Boothbay Harbor, Maine

Another sixty miles up the coast and we pull in to an RV park in Boothbay, Maine.  After setting up, we drive in our pickup truck a few miles to Boothbay Harbor, according to the internet one of the prettiest towns in Maine. 

Problem is, there's roadwork in progress.  They're getting ready for Windjammer Days, an annual celebration of the town's maritime heritage, and the city fathers are determined to finish the job today.  We wait in a long line of cars, nothing coming or going.  More than a half hour passes.  Frustration sets in.  We see other lines move, but not ours.  Finally, our turn comes, and we begin moving.  As we pass the worker who waved us through, Nancy yells at him, "You s******!"  Yes, dear sweet Nancy lays the s-word on some poor guy who was just following the orders of his boss.  I thought vacations were supposed to make you mellow.

But then we get to Boothbay Harbor, and it's a stunning little village.

We wander around, looking in the shopfronts.  We talk with a local contractor beautifully remodeling a house overlooking the bay which is in the process of being converted to rental apartments.  There's a nice mix of stores, shops, and restaurants.

We come across a little outdoor restaurant for which Nancy has seen nothing but five-star reviews on Yelp.  They are known for their lobster rolls, so we order two, with drinks.  I get ready to pay cash, but the guy says, "The total will be $52."  Gulp.  But they are historically delicious - two toasted New England style hot dog buns absolutely stuffed with tender lobster meat.  (The New England hot dog buns are without question the way to go for this traditional Maine sandwich.)

The next day we drive to several nearby towns - Damariscotta, Camden, Rockland, and Rockport - to see if all seaside Maine villages are so wonderful.  Nice towns, but none of them have the charm of Boothbay Harbor.

So with the roadwork completed, the following day we return to Boothbay Harbor, this time with our dogs, since the town advertises itself as the dog-friendliest community in Maine.  Our girls have a great time hiking up and down the hills and exploring the place. 

This evening, after shopping in Bath, Maine and hungry for seafood, we pass this fine restaurant ...

... in favor of the Sea Basket, which according to newengland.com is one of the top ten restaurants in New England for fried clams, another of the signature dishes of the area.  After steaming clams ourselves a week ago, and loving the results, we thought that those meltingly tender morsels coated with batter should be transcendent.  But the restaurant is a severe disappointment; the clams are tough, and the prices are high.  I'm beginning to think that not all the top ten lists on the internet are handed down from God.

Scarborough, Kennebunkport, and Portland, Maine

We like Maine a lot, so we've moved up the coast just 40 miles or so to Scarborough, which is between Kennebunkport and Portland, Maine.  Our campground is huge - 750 sites - and family-oriented, and our motorhome overlooks a fishing pond.

Old Orchard Beach is a suburb of Scarborough.  It reminds me a little of the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, with an adjacent amusement park, a pier arcade with shops, bars, and restaurants, and a big, wide beach.  But not as nice.

The day was a bit cool and windy, but there were quite a few people out there on the sand.  And I know that East Coast waters are generally supposed to be warmer than West Coast waters, but hats off to those hardy souls out in the surf.

Portland is the largest city in Maine (but much smaller than Portland, Oregon; in fact, it's about the size of Santa Cruz).  They don't grow their cities very big up here.  It is a lively town, known for its restaurant scene and its Old Port waterfront.  We toured the Victoria Mansion, built in 1860 by a gentleman who had made his fortune running huge hotels in New York and New Orleans.

The mansion doesn't look like much from the outside, but it was quite spectacular once we were indoors.  The woodworking details were wonderful and much appreciated by me, especially since they were accomplished entirely with hand tools.  The Victoria Mansion was the first home in Portland to boast running hot and cold water, central heating, gas lights, and flush toilets.  Unfortunately, the rules did not allow photography inside, which would have shown you how special it is.

Kennebunkport is the town where the Bush Compound, that family's summer home, is located, and both President Bushes have spent a great deal of time there.  That's understandable, because it is a delightful little village on an ocean bay, a tourist destination with winding streets and great shops.  Looking in the real estate windows, it's clear that home prices there are not close to Santa Cruz's level.

