This week we are visiting friends in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Go ahead, all you Carolinians, get your oohs and ahhs out while you have the chance. It would seem that anyone that has lived or spent a great deal of time in North Carolina (which includes a bulk of our friends) are attached to it in a similar way Texans are attached to Texas. Except the Carolinians are a little less neurotic about it. But only a little.
I love the east coast. I know we're not on the coast right now, but it's closer than Cleveland. I grew up in suburban Philadelphia - the "Main Line" as they call it, in a town called Berwyn. Strong Welsh name, and there are many around there. We lived about 20 minutes from Valley Forge National Park and you could just smell the history in the air. Not to mention the vestiges of the beginning of our country at Independence Mall downtown, Betsy Ross' house, and the Schuylkill River, which was probably a lot less dirty and smelly than it is now. And the pièce de résistance - the Rocky Statue at the Art Museum. True history in art at its best. That's Philly, for ya. So, coming to North Carolina brings me a little closer to my roots - east and south. Both sides of may family are from the south. The DEEP south. More about that later, though...
It's been a week of fun, relaxation, and a little bit of work. Fun and relaxation from all the card playing, drinking responsibly but not necessarily in moderation (which means we didn't leave the house) and playing with boisterous youngsters. Not in that order. And I must say, there is something to be said for being woken up every morning by the quiet stare and heavy breathing of a 2 year-old with a stuffed up nose and a cute smile...good stuff. The work is fun in its own way - we are staying with my organ duo partner, and the timing is perfect to take a gander through a few scores before our recital at the end of April in Columbus, Ohio. Four-hand organ work is fun but all that clef changing, octave jumping, and stop pulling leaves you cross-eyed in no time.
Yesterday we took a ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway on our way to see Blowing Rock. Cute town. Very Thomas Kinkade-y. Take that for whatever you want. I had a picture in my mind for what I was expecting on the Parkway and it did not disappoint, including some spectacular mountain views. It's still winter here in North Carolina - ha! 60 degrees today - so our journey was a fairly solitary one. I wondered what it would be like to live up here in the mountains, seemingly far away from the rest of the universe with no promise of a cell phone signal for miles. I know a few people who would just kill for such an existence. I think I would last about 2 or 3 days...then there would be issues. I am a stimulus junkie. Don't get me wrong - nature here is incredibly stimulating. Beautiful and astonishing and breathtaking. You could almost feel the quiet all around you. And I can only imagine the beauty of the stars at night - nothing like our dimmed view from the city lights. But I can only stand listening to the sound of my own heart beat coupled with the crazy thoughts in my own head for so long. Just imagine what would be coming out on this blog then...My "perfect" Blue Ridge Parkway would like just like the real one. Except the little turn-off streets you occasionally come upon would lead to a thriving metropolis that is magically hidden behind one of the many mountain peaks instead of winding pathways leading to unknown places...that's stimulation for the imagination right there. The perfect Stephen King novel in the making. But living in the mountains with the city at your fingertips...oh yeah, and throw in a beach or two around the next mountain and life would be perfection. All the material one needs for stimulus without the expense of plane fare. Surely, places like this exist...
Can't you just smell that salty sea air from the sea???
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