Tag Archives: travel

Alice’s Restaurant

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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 here if 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!

A Walk Around Stockbridge, Massachusetts

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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!

Home From A Much Needed Vacation

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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. 

Chihuly Sighting

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If you ever find yourself in the Westmoreland Museum of American Art in Greensburg, Pa. you will likely be impressed by the variety of things to see and appreciate.

There’s one in particular piece you should look for while exploring. In a rather unremarkable stairwell, there is a large Dale Chihuly glass chandelier. You can stand under it on the stairs or you can appreciate it at eye level from a hallway.

Chihuly’s work is recognizable because it’s so different than what most glass artists are doing. He mimics shapes found in nature, the colors are brilliant even when he’s using a monochromatic scheme, and the scale is typically quite large.

A lot of places would be tempted to hang this piece in their lobby so you can’t help to see it. They would want to show it off . At Westmoreland, it’s placed somewhere quiet, somewhere that you feel like you’re discovering it, and where you can quietly contemplate how the glass handles the light.

Interested in the Westmoreland? It is worth the trip. Read about it here.

Just Out For A Cruise

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Last Fall, my western adventure pal and I were exiting the Yellowstone Visitors’ Center having successfully viewed Old Faithful and, interestingly, another nearby geyser that doesn’t erupt on a consistent schedule. We were hungry but the line at the cafe was a mile long and not moving thanks to a government shutdown. Luckily, we had snacks in the car because we always have snacks in the car. That’s just responsible adventuring, friends.

And look how healthy – almonds and an apple! Pay no attention to the M&Ms and Diet Coke.

Anyway, I heard Johnna gasp and looked up to see something that’s a cross between a truck, a camper, and a tank ready for battle. It’s a Mercedes truck of some kind with German plates.

The owners weren’t within sight but we figured anyone who puts their Instagram handle on the side of this particular not so average vehicle wouldn’t mind us walking up for a closer look.

However big it appears in the pictures, it is massively larger.

It looks like they’ve been everywhere and, if they haven’t been, it’s either on their list or just not worth seeing.

I like that they have a sense of humor. Haha. Turtle truck!

Part of me wonders what kind of mileage they get but part of me doesn’t want to know so we will just move on. I did visit their Instagram profile. Their pictures are great and their travels are wide and varied but the words are all in German.

I hope they are enjoying themselves.

I always think it is strange when someone visits this country and experiences more of it than most Americans would ever think to go see. Hopefully they met some nice people and saw some wondrous things, creating memories they can carry with them to wherever they are headed next.

Bring It With You

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Glass and steel. Light and dark. I appreciate contrasts. Maybe that’s why I like this picture so well.

The place in this picture is a pedestrian walkway just off Chinatown in Washington DC. The orange pieces are 28,000 ribbons hanging down from a sort of pergola. I showed you another perspective shortly after this trip. You can see that image at this link.

I’m not sure why I have been thinking about this place lately. After all, this was a few years ago and the art pieces are certainly long gone by now.

Maybe it s because it was just such a beautiful space that practically glowed with, not just light, but a vibrant explosion of colors that’s hard to explain.

Maybe it’s because it’s just so different than where I live. For someone who happily lives in the country with trees that are bigger than our tallest buildings, there’s something almost mesmerizing about the way this building lights up against the night sky.

This is one of the reasons we travel – because the places we visit became a part of us. They become a part of our memories.

Important travel memories can come from a conversation with a local, an important artifact overhead in a museum, or the smell of fresh donuts at a local bakery. It can also be an early September breeze softly tickling 28,000 ribbons while the glow of electric light makes them seem to explode with color from within.

Don’t just go from Point A to Point B when you travel. Leave the resort. Do something outside your comfort zone. Stop to admire something unfamiliar. Make a memory.

And, on some dreary day years later, pull out the pictures and remember that near magical moment that helped to define that trip. Know that in some way, it helped to reshape a part of you too.

Travel isn’t just going places. It’s bringing those places with you wherever you go.