Shake down

Today concluded our first trip through “utopias” with two preserved Shaker villages that remain in Kentucky. Last night we stayed only minutes away and, according to the map, on the same highway. But, it came as little surprise that we had a difficult time actually getting there as we had planned this morning – again, no signs. This only added to the long series of annoying events that we had tolerated since we woke up which included the towel rack flying off the wall and landing in the shower with me and waiting in line behind the tennis ladies checking into the hotel. Once we arrived, however, it was the most pleasant time among the patient people who reenacted Shaker life in the village, and we had perfectly cool weather to boot.

Our first stop in the village was at the Farmer Deacon’s house where we learned about the Shaker’s herb industry.

I was most impressed with the various devices used to press, dry and mix the herbs, but I'll admit that the clever little corner mousetrap came in at a close second.

Herb press and bottle-corker; Mouse trap ironically shaped like a wedge of cheese

Needless to say probably, I was completely taken with the simplicity of solutions in the construction of all of the buildings, especially the window details.

Throughout the day events are scheduled that recreated daily life and the song that I caught in the Meeting House proved to be a real treasure of an experience. Due to the simple, restrained interior, the sound reverberated off the hard wooden surfaces reflecting the woman's voice and filling the tall interior space. I can hardly imagine what it must have been like when the village was populated and more than a hundred voices sang in unison there.

Hanging sconce on interior of Meeting House, the benches around the perimeter were reserved for visitors.

Techno-savvy Mom in front of the Meeting House

Just across the path was the Center Dwelling House that was occupied by both men and women but maintained strict separation between sexes by providing not only separate sleeping spaces , but also separate doorways and separate staircases(the mirrored duality of everything gave the spaces an odd feeling). There would be no chance of touching, much less even brushing by the opposite sex. An enforced tenet of the Shakers' beliefs was celibacy. According to the session that we caught giving an introduction to Shaker life, it was one of three "C's," the other two being Communism (leave all your Cold War thoughts behind here; their communism had nothing to do with Stalin's definition; rather, it was purely an economic ideal where everyone contributed therefore providing for everyone in return; amazing selflessness!) and Confession (every act of work or labor was also considered an act of penitence and prayer) that defined all their interactions. Unlike the Harmonists, the creators of the villages that we witnessed yesterday, celibacy was only required of Shakers as they did not so specifically expect the world to end within their lifetime. Celibacy was a choice made upon becoming a Shaker (but it was certainly a choice that contributed to the few numbers of Shakers today).

A highlight of the visit was definitely the water house that pumped water to the dwelling houses accomplishing indoor plumbing long before the rest of Kentucky. The small building was one of the most delightful spaces that I had been into on our trip. It was dimly lit from above emphasizing the texture of the unfinished interior surface of the brick and log structure and the wooden barrel that held the water.

Thinking that we were running out time, Mom and I bustled to finish up touring each of the little structures that remained and grabbing up handmade gifts at the shop.

Since we knew that South Union’s Shaker Museum closed at 5:00 and it was already 1:00, the three hour trip (which didn’t include getting lost) would give us only an hour at the village. However, on the road as I was frantically checking the time on my phone, I realized after two hours that it was only 2:00. Hmmm…oh, yeah! The time change!

Actually road signs?!?! What are we supposed to do with those?

So, we had at least two hours to spend there (fortunately there were actually road signs along the way), but we thought that we were going to have to use it all when the docent who took our admission money began her introduction spiel. Lillian Mae, though entirely capable in her memorized speech about Shaker life at South Union and the surviving Family Dwelling that we were standing in, took forever to finish her sentences. I must say that we were more than relieved when we realized that she would only give us an introduction and let us roam the grounds on our own.

Because the village had been sold to a private landowner in the 1930s, South Union’s buildings did not fare as well as Shakertown’s state owned buildings.

Several of the structures had been torn down and the landowner had attempted to repair/renovate some of the buildings combining remains of the demolished. Regardless, enough survived that we could determine the original planning, and where structures had once stood the museum had placed little markers. It was a bit uncannily like a graveyard and somewhat of a somber note to end our search of utopias, but appropriate, I suppose, nonetheless.

