T's Travels

Ohio, part 3: To infinity and beyond

When I drove across Ohio and saw that sign for the National Road/Zane Grey Museum, I had no idea it would lead me right into space. New Concord, OH, a mere five miles from the NR/ZG Museum, is the hometown of astronaut and senator John Glenn.  I’ve always been a big fan of the space program. When we were little, my brother and I would sit in front of the TV in our jammies to count down with Mission Control and watch the blastoffs. I never dreamed of being an astronaut (and not just because I would have immediately been told, “Girls can’t be astronauts!”) but I have always loved the idea of space exploration.

So a little farther off my drive back to PA, I headed for the John and Annie Glenn Historic Site, housed in John Glenn’s boyhood home on the National Road. The tour started in the basement of the house where we watched a film about Glenn’s Depression era childhood. He met his future wife, Annie, when they were both very small children because their parents were friends.  (They’ll celebrate their seventieth wedding anniversary next April.)

Glenn’s life story is well known—a Marine in World War II, he was one of the Mercury (first!) astronauts and the first one to orbit the earth. In the 1970s he was elected to the US Senate and ran for president as a Democrat in 1984. In the 1990s he became the oldest person to go into space.

What is probably lesser known outside Ohio is that both John and Annie believe deeply in public service; together they initiated the John Glenn Institute for Public Service at Ohio State University. That dedication to service remains a high priority for the historic site as well. This appears on their website: “Although we are a popular tourist site, we are primarily an educational facility dedicated to helping children, particularly those in Appalachia, achieve their highest potential.”

After the film, our little group walked up the stairs and into one of the coolest tours I’ve ever been on. We were greeted at the door to the first floor by a young man in a sweater vest. Not a Mister Rogers look, but more Beezy Anderson (look it up!).  He introduced himself as Donnie and explained that the year was 1937. He addressed us as people considering renting rooms from the Glenns, who took in boarders during the Depression.

Donnie said the Glenns were out at the moment but he would be happy to show us around. First he explained the hobo sign outside the door (Mrs. Glenn was known for her generosity feeding the hungry) and then led us inside. The first floor of the house looks just as it must have then--modest and comfortable. We learned that John was an only child until he was six, when someone dropped a baby girl on the Glenns’ doorstep, who became his sister Jean.

John’s bedroom and the three rented rooms are on the second floor, as is the space memorabilia (a jumpsuit! Think about Felix Baumgartner when you see it). For the entire tour Donnie never broke character—it was more than just historically interesting, it was fun. I’d like to take the tour again if I’m ever in New Concord.

While the NASA program has taken a break from manned flights, many of us haven’t lost our fascination with space. Every move of the Mars rovers is followed and celebrated, the Big Bang Theory has an entire plotline on astronauts, and space is still the Final Frontier. John Glenn is a huge part of that history and the little home in New Concord, OH, is a fitting reminder.

Hotels of the Past (#9)

I didn't know this place at all when I found this postcard but next time I'm out near Farmington, PA, I will look it up. Like so many other hotels, what is now the Summit Inn Resort was built in the early 1900s along the National Road to take advantage of the new automobile-traveling tourist trade. The Summit has an interesting history -- how many other places can claim President Warren G. Harding fell down the stairs?

Ohio, part 1: Drive, she said

In what was surely a moment of insanity, I agreed to meet my husband in Cincinnati (in fact, I suggested it!). But I had to teach on Tuesday night, he had to be in Cincy by noon on Wednesday. It would be a 466-mile trip. So he flew, I drove.

I dropped him off at the airport at 6:00 am (still dark!), filled my tank, and hit the Pennsylvania turnpike. As the sun came up in my rearview mirror I thought, “only eight hours and I’m there!”

One of the perks of driving alone is not having to coordinate rest stops or food preferences with a traveling companion. I stopped at the first rest area for breakfast. I stopped at the second rest area for more coffee without anyone saying, “We just stopped!” I wasn’t the only one, either—I was amused to see some of the people in line from the last place.

After that, it was tunnel, tunnel, road work, tunnel. I kept punching the buttons on my radio but I could feel the boredom taking over. Two hours on the road and I was already bored? I told myself it was just because I knew the turnpike so well and it would improve when I got off.

At the New Stanton exit I headed south on I-70. Maybe it was because I was driving alone, but the local place names started to strike me as funny. Hunker, Wyano, Twilight . . . I took a picture of the sign at the Lover exit and tried to come up with their town slogan, but “Lover is for Lovers” just didn’t sound like it would bring in the tourists.

Finally, I crossed into West Virginia. Yes, I sang “Almost Heaven . . . “ At Wheeling I saw a sign for the “Doc and Chickie Williams Highway, Country Music’s Royal Couple.” I wouldn’t know until I got home that Doc Williams had just passed away a few months before. He and his wife, Chickie, often performed on Jamboree USA in Wheeling and all over the country (see www.docwilliams.com for their entire story).

West Virginia passed in nearly the blink of an eye. I stopped at a Sheetz convenience store and thought, “This could be Pennsylvania except for the beer on sale.” But the beer was also Pennsylvanian--Yuengling!

And then Ohio—only four hours, I thought (not nearly as brightly as I’d embraced the idea of eight hours five hours ago). I tried to convince myself that Ohio would be interesting since it was territory I had only crossed once before, and that was in the backseat of a car squeezed between my mother-in-law and her sister as we headed for a family reunion. But I soon realized that Ohio looks a lot like Pennsylvania, except the font on the road signs is different.

And then I saw a sign. Not something supernatural, but a real sign on the side of the road. It read “Zane Grey Museum/National Road Museum.” Wow! I thought. It’s like Ohio knew I—collector of small museums—was coming. Pennsylvania has a Zane Grey Museum and of course I wanted to compare the two. And I had edited The National Road, a two-volume set on the history of what became Route 40, so of course I had to see that as well.

But I was still on my mad dash across Ohio. I had to be in Cincinnati within a few hours, so I made a note to stop on my return trip. Energized, I kept driving. It was a relief to turn south at Columbus and then finally see Cincinnati ahead. I checked into the Garfield Suites only an hour later than I had planned, which for me is pretty good.

To be continued . . .