Champagne Bucket trips, churches, former Soviet Union, Lithuania

The Vilnius Series… Tales from the Crypt, and my rainy 53rd birthday… (part four)

While Bill and I were in the hotel room, digesting our fabulous French lunch, the skies turned cloudy and grim. It started to rain. I looked out the window at the cathedral. We were supposed to meet the guide at 4:00 PM for our hourlong guided tour of the crypt. But the rain was coming down steadily and showed no signs of stopping.

I realized that the rainy weather would also put the kibosh on my tentative plans to go hear the US Air Force play with with Lithuanians in the town square. That concert, set for 6:30 PM, seemed like it was going to be doomed with bad weather.

Bill glanced out the window and said, “Hey, there’s a guy out there in a bright red Cadillac Coupe d’Ville, stranded on the street. There’s something you don’t see every day! The guy was on the phone. I felt sorry for the car trapped by the big red land yacht. But it was soon back on its way, and the road was no longer blocked by the striking car.

I said, “Are you really wedded to going to the crypt?” I really didn’t feel like braving the elements.

Bill responded, “Not really.”

I gave some thought to skipping the tour, as my muscles were getting sorer by the minute and I didn’t really want to sprint to the church in the rain. But Bill said that Thursday would be our one and only chance to take the tour in English, so ultimately, we decided to go. I’m really glad we did. It turned out to be a fascinating activity, led by an engaging, witty, and very intelligent guide who told us she’d worked at the Cathedral as an anthropologist for nine years.

I couldn’t help but remember my days at Longwood University, which, at least when I was a student, boasted a really excellent anthropology and archaeology program. I wish I’d taken at least one anthropology class there, as when I was a student, there was a very well known professor there, Dr. James W. Jordan, who was kind of a legendary for his ghost stories. He’s now retired.

In any case, a group of us tourists gathered in the rain and hustled into the church, where the guide took us to a locked grated door. She unlocked the door; we walked down a flight of steps, and she started telling us the fascinating story of the crypts. It started out as a place where only the wealthiest people could be buried… people who had donated land and/or built a church, plus had people who had promised to pray for them forever. As time went on, the people buried there were less wealthy and celebrated.

The church went through several incarnations, all of which were fashionable at the time. I got a kick out of the guide explaining how the cathedral had once had two beautiful towers, but one of them collapsed, and killed people. The people were divided in what they should do… Rebuild the towers? Or redesign the church? It turned out the people with more money were in the camp that the towers should go. So that’s why the Vilnius cathedral looks the way it does now!

The guide also told us about how medieval crowns and scepters were very recently found (as in months ago) in the crypt. Experts knew the trove existed, as it was stashed away after World War II. However, they had not been able to find it in the decades that passed since the war ended. The guide said that next year, they will be available to be seen in the museum, once they are prepared.

We also saw a very old painting of Mary, done by an artist who wasn’t Catholic and had dressed her in red, instead of blue. And we saw the tombs of royalty from hundreds of years ago, and heard the fascinating stories behind their lives and deaths. The guide also invited us to whisper into the corners of the crypt and listen for whispers from a partner. Bill and I tried it, with success!

Lithuania is the last European country to accept Christianity (1387 AD). By contrast, Armenia, where I spent two years, is the first country in the world to accept Christianity as its state religion (in 301 AD). And yet, both were once Soviet countries, where people from Moscow were telling them what to do and demanding that they give up their cultural identities.

It was very poignant to hear the guide talk about things that happened in the Soviet times. Soviet leaders had wanted to turn that cathedral into a warehouse. Fortunately, wiser people determined it was better suited as a concert hall and picture gallery. Also, people who worked in the crypts were wise enough to hide things from Soviet leaders, who would have confiscated the items and taken them to Moscow, never to be seen again.

Below are some photos from the tour:

When the crypt tour was over, I was really glad we decided to go. Not only was the tour interesting and informative, the guide was very entertaining and personable. It was well worth the time and euros to attend, even if I was getting sorer by the minute and we got a little wet.

Unfortunately, the weather was still pretty stormy and dismal after the tour. We decided to have a couple of beers at the hotel bar and, alas, skip the free concert in the town square. As I looked out the windows in the bar, the wind picked up, the sky darkened, and the rain fell harder.

Check out the rain!

I felt sorry for the musicians who had planned for a summer concert, only to be rained on. I’m sure the show went on anyway, but it was still kind of sad. I really was looking forward to attending, but not enough to walk to the square in the rain and possibly have to stand in the weather while my muscles screamed in pain. I thought of my dad, an Air Force veteran and music lover, when he used to encourage my sisters and me to join the Air Force and be in the “Singing Sergeants”. I have to agree, it’s probably a pretty sweet gig, except for when the weather turns to shit and the show is outside.

Still, it was nice to have a couple of beers in the hotel bar. They didn’t have a big selection. We were still kind of full from our French lunch at Balzac, so we ate nuts and cheese (or Bill ate cheese), and then went back to the room, where we watched classic MTV. We made it an early evening.

The next morning was, of course, my birthday… and we woke up to… MORE RAIN! Seriously, it was pouring. We got up and went to breakfast, and a friendly waitress asked us how we were doing. I mentioned it was my birthday– just making conversation. She later brought me a surprise!

