Clark's Spot

Sometimes there are blue skies in Seattle.

Standing outside the terminal of Seattle-Tacoma Airport, I could feel the cool, moist air on my skin. I was waiting for my ride to take me to my hotel in downtown Seattle, and without seeing anything of the area, I could tell the land was defined by the surrounding water. A big sound, lakes, a mixture of rivers, streams, and canals. I wouldn’t get to explore these waterways – nor would I get to see as much of the Pacific Northwest as I had hoped – but I had a pleasant introduction that’s bound to take me back.

I had the chance to travel to Seattle for a conference at the end of October. The Pacific Northwest has long had a hold of my interest for whatever reason, but I had never visited before. I knew some of the basics – rain, coffee, Space Needle – but didn’t know the history or tourist highlights. I had about two weeks notice so I scanned the guidebooks at the local Borders and settled on the 4th Edition of Fodor’s Seattle guide, which I figured would be thoroughly thumbed through on the six hour flight from Philadelphia. I took the book home, cracked it open, circled my hotel (Grand Hyatt – conferences mean a big upgrade on the accommodations) on a map, and stuck a paperclip as a marker at the top of the page.

The flight from Scranton was late, and I missed my Philadelphia connection. I started a few projects on my laptop and napped on the evening flight. The guidebook was not dog-eared – merely occasionally consulted – each night from my room with the giant neon sign for The Roosevelt Hotel blocking Puget Sound. That’s how deeply I got into the guidebook, and – with this being a business trip – how deeply I got into the city. Since returning, however, I’ve opened up the guidebook to learn more about the city, and I’m sure I’ll return to the city in the same way.

The Native American presence is noticeable in the Pacific Northwest.

My cousin and her two daughters came into the city after the first day of the conference. We drove to Pike Place Market – a Farmers Market open early every morning and closing at 6 p.m. each night as we found. We had about an hour to wander through the stalls, examining fresh fish, fresh flowers, and fresh coffee. This trip was only going to capture basic Seattle tourism so I got a few standard shots. That’s when my cousin’s daughter spotted the totem poles at the edge of the market. We got a 20-minute second grade lesson on the Native American tribes of the Pacific Northwest before leaving for dinner.

Later that night I left the hotel and crossed the street to Von’s. Some of my friends have dreamed of this bar without ever setting foot in the Pacific time zone. I tried to count the number of bottles lined up behind the bar. I skimmed through old clippings and signs hung on the walls. It isn’t a dive, but an interesting slice of downtown city life.

No, I didn't pack any to take home

The next day, we swung by the Space Needle and Lake Washington on the way to my cousin’s house. I went trick-or-treating with their family (yeah, dated post, huh?) for the first time in years and spent the night swapping family stories. My flight was scheduled for early the next morning.

The conference never let me get out to see the city. I ended up parked in the hotel for nearly the entire trip. But the visit was just enough to whet my appetite. (And avoid getting wet – just sprinkles one afternoon. The rain, for that week at least, was overhyped.) I’m checking flight costs to the Northwest again – this time for personal and not professional exploration.

December in the Northeast means a decent possibility of snow – and travel problems for Christmas. Franchise and I were antsy as we monitored the forecast the past week. We planned to travel to Ohio on Friday night for three days of Christmas with my family. But a storm was expected in town on Friday, and the storm projections went from “a bit of snow” to “it could dump a foot of snow plus ice.”

On Thursday morning, they updated the forecast. This would be a decent storm. We’d be driving straight through the storm to get home on Friday night. Or we’d be driving across roads with as much as a foot of ice and snow that may or may not be plowed. I spent my lunch hour looking at weather projections and maps. We talked at 3:30 that afternoon – we’d leave town that night (pack quickly…) and drive south where the weather should be limited to rain.

I’d never had much success trying to outflank a weather pattern before. I’ve failed to outrun snow storms in the past. I’ve driven along the Texas countryside trying to get to a cross road and out of a tornado’s path. Last year, we were forced to land in Toledo and stuck overnight in Detroit while trying to get home after Christmas. But we pack and leave by 7 p.m.

We were most of the way to Harrisburg when we called Roger to ask about the forecast for Pittsburgh. Either we’d turn west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike or stay south and head for Hagerstown, Maryland depending on whether Pittsburgh would have freezing rain that night. The weather looked clear until 1 a.m. and would be just rain by 10 a.m. – easy set-up for crashing in a hotel room. We turned west on I-76 and set our sights on New Stanton – a place Franchise selected.

The road was pretty clear, the weather held, although I was tired and we pulled off one exit early – about 20 miles shy of our intended destination. I noticed the name of the county on the way in. A long time ago, a branch of my mom’s family lived in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania. Most of the family moved out after about 20 years. Only a few brothers stayed behind. I didn’t have any graves to search for and doubted there would be much paper record because the family left about 200 years ago.

We found the hotel and crashed for the night. Neither of us had heard of our jobs being closed the next day so we’d have to wake early to learn about the cancellations through text message or call off for the day. Franchise’s phone alarm sounded at 6:15 a.m. Within a few minutes, she received her cancellation text and rolled back over. I wasn’t cancelled so I spent a few minutes surfing the web on my Blackberry – learning a bit about the county’s history. That’s when I heard the buzzing – a quiet alarm sounding from the hallway. I rolled over to look at the alarm clock – dark. I flipped the bed lamp switch – nothing.Franchise slept blissfully in the bed – completely unaware. But I sat there thinking about my situation.I had never expected to find myself in Westmoreland County with no powern while rain poured outside while I tried to outsmart the seasonal weather.

