I'm a single gal living in rural Appalachia. I have a job that keeps me busy and a to-do list so long I'll never see the end.
Adventures- both big and small- are an important part of my life. Since I don’t even have a houseplant depending on me right now, I’m free to do basically whatever I please. This blog tells some of those stories.
Life is pretty darn good!
In Great Barrington, Massachusetts you’ll find a little place called Pizza House and Restaurant where they serve up pizza, subs, salads and some Greek specialities.
It’s nothing fancy but it’s a family joint that’s been around for about forty years. The pizza was pretty good and the service was great. My friend has a food allergy that isn’t altogether common. When she inquired about her allergy at the counter, the woman took her time advising my friend and making sure she ordered something that was safe.
I truly appreciated her time and consideration. Nothing ruins the fun like a medical emergency in a strange town and it was clear that wouldn’t happen on her watch.
As we move through this world, we sometimes have to depend on people to help us with seemingly small decisions that have big consequences. When we find those people it’s important to say thanks.
So if you’re ever in Great Barrington, stop by and treat yourself to something good. I had my favorite – mushrooms, onions and black olives!
Sometimes when we are out adventuring, dear friends, we make mistakes. Especially when visiting a new place, it’s easy to overlook something or fail to read a sign.
Today’s story comes to you from a series of such errors. My Pittsburgh pal is an incredible trip planner who knows my tastes and my budgetary preferences better than most people. She’s good at nosing out the hotel with the best deal and the restaurant with a great pescatarian menu that happens to fit well into our plans.
When we travel together, she usually provides some choices for my consideration. I will look up a few things and make some suggestions but mostly stay out of the way and ask how much cash I should bring.
The whole point of visiting Stockbridge is that I had seen a story about their connection to the artist Norman Rockwell and it seemed like our kind of town. There’s hiking, cute shops, and lots of history. You can tour Rockwell’s studio. You can also tour writer Edith Wharton’s home.
What I failed to notice in my half hearted perusal of things to do is that singer songwriter Arlo Guthrie has a connection to this town.
Let’s stop here for a moment. Most times I mention Arlo Guthrie to the humans in my life, I get a strange look. They’ve heard the name but don’t know the guy. Sometimes they’ve never heard the name and have absolutely no clue who I’m talking about at all.
Arlo Guthrie is a folk singer-songwriter who is known for his protest music against social injustice and the Vietnam War. His dad was Woody Guthrie, one of this country’s most significant folk singers of the 20th century. Woody gave us the classic song “This Land Is Your Land.”
I hope you at least grew up singing that ballad in elementary school. Click hereif you don’t know it.
Ok, now that we are caught up….. I was chatting with the woman running the dressing room at the Marshalls near our hotel and she asked what all we were doing on our visit. Out of the blue she said “You know, the Guthrie Center is here. Arlo Guthrie? Alice’s Restaurant? Yeah, he went to school here.”
Wait. What?
And then she proceeds to tell me about how he graduated from school here and his famous song “Alice’s Restaurant” happened here.
What?
By no means am I an Arlo Guthrie aficionado but I did once enjoy a magical night listening to him in concert at the Midland Theater in Newark, Ohio. And since then hardly has a Thanksgiving gone by that I haven’t listened to his most famous song “Alice’s Restaurant Massacree” on Thanksgiving Day.
Oh boy. Do you know Alice’s Restaurant Massacree?
Alice’s Restaurant is an 18-ish minute satirical protest song against the Vietnam War. It’s hard to describe but the song evidently is a grossly exaggerated telling of something that actually happened on Thanksgiving Day 1965 when he was visiting friends who lived in a deconsecrated church in Great Barrington, near Stockbridge. Basically, they had trash that needed to go to the town dump. They carried it over in a VW bus only to find the dump was closed for the holiday. When they noticed a random pile of trash somewhere nearby, they dumped it with that stuff and drive off.
They eventually get arrested and fined. It was 1965. What can I say?
This story takes up several minutes of the song but isn’t what the song is about as he shifts gears into the draft office where he’s trying to get out of being sent to Vietnam.
Where does Alice’s Restaurant come in?
The chorus. It comes in on the chorus which is a catchy tune that sounds like a fun jingle for how you can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant.
You see, Alice was one of the friends who lived in the church. She owned a restaurant in town
It’s impossible to describe but if you have eighteen odd minutes to listen to a song, it is an experience. You can click here to listen if you like. This song actually spent sixteen weeks on the Billboard 200 when it was released in 1967.
So, fast forward to the nineties when Arlo bought his friends’ deconsecrated church where all this started and turned it into the Guthrie Center. They were closed when we rolled up on a drizzly evening but I still grabbed a few pictures from beneath the big trees out front.