According to national news, Bill Clinton visited the elder Bush, whose health has been precarious for some time, at the Bush Compound in Kennebunkport the day after we were there.  A near brush with fame.

Back in Scarborough we found an interesting fish market not far from our campground.  Amazingly cheap prices.  We told the owner that we had found them on Yelp, and he regaled us with complaints about Yelp taking advantage of him when he advertised with them.  I suspect he didn't understand how Yelp works and paid for something he didn't need.

One night we steamed four pounds of local clams from that market over white wine, garlic, onion, butter, and lemon juice, which we'd never done before.  And we had to learn how to eat them.  It involves pulling off the weird little neck tubes and dragging the remaining clam meat through the broth to wash off any sand that's there before popping it our mouths.  Incredibly tender, and delicious with salad and garlic toast.

Another night we bought haddock filets at the fish market and pan fried them, coated with Panko crumbs.  Tasty.  We could get used to eating the great seafood here.

Southern Maine

Our campground outside York, Maine overlooks the Atlantic ocean, and the rocky coast here is quite beautiful.  The RV park is on a bluff high above the shore, and many of the campsites aren't far from the edge.  The views are stunning.

But it isn't a year-round park; it closes in the winter because the storms that hit then can be violent.  Even though the campground itself is high enough that the storm surge can't reach it, last winter some of the rocks that make up the seawall below the campsites washed away, and the nearby town of York was severely flooded.  Now, in late June, the weather is almost perfect - a little cool and breezy if anything.  We love it here.  This is a photo of Nancy taking Sophia for a walk.  The droopy little blue bag in her hand is evidence that we are responsible citizens who take cleaning up after our dogs seriously.

The top tourist activity in the area, according to our camp host, is the Strawberry Banke Museum in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, just a few miles away.  It consists of a number of buildings from the early years of the city's history, lovingly restored, over twelve acres.  

Many of the buildings have local volunteers telling about and demonstrating skills such as weaving and coopering.  Some of the rooms are staged to show what life was like for the citizens who lived there in the 1700's and 1800's.

After walking through several exhibits, I said to Nancy, "Frankly, I don't find this very interesting."  She said, "Thank God!  I am bored out of my mind, I was afraid we'd be here for hours."  An incredible amount of work went into the project, and it's very well reviewed, so many folks love it, but it was not our cup of tea.  By the way, the downtown of Portsmouth itself - current version - is extremely charming.

_________

Today we've moved to a different campground, just sixty miles or so up the coast, this one in Scarborough, not far from Portland, Maine.  One of the local attractions we simply had to see was a life-sized chocolate moose (at a candy store).

Tonight, in a restaurant here in Scarborough, we had the first Maine lobsters of our trip.  We each ordered a lobster dinner, which consisted of a beautiful red pound-and-a-quarter lobster (I'm not sure whether they were boiled or steamed), drawn (clarified) butter, and sides.  They provide you with bibs and implements for cracking the shells and digging out the meat.  $16.95 each.  Delicious.  Sinful.  Won't be our last.

Provincetown, Massachusetts

About thirty years ago Nancy and I, on a trip to see the New England fall leaf changes, stayed overnight in Provincetown, Massachusetts, near the tip end of the Cape Cod peninsula.  We remember a very long and lively street that paralleled the coastline, full of fun restaurants, art galleries, cabarets, and all sorts of interesting shops, and with a very strong gay presence.  It was one of those towns, like Key West, San Francisco, and New Orleans, that had the reputation of welcoming gay men with open arms.  At that time we found Provincetown full of energy, with a lot of activity options, and wanted to visit it again. 

As soon as we parked there, we saw a couple of young men carrying babies in chest harnesses and thought of that as confirmation that this was still a gay-centric town, but overall, after a comprehensive investigation, we concluded that Provincetown isn't much different from any other coastal tourist destination.  I suspect that since homosexuality is no longer such a taboo in most of the country, gay people no longer feel they need to band together to be accepted and live free of discrimination.

