Remember and be glad

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Happy Memorial Day

Abbeville and altered attitudes

Abbeville :: Dagny took the picture while TG watched

This post will be a little bit of normal and a generous helping of insanity.

In other words, just right.

Let's start with something Sydney said.

Abbeville :: It was a beautiful day

I realize you don't have the privilege of knowing my friend Sydney. We've been buddies since the late eighties, when we both lived in the Chicagoland area.

Sydney's originally from Atlanta, and that's where she lives now.

Here we are at SunTrust Park in July of 2017, taking in a Braves/Cubs game:

The Sydney Connection :: July 7, 2017

Mostly we talked our heads off (there was a rain delay) but that's to be expected.

Anyway here's what Sydney (who faithfully reads this blog but infrequently comments) opined, in response to a recent post where I paid one or two respects to the current coronavirus madness:

... while I really don't want to catch the Covids, I am sad that I'm rapidly losing the freedom to do just that.

Hear, hear. Word! What she said. I couldn't agree more.

Abbeville :: Old Glory at the Opera House

I've even quoted Sydney, slightly paraphrased, several times. It was one of those "I wish I'd said that" moments. But then I went ahead and said it anyway.

And now for further commentary on that and a few other subjects.

When TG, I, Audrey, Dagny, Chad, and Erica set out for Abbeville, in the Upstate eighty-six miles from Columbia, three Sunday afternoons ago, we wanted a change of scenery.

(The whole thing was my idea but they like short trips too, and we all enjoy hanging out together.)

Following a mild winter, we've had a cold spring in South Carolina -- colder than any of us remember ever experiencing before. As late as last week, nights were still dipping down into the forties.

It's been glorious. Cool temperatures, low humidity, balmy breezes and plenty of sunshine.

Abbeville :: Eucalyptus, old brick, and sky

I see it as a gift from God during these stressful weeks, and I've enjoyed it thoroughly and taken advantage of it as much as I could.

On the day we trekked to Abbeville, a gorgeous day as just described, I was looking forward to walking around outside and taking pictures.

Founded by French Huguenots in 1764, Abbeville is named for the French town of the same name. It has a town motto:

Pretty. Near. Perfect.

It's also known as the birthplace and deathbed of the Confederacy, as it was in Abbeville that South Carolina's secession from the Union was launched in late 1860, and it was also there that Jefferson Davis officially acknowledged the dissolution of the Confederate government, in its last official cabinet meeting.

Right now, the only thing Abbeville is, is deserted.

Abbeville: Right twice a day

I know; you don't have to tell me. These little, old South Carolina towns aren't exactly densely populated. They tend to be lonely places even on "busy" days.

But this is different. This is a kind of bone-dry emptiness that reverberates and resonates like something out of The Twilight Zone. 

It borders on weird.

Our troop may not have been the only humans about, but with a lone exception, the only people we saw besides ourselves were those riding in the few cars that drifted around the town square while we explored it.

The aforementioned exception was a man we met who was standing behind the cashier's desk at the only place open on the square: Maria's Mexican Restaurant.

A neon "OPEN" sign beckoned, so Audrey and I poked our heads in the door to see what was going on.

Abbeville :: Prince Brothers

A table was angled so that you could get no farther inside the door than twelve inches.

Empty booths stretched along both sides of the darkened, narrow space. Tables in the middle were stacked with chairs, their legs pointing towards the ceiling.

I looked at the man, who smiled. I said, Are y'all going to be all right?

In lieu of a verbal answer -- I suspected he spoke no English -- he directed my gaze to a rather lurid painted depiction of Jesus behind and above his head.

(I'd just like to point out here, apropos of nothing in particular, that the phrase in lieu of does not mean in light of. It means instead of. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.)

I nodded with what I hoped looked like sympathy. He nodded back, and smiled again, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say whatcha gonna do.

(This exchange occurred before we in South Carolina were once more "allowed" to sit outside an establishment and consume food purchased there. But two tiny tables with a total of four chairs sat on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and the man indicated that if we so chose, our party could use them.)

