Leo Petroglyph

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leo3 leo4 leo5 leo6 leo7 leo8 leo9 leoaToday B.D. and I drove to see petroglyphs near Jackson, Ohio. We had a little trouble finding it – her GPS sent us down one road too soon – but when we got there felt it was worth the effort.

We walked down the nature trail in search of primitive drawings of ancient native Americans on the sandstone ravine walls but asked other hikers when we couldn’t find them. The petroglyphs are protected beneath a shelter.

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Paw Paw Festival

Today I thought about making chili or pot roast or beef barbecue and even started out to the grocery store.  On the way I thought, “I’m on the way to the Paw Paw Festival!”

I argued with myself because it was about seventy miles each way, and I didn’t have anyone to accompany me, and the admission was $8.  I hate paying admission.

Upon entering the festival, I noticed a sign with a disturbing message.  “There aren’t snakes here, are there?”  A woman said they had been there the previous two days but the owner didn’t bring them today because he didn’t want them to get chilled.  Enough of this talk!  I’ll have nightmares!

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On the way home, I stopped at Radcliff Cemetery, right off Dye Road.

Update:  February 8, 2013 – the two paw paw trees I planted survived the winter.

 

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Old Jail in Newark

After reading about the tour of Newark’s old jail, I donned my new resort attire (white blouse with flowers – $4 on clearance, (somehow) matching tangerine clam diggers – $1 on clearance, tangerine flip flops – $1 where everything costs $1) and motored up Route 37.

The safe.

After walking through the sheriff’s living quarters, we visited the cell blocks while learning about an eighteen year old innocent lynching victim.

The shower/discipline room.

Down into the jail’s bowels to the dungeon, complete with holding cell/drunk tank.

This was the only gargoyle? character? I could find on the building, although according to a postcard there are several.

www.newarkadvocate.com/article/20100712/NEWS01/7110310/100-years-ago-Newark-streets-were-lawless

 

A local author (you know her well) wrote a book detailing all she learned in her years of animal rescue.  If you are interested, here is the link:   confessionsofananimalrescuer.webs.com/.   All proceeds (and that means 100% of the profits) go to pay for veterinary care for homeless and unwanted dogs and cats.

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Return to the Athens Lunatic Asylum

Although this summer has too busy for me to explore, after reading  Asylum on the Hill: History of a Healing Landscape .I  took yet another trip to Athens.

Visitors are allowed to tour  the Kennedy Museum of Art housed in the former Athens Lunatic Asylum.  Most of the building is closed, but here are a few pictures.

No one is allowed on the porch above the portico.

No visit to the Ridges is complete without visiting the cemeteries and the abandoned building across the road from them.

I’d never before  paid attention to this structure.

A local author (you know her well) wrote a book detailing all she learned in her years of animal rescue.  If you are interested, here is the link:   confessionsofananimalrescuer.webs.com/.   All proceeds (and that means 100% of the profits) go to pay for veterinary care for homeless and unwanted dogs and cats.

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The Rock

Here is Important Information from our friend the rock smuggler: She picked it up from a pile of many stones that are chipping off a cemetery wall, on Valentia Island, off the Ring of Kerry in County Kerry. Nothing was disturbed in this process. Rock Smuggler in real life is a law abiding citizen with a strong sense of right and wrong who struggled to be able to fulfill my dream of a piece of my mother’s motherland and yet do no harm.

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The menu is from a preserved building/clock tower pub and restaurant. They allowed her to keep the menu as souvenir after receiving her promise not to allow it to be copied by a restaurant in the U.S.

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Where Cool Went to School

It was time for a day of vacation, so when B.D. suggested we hit the road and visit Fairmount, Indiana (“Where Cool Went to School” aka James Dean’s hometown and final resting place), I jumped at the chance!  Up at 5:30 a.m. to accompany my dog’s meds’ schedule, and out I-70, stopping only for a quick breakfast, we hit town about 10:00 a.m.

If you would like to visit a town firmly anchored in the ’50’s, Fairmount is your kind of place.

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While we were at the gravesite, we were approached by a man on a golf cart who told us he watched for out of state license tags.  He gives out photos and tells about ice skating with “Jimmie” all those years ago.

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This sign marks where Jimmie bought his motorcycle.

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The Winslow farm where Jimmie grew up after the death of his mother.

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We were very happy to see Lenny on duty.   This was B.D.’s fifth trip and my third, and we were thrilled when Lenny said he remembered us.  The annual festival which takes place the end of September draws approximately 80,000 people from around the world.

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This man came from Japan to enter the James Dean look-a-like contest.  We’ve never visited during the festival and according to Lenny we are missing a grand time.

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We stopped at a diner which served tasty cheeseburgers.

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Here is the old high school which has been “propped up” to keep from further deterioration.  Unfortunately, there is not enough money to restore it.  Jimmie was Class of ’49.

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Jimmie’s funeral was held at this Friends church.

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Garfield’s “dad” Jim Davis is also a Fairmount native.

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100 Years of Excitement

While visiting “Coolville,” Indiana earlier this week, we decided to make a pit stop on the way home.  Oh, it would add precious time and miles to our trip, but we decided it was worth it.

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B.D. claims to not be interested in cars, but since she searched around for a sporty-looking (yet economical) red buggy  for her own transportation  she might be in denial.

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In the midst of Indy cars, it was fun to see the King’s and Smoke’s cars.

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Our only disappointment was that the $1 tour of the track was unavailable the day we were there.  We got as close to the brickyard as we could without jumping a fence.  (We would have done that, had security not been so tight.)

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Leaving Indy, we spotted this “EL” near Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis.

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On the way home, we received a phone call from #1 Son regarding a hilarious #1 Grandson the Elder story.   Since I was driving, I had to hear the message second hand.

This gorgeous Rose of Sharon greeted me upon my return from a thirteen hour (give or take a few minutes) vacation.

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