dave and Jennifer took Megan, Sarah and Alex for a bike ride while Amy, Gail and I went on the Cottage Tour sponsored by the Rehoboth Art League. The “cottages” were multimillion dollar homes from under 1,000 to several thousand square feet in size. Some were on the water; others had private forested backyards or stone-sided pools with waterfalls. Most of the homes boasted large bathrooms with wonderful features such as pebble floors, inlaid glass tiles, back-lit marble or glass basins. The majority of the walls in the homes we toured were a collection of peaceful shades of soft greens with yellow to blue undertones changing hues from room to room. Seeing this mix helped to confirm my own selection of green walls in our home in Florida. Someone with a great sense of humor had a delightful painting in their bedroom titled “Wicked Widowed Wabbit”. The entertaining painting was of a brightly colored lady rabbit holding a smoking gun with a wicked little glint in her eye.

Five out of the seven homes were owned and designed by male partners who tastefully appointed their posh palaces. Several homes displayed impressive art collections including original works by Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth, Salvador Dali and Picasso. A fine arts and antiques dealer and author from England was at his summer home for the tour. He told us how much he enjoyed restoring his house and garden to feature his art collections, in fact they had just finished the second of the two houses on his property the day before the tour. His home was once the estate of the internationally renowned Russian mezzo-soprano Renata Babak. Another home on the tour featured period furniture and china and had framed on their mantle the 1743 English land grant deeded to their ancestors in Howard County, MD. That property is now the town of Cooksville. Many people bicycled to the homes conveniently located near town and in the small Henlopen community outside of Rehoboth.

The clouds and rain increased during the day creating one of those lazy summer afternoons that welcomes naps, game playing, journal writing and kicking back on the beach with your favorite book. Collectively that is just what we did. In the evening we hit the discount malls stopping for dinner at Casapulla’s South, Leo’s favorite grinder shop and it did not disappoint. We then returned to Rehoboth Beach to walk off our dinner along the crowded boardwalk. The rain had stopped and the rides in the amusement park were open. The kids had hopped on the stationary horses on the closed Merry-go-Round the night before but this night the calliope music was in full force as the horses made their way round and round on the merry-go-round. Alex was off like a bullet trying the most challenging rides while Megan and Sarah stayed on the less stomach-churning ones. Before leaving Amy joined Sarah in the Teacup ride and I rode with Megan. Not-so-fond memories of taking my sister Laurie on one too many tilt-a-whirl rides went through my head, but this ride was much better since no one got sick. We all ended up in the kids’ big room for a long evening card game of our now favorite Hand and Foot. Dave and I lost. I think my partner needs more naps or more coffee.

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