By the time we left the village, Mom and I were starving. Again, I had failed to plan time to actually sit down and eat, but since we were so far ahead of schedule now we decided that we should stop somewhere and have dinner. We stopped in Russellville, KY, to fill up with gas, and I thought I would ask inside about a “local” pizza joint, just assuming that every town of this size probably has one. The woman inside said, “Of course, honey, we have a Pizza Hut just down the road there, a Papa John’s around the corner, and I believe we have a Domino’s now…Hey (yelling across the store to some faceless person) don’t we have a Domino’s now?” She said this as if the enormous signs that towered over the little town beside the interstate weren’t obvious. Luckily, a long-time resident came to my rescue realizing that I didn’t just mean “local” as close-by. He suggested Sylfoni’s, which he claimed had been there since he was a teenager. Perfect, now where is it? He was so nice that he offered to lead us there…besides it’s on his way home, he said. He was right about the quality of the pizza; it was amazing. Only we had to wait 45 minutes for that amazing pizza in the funniest little place that Mom and I swore had not changed anything but the toilet-paper roll since it was built in the 70s. It was a saving grace for our tummies though and a perfect bookend to our little trip down through America’s utopias. (Of course, I shouldn't leave out the oddity of seeing the strangely familiar Jefferson Davis Memorial that was in the middle of no-where Kentucky nor the incident of driving by just in time to catch a policeman unholstering his gun and shooting whatever little creature that he and two carloads of people were huddled around...eek.)

This was the last stop we made until we pulled into our driveway in Arkansas. Stepping out of the car, we were happily greeted by an enormous swarm of hungry mosquitoes. Welcome home!

Finding Utopia

Yesterday’s schedule was intense, but the plans that I had made for today turned out to be nearly impossible to accomplish…so, we readjusted, skipped the first “utopia” which would have been completely out of the way northwest of Cincinnati, and chose to hop down through lower Ohio. First stop was absolutely the middle of nowhere and showed no signs of former idealistic aspirations. Perhaps we didn’t try hard enough to see them in Oakland, OH, but we did drive around a little only to find cornfields and an abandoned general store.

"Utopia" #6...Wow

Just off the interstate, however, we caught sight of a little store that claimed to sell Amish goods and freshly made deli sandwiches. It was raining; we were hungry; it seemed like a good idea.

I was not prepared for the greeting we received upon entering. With a deep front porch and windows mostly obscured by the piles of on-site packaged nuts and berries, the store was dark and resonated with the sound of a small Lionel train and miniature environment that occupied most of the central space and housed more packaged goods in its underbelly. After my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed something moving above my head on what seemed to be a mezzanine overlooking the space. When I looked, who did I see but the President himself, greeting Mom and me and addressing our presence with an incessantly waving hand. But, that wasn’t the strangest thing that we saw in Oakland. In fact, we actually witnessed a deer sing “On the Road Again” from his mounted little head on the wall. Without question, this far surpassed that creepy little fish.

Lunch was yummy, though, and we thoroughly enjoyed our chicken salad sandwich and pulled pork bbq which was harmoniously accompanied by “Boot-Scootin’ Boogie” intermittently interrupted by the whistle of the Lionel, which was piped through the speakers in the dining area as well. One might say that it was just a bit surreal.

The next “utopia,” we knew, might be a little difficult to actually find since we thought that all that marked Union Village was a historical marker. We figured that we would stop in the little town that was near and just ask around if anyone knew where the Shakers lived in the area. We didn’t know that we would be so fortunate to acquire a tour guide almost immediately in Lebanon, OH, but almost as soon as we spotted the local historical museum a local spotted us with our cameras and offered up his own advice on Lebanon’s attractions.

Our most helpful tour guide leaving us to explore

First, he suggested that we visit the ice cream shop down the street, an antique store that was just around the corner, and, most certainly, the oldest operating hotel in the state of Ohio, which was conveniently located just across the street. The Golden Lamb, visited by at least twelve presidents throughout its long history, did not disappoint, especially Mom, since its upper stories were reportedly haunted by a little girl named Sara who apparently sets all framed pictures on the wall just a little crooked.

The Golden Lamb and the room that Sara haunts

As we guided our selves through the little tour, we actually came across evidence of Sara. Oooooooo…..Mom got goosebumps.

We then crossed the street to ask someone we thought would be knowledgeable about the former Shaker village in the vicinity. Lucky strike, it was only up the road a little ways and had been converted into a retirement home. Interestingly, three of the original Shaker buildings survived, but when we stopped to take a photo of the historical marker, we were shaken a little by the intact, stiff, dead birds around a tree that was originally planted by the Shakers. We left.

The retirement village that now occupies the former Shaker buildings...also take a closer look below the tree

On our way out of town, we realized that the schedule was even tighter than we thought, and if we wanted to make it to Shakertown, KY, before the end of the day, we would seriously have to drive faster than 100 mph. So, we regrouped and decided to visit both Kentucky Shaker villages tomorrow and at last, eat a real meal and perhaps even rest some. But, first, we had to hit Utopia. Along the way, and with little expectations, we came across signs (yes, actually signs!) directing us to Moscow, OH. Too curious to pass up, we stopped in to have a quick drive around. It was a quick drive around, and we saw a couple of brick buildings that appeared to be old, but the highlight of the town was, without doubt, the nuclear plant that was piping steam just next door.

According to the Ohio map, Utopia actually exists along the Ohio River on a pleasant little highway that follows the water’s edge. It was so much fun to drive, in fact, that I got a little carried away taking the curves fast enough to make Mom nervous. As I passed a car, I also passed Utopia. It exists alright but only within a stretch of about 50 feet. I turned around, crossed the highway with little fear that a car would actually hit me, took a picture with the marker, and called it a day for utopias.

I promised Mom Utopia, and I didn't disappoint

Our day did not end there, however. Other than the brief detour that we took around Lexington trying to locate a mysterious by-pass (it appeared Kentucky entered the no-signage pact with Ohio), much more strangeness awaited us at the little restaurant in downtown Lexington, where, as Mom and I were recounting our day, a nice stranger sat at the bar beside us while we waited for our table. Conversation appeared to be normal (besides the difficulty understanding his trailing, slurred sentences), until we declined his offer for our dinner and his company. Apparently, Mom and I insulted him by honestly not wanting to have dinner with a completely random person. C’est la vie. Regardless, we had the best dinner, actually the only dinner, of our trip. I would say that the sweet potatoes and mint juleps made it, most definitely. Our faith in strangers was thankfully revived as we left the parking garage where the woman taking the money held the most enjoyable conversation about the filthiness of handling cash and catching colds…Now that was genuine.

What did that sign say?...There was a sign?

Today has been almost completely consumed with signs. Not only are we are convinced that Pennsylvania and Ohio have a strange, unexplainable aversion to posting street/road signs, but the signs that were posted certainly questioned the sign's function of providing helpful information. This is not to say that "MAGGOTS $1.00" just outside Zoar, OH, wasn't useful information, but when we came across "Eutopia" after searching for State Route 65 within the 15' stretch between the two arrows pointing at each other in Monaca, OH, we knew that we should remain a little skeptical.

Thanks to Elmore and Dre at a car repair shop, we finally located the highway just 100' from where we were standing. Only, we had to drive two miles down the road in the opposite direction to find the turn around that took us back in the direction we were actually after.

The day began much more successfully, however, when we arrived at our first destination: Harmony, PA. Founded in 1804, this little place just south of a small river was the first established community of German immigrant, George Rapp, who had become disappointed in the political engagement of the Lutheran church in Germany but more importantly, believed that the Judgment was to occur in his lifetime. He and a group of followers, the celibate Harmony Society, established Harmony as their first place of preparation for the inevitable and lived as a cashless, communal society. It was the most quaint little place that still emits an unavoidable air of community. Our first encounter in the town was a group of about six children and one adult marching from the church on Spring Street holding a colorful collection of construction paper cutouts held together by remnants of crochet/knitting thread. We found out that they represented the entirety of the local Vacation Bible School. Unfortunately, we arrived to Harmony about an hour and a half too early for the local historical museum, but thanks to the genuine pride that the present-day citizens have in their little "utopia," we were able to piece together much of the history through the proliferation of signs posted on the original buildings of the Harmonists. (They must not participate in the no-sign policy of the rest of Ohio.)