Here’s a quote from their website:
Arlo Guthrie sought to provide a place to bring together individuals for spiritual service, and founded the Guthrie Center, an Interfaith Church, in 1991. It fulfills Arlo’s aim to meet the ongoing needs of the community, and support cultural preservation and educational achievement. The Trinity Church where the song “The Alice’s Restaurant Massacree” began and where the movie “Alice’s Restaurant” was filmed, continues to service the local and international community.
You can learn more about the Guthrie Center and see their upcoming events on their website. Click here for that.
Ok. So that’s all pretty cool. But in the mayhem of all the things we were doing, I failed to put 2 and 2 together that the restaurant might still be around. After all, in that area, they do take care of their things.
Long story short (yes, I am aware it’s too late for that) Alice’s Restaurant isn’t there anymore but the space is and it’s located in the back part of the building that also once housed Norman Rockwell’s first Stockbridge studio.
I don’t believe that it’s operating as a restaurant at this time but there’s still a sign pointing that way. I noticed the sign in a photo after I came home.
It’s just barely visible but the bottom part says “Alice’s Restaurant entrance.” This was the fourth photo that I made in the great state of Massachusetts. I literally had just gotten out of the car but failed to read the sign.
Friends, I missed my opportunity to head down the alley and geek out in front of the famed Alice’s Restaurant which got a song named after it even though the song wasn’t about the restaurant.
Ha!
So, there you go, friends. This is why we pay attention. This is why we read signs and do more research before we hit the ground in a new place. In my defense, I was exhausted by the time this trip came around and didn’t really care where I was as long as it wasn’t here.
But still. Half the fun is in the anticipation and half the fun is in the discovery when you’re there. Balance is important.
Also, this is why we talk to locals. Museum docents know where the best stuff is kept. Waiters know where the locals go. And sometimes dressing room employees are excited about something you didn’t think to seek out.
If you’re interested, the song was turned into what is by all accounts a pretty terrible movie in 1969. I sometimes see it in thrift stores and am told that it is sometimes available on streaming services around Thanksgiving.
Do with that what you will.
Come back tomorrow for a story that is less unhinged. I promise to stay out of any rabbit holes!
I clocked this church on our way into town and made a beeline in that direction when we were out for a stroll in Stockbridge the next morning.
I wandered around outside for a minute before realizing that the sign said “open.”
Open, indeed, and my friend and I were the only people in the sanctuary.
This is the First Congregational Church of Stockbridge. While this building dates to 1824, the congregation originated in 1734 when John Sergeant began a mission to the Mohican people of the Berkshire Hills.
They celebrate this history with plaques on the wall surrounding the alter.
The light is absolutely perfect. And while you can feel the weight of age and history here, there’s a lightness to the space that feels warm and uplifting. As a church should be.
I was all but obsessed with the crisp white walls and the symmetry throughout the church. Here’s a view from the balcony.
What a wonderful place to worship or to sit in quiet meditation.
Frequent visitors to this page will notice that I have an affinity for empty churches. Organized religion has done me no good as I don’t care for the focus on worldly things or how noisy it is. If you want to hear the voice of God it seems to me it’s best to shut up and listen.
But that’s just me and we all know I’m an oddball. Everyone should worship how they see fit.
What I can tell you for sure is that the stolen moments in the back of empty churches are some of the most awe inspiring and most profound I have experienced.
This was one of the best.
Here’s a peak at those gorgeous front doors.
And the light in the entryway.
If you wish to visit this church, it’s on Main Street in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. They do keep regular daily hours for the public to tour and enjoy the space.
Find the church online to learn more about their ministry and even to listen to a service online if you are so inclined.
Our first glimpse of Stockbridge, Massachusetts came as the sun was slipping below the horizon. Rocking chairs on the porch of The Red Lion Inn were all occupied but the sidewalks appeared empty.
This is the kind of town where you might joke that they roll up the sidewalks at supper time and there is some element of truth to that joke. The thing is, that quiet and slowness is part of the undeniable charm of the place.
The sky was pink with streaks of orange as we traveled through town, admiring the tree lined streets and magnificent old stone churches. We stayed in nearby Great Barrington and got to enjoy a fiery orange sky along the wooded route just before the sky descended into pure darkness.
This is a place where you can still see the stars at night. It was all so mesmerizing I didn’t think to take a single photo to remember it by.
It was chilly that evening as we lugged all our stuff into the Marriott which would be our home away from home for the week. The next day, we delighted at the mist rising over the mountains in the early light.
We had tickets for the Norman Rockwell Museum and studio at 11 a.m. but first we went for a stroll around Stockbridge.
Here we found a couple of older gentlemen already sitting in the Adirondack chairs outside the library and a cafe packed with early diners. A few fallen leaves gathered at the feet of the stone lions outside the inn and enormous old homes in groves of trees beckoned for our attention.
There was a good bit of traffic that morning but motorists are mostly courteous to pedestrians. Plus, the sidewalks are wide with plenty of shade making for truly pleasant walking conditions.