Abbeville: Wall greens

He handed me a menu, which I am holding in the picture at the top of this post. 

I feel badly to this day that we didn't eat there. We intended to have a meal together; we just weren't sure how it was all going to work out what with COVID-19 calling all of the shots.

But it was right chilly in the shade, where those two tiny tables were. Also one of the two tables wasn't exactly clean; it had trash on it.

The girls hadn't worn jackets and there was a stiff cool wind blowing, making them uncomfortable.

We opted to walk down the street first, in the sun, both to warm up and to see what we could see.

Once there we found an old church and a garden center, and took a few pictures. Then we went back to the square and peered into the deserted storefronts.

I asked Dagny to pose in front of a window decorated with brightly colored hearts.

Abbeville :: Dagny wins many hearts

As is the case in many small South Carolina towns, an impressive monument to Confederate soldiers, and the Confederacy itself, dominates the town square. 

I imagine it won't be long before we hear that it has been torn down, because history is inconvenient.

But until it is, that monument proclaims a truth that is more inconvenient than even the monument itself, and less convenient and more in danger now than ever before:

Honor the brave. They knew their rights and dared maintain them.

Speaking of history, before we left, TG asked me to take a picture of him beside a small monument to Thomas Dry Howie, "The Major of St. Lo."

TG and tribute to Abbeville's native son

Howie, a hero of Normandy, was born in Abbeville and was a member of The Citadel Class of '29. My TG is a member of the Class of '74. 

At The Citadel, Howie was a Deans List English major, President of his class, All State halfback on the football team, and captain of the baseball team. He was also voted “Most Versatile, Popular and Best All Around” by his classmates.

He took the qualifying test for a Rhodes Scholarship on the same day that he scored the winning touchdown in the homecoming football game, in which The Citadel beat Clemson 12-7. 

At age thirty-six, he gave his life for his country. He is buried in the American Cemetery in Normandy, France. Our Audrey has been there.

Major Howie was the inspiration for the character played by Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan.

Abbeville :: Trinity Episcopal

In due time we returned to our cars and set out to find food. We never even discussed going back to Maria's for enchiladas; I hope the man behind the cashier's desk got some takeout orders that day.

We ended up eating at Burger King (love me some BK once every five-or-so years), sitting outside at a picnic table, scarfing it down quickly because everything was threatening to blow away. Plus the girls were still cold.

Afterwards, heading back towards Columbia, we stopped in the larger-but-still-small town of Greenwood to visit Old Greenwood Cemetery.

There wasn't a whole lot to see there, it being a tiny cemetery, but all of us enjoyed traipsing around, looking at old graves. According to one stone, the first white child born in Greenwood is buried there.

Old Greenwood Cemetery :: There's only one first

FYI: Thomas Jones was born in 1829 and died in 1895 at the age of sixty-six.

Since that wonderful outing, we've enjoyed our Mother's Day celebration and taken another day trip that I'll tell you about soon. And in that time, I've done a little bit of research and a whole lot of thinking.

I know; right? How can that last part end well? Bear with me.

One thing I've learned is that in 1968-69, one hundred thousand Americans died from the Hong Kong Flu (H3N2). During the pandemic, the Woodstock music festival was held in Upstate New York, with four hundred thousand unwashed and drug-addled hippies attending.

Abbeville :: Give a rebel yell

There was barely sanitation; I think we can all agree that no social distancing took place, that no one wore masks, and that not a word was said about washing your hands a lot.

By the way, since the above story began to circulate in light of current events, several news outlets such as Reuters and USA Today have scrambled to float the idea that the information is "misleading."

They claim that to put the timeline for Woodstock "in the middle of a pandemic" is disingenuous and inaccurate because although chronologically its dates occur smack at the midpoint of what are recognized as the virus's supposed start and end, it actually took place between the first and second "waves" of the virus.