Provincetown still has a great feel to it, and it was fun wandering along Commercial Street.  We had a nice lunch on a patio overlooking the beach.

From our campground we also drove to nearby Hyannis, Massachusetts.  Hyannis Port, just next door, was the site of the Joseph and Rose Kennedy family compound, where Joe, John, Ted, Bobby, and their sisters grew up.  We visited the John F. Kennedy Hyannis Museum.  That's a bronze Jack Kennedy striding toward you.

The more comprehensive Kennedy Presidential Library is in Boston.  This one is simply a display of a photographic record of John's and Jackie's lives, as recorded by a couple of men - the Kennedy family photographer and John's presidential photographer.  There are photos of Jack and his siblings as children and young adults, as well as images from his marriage to Jackie, his presidential campaign, and his time as president.  The photos of John and Jackie remind us of what a huge media sensation these two beautiful people were.  Interestingly, there was no coverage here of the assassination or of John's funeral.  And no photos of these museum photos were allowed.

Tomorrow we head up the coast to New Hampshire and Maine.  We're still having a great deal of fun, with little mini-adventures almost every day.  Still, some stops are more interesting than others.  This one wasn't a home run.  Truth is, we are beginning to fantasize about someday living in a house not on wheels, and of riding around in a comfortable sedan rather than a rickety old pickup truck.  Impossible dreams?  We'll see.

The Newport scene

We spent Saturday morning in Newport at the SVF Foundation's farm, which houses the Smithsonian and SVF Biodiversity Project.  The project's mission is to prevent the extinction of as many livestock breeds as possible.  They use liquid nitrogen to cryogenically preserve the semen and embryos of rare and endangered breeds so they would be able to bring them back if that ever became necessary.  They are open to the public on only one day each year, and we happened to visit Newport at just the right time.

There were demonstrations of the cryogenic freezing process, and several endangered breeds of cattle, pigs, goats, and plants were displayed.  Lots of families came out, and the event was very well organized.

We also visited the Newport Car Museum.  Unlike many such exhibits which feature vintage automobiles from the early years, this one displays the most impressive examples of the past fifty years or so - beautiful European models from Ferrari, BMC, Lamborghini, Porsche, Jaguar, and Mercedes Benz, as well as large galleries of Shelby/Ford cars, fin cars, muscle cars, and Corvettes.  Some of my American favorites were Shelby Cobras, Corvette Stingrays, and a Dodge Viper.  But for me, the truly magnificent sculptural examples of the automotive art have been European - Jaguar XKE, Turbo Porsche, Mecedes Benz 300SL, various Ferraris, and many others on display there.  Certainly the most exotic automobiles ever produced, in my opinion, were made by Lamborghini, including the sexiest car of all time, the Lamborghini Countach.  If I ever win the lottery ...

Of course at my age, before plunking the money down, I'd have to make sure I was able to get into and especially out of the driver's seat.  Without assistance.

We had time for one more mansion visit, this time to the Chateau-sur-Mer, the family home of William Wetmore, who made his fortune in the China trade.  It was built in 1852, much earlier than the first two we toured.  At one time it was the largest home on mansion row, but the later palaces were much more colossal.  As it turned out, this one was our personal favorite - more intimate, less intimidating, with lots of beautiful woodworking details.  You could almost imagine living there.

And since this mansion was less well attended than the other two, we had an actual tour guide instead of earphone descriptions and instructions.

Newport is very active in the summer, very quiet in the winter.  We are here just before all the schools are out, so I assume it will get more crowded in the weeks coming up.  At present the traffic flow is rather slow at times, but not horrible.

The historic Newport Jazz Festival is scheduled for August, the Newport Folk Festival for July.  The Newport-to-Bermuda sailboat race began this weekend.  The people who live in Newport are almost universally crazy about the place.  They say that in the winter many of the restaurants and shops close, but even then it's a beautiful place to call home.

We like Newport quite a lot and attended a couple of open houses to get an idea of what prices are like and whether there might be a neighborhood meeting our needs.  One of the homes we walked through was very attractive, close to the waterfront and to downtown, with a list price that was fairly high but less expensive than it would be in Santa Cruz.  I think Nancy is slightly less enthusiastic than I am about Newport, but I'm going to add it to our list of possibles.