Everything is old but it’s well tended and there’s a sense of respect for what has always been. Taking care of what you have is a way of life and one that is increasingly rare in this country.
The sign outside this place said 1850.
I liked it.
I liked it all.
I liked the old cemetery in town and the character of old houses. I liked the way delivery truck drivers held traffic so we could cross the street. I liked the way store clerks so carefully wrapped our treasures because we were clearly visiting and needed to get them home safe. I liked the way things are so laid back literally no one cares what you do as long as you’re not hurting anyone.
The place is calm and calming. There’s history everywhere you look and people who, in their very rural laidback ways, are glad to make your day better.
There’s a reason why Norman Rockwell stayed. There’s a reason why so many people who live there are transplants. It feels like your hometown even when you have been there for just a minute.
Tomorrow I’ll take you to one of my favorite places in town. Hint: it’s an old church. You had to know I would find one of those on this trip!
Falling down the rabbit hole is something I do quite well so I was pleased to catch the Alice in Wonderland summer flower show at the Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh. It closes on September 27 so if this sounds at all appealing to you, now is the time to find your way to Pittsburgh.
The Phipps is probably the best Conservatory I have seen and is nice to visit in any season. They are known for putting on some special flower shows but this one was truly unique.
They use flowers and other materials to bring to life scenes from the book. The White Rabbit greets you at the entrance.
Then there’s the Red Queen and her castle. This scene is stunning.
And the Cheshire Cat grinning down at you from a tree.
I loved the tea party.
Plus, the place is just gorgeous.
They did a great job bringing to life a classic children’s story for all ages to enjoy and get lost in. We saw a few people who came dressed for the occasion.
When I left Ohio two Saturdays ago, my jaw was clenched tight and my white knuckles held the steering wheel like I was the only thing preventing it from falling off the car. It had been too long since I got in a quiet car and headed out for a longer adventure.
My attention span had been short and my fuse perhaps a little shorter for a while. I live in a world governed by emails, agendas and a buzzing phone. I hate the sound of my phone and the word agenda is one of the most obnoxious in the English language.
To be on the road and out adventuring without a real plan is one of the best parts of traveling.
It took three days for my jaw and fists to relax and another day to spot the wild haired, bright eyed Brandi that thoroughly enjoys the world.
And then I woke up in the Berkshires of Massachusetts where the mountains feel almost like a cradle for anyone needing nurturing and calm.
Let me tell you something, friends. It took some coaxing to get me to leave.
There’s a sensibility about that area that appeals to me. There’s a combination of wealthy transplants, tourists, and generational blue collar residents who keep everything working. People seemed mostly fit and happy, enjoying active lifestyle hobbies like walking, hiking, bird watching and kayaking. There’s also a rural sensibility that appealed to my own ways and made me wish for more time. I was there with my eastern travel pal and we agreed that we needed more time because there was so much we wished to to do.
Where I live, even country folk have big yards that are mown right up to the road like small golf courses. In that area, you see a lot of country houses where there’s a break in the trees for a driveway to a house that’s reasonably close to the road but disguised by a tree row or a thicket of wild looking shrubbery. There’s no need for a giant lawn that invites attention from the road when privacy is clearly valued so much here. Yet, short driveways make sense in a place that averages six feet of annual snowfall.
Norman Rockwell made his home here for the last several years of his life. He came because his wife was sent to Stockbridge for medical treatment. He stayed because he found most of his inspiration here.
And I can see why.
The town streets are tree lined. People are just naturally welcoming and seem to genuinely want you to enjoy wherever you are and what you’re doing. They are not overtly friendly, in that fake nice way that you get in a lot of places. They seem genuinely glad to know you traveled a long way to visit their community.
Everywhere you look in Stockbridge, there’s a pocket park or a set of chairs inviting you to stay a while.
Being there past Labor Day meant that we missed the high season so it was quieter than a summer tourist might experience but it was also cheaper. While it was still busy enough, it was quiet.
It felt a little fall like for most of our visit and we even had a nice gloomy day that ended with rain showers one evening. Consequently, there were places we could spot patches of yellow and red leaves, hinting at the beauty that is just around the corner in New England.
We did lots of things in the Stockbridge area. We also rustled up some fun going to and from. After all, it’s a long trip by car from my friend’s Pittsburgh home and we both tend to believe the journey is the destination.
In other words, driving a straight line isn’t really our thing and we’ve never met a situation that didn’t call for a trip around the block to see what’s what. Sometimes she just rolls forward a foot or so at a traffic light so we can get a better look at pretty buildings like this house in Altoona.
Something tells me that this trip’s stories will be bubbling up for a while. I already feel the calm and the embrace of the Berkshires dissipating from my consciousness like an early morning fog. Luckily there are pictures and memories to help me revisit those moments from time to time. Plus, I have stories to share with you, friends.
