Statue Depicting Booker T. Washington as a Slave Child

Restored Kitchen House Like That
Inhabited by Booker T. Washington’s Family

Restored Kitchen House Like That
Inhabited by Booker T. Washington’s Family

Stream, Booker T. Washington National Monument

Booker T. Washington Bust

Inscription: A RACE, LIKE AN INDIVIDUAL,
LIFTS ITSELF UP BY LIFTING OTHERS UP.

Gravestone That Reads "SID DID, The 30 August 1893"
(Maybe "1873"), Sparks Cemetery

Stable, Booker T. Washington National Monument

Sleeping Rare Pig, Booker T. Washington National Monument

Photos copyright 2011 VisualInfo.Biz, Inc.

Booker T. Washington National Monument Web Page (National Park Service)
Some quotations by Booker T. Washington
Note: Use Google Maps or MapQuest to plan your journey beforehand, as there are not many road signs leading to this park. Or use GPS! The park is about thirty minutes east of Roanoke in western central Virginia.

The Booker T. Washington National Monument made such a strong impression that the next morning I imagined myself waking up with Booker T. Washington, his mother, brother, and sister, on the dirt floor of the kitchen house in which they all lived. As Chris and I walked miles through the beautiful park the day before, we visualized ourselves walking with Booker as a child.

You don't just read about Booker T. Washington's life here — you live it. You feel what this tobacco farm was like when Booker T. Washington lived here from 1856 to 1865.

We spent a good four hours walking the complete trail, taking in the restored period buildings, farm animals, Gills Creek, and Sparks Cemetery. While we walked, obviously happy and curious kids bounced in and out of the exhibits and ran to look at farm animals. Even small toddlers were energized by the place. This park is so well set up that it offers something for everyone — all ages; all backgrounds.

The park guides are unusually friendly and helpful. The information about Booker T. Washington's life and the times in which he lived is presented in many ways — art work, informational tableaus, well-written brochures, a movie (which we did not even watch; we spent four hours absorbing everything else they had to offer).

The guides give you a number to dial on your cell phone and, as you walk through the hiking trail, you can listen to pre-recorded information about certain trail stops. There is a lot of very interesting information presented in many different ways.

For instance, did you know that slaves introduced licorice to the United States in necklaces made out of licorice seeds? There are so many little details to absorb.

We hiked by a cemetery about which almost nothing is known. Only one gravestone had very simple letters carved into it; the rest of the stones were unmarked but positioned like gravestones. Perhaps the Sparks Cemetery is a slave cemetery; no one knows. The National Park Service guides know its name from oral history.

The Booker T. Washington National Monument is on a section of the 207 acres owned by the Burroughs family. It was a tobacco farm on which Booker T. Washington was born to a slave named Jane. He knew very little about his father, a neighboring white plantation owner. As a slave child, Booker worked hard literally as soon as he could walk.

I find it ironic that at birth his mother Jane named him "Booker" and that early on he developed a love for learning that persisted throughout his life. It was a prophetic name. Booker T. Washington also always believed in the value of hard work. Perhaps a little too much so — I read online that after his death, doctors discovered that his blood pressure was twice the normal range; they thought that he had developed congestive heart failure from overwork.

The Burroughs Farm was a smaller farm where the master and slaves worked side by side. Young Booker did not experience the extreme cruelties known at the larger plantations. When Booker was nine years old, Master Burroughs read the Emancipation Proclamation to him and his family on the porch of the "Big House."

As you walk through the park, you see this man's humble beginnings — sleeping on a dirt floor in a scratchy flaxseed slave shirt he hated — and you take in information about what he later became. He strove on to remarkable achievements. Booker T. Washington became a famous educator, author, orator, influential advisor, and civil rights activist.

When his money ran out for train transportation to the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute (now Hampton University) in Hampton, Virginia, he walked the rest of the way to begin his education.

