I got back from Virginia this afternoon. There are few things that can make you appreciate stillness like driving 1400 miles. Funny thing about driving solo: you know you’re getting bored when you start talking to yourself. And you know it’s getting even worse when you stop talking to yourself. But it was a pleasant trip all in all. Great wedding, good friends, perfect weather, and all of my bad dancing that I’d really prefer others not to remember.
Staunton was a cool little town with some great old-school architecture in the historic district. I spent quite a bit of time pounding the pavement in the surrounding neighborhoods. Noteable landmarks were the campuses of Mary Baldwin College, and the Virginia School for the Deaf and the Blind. I also discovered that Staunton is the home of the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library and the Blackfriar’s Playhouse, a modern-day replica of the 16th-century Blackfriar’s Theatre in London.
I noticed one particular thing when I was walking around that I thought was a little odd. Staunton is a hilly town, and like many hilly towns you’ll find the largest, most well-appointed houses on the tops of the hills. Wealth tends to rise like that. No surprise there. But when I was walking around in the town cemetery (the grey area on the map), the pattern was reversed. Down at the bottom of the hill near the main road you could find the half-dozen or so sturdy marble vaults for the wealthy folk. As you approach the top of the hill the plots were smaller and more densely packed, and the headstones generally more modest. So there’s a curious geographic reversal from life to death.
Of course, befitting the South, the very tip-top of the hill was reserved for a monument to fallen Confederate soldiers. Never forget, etc.
Mark Larson 