Jeff has been on me to blog about our first big trip since the pandemic hit our radar in March 2020. We have been on three weekend trips in the interim, which I will describe elsewhere, but this was the first time our travel would be extended enough to warrant taking a plane. With the high vaccine uptake in the Northeast, we figured some leaf peeping in New England would be among the safer alternatives as we tried to get back some normalcy while protecting ourselves and others.
Mama, Laura, and Makala went with us on this trip. We met Jeff at the airport On Friday courtesy of his dad and boarded without incident. This was Laura’s first ever plane ride, so I tried to explain all the processes involved in the flight so she would know what to expect. However, no one could have prepared us for the moment during snack service when the plane lurched halfway into a roll first to the left, and then to the right. We were so far over, I could see ground instead of sky, and my first thought was we were going to crash; I think my internal monologue went something like, “Please, no. I just told Laura everything would be okay!” God heard that prayer, and the captain corrected. He later told us that ground control had missed a plane crossing our path 20 miles ahead, and we got caught in their wake. Twenty miles is a hair’s breadth at the speed we were traveling, so I mark it don to God’s grace that e didn’t make the news as a mid-air collision. We all promised Laura this as an extreme rarity, but I don’t think she’s convinced.
The walk to the Boston Logan Airport Hilton was very long, but we finally got checked in around 10 PM. We aren’t usually Hilton-class people, but it was the least expensive option anywhere nearby. Everything looked to be highbrow and fancy, but looks are deceiving. While Jeff’s and my room was fine, Mama and the sisters walked into standing water in their bathroom that extended at least 3 feet into the carpet of the room itself. Jeff had the front desk send someone up, but instead of handling the problem, the guy they sent up tried to blame three women who just got there for showering with the curtain open. Then he said they’d see what they could do. Apparently, that was absolutely nothing — not so much as offering a mop for the girls to clean it up themselves. We were extremely disappointed not only in the service, but also in the attitude at a facility where one set of guests out of 800 just didn’t matter.
On Saturday, Jeff Left early to pick up our SUV for the week. We all loaded up and got Dunkin Donuts for breakfast to eat on our way to the Minute Man National Historical Park. We ate a picnic lunch near the Visitors’ Center before attempting to see Lexington Common and the location of where the “shot heard ‘round the world” was fired. Unfortunately, there was a street air in progress that blocked our access. We decided to move on to Concord to see the exterior of Orchard House where Louisa May Alcott formed the childhood memories that inspired Little Women. It’s a favorite book for all us girls, but space restrictions prevented us from getting interior tour tickets. We were able to overspend at the gift shop, however.
Next, we were on to the Eric Carle Museum in Amherst. This was mostly for me as a children’s librarian. They did have a VW Beetle out front painted as the Very Hungry Caterpillar, which gave Jeff a thrill. Inside was really well done, with the standard biographical information, and, more interestingly, details on Carle’s artistic process. I found it really thoughtful and indicative of the museum’s apparent mission to inspire art in children that all the photo ops were on a child’s level. The current exhibition of children’s illustrations was on wordless books, and I enjoyed learning of titles I will want to purchase for my library. From there we drove just over the border to Connecticut to sleep for the night.
The next day, we went to church with the small West Springfield congregation before heading to the free Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden, where my favorite sculpture was of Horton protecting The Whos on their dust speck. Then we took a scenic route to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, which confirmed him as my favorite American artist. Our room for that night in the beautiful Berkshires was in Lenox.