He was the first principal of the Tuskegee Institute in Tuskegee, Alabama at the age of twenty-five. He obtained funding for thousands of small African-American community schools and higher education institutions from Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, George Eastman, and many other famous self-made businessmen of the time. He also obtained support for these schools from prominent African-American educators, ministers, and businessmen. He was an advisor to President Theodore Roosevelt.

Booker T. Washington wrote fourteen books, including the classic, Up From Slavery. In 1895, he was thrust into national prominence by his famous "Atlanta Compromise" speech.

These are all admirable achievements for any man, but how did someone born a slave bring his idealistic visions to life while the Ku Klux Klan was on the rise and segregation was becoming the new norm? (There is a disturbing photo of lynching victims and other information about racism's harsh realities on display at the park to remind you of the general sociopolitical climate.) Once the bizarre economic system of slavery was abolished, how was American society to be organized? This had to be a difficult transitory period.

Booker T. Washington seemed to size up a given situation's limitations and possibilities, and magically transform it into new opportunities no one else had envisioned. Blessed with unusual intelligence, inner strength, resourcefulness, interpersonal skills, and a persistent need to see concrete results, Booker T. Washington negotiated pathways even more remarkable in light of the time in which he lived.

Washington became one of the most famous men in the country during the last twenty years of his life; his opinion was sought by many. He had become a spokesman for civil rights. Some thought his message should be less compromising. W.E.B. Du Bois was perhaps his most outspoken critic, wishing that Booker T. Washington would talk and write less conservatively about civil rights. A man who knew how to get things done, Washington believed that outright confrontation would harm African-Americans. After his death, it came to light that Booker T. Washington had secretly been financing litigation for civil rights cases.

Optimistic and idealistic, but also a pragmatic man of action, Booker T. Washington strongly felt that men could lift themselves up by hard work. He thought that if they first contributed to society by educating themselves and developing skills so that they could make a living, African-Americans could move forward in other areas. His own life experience was that economic strength was the necessary first step, the base from which to spring forward. An unusual Renaissance man, he wrote, "No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem."

Grist Mill and Workshop, Cyrus McCormick Farm and Workshop, Raphine, VA

Reaper, Cyrus McCormick Farm and Workshop, Raphine, VA

Grist Mill Wheel, Cyrus McCormick Farm and Workshop, Raphine, VA

Grist Mill Machinery, Cyrus McCormick Farm and Workshop, Raphine, VA

Workshop, Cyrus McCormick Farm and Workshop, Raphine, VA

Photos copyright 2011 VisualInfo.Biz, Inc.

Lexington, Virginia, Web Page
Commonwealth of Virginia Web Page

On Saturday Chris and I stopped at the Cyrus McCormick Farm and Workshop in Raphine, Virginia, a little south of Lexington, Virginia, in western central Virginia. We quickly walked around the beautifully landscaped grounds and through a couple of the buildings — we need to go back and explore it more thoroughly.

Cyrus McCormick was most famous for his invention of the reaper, a precursor to the harvester. His reaper, which he developed with members of his family, was patented in 1834. Cyrus McCormick is often called the “father of agriculture,” since his reaper was the beginning of agricultural mechanization.

He founded the McCormick Harvester Company, which eventually was bought by International Harvester Company. He became a prominent Chicago businessman.

The McCormick family farm was known as Walnut Grove. The 620-acre farm now belongs to Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University (“Virginia Tech”) and is part of Virginia Tech’s Shenandoah Valley Research Station. The beautiful grounds include nine renovated buildings. We walked through the grist mill and blacksmith shop.

The McCormick family used the grist mill to grind wheat into flour. It was built around 1800 and was operated through the late nineteenth century.

The blacksmith workshop was used to repair farming tools. The McCormicks also built their reapers there.

We are going back to look at the McCormick Farm and Workshop in the future to look through the museum, carriage house, slave quarters (nine slaves lived at Walnut Grove), smokehouse, schoolhouse, and other buildings. We read online that eight of the nine original buildings remain. Robert McCormick, Cyrus’ father, created the farm in 1822.