The Mansions of Newport, Rhode Island

America's "gilded age" - the late 19th century - was a time when capitalism was unregulated and robber barons and captains of industry accumulated staggering, unprecedented wealth.  The beautiful seaside estates of Newport, Rhode Island became the site of a competition in mansion building among some of those filthy rich families.

We took a trolley tour that carried us through Newport's pretty downtown and then along mansion row - Bellevue Avenue.  The number of grand houses we passed was mind-blowing.  Many of them were designed in the style of the great French chateaux.  There sure were a bunch of incredibly wealthy folks back then.

Our tour guide told us that during the great depression of 1929 many of the mansion-builder families lost their fortunes and were no longer able to afford the upkeep of their palaces.  Eventually many of the mansions went on to serve other functions.  For example, a number of them, like the one below, were consolidated into Salve Regina University, a Catholic liberal arts institution.  What an amazing campus that would be for getting an education.

Some of the most impressive of these mansions have become public museums.  The one most commonly recommended for touring is The Breakers, built in 1895 by the family of Cornelius Vanderbilt, the railroad magnate.

It was of course very impressive, with high ceilings, grand staircases, lots of artwork, and the best technology available back then.  You could imagine the parties that the Vanderbilts threw.  However, I'm not sure how comfortable it would have been for day-to-day living. Maybe that's envy talking.

We also toured The Elms, built in 1901 by coal magnate Edward Berwind.  A modest little cottage.

That evening we had dinner at Bouchard, a well-reviewed restaurant in downtown Newport.  It is a rarity these days - a truly traditional French restaurant, with much less experimentation than most high-end restaurants feel is necessary to separate them from their competitors.  But delicious and beautifully presented, it was one of the great meals of our trip.

I'm a fan of this Newport town.  We're going to check out open houses on Saturday.

Northampton, Massachusetts

Seven years ago we visited the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.  It was a wonderful facility that gave a sense of the history of that great sport.  Every inductee into the Hall of Fame had a bronze bust with a list of his accomplishments.  It was a moving testament to the national pastime (even though football has actually eclipsed baseball as our national obsession).

So it was quite a thrill when, on the way to our next campground, we stopped for lunch in Springfield, Massachusetts and saw across the street an impressive building housing the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.

The timing was amazing in that it was just the night before when the Golden State Warriors, based in Oakland, my favorite sports team, had won the 2018 NBA championship.  That's their third championship in four years - a remarkable accomplishment - and Nancy and I are both huge Warriors fans.  I literally watch every one of their games during the.season on our motorhome's TV (thanks to the DirecTV dish on our roof).  And of course the playoffs, which go on for almost two months, are even more must-see events for me.

To illustrate the extent of my obsession, we've been in the eastern time zone for several months now, and Warriors regular season home games begin at 7:30 PM Pacific time; that's 10:30 PM Eastern time.  So the games end well after 1 PM, and I even watch the post-game shows.  Plays havoc with one's sleeping habits.

Unfortunately, the Basketball Hall of Fame was something of a disappointment.  The standard set by the Cooperstown Baseball Hall of Fame was not even close to being met.  Naturally there were some historical details about the invention of the game by James Naismith, and photos and descriptions of the early years of the sport, the college game, and the NBA.  But there were no busts of the Hall of Fame inductees, and I couldn't find anything about the recent exploits of the Warriors.  In Cooperstown there had been a whole section on the recent World Series winners.

There were just a few statues of basketball stars.  This is Larry Bird, a great player of thirty years ago.

The most popular section of the Hall of Fame building was a large basketball court in the center, where kids could shoot some hoops.

Our current campground is next door to Northampton, Massachusetts, which is the hub for four colleges, including Smith and Amherst.  Northampton's downtown reminds us somewhat of the Santa Cruz Pacific Garden Mall.  It's a little hippy-dippy, a college town, with panhandlers, crystal stores, massage therapists, and psychic counselors.  But it doesn't have anything like the beauty and class of Santa Cruz, so we're not tempted.

