Day two--Our New Acquaintance Irene

Day 2—Our new acquaintance, Irene

Rising in the morning after a refreshing night’s rest, we were ready to continue our journey. Our goal for the evening was northern Virginia. Not too much time to mosey. Sharon calculated the time it would take to be about ten hours (she was incorrect as it was about eight and a half). Lynne needs her morning Joe and did not feel like making it. Sharon had packed Greek yoghurt and peaches for our travel. We went back to town and toward I-95. Lynne prefers local coffee shops, but this town did not have one. So, MickeyD’s was an OK alternative. How long could getting a mere cup of coffee take! I chose to wait in the car, where I did, indeed wait. And wait. And wait. And waited some more.

Remember, in the South—coffee (one word) is hot; tea (also one word) is iced and icky syrupy sweet). Anything more than this is TOO MANY WORDS.

Lynne’s favorite morning wake up drink is iced latte, whole milk, unsweetened vanilla, Splenda. And that’s what she ordered. Granted it is only a matter of pushing a couple of buttons, BUT…

Lynne, for heaven’s sake, TOO MANY WORDS! Anyway, the gal at the counter punched it into the machine four times. AND still got it wrong. She gave Lynne a latte with all those other fancy words, but it was HOT. When Lynne told her, the gal at the counter was going to correct it by starting over. Lynne, not the most patient person in the world (I would have done the same), said “never mind…gimme a glass of ice.” This apparently was something that the gal could handle. Out the door she trotted.

Lynne was somewhat upset. Twenty minutes for a cup of java is a bit much. But it put me into gales of laughter. I laughed for a good twenty miles and then giggle occasionally. It will be a great story to share up-north.

Continuing up I-95 through the rest of South Carolina, then into North Carolina. Near the North Carolina/Virginia we stopped for gas. We could not understand why all the gas stations had so many cars. We waited in line at Walmart. We finally found out WHY. Irene’s winds had knocked out power, and it had just been restored. We had seen trees downed starting in northern South Carolina, but did not realize that it was Irene. In retrospect, we should have been more aware.

We would find out later just how destructive she was. We followed her up the coast.

Arriving at the exit to which we were heading very early, we drove to Winchester. Talked to a lady coming out of the gorgeous library which the Hanley family endowed. She gave me a rough verbal tour of the town, showing me one of Sheridan’s headquarters, the homes the William Mc Kinley family owned and lived, Washinton’s and “Stonewall” Jackson’s headquarters. She was fifth generation in the area and knew an awful lot, information which she willingly (and as it should be proudly) impart to my listening ears. Wish I got her name.



The Library endowed by Pennsylvania Hanley's





One of the many area buildings Sheridan used as headquarters




Home once owned by the William McKinley family





Row houses near the library



After a bit, we found Bob Evans. I am sick of chicken. I grew up on a chicken farm and had my share. So, what did I order—chicken pot pie! Bob Evans, in my opinion, makes the best chicken pot pie ever.

After dinner we moseyed on to find out hosts’ house. It was a town house condo. Although the area was beautiful, finding the exact town house was challenging and kind of a weird. We followed the road. The numbers at one point jumped about two hundred numbers. We doubled back a couple of times and realized that one of the driveways we kept passing was really a road, and there was a whole cul de sac behind the group of town houses in the front.

We were welcomed by sweet Rose (I chose this background color in your honor) and very funny Richard.  She had been a teacher; he worked with the Forestry Department.  Originally from Minnesota, they had lived in many places because of his job. They had felt the effects of the recent east coast earthquake, albeit, mildly.  But some of their family members really felt the jolt. 

He told us about the commode and the noise it made at night. Then he told us how not to hear that particular noise (shutting a couple of doors). But he said, shutting the doors did not keep out the noise from the guns, gunfire, shouting, screaming and rioting in the streets might be less easy to control. Well, the neighborhood was a rather up-scale townhouse village. No chance of these noises keeping us awake.

He wrote a novel which was never published. You oughta get that done, Dick. I read part of it. It was wonderful. He also had compiled another book of antidotes of his youth and early adulthood. Some of them were very funny. He is not necessarily politically correct (hooray for you, Dick), but tells the stories the way he heard them. He kept me laughing the entire evening!

We slept very well.