Abbeville :: Where they remember not to forget

Mmmmmkay. Let me just say, if the lib media are denying it's true, I believe it even more. To quibble over the question of whether Woodstock took place in the middle of a pandemic that killed 100K Americans, or between waves of it, involves semantic hairs I'm not willing to split.

And you can bet the ranch that nothing in the way of giant gatherings with no thought to a killer virus, will be taking place here in the United States any time before the presidential election on November 3rd, 2020.

(Although it may well disappear from the media's notice entirely on November 4th, regardless of the election's outcome.)

Abbeville :: Dagny at the old church

Can you imagine if Joe Biden wins the presidency and the pandemic numbers continue to swell? The media will immediately proclaim that he is doing a "tremendous" job, especially considering the mess he was left by President Trump. 

Precisely what President Trump has (rightly) said about his performance and predecessor, to universal scorn and contempt, hatred and lies, and the most malicious slander.

Also during the Hong Kong Flu pandemic, America went to the moon. And back. President Johnson and Vice President Humphrey both caught the virus, and recovered, in the waning days of the administration. Actress Tallulah Bankhead and former CIA Director Allen Dulles weren't so fortunate; they died of it.

I'm old enough to remember those years; I was born in 1957. I know for a fact that schools didn't shut down because of the Hong Kong Flu. I'd remember that. Restaurants didn't close either; my mom was a waitress and I'd remember that too.

Abbeville :: Color coded

I promise you, no one wore masks or talked about staying six feet away from others, or canceled travel plans.

I'm pretty sure folks kept on going to church and to work.

Let's bring it forward to two years ago, when eighty thousand Americans died of the seasonal flu. You and I both know that ZERO precautions were taken two years ago, to protect the public against catching the flu.

(And I don't need to be reminded, gently or otherwise, that COVID is worse than the seasonal flu. Let's say that it is. Dead is still dead no matter what you died of, and at least the flu numbers don't lie. They don't have a political agenda.)

In 2009, during the Obama administration, nearly thirteen thousand Americans died of Swine Flu (H1N1). Again: it wasn't a blip on the radar in terms of closings and cancellations and panicking and distancing and quarantining and President-despising.

Do you know what the smart people did, in 1968-69 and in 2009 and in 2017-18? If their health was compromised by other illnesses and/or age, they stayed home and laid low for the duration, until they felt it was safe to come out again. Nobody suggested taking measures any more drastic than that.

Abbeville :: Stately courthouse architecture

In other words, the self-same thing we should be doing now, and what we should have been doing all along. 

Instead? Well, you know. Complete nonsense laid on with a trowel, chaos and destruction of lives and the economy, when it is a known fact that as a rule, only certain demographics are at risk of actually dying of Wuhan Flu.

(It has a 98-99% recovery rate and yes, I think that's good. I think that's pretty swell, all things considered.)

But the whole class has to stay in from recess because the teacher doesn't want to really deal with the problem. And then you've got the rest, who are truly loving all of the drama. And then there are those who are dead-set on destroying President Trump and his chances for reelection.

And then you've got radical leftists who, having had this taste of total control, are loath to relinquish it.

Y'all do know, don't you, that none of us are getting out of this alive -- in the earthly sense? We're all going to die at some point, of something. None of us will live forever in this current situation. I believe the date of my death is fixed. God Almighty has determined it and He will see me through life and greet me on the other side.

Old Greenwood Cemetery :: Word

Do I believe that means I should walk out in front of a bus, or take other inordinate risks with my life and safety? Of course not. But I also don't think that going to the store or to church right now, without wearing a mask, is tantamount to walking out in front of a bus. Or to killing anyone else, for that matter.

I agree with Sydney; I don't want to catch the rona. But I want the freedom to catch it. I'd rather lose my life than lose the liberties I've enjoyed as a citizen of a free country since my birth.

Meanwhile in super-lefty locales such as Oregon and Washington state, restaurants are reopening. Want to know what that's going to look like on the Left Coast?

Patrons will be required to give their name, phone number, and email address upon presenting themselves for a table. (This is for "tracking and tracing" just in case an outbreak occurs on the very spot where you ate your burger and fries.)

