In some twisted corner of my brain, I can hear Edgar Allan Poe singing the old Linda Ronstadt ballad, Poor, Poor Pitiful Me. The first stanza I'm sure he could play with -
Well I lay my head on the railroad track
Waiting on the Double E
But the train don't run by here no more
Poor poor pitiful me
Poor poor pitiful me
Poor poor pitiful me
Oh these boys won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe woe is me
From what I've read Poe suffered from depression, probably severe depression. He was obsessed with death. Some of his stories deal with women coming back from the dead to haunt their former lovers.
Poe lived a short while in Baltimore, about three years. The Poe
home was small and forbiddingly dark.
I am really enjoying my guided exploration of Baltimore. Yes, there are museums and symphonies and history. There are famous institutions like Johns Hopkins, and gorgeous libraries like the Peabody.
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The thing that fascinates me the most is the architecture. From the variations on the row houses, to the new university buildings under construction downtown, the city seems to have a remarkable architectural history.
Today I went to Johns Hopkins, a world renown medical center and school. C and I were picking up his brother, who practices with the docs, nurses, and pharma students in a testing environment known as standardized patient. P reads a case, and then acts out a role assigned to him based on the case. He might be a patient, or a nurse or a doctor. A student in one of the medical programs works with P to diagnose a problem.
I'm staying in a row house.
For folks out west, the concept is like something out of a Mark Walhberg movie where the scrappy kid from the wrong side of the railroad tracks fights his way to a better life. The homes literally share walls the way a duplex would. Usually there are eight homes, with a front porch and steps and the front yard the size of a postage stamp - you might be able to park a small hybrid car on the grass - maybe.
In Baltimore there are two main kinds of row houses. Those in "good" neighborhoods, and those in "bad" neighborhoods. Bad neighborhoods are a little easier to spot. It is usually maintenance that gives the "good" from the "bad" away. Wood looks worn, paint is flaking and there are more homes together that have the uncared for, dilapidated look.
You don't get to FallingWater by accident. The roads are tiny and twisted and relatively obscure. I imagine that is the way the Kaufman family wanted their retreat.
In the 30's the roads would have been even more hidden, probably little more than a rutted dirt road. Fallingwater was a place to escape the noise and pollution of Pittsburgh, an idyllic, quiet place of contemplation and relaxation.
I've just returned from lunch at an establishment called the Golden West. Food was decent but expensive. Ambiance was altogether something else. The decor was based on someone's idea of what "The West" is/was like. There is a bison head on a wall. A couple of lamps that have that rustic antler/tree branch theme happening.
A mural on one wall depicts the plateaus and desert you might find in the southwest US, Arizona or perhaps Nevada style. Lots of faded paintings of what appear to be Navajo people male and female.
Cracked faux-leather seats are in the booth area and our table was remincient of the old formica countertops used in the 60's and 70's.
Apparently the Golden West thinks the people of the west all have access to gold mines -at least based on the prices. Lunch, a hamburger, BLT, a diet Coke and an order of guacamole, was $40 sans tip.
Today C and I went to one of the most amazing architectural places in the world - Falling Water.
Falling Water was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright a 19th and 20th century architect from Spring Green, Wisconsin. Wright did some of his first work in Oak Park, IL and several of those homes still stand and are lived in today.
Falling Water was designed for the Kaufman family of Pittsburgh, PA. They'd had a cabin on some 1500 acres near Mill Run, PA and wanted to upgrade. When Wright saw the property and the beautiful creek, he talked the Kaufman's out of rebuilding the old cabin on the same location and built them a fantastic home hovering above the water.
So about now some of you are a little under 2,000 miles on my car. We have about 350, maybe a little less to go until we reach our final destination Baltimore or B'More for short.
For some reason today was long, long, long. I didn't remember . Ohio being so flat. Spring doesn't appear to have made a significant impact on the landscape just yet. Everything is still winter brown.
