The last of my West Virginia Trip Journal

July 11
We took a trip into Virginia, which I found out is only an hour away, to go to the famous Jefferson Pools or Warm Springs Pools in Bath County. The pools have been around since 1761, the men’s bathhouse that is, and Thomas Jefferson supposedly bathed there. The woman’s bathhouse was built in 1836.

I didn’t think there was that much of a difference between West Virginia and Virginia but as soon as we drove over the border, the landscape changed. Virginia isn’t as mountainous as West Virginia, so the hills look a little flatter and the highways are larger.

We stopped at an antique store on the way and the differences in the prices were amazing. Antique shopping in West Virginia was so cheap compared to this place. And, instead of American antiques, this shop was full of English antiques.

It was close to lunchtime when we got to Virginia so we decided to get a quick bite to eat first. We went to some deli that was near the Homestead Resort. We were out with one of our hostess’ friend, whom we met earlier at her house next to the General Lewis Inn in Lewisburg. She said she liked the Homestead Resort and thought it was much more relaxed than the Greenbrier Resort.

The differences between the people I saw at the deli in Virginia and the kind of people I’d seen in West Virginia was like night and day. Now granted, the Homestead is one of those very expensive vacation resorts so we probably only saw people who were most likely staying there, but still. The Virginia deli women looked like ladies who lunch with perfect combed and dyed coifs, very expensive matching outfits with matching heels, and flawlessly manicure hands and feet. There was a woman wearing more gold than I’d seen in my 10 days in West Virginia.

The people in West Virginia were either back to nature hippies types or down home hillbilly types. And no one really dressed up, not even at supposedly dressy events like parties and concerts. The people in West Virginia also looked older too somehow with their lined faces and necks, like no one had ever told them about using sunscreen or getting that much needed eye tuck or facelift. The women especially, were much bigger, than the pencil thin ladies I saw at the deli in Virginia.

The Jefferson Pools ere cool. You can either wear “your suit, their suit or god’s suit.” You float around using these flotation toys and as you lie there, if you’re under a good spot, bubbles tickle your legs, your butt and slowly move over your whole body. It’s a totally weird feeling because it feels like a water bug is crawling up your leg. The pools are calm and silent and the water smells like sulphur, which is a little foul. I saw a tshirt with a picture of Thomas Jefferson on it, so I had to buy that. I mean how often do you see a shirt with Thomas Jefferson on it. Since I was swimming in the women’s bathhouse, I suppose it wasn’t the same as bathing in the same place that Thomas Jefferson bathed, but it’s the thought that counts.

Next we headed to the Homestead Resort itself, which like the Greenbrier Resort serves free tea and munchies at teatime. We found out when we got there that the Virginia Bar Association was having a meeting there, so maybe that explains all those well dressed women; lawyer’s wives.

The Homestead Resort totally freaked me out. All the serving people, except for the desk clerks at check in and a few of the valets outside were black. The whole scene felt so southern to me and I didn’t think places like this still existed, but then I’d never been to the real south either. I had never been at a hotel where all the serving people were black. It totally bothered me and it made me feel like I was back in the old south and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t like this at the Greenbrier Resort. At the Greenbrier you stood in line for tea and the munchies were laid out buffet style. At the Homestead Resort, you tea and munchies was served to you, so there was no mad rush for seconds, thirds and fourths for food.

The stores at the Homestead weren’t even that great compared to the Greenbrier. It’s like the people at the Homestead Resort had made an exact replica of the Greenbrier in West Virginia, but without the quaintness, the history and the charm. Even the burgundy and white striped shopping bags from the Homestead looked like the green and white striped bags of the Greenbrier.

July 12
We decided to check out Pioneer Days in Marlinton. Our first stop was at a book sale at the Marlinton library and I bought four books; a book on wealth, short stories that were made into movies, Alistair Cooke’s America and a civil war novel, A Stillness at Appomatox by Bruce Catton. My purchases cost me $5. Why I was buying book on my vacation is still a mystery to me, but $5 for books, two of which were hardbacks, was too good of a deal to pass up.

Our next stop was at a restaurant on the river and I had another barbeque pork sandwich. Those barbeque sandwiches in West Virginia are so delicious. I can see why my traveling companion always complained about the barbeque sandwiches in San Francisco.

