Monday - July 31, 2006

Today we began a long drive with a brief stop in Seneca Falls to visit the site of the 1848 Declaration of Sentiments. Since US-20 rolls right through town, there really was no excuse to miss it. While we could have toured the village for hours, we settled for the ruins of the church that housed the convention. Here, women (and a few men) drew language from the Declaration of Independence to argue that the rights of women were no less wounded than the rights of all people under British tyranny. From this place, "suffragettes" wound their aspirations among those who argued for the abolition of slavery while sometimes competing with them as seekers of civil rights. It's a strange thing to talk with Vienna about a world in which women could not vote, own property, attend college, attain professional status, or enjoy many other rights that we all take for granted today.

After Seneca Falls, we ambled over to Palmyra and made important stops along this third section of our trip that is largely dedicated to visiting sites preceding the Mormon Trail. For Jenny, this stop would allow a chance to visit the new temple built near the Sacred Grove where Mormons believe that a fourteen year old boy named Joseph Smith received revelations and instructions about starting a new church - or as Mormons explain, restoring the original gospel of Jesus Christ here in the New World.

We began at the visitor's center near the Hill Cumorah where Mormon theology states that the Angel Moroni led Joseph Smith to uncover golden plates containing a new testament of God. Inside, earnest missionaries offer tours and share their testimonies. We then continued down the road a couple miles to visit the Sacred Grove. Once more, we encountered kindly and intense missionaries whose recitation of the first visitation sometimes suggested the efforts of college drama majors. Still, one can hardly doubt that this place is genuinely meaningful to millions of Mormons the world over.

Before walking to the grove, we took tours of two buildings (one original and one replica), a simple log house followed by a somewhat larger frame house. These were early homes where Smith was steeped in bible reading and dedicated at a young age to finding his way among many competing religious influences that struggled for adherents in the region. Afterward, we walked down a wide gravel path lined with chicory and Queen Anne's lace. Turning toward the grove, we found that the path had become a road of soft earth that squished under our feet. The grove itself includes thatches of trees and small winding footpaths. An occasional bench affords moments for folks to rest and reflect on the significance of this site. Jenny had come here when she was sixteen, and I could tell that this return meant a lot to her.

As the heat bore down on us, we set forth to cross New York and Pennsylvania before turning toward Athens, Ohio, where we lived while I attended graduate school. Our plan is to get there tonight, though I don't think we'll make it all the way. For lunch we stopped at an outdoor hot dog stand in Palmyra specializing in the kind of gut-busting behemoth renditions of chili, cheese, onions, and bulging meat that can often be found in the northeast. Wrapping up our trip with a relaxing stop to get some ice cream, we turned once more to the interstate. Around here, that means tolls, construction, and dislocation from the towns and villages nearby.

We cruised south of Lake Erie before turning south into Ohio. The path we've chosen leads us from rolling farms and green pastures into a northern edge of Appalachia. Along the way, we stopped in Lisbon where the Jensen guide recommends the Crosser Diner and the Steel Trolley Diner. Both reside on opposite sides of Lincolnway, an appropriate name for the alignment of Lincoln Highway that courses through this town. Sadly, the Crosser was closed, so we turned to the Steel Trolley.

Here we entered a vintage diner that, despite its authentic ambiance, has attempted to construct one of those fake "50s diner" themes with Elvis posters and The Platters on the jukebox. The food was pretty good. But I recommend that you watch out for how quickly the low prices transform into a budget busting final total. Then there's that intangible feeling you get as an outsider among locals, where even the most presumably friendly diner gets a bit colder than it should. Among the many sentimental celebrations of the small town cafe, that occasional experience is not often discussed. But the palpable sense that "y'all ain't from around here, are you?" is impossible to miss in places like this.

The highlight of our evening was a brief rest stop where we spot a field of fireflies. It's been years since we've seen some of these wonderful creatures and Jenny and I stared at them for a while. Vienna did more than that, romping into the grass trying to catch one. There's something about the futility of this act, the sense that she doesn't really care to catch a firefly but rather just wants to chase after them, that strikes me as sweet. It's not often that I see my sixteen-year old daughter cavort among fireflies, so we enjoyed a slightly longer break than we would otherwise contemplate.

From here on south, the road and towns become more rugged. It's been eight years since we lived in Appalachia and very little has changed about this part of the country, where you ought not be surprised to spot handmade signs offering freshly killed rabbits. We are heading for Athens, home of Ohio University and a brief chance to relive happy and not-so-happy times. Tonight we'll get little sleep and tomorrow will demand another long day of driving after our visit.