Rhode Island road trip

It is chilly and overcast today, Sunday, the second day of December. Yesterday was quite cold and very windy, adding to the overall chill factor but the sun was out in force, the sky was brilliant and since we sorely needed a break from the constant focus on unpacking and settling in to our new home, we headed off on a road trip through southern Rhode Island, looking for the ocean (well actually Rhode Island Sound). (photo: Narragansett Bay where it empties into Rhode Island Sound.)

We have made great strides in getting our new home in order (OK, Susie has made great strides). Most of the boxes are emptied and gone, furniture has been rearranged hopefully for the last time – well for at least a month or so – and things are starting to appear on the walls: prints, photos that sort of thing. Stuff is being given away, thrown away, sold on eBay or hung on the walls, store dint he basement or simply moved around the apartment looking for a home. Anyway, more of that in my next entry.

For moment I want to talk about Rhode Island, or rather that part of that we sped through on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

After spending the morning on the process of settling in and wondering why we kept all the things we did (eBay is the correct answer here), we grabbed the state road atlas and hit the pavement.

We turned left out of our drive, and after about a quarter of a mile we turned left again onto route 10 south; a few miles later and we were on I-95 heading south. At exit 9, we turned south onto route 4, getting off onto route 102 toward Wickford. Dorothy had told us about the quaint seaside village of Wickford and so we stopped, parked and walked around. The village not only looked like a New England town decked out for Christmas but the Boy Scouts were out in force selling homemade baked goods (for the Cooking merit badge I wonder?) and lots of tiny shops smelling of incense and cuteness. And of course Santa was out taking a buggy ride with the kids!
The day was not for casual strolling, however, as the winds were being most unkind to anyone foolish enough to be outside – and there were a great many of us outside in Wickford to be sure! So back to the car, a quick u-turn and another quick turn left onto route 1A south toward Narragansett.

The drive along this part of the state certainly recommends itself – plenty of views of Narragansett Bay and Rhode Island Sound beyond (that's the Sound right there, look down there, see it. Pretty exciting , eh?! Such glorious emptiness.)

Anyway, before long we were pulling beneath the “Towers,” one of the more curious attractions we would see that day. Built of hand-hewn stone in 1886, originally designed as a casino, this imposing structure is 460 long and route 1A passes right beneath it just like you might see in the Loire Valley of France. In 1900 everything burnt down, except for the “towers” themselves. They stand the proverbial tests of time through hurricanes, nor’easters and the foolishness of man.

From Narragansett we turned back toward route 1 heading north and near Wickford Junction turned west onto route 102. We made a quick stop at a Home Depot we spied along the way: toilet bowl plunger, and a myriad of other household items on the “list of stuff for our home,” a list that never dies.

And speaking of never dying, we soon found our way heading toward Exeter and one of New England’s vampire tombs.

According to local legend, when 19-year-old Mercy Brown died in 1892, there was speculation that all was not right with the Brown family deaths – her mother in 1883 and older sister Mary died in 1884. All were interred in the Chestnut Hill Baptist Church cemetery, right on route 102. (photo: Mercy is the middle grave in the back, her sister Mary is on Mercy's left and their mother Mary is in front of her daughter Mary; George, the father, is in the front row to the left in the photo.)

Sooooo, after a great deal of speculation that maybe there was a vampire in the midst of the tiny community the bodies were exhumed. (And you thought 9/11 hysteria was new, eh?) While two of the bodies were skeletons, Mercy’s was in pretty good shape and after an autopsy it was discovered that she still had “fresh” blood in her veins and heart! Well the townsfolk took care of that in short order: they burned the heart on the spot and the ashes were made into a remedy for the survivors to drink in order that they may be protected from such a cruel fate. It apparently worked since there were no reports of vampires again. At least that's one variation (For more about Mercy Brown click here!) Anyway, the father George lived until 1922.

After paying our respects to Mercy’s grave – and her entire family in fact – we pointed the Mini back west again on route 102 and took off, often the only car on the road for miles, zipping past beautiful groves, rolling hills, crossing tiny brooks and past the occasional New England farmhouse, glad to be alive.

Eventually we had to say goodbye to route 102 – and we remarked how nice it would be to see it in the spring and again during foliage season. I put the Mini onto route 14 and soon found ourselves crossing the gorgeous Scituate reservoir, the largest body of water in Rhode Island and the main water supply for Providence. Not long after seeing where our water comes from, we found ourselves once again among the hordes of motorists on I-295 heading north and east toward a place that can only be defined as “Purgatory” (meaning “mental anguish or suffering”)

Well actually it wasn’t Purgatory in the literal sense of the term. But we did get off at an exit designed specifically by the CIA to make us feel small and stupid – in other words a huge mall complex. Our goal was simple: buy a television. And what better day than a Saturday just three weeks before Christmas!

So we found the nearest big box (Circuit City, motto: “Our sales people are not stupid, we just make them act that way”), where we parked the car and walked inside.

Now apparently the corporate giants that sit around the boardrooms coming up with the ideas that eventually get translated into reality at the store level never actually walk into one of these places. Otherwise they would run out screaming with ears bleeding from the insanely loud and intensely banal garbage being spewed out of every TV speaker.

But fixing our gaze firmly on the TV side of the box we walked purposefully over to the row of TVs we were considering, picked one out, buttonholed a guy with a couple of questions (“Uh, I gotta get a guy who knows TVs”), found the guy who knew about TVs (“Uh, I don’t know anything about that model”), said “no” to the extended service plan (“covers everything even if your TV is deployed to Iraq), paid our money and arranged to pick the thing up at another store. (“Uh, we’re outta that one here”).

Back to the highway, back to the Interstate and back home.

Wish you were here,

Steve