We spent a day wandering around historic Bedford, Pennsylvania, ambling down the street and browsing little shops.
They have found a nice, balanced way of living so that their history is ever present but so that it doesn’t feel stuffy or outdated. Downtown shops are packed with interesting merchandise and there’s a lovely park that honors their veterans of 20th century wars. Ample parking, plenty of street signage, and locals who seem to appreciate their visitors make this town more enjoyable to navigate than most.
We shopped for antiques, gourmet food, books and more. We admired ghost murals and sampled candy. We chatted with one particular shop owner whose store was so welcoming I hated to leave.
And we began to imagine how beautiful it would be to visit during the holiday season. It came as no surprise to either of us when we started planning a return trip.
A nearby covered bridge and church spires that soar to the heavens are pretty as a postcard. A meal at the nearby Jean Bonnet Tavern will make you wonder if you aren’t a well fed time traveler.
Bedford is ready for visitors and welcomes you. I’m so very grateful for the opportunity to experience it first hand and look forward to the day I return.
With the rise of automobile travel in the early part of the 20th century, so came the rise of novelty architecture and attempts to attract motorists into businesses along the road. Travelers through Bedford, Pennsylvania may notice this giant coffee pot which is a remnant of that era.
Built in 1927, this coffee pot was a gimmick to draw customers to a service station and restaurant owned by David Bert Koontz. According to a historic marker next to the coffee pot, the early menu included hamburgers, ice cream and Coca Cola. Not only did this quick fare appeal to motorists on the Lincoln Highway, Greyhound passengers took advantage as well when they stopped at the bus depot next door.
It was actually built in another location than its current one but was purchased by the Bedford County Fair Association, relocated to the county fairgrounds, and restored for future generations to enjoy. That was in 2004.
At 18 feet high and 22 feet in diameter, it’s hard to miss and a real treat for us vintage roadside junkies who pretty much live for this kind of thing.
You can’t go inside anymore but it’s free to walk around outside. Here’s a fun fact: if you filled it with coffee, it would hold 819,000 8 ounce cups of coffee!
While it doesn’t serve coffee, it does serve a great lesson in roadside history and the value of creative marketing during the early days of car travel.
I’m home after a few days of adventures with my Pittsburgh pal. She gives me the insider tour of her city and, this time, we also took a day trip over to historic Bedford, Pennsylvania.
This was my first real adventure of the year and it didn’t come a moment too soon. I was feeling restless, deprived, and yearning for something more interesting than my own four walls. I have a good life but it’s better when I step away occasionally to see what else the world has to offer.
We did a book crawl, ate at a historic tavern, and looked at art and historic buildings. We shopped, contemplated the sacrifices made by our veterans, and browsed a middle eastern food market near her home.
It is never lost on me how different her life is from mine because of where we live.
There are about three dozen independent bookstores in the Pittsburgh area. There are radio stations that play more than top forty country and pop music. I listened to some jazz radio while in the area and was sad to lose the station as I traveled away from the city. There are markets and restaurants that cater to ethnic cuisines and her very nice neighborhood of tree lined streets is filled with people who have come from afar. There are more jobs, more money, more educational opportunities, more museums, more of everything really.
The contrast between urban and rural is surprising sometimes.
Yet, where I live is beautiful. We have a shared sense of community that comes from everyone attending the same high school, shopping at the same grocery store, and being so small we tend to know each other.
Where I live in the country, there are no sidewalks or streetlights. There’s also no traffic unless you count school buses, farm equipment, and the occasional road construction.
I can hear a variety of birds and frogs in my yard and my closest neighbors are far enough away I don’t really hear them.
Quality of life is awfully good in many ways here but it’s also nice to leave and to have different experiences.
At one point, I stood before a mirror in the ladies room at Bedford Candy. My hair was a mess and I had the wild eyed look of someone who was so busy running around and looking at stuff that time didn’t matter.
It’s true, I spent almost the entire trip without any idea what day it was or what time it was. I was in my element and didn’t give a gosh darn what the clock said.
I have missed that version of myself. Planning and schedules have nearly crowded her out.
Yet, all good things must end. I’m home safe. The people in my life are thrilled to have me back. My little house panther couldn’t be happier. I keep catching him staring at me like he just wants to make sure I’m really here.
I am really here, a country mouse tucked away in my country house with a few stories to share and a mess to clean up. Not only do I need to unpack, there are groceries and fun purchases that still need to be put away today.
For now though, I can take my time, enjoy my little cat’s company, and savor the memories of experiences that helped me remember who I am.
On May 4, 1970 four Kent State students were killed and nine wounded when the Ohio National Guard opened fire into a peaceful anti- war protest.
One of those wounded died in 2020. His name was Alan Canfora and we happened upon his grave at Lake View Cemetery in Cleveland last year. I knew he was one of the injured because engraved in the top of that black granite stone is a photo from the protest. I later learned that the photo on his headstone is actually of him during the protest.
I also learned that he had dedicated his life to activism and to telling the story of that day.
Throughout Canfora’s lifetime he amassed the largest personal collection of photos, court records, audio recordings, personal correspondence, protest materials and other items related to this tragedy.
Following his death at age 71, his family donated that collection to Kent State. This link will take you to a good story that quotes his sister about his efforts to not allow the truth to be forgotten or rewritten. I thought about quoting it here but would prefer you take a minute to read the story.
If you aren’t familiar with what went on at Kent State at the time, you should read up on it. No one should die or be wounded for peacefully protesting in this country but I am impressed that he used his experience as a catalyst to better the world.