Oh and you won't be waiting anywhere near the restaurant for that table. Stay in your car; they'll text you.

Abbeville :: Divine your space

When you are shown to a table (fifty percent occupancy, comrades), there won't be anything on it. No menus, napkins, silverware, salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce, sugar, Sweet'n Low, or ketchup. These things will be distributed in single-serving one-use form "as needed."

When dishes and utensils do arrive at the table, some of them will be "disposable" and no one will hand them to you or place them in front of you. You'll have to retrieve your meal yourself, from a tray.

Everything coming to the table will be brought by employees wearing mouth-and-nose masks, plastic goggles, acrylic face shields, and gloves, and who have had their temperature taken when they got to work that day.

As far as I know, HazMat suits are not yet required for servers. Diners, however, should come prepared to wear a mask. Yes; they may ask you to wear a mask while you eat and drink. Doesn't that sound appetizing?

I guess that's because at any given time, they'll be able to tell when COVID is lurking in a corner, or stalking the tables, ready to attach itself to some unwitting random maskless person enjoying their mashed potatoes.

Abbeville and Audag :: Pretty. Near. Perfect.

(We ate at a restaurant last Saturday night. We were not allowed to be seated within view of any other diners.)

(Our server, an exceedingly sweet and thoughtful young lady, was wearing an ill-fitting black mask that wouldn't stay over her nose. She kept having to adjust it, only for it to slip down again.)

(I wonder: Is touching a mask you've been breathing and talking into for hours, then touching my cup or plate, any better than handing me that cup or plate with no mask on your face?)

(I'll leave you to ponder.)

When it comes time to pay for your meal in those far-left states, no one will want to touch your money anymore. It will be cards only, and you'll have to ring yourself up. Nobody will do it for you.

They're asking for extra gratuities because of how tough things are, but don't leave your filthy infected cash at the table. Add twenty-five percent to the card total. And the menu prices are higher than pre-COVID, naturally.

Abbeville :: Confederate States of America

There will be limited access to rest rooms; you're expected to take care of all that before you show up. But extra "hand washing stations" may be provided.

At an upscale dining establishment in Virginia, near the nation's capital, mannequins dressed in fancy 1930s garb will be seated at every other table "to reinforce social distancing."

Dining with The Dummies.

(In the pictures I saw, all of the dummies were white. Wait for it: There'll be trouble over that in 3-2-1.)

Rest assured, there's no stack of pancakes in this land that I need badly enough to go through all of that. I'm a good cook; I'll eat at home better and more cheaply, and enjoy it plenty, and keep the tip.

Abbeville :: Take a letter Maria's

In a small town in California, there is a sign posted at the entrance to a bike path. It forbids the use of bicycles on said path, but allows that walking on the path is permitted. Someone will have to explain that one to me.

On the East Coast, Mayor de Blasio of New York City warns that the beaches will be fenced off for Memorial Day and that if anyone goes into the water, they will be removed. From the water. Where, you know, COVID is rampant.

Speaking of Memorial Day, the Veterans Association has issued an edict that, breaking a long-observed and cherished tradition, the Boy Scouts will not be "allowed" to place flags at veterans' graves in the country's sacred National Cemeteries.

Are they really suggesting that it is not possible to decorate graves with flags, without infecting someone with COVID? Because I'm pretty sure the dead don't care and the Boy Scouts are capable of staying six feet apart.

Here's my point. Yes; I have one. I'll thank you not to snicker.

Abbeville :: Welcome to lonely town

If you think you're at risk of catching COVID-19 should you venture out of your house, and the thought of that eventuality makes you fearful, you should stay home. Definitely. Indefinitely. Just stay there as long as necessary.

No one will judge you and I'm sure family members, friends, and neighbors will help you get the supplies you need, so that you don't have to leave the domicile until you're ready.

For those who do not fear catching or dying of COVID-19 -- although, like Sydney, they may not want to catch it -- there should be the option of going about their life and business unmolested by state and local government. Taking as much risk as they are willing to take, and taking responsibility for the outcome.