Next, we went to the local flea market which was a part of the Pioneer Days activities in Marlinton. Unfortunately, the stuff was not as good as what we’d seen earlier in the week.

Pioneer Days in Marlinton was very small townish and there wasn’t much else going on, except for a frog jumping contest, a small quilt and crafts exhibit, more fair type food and freshly fried pork rinds.

On the way home, we stopped at Droop Mountain, which is one of the few civil war battle monuments in Southern Virginia. Because of West Virginia’s mountainous landscape, there weren’t many civil war battles there. The park itself had a newly built observation tower, but other than the picnic tables and benches, there wasn’t very much there.

July 13
Off to John Henry Days in Talcott. First a stop at some truck stop for a biscuit and gravy breakfast. The biscuit was great but the gravy was white and very peppery. Then at Talcott, we watched the local parade which consisted of cars by the police and fire and various Talcott groups and some people on horses. The parade participants threw out candy and I even got a free ruler to take home.

The streets of this very small town were lined with people selling their wares, which ranged from food to typical flea market stuff. I don’t know if less people are traveling since 9/11, but I heard a woman say that last year’s festival was better and better attended.

We took a walk to see Big Bend tunnel, where supposedly John Henry battled the steam drill machine. Next to Big Bend Tunnel is another tunnel, which the train now uses. Poor John Henry. All that effort and they don’t even use the tunnel anymore.

It started raining and we listened to a group playing Appalachian style music. The music was so good I even bought a CD. The band consisted of two older looking women, a man singing and playing guitar, two other really old looked dudes playing guitar and another woman playing drums. We would have stayed longer, but I couldn’t take the rain anymore.

I wished I’d finished that book John Henry Days, but I hadn’t. I guess I’ll finish it when I get back home to San Francisco.

For food, I ate my usual fair food of two corn dogs and lemonade and homemade fudge, which my friend had bought earlier

Next, we went to Hinton, Talcott’s sister city, which was bigger and much more developed. We found a railroad museum there and checked it out. They had a display of carved wooden figurines depicting John Henry and all the jobs that went into building a railroad. The display was long and almost 7 feet in length. I’d never really been on a proper railway journey.

On the way back, we stopped at a store which said it had a taxidermy museum. The place was old and full of cobwebs but probably had the best collection of stuffed real animals I’d ever seen in my life. Looking at taxidermied stuffed real animals is a trip because the animals looks so life like, except their dead and stuffed to the gills and are dusty and have cobwebs and other small items all over them.

We also made a quick stop at Bluestone Dam. I’d never seen a dam up close before. It was huge and there were men flying fishing right in front of the dam. We were trying to figure out why they were fishing so close to the dam but there was no one to ask. We speculated that it was where the fish came out in schools, but who knows.

On the way back to Trout, we stopped at the General Lewis Inn to check out the inside. It was full of antiques and looked like a nice play to stay. At $100 a night, it was probably a good deal compared to places like the Greenbrier and the Homestead. And it’s so close to really the only shopping spot in the area.

I was told that if local people want to shop, they go to Beckley, an hour away, or two hours away to either Charleston or Roanoke, Virginia.

July 14
Finally, my vacation is at end and I have to unzip my expandable suitcase to fit all my purchases in. Our host gave me a copy of Southern Living’s Best Recipes from 1996, which I was admiring earlier, so I felt ready to go home and recreate some of the good food I’d eaten while on my trip.

On the way to the airport, we stopped at Tamarack, which is advertised as having the best of West Virginia goods. Tamarack does have great stuff, but nothing to what I’d seen in other small town stores I’d been to.

I was glad to be going home. 14 days is a long time to be on vacation, especially with not that much to do. If I ever have to come this way again, I’ll definitely stay at the Greenbrier Resort. You can get a standard room for about $200 a day, which isn’t bad considering all the activities they offer. As for the Homestead Resort, I don’t see myself going back there ever again, unless circumstances take me back there.

The trip back was relatively quiet, except for a long stop in Chicago. On the plan from West Virginia to Chicago, I sat next to a woman who I found out lives in my neighborhood with her husband and family. It made me realize that no matter where I go, the world is still a very small place.

I liked West Virginia but I don’t know if I could ever live there. It’s landlocked and I could never live in a place that wasn’t near the ocean. I’m not sure if I’d even go back to visit West Virginia, but I’m glad I went.