I like the working miniature reaper models that were used by the McCormick Harvester Company salesmen. Most of all, I love the beautiful landscaping at this site.

Admission is free to this pleasant byway. You can stop by any day when the weather is good. One web site lists the hours as 8-5; another one says 8:30-5:00.

Magnolia Blossoms Along the Tidal Basin, Washington, D.C.

Looking Up at the Iwo Jima Memorial, Arlington, VA

Jefferson Memorial Through the Cherry Blossoms, Washington, D.C.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt Statue, Roosevelt Memorial, Washington, D.C.

Cherry Blossoms Along the Tidal Basin, Washington, D.C.

Eleanor Roosevelt Statue, Roosevelt Memorial, Washington, D.C.

Washington Monument Cherryscape, Washington, D.C.

Photos copyright 2011 VisualInfo.Biz, Inc.

Locals by transplant, Chris and I became tourists last Sunday, April 3, probably the best day in 2011 to view the almost four thousand cherry trees in full bloom around the Tidal Basin. Washington, D.C. was so jam-packed with tourists and traffic that our bus could not make all the stops on the itinerary. Still, it was exciting to be among the throngs of people from all over the world.

We took a bus tour where we stopped at several attractions. We got out at each destination, walked along the gounds, and listened to our guide, Ralph. We walked along the Jefferson Memorial, the Roosevelt Memorial, the Iwo Jima Memorial, and the D.C. wharf down on the Potomac River.

On the tour we learned that historical documents from the National Archives were lowered fifteen feet below the ground into a sealed vault for security on 09/11/2001.

Also Ralph told us that President Grant smoked cigars in the Williard Hotel lobby near the White House because his staff didn’t like them. He would cut deals with movers and shakers there in the Williard Hotel lobby — this was the origin of the term “lobbyist.”

The Smithsonian Institution was created from $500,000 willed by a British scientist named James Smithson. James Smithson was born illegitimate, worked himself up through an impressive scientific career, and had never been to the United States.

The Roosevelt Memorial — very inspiring and peaceful to walk through — is the largest Washington, D.C. memorial, sixteen acres in size.

As we drove through the crowded streets that included homeless people’s belongings, Ralph noted that there are about 6,500 homeless peope in Washington, D.C.

One good tip Ralph gave us is that the best hotel deal in Washington, D.C. is the historic Hotel Harrington, which never charges more than $128 per room.

I know most people rave about the cherry blossoms, but I have always been captivated by the magnolia flowers since I moved to the Washington, D.C. area from New England and New York state. Magnolia trees seem so southern to me.

It was a fun and relaxing day. We always like learning a few facts along with enjoying scenic beauty and getting good exercise.

Chickadee Napping on Hummingbird Feeder

Chubby-Cheeked Chipmunk

Flying Squirrel

Ms. Deer

Photos copyright 2010 VisualInfo.Biz, Inc.

Before starting a long day on the computer, I enjoy my early mornings drinking coffee with the wildlife in the backyard. It is my little bit of peace before a usually hectic day.

About two months ago, I caught this little chickadee napping on a hummingbird feeder. Notice how its head is tucked under his wing. I got as close as six inches to this little guy; I could have petted it. There are a few chickadees that like the hummingbird feeders. They sip the water out of the ant moats in the middle of the nectar feeders. The hummingbirds do not appreciate the chickadees’ presence in their territory. They protect their food sources to the extreme. I’ve seen the tiny little hummingbirds chase the relatively much larger chickadees away from the nectar feeders.

After a year of feeding the birds, squirrels, and chipmunks in this yard, I now regularly have four little chipmunks visit every day. To me they are cute little rodents, but I know some people do not appreciate their little striped selves.

About a year ago, I noticed the bird feeders moving when I returned home at night, even at 10 or 11 o’clock. I have heard birds that late at night, but I never thought they ate seed then. I kept watching the feeders and observed what I thought was a mouse hopping very quickly into the feeder. But then I noticed it had a bushy tail, and mice don’t have bushy tails.