Abbeville :: They faced their fears

In some parts of the country, folks are simply doing that. They're going out and doing what they need to do -- until they can't, that is, because a governor with a God complex has forbidden certain activities.

Hero law enforcement officers in certain cities are approaching groups, informing them that by gathering they are running afoul of some Executive Order or other, and then simply walking away.

That's what I'm talking about.

Old Greenwood Cemetery :: Broken but still standing

As for me, I'm getting a pedicure this Wednesday. My salon owner texted to tell me she was reopening, and to offer me an appointment, which I was overjoyed to take.

Dagny will graduate from kindergarten on Friday night. The ceremony will be unusual, I'm sure, but at least we'll have one. The schools are doing the best they can under strange circumstances.

Abbeville sits empty in the dwindling spring days and soon the summer sun will keep most folks indoors, at least in the heat of the day.

But there was the heat of battle at one point, which produced our liberties. 

Abbeville :: Honor the Brave

There were those who were brave, and who knew their rights and dared maintain them.

In the face of all tyranny, we need more people like that. We need to be people like that.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

For every imperfect mother

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Just Raleigh and me, and TG makes three

It me (NCMA)

Is this thing on?

I'll assume so.

For my birthday, which fell on the seventh of March this year just as it does every year, TG and I took a weekend trip to Raleigh, North Carolina.

Oakwood Cemetery: Look away, Dixieland

The whole thing was my idea. I wanted to go somewhere, but not anywhere far.

Raleigh is the second-largest city in North Carolina (Charlotte is numero uno) and its capital city, and the seat of Wake County.

Eat at Elmo's: Breakfast all day

It forms one side of the famed Research Triangle, the other two sides being Durham and Chapel Hill.

The name "Research Triangle" was earned partly because the region is home to three major educational institutions: Duke University, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and North Carolina State University (NC State).

Ronald Bladen: Three Elements (NCMA)

It was the weekend before the world went crazy and we, along with most everyone else, were the walking, talking embodiment of Almost-Ignorance-Is-Still-Bliss for precisely one more week.

The Sunday following our trip, we were "allowed" to go to church only for morning services.

Duke Chapel: Soar skyward

Looking back through the prism of coronavirus and the subsequent virulent lie-fest and money- and power-grabs, it all seems so innocent: Americans enjoying their God-given freedoms. Before that became a crime.

(Yesterday at Publix, where people were walking around with masks on their chins -- ??? -- or standing outside with masks pulled down so as to smoke a coffin nail, there were massive signs hanging from the rafters telling us to Be Kind and assuring us that We'll Get Through This.)

Henry Spencer Moore: Knife Edge (NCMA)

(Oh shut up, I said, out loud.)

(The last thing I need is for the grocery store, where I choose to spend my money, to start telling me what to think and how to behave. What is this? A preschool? Besides. I'm always kind unless/until someone gives me reason to be otherwise.)

Oakwood Cemetery: On a clear day you can see forever

(At any rate, most people, including TG and me, were oblivious to the bossy directional floor decals until we were halfway down the aisle. Going the "wrong" way. Guess that's not working out too well either.)

But I digress. I'd ask for forgiveness but as I'm a known recidivist, I won't bother.

Duke Chapel: Gothic splendor

We set out for Raleigh -- three-or-so hours from Columbia by car -- in mid-morning on the sixth of March. I'd picked out a breakfast-all-day place called Elmo's Diner in Durham, near the Duke campus, which was our second destination.

Elmo's was pleasant enough; we were seated in a sunny covered patio area with weathered wood floors and lots of light. Our server was as helpful as she was cheerful, and vice versa.

Auguste Rodin: Pierre de Wissant (NCMA)

Always looking to recreate my sublime Fall Foliage French Toast experience from last October, I scanned the menu for something similar.

The closest I could get was a dish that involved whole-wheat pancakes with a topping of granola that had been mixed with cranberries and a jam-like substance and I'm not describing it very well but it was delicious.