I just read an article which said that the past week has been a weird one because the moon was in Aquarius. And I laughed because I've had a pretty good week, but then again I'm an aquarian so having the moon in Aquarius doesn't bother me at all. It's like Hello World, welcome to my life!

I guess the stock market plunging back to 1997 levels wasn't all that fun for most people. I'm afraid to think what these losses on the stock market is doing to people's retirement plans and savings. And it's not the wealthy people I worry about. The wealthy people rode out the great depression. It's the average middle income people I worry about, which is most of us. The really poor people don't care about the stock market since they probably can't afford to invest in it.

I wish I could have a conversation with my Stanford MBA boss who laughed at me when I told me that the Nasdaq couldn't sustain it's 5,000 level. He said I was crazy, that even if the market did tank, the Nasdaq would always hover around 4,000. I wonder what he thinks now that the Nasdaq has been below 2,000 for the last 1.5 years. I wonder what his explanation is for its demise.

So let's see where we are economically. Commercial real estate in San Francisco has fallen to levels not seen since 1998. Now the Dow and the Nasdaq have fallen to 1997/1998 levels. And housing costs, they're still up, but then real estate changes tend be low and always six month behing everything else. Does this mean that real estate prices in the SF Bay Area will drop to 1997/98 levels. Half the experts are saying yes and the other half is saying now.

I think real estates prices will drop, just because everything else has. Real estate cannot sustain the kinds of losses the stock market has shown us this past week.

The only good thing about the slowing economy is my that drive to work is not as crowded anymore. There are fewer people going from San Francisco to Sili Valley now. Where they've all gone, who knows?

Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm just getting too old and I just don't undertand things the way other people do. I saw another movie today on a friend's recommendation and I totally thought it was really bunky. And then I read the movie reviews, and as usual, me and the NY Times always agree. But other movie reviewers liked it, especially Salon.com. And that's typical because I completely disagree with anything that's on Salon.com anyway.

I don't know. Maybe Salon.com is a magazine for young people, gen x'ers and I'm just a little old for that generation. I just don't like social angst just to show social angst. I think social angst should have some kind of meaning, otherwise a movie about social angst just becomes some kind of self-congratulatory, over indulgent, masturbation fantasy of some typically WASP male guy. No, the world does not fricking revolve around your protagonist who's usually wasting away in some upper middle class suburb and contemplating suicide, drugs or better yet paranoid schizophrenia.

And then at the movie end doesn't revolve itself and I hate that. I mean, Salon.com talks about this guy having a vision, yeah a vision to the toilet boil maybe, after he's taken a dump. Honestly, what passes for a good movie these days is mind boggling. After watching this movie, my baseball movie to me is infinitely more entertaining than the crappy movie I just watched.

I finished half the outline for the second draft of my screenplay. It's turning out quite different from the first one and I'm a little concerned because I really liked the original story. I'm telling myself I should just go with it because the new structure makes the story stronger, I think. I made my baseball player get into a fight in the locker room and I have him in a really strained relationship with this his wife. So basically my guy is a totally typical spoiled athlete on the last year of his career and going nowhere fast. I have to have him redeem himself somehow and I'm not sure how. The whole thing about fixing his swing is gone. Now he has to fix his whole life and I have less than 30 scenes for him to do it in.

I keep telling myself it's only an outline and once I start writing, I almost never follow my outline exactly. I don't know how my baseball player guy is going to redeem himself with his dad, his team and his wife. I guess I'll find out when I finish the outline. I think I'm going to have to have him fight with his brother and then maybe have a revelation that way. I don't know. The idea just flahsed in my head.

Once I get the outline done, I can start writing and the writing will go very quickly. It's getting the outline done first that's hard. I've been trying to correct things that people didn't like about the first draft and I think that's why my story has more conflict early on and less namby pamby stuff.

Still not sure how I feel about my original story changing, but my screenwriting teacher did say to start from scratch again on the second draft and that's what I'm doing, although I do refer to my previous outline.

Me and baseball, what a combo! I wouldn't have written about it except that I can't get this story out of my head and I hate when that happens. The story won't rest and I feel compelled to write it. Why baseball as a subject for my first screenplay is one of my life's biggest mysteries since it' s not like I'm even a big fan of the game. I mean I like going to watch baseball games, but I'm not a baseball fanatic. Shouldn't a movie screenplay about a cocky aging baseball player and his dying fathers be written by someone who's a real baseball fan?