I found out on the Internet that these were flying squirrels. They are nocturnal small creatures, about nine inches long, including their tails. They usually can’t be bothered with crawling on tree limbs. They often glide from tree to tree. They do not literally fly, but have furry webs between their limbs and their bodies (you can see the web in the photo). They spread all four paws and stretch these webs out into furry little capes. Some nights I used to sit on the terrace while they glided over me like small hang-gliding Supermen, easily traversing twenty feet from tree to tree.

At one point I regularly counted six flying squirrels out on the trees at night — they used to scamper up and down them all night long. But a pretty new tabby cat moved in next door and I saw it having fun chasing the little guys at night. I have a feeling the squirrels decided a nightly game of “Survivor” wasn’t worth the peanut chips, and I haven’t seen them for about a month. I regularly got so close to them that I could have petted them while I was changing bird feeders.

“Ms. Deer” — I’m not very orginal with names — is usually a daily visitor. Once she sat down under a tree and kept me company while I was gardening. She is a curious soul and seems to like observing me on the terrace as much as I like observing her.

When I found Smith Island on the map — it’s an island below the southern tip of Maryland’s Eastern Shore — I knew Chris had picked a good place to get away this weekend. It’s about a four-hour drive from northern Virginia to Crisfield, Maryland, one close mainlaind point near Smith Island.

Fewer than two hundred people live on Smith Island. You can only get there by boat — there are no roads to it. A boat brings mail to Smith Island every day. Drive to the end of Route 413 and you will find a few ferry boats that will take you over to Smith Island at 12:30 p.m. each day.

We rode over on a small boat with a family from Newport News, Virginia; another couple from Annapolis, Maryland; and a large Doodle dog. The ferry trip was about one pleasant hour each way.

There were a lot of houses pretty close to each other — some in excellent shape, some abandoned.

We had a few interesting conversations with locals. Some of the residents spoke with a heavy dialect that could be difficult to understand.

Most of the people on Smith Island earn a living by crabbing and digging for oysters. There were a lot of crab pots on the decks near the bay. Quite a few of the residents grew up on Smith Island and have crabbed for generations.

Chris and I asked about their schools. They have one school that everyone attends until eighth grade. Later on we found out from the family with whom we rode on the ferry that there are currently four girls and no boys in the seventh grade. After eighth grade, the high school children ride a boat to high school in Crisfield, Maryland on the mainland during the week.

We read beforehand that many people travel around the island on golf carts, and there did seem to be almost “a golf cart in every yard.” Most of the trucks and cars did not have license plates. We asked a few people about this, and they said that there was really no need for them.

These people said that there was no need for a legal system in general, and that they have never had police on Smith Island. When there are disputes, the people involved have handled them satisfactorily.

We also asked people how they deal with everyday shopping. A few locals told us that most people have cars parked on the mainland in Crisfield, Maryland. When they want to go shopping, they ride a boat over to their car. They go shopping and do other errands. When they are done, they pack their purchases on the boat and ride back home with them.

On the way back, we were looking for a museum run by the local Accohannock Tribe, which is state-recognized and seeking Federal designation. It was not open, but we chanced upon an interesting little store that we will visit again — Blue Heron Junction in Marion Station, Maryland. I talked to Lou Ann and Perry Brown for probably about an hour and purchased some interesting items. I have to go back for the harnd-carved wooden birds. They have a great mixture of old and new there — antiques, handmade items, and some real unique finds. I know plenty of people around Washington, D.C. would appreciate this little store.

I learned from Lou Ann that Marion Station has been officially designated a ghost town. I also learned that the big event in Crisfield, Maryland is the annual Crab Derby during Labor Day weekend, to which people have brought racing crabs from as far as Australia. Also there are local strawberry and daffodil festivals.

We are going back to this area sometime to at least see Tangier Island, and hopefully for our first Crab Derby.