Northampton is the site of the Calvin Coolidge Presidential Library.  Unlike the official presidential libraries we've visited, this one is literally in a public library building.  It occupies only a large room on the second floor, where Coolidge's papers have been collected and stored ever since his presidency.

We learned a bit of history in talking with a docent there.  Coolidge, a Massachusetts politician, was vice-president under Warren Harding and assumed the presidency when Harding died in 1923 and was re-elected in 1924, serving until 1929.  He seems to have been a decent person and an okay president, balancing the budget in every year of his term in office.  However, the 1929 depression began shortly after he left office, so his legacy is not unblemished.

None of the NBA Hall of Famers have busts to honor them, but Calvin Coolidge does.

Connecticut

New England consists of six states in the northeastern corner of the United States - Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Maine.  Well, we've reached New England. 

Our campground is in Moodus, Connecticut, and in fact, this region is chock full of picturesque towns, both beside the Connecticut River and along the Atlantic coast.  A few miles away from our RV park is the village of East Haddam, and one night we attended The Will Rogers Follies there at the Goodspeed Opera House, which was built in 1876, went into disrepair, was restored in 1959, and since 1963 has been the site of highly professional musical productions, mostly featuring actors, singers, and dancers from the Broadway stage.

It's an adorable little theater, with a grand stairway entrance.

Will Rogers was a cowboy humorist, partly of Cherokee extraction, who became a star of Broadway, radio, and the movies.  His most famous line was, "I never met a man I didn't like."  The Will Rogers Follies, a story of his life and times, was a hit on Broadway in 1991.  This revival was beautifully done - hard to imagine a better version - with high-quality singing and dancing.  It was a lovely evening.

Also in East Haddam is the Gillette Castle State Park.  William Gillette was a famous stage actor from about 1880 to 1930 whose most significant accomplishment from our point of view is that he established in the mind of America the current image of Sherlock Holmes, with deerstalker cap and curved pipe.

In 1914 he began construction of a grand home in East Haddam.  Naturally, I'm interested in any obsessive who designs and builds his own castle.  We weren't impressed by the exterior of the structure ...

.. but the interior was quite lovely, with some fascinating woodworking details.

One day we drove to Mystic, Connecticut, an attractive town on the coast.  After a nice lunch overlooking the sea, we toured the Mystic Seaport Museum, an extensive recreation of a whalers' village.  We went aboard the Charles W. Morgan, built in 1841, the only surviving whalers' ship of that era, and got an impression of what life was like onboard.

Just down the road from our campground is the schoolhouse in which Nathan Hale, a hero of the Revolutionary War, taught, after attending Yale at age 14.  Nathan Hale was convicted of espionage by the British and executed at age 18, and he's best remembered for his last words: "I regret that I have but one life to give for my country."  Two nice ladies filled us in on his history.

Today we visited another couple of cute little towns in the area - Old Saybrook and Essex - and had lunch at the restaurant in the Griswold Inn in Essex, a beautiful old hotel Nancy and my mother and I had stayed in on a previous trip many years ago.  The restaurant is an incredible room, maybe my favorite interior ever, with wonderful framed drawings and paintings of sailing ships covering all the walls.

I'm a big fan of the area.  It's full of important historical details.  The villages and houses and meandering roads are absolutely charming, and I really liked the people we talked with, in spite of the old cliches about the standoffish New England personality.  We haven't found the perfect town here that checks off all our preferred characteristics, but we'll keep looking.

The Pocono 400

Planning a motorhome trip - selecting the campgrounds to stay in - is an inexact science.  Some of the most fun stops we've had were more the result of luck than meticulous planning.

I wanted us to visit southern Connecticut - to see Mystic Seaport and other picturesque towns in that area.  But it was about 300 miles from our RV park in Coatesville, Pennsylvania - much too far for a driver of a certain age to handle comfortably.  The intermediate spot we decided upon was in the Pocono Mountains, which according to Nancy was the preferred honeymoon site for middle-class newlyweds when she was growing up near Philadelphia.  (The more affluent sailed or flew to Bermuda.)