Oakwood Cemetery: Take up thy cross

I don't remember what TG had; I never do. Apologies. But whatever it was, he consumed it lustily and pronounced it good.

That done, we set out for Duke. Known as the Harvard of the South, Duke is a private university founded in 1838 by Methodists and Quakers. Originally situated in another North Carolina town and undergoing several name changes in its first century, the school moved to Durham in 1892.

Oakwood Cemetery: House of Memory

According to Wikipedia: In 1924, tobacco and electric power industrialist James Buchanan Duke established The Duke Endowment and the institution changed its name to honor his deceased father, Washington Duke.

He who pays is he who says.

Trivia: President Richard Nixon graduated third in his class from Duke University School of Law in 1937.

Roxy Paine: Askew (NCMA)

The West Campus of Duke looks as though it was built in a different century than the one to which it in fact belongs. As such, it is an enduring tourist attraction.

The towering gothic presence of Duke Chapel, cornerstone laid in 1930, conjures images of Oxford, England, during the time of the Plantagenet Kings.

Duke Chapel: Keep looking up

Being a card-carrying anglophile, I was all about that.

The day was chilly and windy, with spates of raininess that never really developed but threatend the whole time. In other words, perfect.

Oakwood Cemetery: Peace out

While TG looked for a parking space, I wandered around the chapel and took my pictures. I went inside, where someone was playing the organ. It sounded pretty much like heaven.

Very shortly a group of people assembled in the front of the chapel (which seats 1,800) to rehearse a wedding that would take place the next day.

It us (NCMA)

I'll bet those folks are glad they got married when they did.

Without disturbing the wedding party, we investigated a side mini-chapel that contains sepulchres of Dukes long departed, complete with life-size marble effigies of the deceased decorating the tops of the tombs.

Duke Chapel: In eternal remembrance

An ancient-looking winding stone staircase led to a chamber down below with the same vaulted ceilings of Indiana limestone. There wasn't much to see there other than to gawk at the intricate architecture.

Having done all we could in the chapel, we went back out into the overcast day. We checked out the food service hall (think fancy food court where, if you have a student ID, you eat for "free") and the gift shop.

Duke: Empty chairs and empty tables

Outside in the courtyard, it looked as though everyone had already left for home and coronavirus lockdown. It was only the weather that kept everyone from gathering there, though.

Still, the pictures -- together with similar ones I took two days later -- seem oddly and eerily prescient.

Iris Restaurant (NCMA)

In the gift shop, I took a few pictures of ball caps and neckties all Duked-up and sent them to my son-in-law, Joel, to tease him. I asked if he wanted anything for his birthday in May.

(Joel is a die-hard lifelong University of North Carolina fan. Arch-rivals of Duke. He wouldn't wear a Duke hat or tie even if it could make him ten years younger.)

Duke: And the skies opened

He responded that all he wanted from Duke was that his team, the Tar Heels, beat them in basketball the next day.

As we left the campus, we passed Cameron Indoor Stadium where the tents of K-Ville were already up and occupied ahead of Saturday's contest with the Blue Devils' cross-town rival.

Oakwood Cemetery: Cross it when we come to it

Duke won that game; the Tar Heels went down in defeat. Our Joel was disappointed.

There's always next year.

It me (NCMA)

The next day -- my actual birthday -- TG and I enjoyed a relaxing and delicious buffet breakfast at our hotel before setting off for Oakwood Cemetery in Raleigh.

I know; right? I like to visit cemeteries on my birthday. What can I say? I'm a taphophile as well as an anglophile.

Duke Chapel: Vaulted and vaunted

As historic cemeteries go, Oakwood was a trifle less than what I'm used to. It's old, but not nearly as spectacular monument-wise as I'd hoped.

Still, we met an extremely cordial gentleman in the office who offered to show us some noteworthy headstones and share with us some history of Raleigh's departed, and it was truly special and I loved every minute of that.