Power was still out when Franchise woke so we considered our options. Donuts in the lobby and a dark bathroom. I grabbed my phone and Franchise’s GPS to Google and map the county historical society. Then I proposed an option to Franchise. We drive 20 miles to the historical society. Enjoy light, power, running water. I’d search their records for 30 minutes to see if they have anything pertaining to my family – anything that might encourage or dissuade me from visiting again. Then we’d get back on the road. Sometimes, when an opportunity is presented, you can’t let it go – particularly if it’s something you really enjoy doing.

Franchise didn’t sign up to leave Thursday night. She didn’t want to scamper out of Scranton wondering whether she would need to call in a sub for the next day. She didn’t want to be in a powerless hotel in Southwestern Pennsylvania. And she certainly didn’t want to spend the day in the archives somewhere while I did research. I could see the thoughts form in her head: Can’t he go anywhere without having to do genealogy research? She was gracious though. If there’s power, OK, she said. We checked the front desk. The hotel expected to be without power for the next 20 hours. The county seat had power. We packed the car and left.

Sure, I remembered the family name that resided in the area for 20-25 years. Bennetts. William, the patriarch, fought in the Battle of Bunker Hill and Yorktown. Isaac, his youngest son, is my direct ancestor. No clue on the dates or years they lived there or who was born, died, and married where. Totally unprepared and not expecting to parachute in to do anything with this family – particularly in a county where they resided for only a portion of their movement through the fledgling United States.

I walked into the Westmoreland County Historical Society with my laptop – full of all the family history scans I’ve collected – my brains for the day because I haven’t looked at this family in at least a year. The staff was nice – really helpful in digging up books and talking about the history of the area. I found a copy of a land deed from April 6, 1795 and a couple of mentions of the families that remained behind. Franchise read To Kill a Mockingbird. We stuck around about 90 minutes before hitting up the hotdog eatery on the corner and heading to Ohio.

The trip’s started with a lot of potential for a great story. Franchise and I have already decided that the Christmases since the wedding have been particularly adventuresome. We’re not done yet, but we made the best of a surprise situation.

The offer came as I was on my way out the door that Friday: Tickets to the Syracuse game the next day.

I enjoy watching big-time college football. I was in the Ohio State Marching Band in college, and we visited most of the Big Ten stadiums in my five years. We also saw the Superdome and Raymond James Stadium during bowl games, and I got a visit to the Rose Bowl before my final year of college. It’s been a few years since I spent fall Saturdays in football stadiums, but I miss that setting and was excited by the opportunity – and, yes, I know there’s no mistaking current Syracuse football with anything in the Top 25.

It was supposed to rain the whole day. My wife warned me not to get sick. Roger asked about the bad weather. Not to worry, I said, Syracuse play in a dome (that is surely more raucous for basketball games).

It poured the entire way there. Didn’t help that we left an hour after we planned. Avoided active construction zones, but the single lanes slowed us down. And I topped out at 48 while squinting through my windshield on I-81. Only saw one accident on the way up, parked (Syracuse has the goofiest way of getting you to their visitors’ parking lot), and took a university shuttle down to the Carrier Dome. One guy was amped up for the game, and he tried to get the full bus revved up. Nobody was interested. There was more response from the lady at the gate who took our tickets. “Those are nice seats,” she said.

The dome was half empty. I’ve never really been at a half-empty stadium for a college game before. My alma mater’s traveling fans would take any unused seats from whoever was the home team normally. Heck, it was easier to get a ticket to an away game than a home game for some people I knew. The folks around us said that the fans openly mocked the announcement that there were 35,000 people there the week before. Announcer listed 27,000 at our game.

We walked in about 4 minutes into the game just as an Orangeman was running into the end zone. Fans were ecstatic. Game continued that way. Syracuse continued to do well. I was underwhelmed by the band, and the food was adequate. The game and stadium developed an odd feel. It was reserved similar to a baseball game but with the action of football. Fans weren’t into big plays. Some of the times they were most passionate was when they wanted a penalty called (and there was obviously no penalty on the play). A couple years of mediocre football can dampen everyone’s edges – the fans, the band, the team. Everything became lackluster and missed the passion found on other college campuses.

Pittsburgh, the visitors, finally pulled even and took the lead as the game wound into the fourth quarter. As Syracuse turned the ball over and the game got out of reach, fans finally became vocal – in criticizing the coaches and players. (They’re college kids folks…) When they weren’t groaning and yelling at the coaching, they discussed options for a new coach next year. This guy has a tie to the team, this guy once lived in the area, that guy knows the university’s administration…

Everyone filed out grumbling about the game that got away. It was then that I heard somebody say something – one of the memorable items about the trip. A guy walking into the bathroom was trying to bolster the spirits of a stranger. “Faith, it’s called sticking with your team,” he said.

Hmm, no, that’s loyalty. I saw loyalty but not faith – the fans seemed surprised their team was leading for so much of the game. And when fans lack faith, their excitement and enthusiasm isn’t there. Without that, it really isn’t college football.

I just returned from a week-long trip to Ohio where I got to see friends and family, visit Cedar Point, attend a friend’s wedding, and spend part of two days enjoying my genealogical hobby. (Picture shows me recording the location of my fourth-great grandfather’s grave. The ancestor, Zebulon Whipple, served in a Connecticut militia during the Revolutionary War.)

It’s always nice to get a few days at home to relax. This time was an experience. It had been years since I had been home for a birthday or visited the town’s summer carnival. We visited the Columbus Zoo for the birthday. The festival was packed with people, but I hadn’t realized it was so – compact. As a kid, it seemed a lot bigger than two blocks.

Work begins again tomorrow (Tuesday). Freshman begin move-in on Thursday. Classes start next week. I can’t believe summer’s coming to a close.

At least I got one good trip out of it.