When we arrived at our RV Park in the town of Mount Pocono, we were informed that the Pocono 400 - one of the premier NASCAR racing events - was scheduled for Sunday at the Pocono Raceway, just a few miles away.  This was an opportunity for us to do, on this trip, another activity we had never done before - and had never imagined ourselves doing.  We bought a couple of great tickets from another RV owner who had some extras for sale.

NASCAR is the National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing.  It had its origins, supposedly, during prohibition, when the moonshiners souped up their cars to outrun the government "revenoors".  The drivers held competitions between themselves, at some point the races became organized, rules were established, NASCAR was born, and eventually it became big business, with the best drivers becoming rock stars for the folks who follow the sport like most fans follow football or basketball.  Just as I hate James Harden of the Houston Rockets and revere Steph Curry of the Golden State Warriors, the fans immediately behind us despise Kevin Harvick and cheer for Kyle Busch.

Our seats were right in the center of the grandstands and fairly near the top.  We looked out over a vast sea of (presumed) Trump supporters.  In the infield of the two and a half mile track were hundreds of RV's, people who were there for the race weekend and some of whom probably go from race track to NASCAR race track as a lifestyle choice.  You may be able to make out those RV's behind the pit/paddock area in the photo below.

Just outside the grandstands is a concession area, with a huge selection of food choices and racing paraphernalia.  I enjoyed a corn dog and Nancy bought a lamb gyro sandwich.  On the advice of some aficionados we also rented earphones which allow you to listen to the race broadcast as well as the chatter between drivers and crew during the race.

The opening ceremonies, which went on for quite a while, had a military theme.  Suddenly, way high above us, a group of five or six parasailers appeared, performing maneuvers and trailing pink smoke, one of them carrying an American flag.  One by one they landed perfectly on the track.  Each of the drivers - about thirty-five in all - was introduced; a couple I had actually heard of - Kyle Busch and Jimmie Johnson.

A military band played a strange version of The Star-Spangled Banner, a minister delivered an invocation, and the announcer yelled, "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

After three times around the track behind a pace car, the race began and was scheduled for 160 laps.  We were really happy that we had rented headphones, because the screams of the engines, which were thrilling, were also overwhelming - and possibly damaging - to naked ears.

At intervals drivers would pull into the pits and their crews would perform incredibly fast work to refill the fuel tanks and change tires.

At first the race was exhilarating, but to be honest it became a bit monotonous.  It was hard to get a sense of who the leaders were and to appreciate the drama of the competition.  I suspect it's much easier to follow on television.  There were no car crashes.  Not that I was hoping for one, exactly, but it would have broken up the routine.  By mutual consent we decided to leave shortly after half the race had been completed. 

We learned later that the race was won by Martin Truex, Jr.  It was a great experience and we appreciated the chance of bonding with all the good old boys and girls who are passionate about the sport.  But we won't be following the NASCAR circuit around the country.

The Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia

Albert Barnes was a wealthy scientist who began collecting art in the early years of the twentieth century.  In 1925 the Barnes Foundation opened in Merion, Pennsylvania as an art gallery and educational institution.

And then almost fifty years ago Nancy visited the foundation.  It was in what appeared to be a grand mansion in the country.  Wandering the rooms and admiring the paintings, she saw a nice-looking man of about her age sitting on some steps beneath a display of his own paintings.  Nancy soon realized that he was Jamie Wyeth, the son of Andrew Wyeth and a fine painter in his own right.  Jamie smiled at her, as well he might, she being a fine young thing at the height of her powers.  Nancy remembers thinking that he was really hot, but she - shy in those days and worried that he would ask her about his art - fled.  Opportunity missed.

In 2012 Barnes' magnificent collection was moved to beautiful and modern new quarters in Philadelphia, and we drove into the city to see it.  We were told that the rooms and paintings have been arranged just as they were in the original museum.