Oakwood Cemetery: Enter thou here

We saw the grave of Jim Valvano, one-time head basketball coach at NC State, who died of cancer in 1993 at the age of forty-six.

We marveled (and not in a good way; they are hideous and I will not apologize for saying that and no, I will not show pictures to prove my point) at the monuments to Elizabeth Edwards and her son, Wade.

Oakwood Cemetery: RIP Jimmy V

After the unexpected treat of our short guided tour, as is our habit in larger cemeteries, TG and I went our separate ways. He likes to drive slowly around, consulting a map for notable graves; I like to wander on foot wherever the spirit leads, taking pictures.

There is a large Confederate section at Oakwood, complete with a gothic-style House of Memory.

Duke Chapel: Open wide

I loved how three stone benches in succession were used to convey this quote:

'Tis the cause, not the fate of the cause, that is glorious.

Indeed.

Duke Chapel: It me

An hour or two before I would have thought possible in such a situation, I was forced to confront the fact that it was my birthday, and I was not having as much fun as I should be.

I saw the Raven moseying not far away, and waved, and walked towards it. I told TG what was up. He said what he always says: What do you want to do?

Oakwood Cemetery: Enshrined

I'd heard of a local chocolate factory I wanted to visit, so we did that. It was unremarkable and by then I was peckish so we ended up at a restaurant where you can sit in a booth in a window and look out onto the city street. I love that.

We chilled for a while before ordering from the brunch menu. I loved the coffee mug that they served my coffee in so much, that I bought one for my collection, and one each for Audrey and Erica. They were tending to my pets in my absence.

Duke: Mysterious architecture

Later we located a unique gift shop and found a few small presents for Dagny, who always asks that we bring her something.

The next day, we had brunch at another breakfast-all-day place, the name of which I have already forgotten; it was that forgettable. Adequate but not repeat-visitable.

Oakwood Cemetery: Dream the view

Then we made our way to the North Carolina Museum of Art (known colloquially to the locals as NCMA), which turned out to be a wonderful surprise. 

It wasn't that I expected it to be mediocre; I just wasn't prepared for how impressive it is. I'd love to go back someday and explore it further. Admission is free, even if you don't live in North Carolina.

Duke: For outdoorsy types

The museum has tons of art outside in its park-like surroundings. I love outside art installations and the weather was glorious, so we took our time appreciating as many of those as we could.

Once inside the smallish museum, we were enthralled with the exhibits and collections. It was special. I didn't expect to see Rodin sculptures on my trip to Raleigh, but I did. 

Oakwood Cemetery: In my hand no price I bring

(Actually they were bronze casts of original Rodin sculptures, but no less amazing to behold.)

There were lots of interesting paintings, and some quirky installations that I enjoyed.

I happened upon Iris, billed as a sophisticated full-service restaurant, but like the plaza at Duke, it was deserted.

Duke Chapel: I'll take the center aisle

Maybe its emptiness was owing to the time of day; I'm not sure. At any rate, we weren't there to eat. But I couldn't help noticing that an entire wall of the space was decorated with an unusual twirly-twig piece that was fascinating. It resembled gigantic interconnecting bird nests.

According to the NCMA web site, it is a site-specific sculpture by Patrick Dougherty featuring branches and boughs from the surrounding area, further enhancing the dining experience by bringing the outdoors in.

Although I had no dining experience beneath said branches and boughs, I will not argue with that.

Oakwood Cemetery: Confederate section

Eventually we were obliged to head for home. I'm so happy that we had one last relaxing trip free of the drama and angst that have been visited on the world since that carefree time.

As much as I'd like to take a black Sharpie to most of the events of the past eight weeks, we have had other enjoyable times since our trip to Raleigh.

Duke Chapel: Oblique view

I'll be telling you about them soon, and eventually about others yet on the horizon.

Life does have a habit of going on.

Until then, thanks for reading. Be well and as happy as it is possible for you to be.

Oakwood Cemetery: Engraved in stone

Remember that 'tis the cause, not the fate of the cause, that is glorious.

And the glorious cause is what it has always been: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday