Back to the U.S.A., Part 3

Soccer in the schoolyard with the Spitzers across the street from my parents' house. Reading the comics and a Kindle with Grandpa! And Grandma's delicious cherry cheese cake tarts that Scott found on one of his visits. Sure, there was some bourbon, some Indian food, some Scrabble, and a bit of other mayhem but it was mostly relaxing after many weeks of go, go, go in Spain! So we drove out of town via Harrisburg (hazy view of the capitol building and super-low Susquehanna River) on our way to New Jersey to visit friends. So thanks Mom and Dad! We had a great time--hope we didn't over-feed the goldfish or kill the lawn!

Back to the U.S.A., Part 2: Side Trip to Gettysburg

Ed's sister lives with her family in Virginia and we managed to meet up with Cindy and her son David (missing: husband Gerry and daughters Sarah and Rebecca/Ben) in Gettysburg, PA for lunch. My parents joined us at Dobbins' Springhouse Tavern for some Civil War-era atmosphere. It was great to see them (after too many years) and we traded Spain travel stories. We loved San Sebastian/Donostia, but we were surprised to hear that Cindy, who has lived in Pakistan, India, etc., considers the Spanish beach town her favorite city.

We also toured Gettysburg's incredible museum, which offers up context, texture (lift the soldier's 45 lb pack by the gun barrel!), and multiple points of view to what were the worst 3 days in July. Then there is the movie narrated by Morgan Freeman--I sobbed through most of it due to his moving explanation of how our country found itself so broken and why Gettysburg was both so crucial and so painful. And finally there is the vast battlefield tour--audio, guides, etc. It's astonishing that these bucolic fields could have been so bloody. We're going to have to come back when the kids get a little older but here are some panoramic shots of Little Roundtop, Devil's Den, and the Copse of Trees for all you history buffs.

Our time in Gettysburg made this sign, on Market Street in my hometown of Camp Hill, that much more meaningful. It marks the northernmost skirmish between the Confederates and the Union. I always knew that was part of Camp Hill's history--made all the more amusing one summer when my mom looked up from her gardening to find 3 Civil War soldiers (reenactors, of course) on horseback and sorely in need of instructions back to Route 15. How they intended to get back to Gettysburg (an hour away by car) via the highway was anyone's guess but my mom just wishes she'd had a camera handy.

Back to the U.S.A., Part 1

I know it's called Sabbatical in Spain but I can't skip the Sabbatical on the East Coast (technically our layover). I'm from a very small town, Camp Hill, PA. You may know it from the Book-of-the-Month Club return address--though the real warehouse is in Mechanicsburg which didn't cut it with the NYC literary types from the mid-20th century.

My dad puts up the flag most good days; he also waves at policemen he doesn't know. He spent most of our visit sharing the comics with Ben and Nate and hiding in his bedroom with the Kindle while we took over the house.

We got a chance to see our friends the Setzers and Spitzers, whose children all know the Williams Family "toy room" that my very nice mom keeps stocked with my old Hot Wheels loop-de-loop, Yahtzee, marble racers, etc. Usually we have a larger group of high school friends around but somehow in planning the sabbatical I failed to tell anyone we'd be in Camp Hill. Then again, we were jet-lagged so it's probably best as we were asleep by 9 p.m. most nights.

Every year we pull out the slip-and-slide and the boys hurl themselves down the plastic. The boys played some Magic game with Ed and Scott. And we played some soccer and took some walks. I showed the boys my childhood church but when we tried to go inside, I got chased off by the caretaker next door: "Ma'am, ma'am, is there something you need?" in that tone of voice that means this isn't the time to go to church lady so back away and go on home. I was sort of surprised after the churches in Spain which are open day and night but maybe it was clear we were nosy heathens.

So we jumped back and forth over our neighborhood creek and wandered home. I saw an older neighbor in his garden and when I reintroduced myself to me he said "Well, god bless you Sally Williams."

It was a great visit thanks to good friends and my indulgent, generous parents.