I'm a big fan of the impressionists and post-impressionists who exploded on the European art scene at the turn of the twentieth century - in particular Pierre-Auguste Renoir but also Paul Cezanne and Paul Gauguin.  The Barnes collection includes 181 paintings by Renoir, 69 by Cezanne, and a few by Gauguin, as well as 46 by Picasso (the earlier and more-to-my-taste Picasso) and others by Van Gogh, Modigliani, Monet, Manet, Degas, Matisse, and many other masters.

It's estimated that Barnes' collection is worth around 25 billion dollars.  And yet the public is allowed to get up close and personal with these treasures.  The paintings are arranged in a series of rooms in what appears to be a casual, haphazard manner, almost as if you were in someone's home, and you can get close, but if you step over that line on the floor just over two feet from the wall, an attendant will shoo you back.

Why do I like Renoir?  Well, there are the nudes ...

... but also look at this study of two young girls.  His work is just so damn pretty.

And not just Renoir.  This is one of the "Card players" series by Cezanne.

Because these are artists I have long admired and because the setting is so welcoming, the Barnes Foundation ranks as my favorite art viewing experience of all time.

The Magnificent Meisenhelders

Nancy was born a Meisenhelder, of the York Meisenhelders.

She grew up in York and Springfield, Pennsylvania.  Her two brothers - Rennie and David - still live in Pennsylvania, and her sister, Julie, lives within driving distance, in Massachusetts.

Once we had set our motorhome up nearby at the Philadelphia/West Chester KOA RV Park, the Meisenhelder clan assembled at a local seafood restaurant.  Here's a photo of Nancy's family at a restaurant later in the week.  From left to right, Julie, Rennie, Rennie's girlfriend Kathy, Nancy, me, and David.

Julie is an artist and graphic designer who is mostly retired.  Rennie is a retired electrician who worked at Franklin Mint.  His birthday on 5/29 is the occasion that brought us all together, and Nancy and I adjusted our travel itinerary to be here this week.  David is a CPA who many years ago helped me build our little castle in Ben Lomond.

Julie recently sent in a specimen of her own to AncestryDNA.com.  Since Nancy, Rennie, and David share the same parents - Ren and Dottie - Julie's results apply for the most part to them as well.  Unfortunately, the Meisenhelder line is not as pure and impressive as I had always thought.  Her ethnicity estimate came back 40% British Isles, 33% Western Europe, and 7% Southern Europe.  Migration data includes Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana settlers typical of German farmer immigrants.  Looks like there's a good dollop of German blood in there, but the Meisenhelders are definitely not pure Aryan.  Thus Nancy is not of the master race.  (I had always assumed that she was).

At the restaurant Julie handed Nancy a canister containing ashes of their dear departed father, Ren.  Julie had divided up his cremains into four equal parts, one to each of the remaining siblings, for disposal as each of them thought best.

We had an excellent meal and a grand time at the restaurant, with plenty of laughs and some not entirely appropriate comments regarding the prior disposal of the remains of other family members.  We have all tried to honor them by selecting disposal sites that reflected their favorite places on Earth.

Later we had a play date for all the Meisenhelder dogs at Rennie's home, where ordinarily his little dog Max is king.  When our Tammy Faye and Sophia and Julie's Bijou invaded his domain, Max began barking obsessively and wore himself out to the point that (according to Nancy) he gave himself a timeout by retreating to a back room to recover.  At some point a wet spot appeared on Rennie's carpet.  Suspicion fell on our Sophia, who was in the area, although only a DNA test would convince me that our perfect little princess was to blame.

This section of the Pennsylvania countryside is very beautiful - rolling hills, incredibly green, lots of big trees, winding country lanes.  There's a variety of housing styles here, with more stone buildings than elsewhere, and with its early American history and its architecture, it reminds me of England, for some reason.  Nancy and I both have a dream of living in a stone house similar to but more modest than the one below, ideally surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers.

It's so pretty that Nancy is relaxing her objection somewhat to living here under the threat of terrible winter weather.  So we drove around looking for that classic small town or city with a downtown full of cool restaurants and shops.  The best example of that we came across was West Chester, which is a very nice community.  We can't rule out this area entirely.