Our second encounter was a bit more voyeuristic, but we witnessed community in Harmony again when a local drove by a woman watering flowers on the street, stopped the car in the street, chatted and even asked jokingly to come water his flowers in his yard. It was such a pleasant moment to observe in the quiet late morning, and it seemed that they didn't even really notice Mom and me obsessively taking pictures of this almost sickeningly cute place. Two Harmon-ites (to distinguish them from the original inhabitants) just down the hill did notice us, though, and by the time we reached their little store that framed a gateway for the town (along with Otto and Gert's 5-and-10), they were sitting on the porch of what appeared to be the former General Store but had been converted to an antique shop that boasted "Air Conditioned Comfort 74 degrees!" waiting to give us directions to some other "real interesting buildings" in the area. Although we wanted to see the Minninite barn just down the road, we had an agenda to follow and Utopia #2 awaited our visit.

Not much remained of the New Philadelphia Society's Monaca. Their aspirations for an alternative to the Harmony Society's third community just across the Ohio River did not entirely come to fruition; they only succeeded in lowering the already diminishing Harmonists' community (celibacy - final judgment + time = shrinking population). More interesting to modern visitors to this area was this preserved community of Old Economy. Mom and I arrived there just in time for a nice rain shower which made the tour of the interiors of the very functional, simple structures so much more interesting. Much like the Shaker's, the Harmonists made quite a bit of their furniture, but they also purchased several pieces from outside the community (especially for the leader's home where visitors to the community would be entertained). The Harmonists were certainly economically savvy as well as industrious, developing a highly successful textile industry, and, as their basement coffers demonstrated in the late 19th century, their decision to refrain from individualized wealth allowed for a communal wealth that was extraordinary. One of the most interesting aspects of this community that impressed me was their inclusion of a Natural History Museum within their community that displayed the advances of modern science as well as taxidermied animals from all over the world (including a kangaroo!) We also visited Rapp's house (the leader's dwelling), a typical dwelling, the communal kitchen, the feasting hall (an enormous vaulted span), the blacksmith's shed, and the wine-cellar (crazy cool space with mostly original wooden barrels and a really intriguing pully/rail system for hauling the barrels out of the cellar). Too bad to say that the battery in my camera died and I used Mom's camera but we can't upload any photos yet.

By the time we finished with the tour, we were starving...so we wandered around Ambridge and came across a sweet little cafe that had just been renovated. The sandwiches were fresh and yummy, but the two folks working there were out of this world nice and helpful. I only asked for a quick point in the direction of our next destination, and they both dove onto google and starting looking for better routes to Zoar, OH (of course, a place neither had heard of before). Luckily they spent awhile (including a phonecall to a mom for suggestions on routes) because a really nasty storm swept through and blew over several trees/limbs in town.

We made it out of town safely and ended up in Zoar, OH just in time for a lovely post-rain sunset that made all of the buildings glimmer and reflect warm tones that made it all the more quaint. Again, we missed the museum hours, but to our surprise, Zoar had also posted several signs and had a fantastic little hand-out with a brief history of the Separatists of Zoar (biggest interest being the separation of church and state) including their participation in building the levee that protects the town today. Oddly, this place uncannily reminded me of a little town on the White River in southern Arkansas, Clarendon, that I stayed in for a summer planning study -- the overhanging vegetation, some of the homes/gardens, and especially the levee.

The end of the day couldn't have been better than the beautiful views and light that we had on a little country road that ran along a ridge. Because we had to travel east for awhile, we had the sun at our back as we drove through several nineteenth century towns full of large, Victorian homes. No stopping for dinner...we just made it to a hotel and crashed. Utopia is exhausting.