As we got off the Interstate, our car windows were slightly ajar, the smell of “country” invaded our space. The clean yet dusty scent of impending rain; the smell of a wood fire in someone's fireplace; a pig farm; a cow farm (believe me, there is a difference in bouquet, and if you were raised in a rural area, you know what I'm talking about).
There is an art to finding a beautiful place in which your creative juices will be stirred. In practice, a long hike should not be involved. At the same time, it was not desirable to be inundated with people. We agreed to stop at Harpers Ferry, WV and as I write these words, the Shenandoah is softly rolling past, parting as it flows around the large stones set into its riverbed.
Shortly after I penned these words, the intermittent raindrops turned into a steady pitter-pat, making it prudent to seek the shelter of the local pub I had passed on one of Harpers Ferry’s back streets, determining to lubricate my muse with a glass of locally-brewed beer.
Historic landmarks like Harpers Ferry tend to stimulate thoughts about the toughness of our ancestors - those who came to these shores fleeing oppression and searching for opportunities. They settled North America, fought for independence, and abolished slavery. John Brown's fort looms in the center of this town as a grim and gritty reminder of that struggle.
We modern Americans are a shadow of our forebears. We don't know how to make a living off the land; how to manually clear acreage, plant, harvest, or shoe a horse. In a post-apocalyptic scenario, we could not survive, because we have become weaklings. We are but the frail offspring of a race of determined settlers; unworthy to inherit the mantle of the democracy for which they gave their lives.
Although Harpers Ferry resides in what is now West Virginia, I can see Maryland and Virginia when I look across the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. At this point, the Shenandoah and Potomac join their waters and flow toward Washington, DC.
Until 1863, West Virginia was part of Virginia. The Lewis and Clark Expedition gathered provisions and departed from this location. A young George Washington and his brother Charles waded through the wilderness and surveyed this land prior to the War of Independence. Thomas Jefferson visited this area, and a large slate formation (Jefferson Rock) above the town is dedicated to him. Upon looking eastward from this point, he stated that “this scene is worth a voyage across the Atlantic.”
My thoughts dwell for a few moments upon these explorers, dreamers, and statesmen, and I know in my heart of hearts that our political system has also devolved from its origins. Fallen from the early golden dreams of independence and self-determination, our government is so polarized and deadlocked that our Congress accomplishes nothing from one session to another, with the exception of showboating for lobbyists, and taking stances they believe will set up their respective parties for the coming election.
We are the morally skewed and unworthy descendants of giants, and no longer deserve the land of peace, prosperity, and plenty for which they died.
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