After breakfast, we went back to the room, which was already made up! I made a video…

My parody video “The Things They Do For Trump” was racking up lots of hits and earning me lots of new subscribers. So I made a video from our hotel room…

Then… we decided to do some reading, to see if maybe the rain would let up. It didn’t let up, which honestly was a blessing, because I really needed to rest my sore muscles. I took some Advil, which helped a bit, before we went to lunch at Dionysos, a Greek restaurant right next to the hotel. The friendly waitress who brought me the cake later told us she’d almost worked there, but didn’t like the people running it. We liked the restaurant fine… Bill had three chicken skewers with hummus (that was one too many) and I had ribs with fries, and rose wine made with syrah.

It was still raining cats and dogs after our visit to the Greek place, so we went back to the hotel and read some more. I learned that the Grand Hotel Vilnius used to be a telegraph station, and then served as the treasury building. Now, it’s a five star hotel with 93 rooms. We did like the hotel, for the most part. It was very comfortable. I was grateful for that, as the rain fell on my birthday. I hate to waste a day sitting in the hotel when I travel, but honestly, I’m not sure how well I would have done walking around Vilnius with so much muscle stiffness and soreness!

Finally, the rain let up, and we decided to go to a bar that specialized in craft beers. In retrospect, I wish we’d gone out for dinner, but lunch at the Greek place had left us rather sated. I have missed craft beers, too. We do have them in Germany, but they aren’t always easy to find. Like… you can’t necessarily go to the local drink market and find exotic beers in Germany, although you will find excellent German beers. So I was excited to visit Nisha Craft Capital, which was very close to the hotel.

Bill and I spent a couple of hours at this bar, trying all sorts of craft beers and listening to the same loop of excellent classic rock songs. Seriously, though, I think they need to add to their playlist. We heard the same songs at least three times during our first visit (we went back twice more). The other two times we visited, we sat outside in their beer garden.

After our evening of beers, we went back to the hotel for birthday bubbles… I didn’t need the bubbles, but hell, I don’t turn 53 every day. It was fun watching the well dressed people showing off in the bar and restaurant.

Finally, it was time to call it a night, so we did. The next day, we had much better weather, and saw a lot more. I’ll write about that in the next post!

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books

A review of A Travelogue To Life, By Incidents and Accidents, by Colonel Lee Bizzell…

I grew up in Gloucester, Virginia. My parents moved there in June 1980, the day after I turned 8. I remember the day we moved to that rural county, and what a huge culture shock that was to me. Prior to living in Gloucester, I had memories of living in England, at Mildenhall Air Force Base, and Fairfax County, a Washington, DC suburb in northern Virginia. Gloucester was, by comparison to those internationally leaning places, very foreign to me. However, I am actually a native of the Tidewater region of Virginia, so the reality is, moving to Gloucester was kind of like moving home.

My parents opened their business, The Corner Cottage, just after we moved to Gloucester. They bought the house from a man named named Ellis Smith, who operated a custom picture framing business. Dad, likewise, continued operating a custom picture framing business and art gallery, and soon after, my mom opened her own business. She sold cross stitch supplies at first, but then expanded to knitting and needlework supplies. She also taught countless people– mostly middle aged women– how to do needle crafts.

I never had any interest in doing needle crafts myself, and have neither talent nor patience for any of it. But, because my parents opened their business, I grew up just across business Route 17. Every day, I gazed across the four lane highway at the beautiful imposing estate sitting atop a gentle hillside on the other side of the highway. The mysterious white house always inspired my imagination. Below are some screenshots of my house versus the estate…

Nowadays, there are many Facebook pages and groups that celebrate places around the globe. Virginia, and Gloucester County itself, are no exceptions. Gloucester is home to many beautiful old homes that were once plantations. It’s also the birthplace of Pocahontas and Dr. Walter Reed, a famous Army physician who was instrumental in discovering how yellow fever is spread. Walter Reed’s name adorns the local hospital in Gloucester, as well as the premier Army hospital in Washington, DC.

I noticed that people who drove through Gloucester kept sharing photos on Facebook of the beautiful old house across Business Route 17, that was just across from where I grew up. I never knew the people who lived in that house, although they were technically our neighbors. The house was lived in back in 1980, but today, it’s just a decaying shell of its former glory. I’ve noticed from Google Earth photos that a housing development has sprung up by the old mansion. That makes me sad, because the housing looks out of place next to that grand home that is still gorgeous, in spite of its state of disrepair. See below…

The people who shared the photos of that house kept asking about it. They wanted to know the place’s history, and who owns it now. Many people wish that someone would buy it and renovate it to its former glory. I got curious about the house myself, so I did some research. I discovered that the home was owned by Colonel Lee Caraway Bizzell, who died on February 10, 1994.

Somehow, I also learned that the colonel had penned a book titled A Travelogue To Life, By Incidents and Accidents. I searched Amazon.com, and sure enough, found a used copy of Colonel Bizzell’s book for sale by a North Carolina book shop. I eagerly ordered the book, and it arrived a few weeks ago.

I mentioned the book on Facebook, and one of my former classmates and neighbors in Gloucester was shocked. She knew Colonel Bizzell, as he was a frequent patron of her grandmother’s restaurant, which was located within walking distance of my house. I expect that the colonel could have also walked there, although he would have had to cross busy Route 17. My old friend posted that Colonel Bizzell was a very nice man. She had waited on him many times at Sutton’s, her grandmother’s beloved, and now long defunct, restaurant.

If you are a reader of my main blog, you might know that for the past few weeks, I’ve been slogging through a fascinating book about the former East Germany. I finally finished that book the other day, so yesterday afternoon, I decided to read Colonel Bizzell’s book. It’s only 89 pages, so it was a quick and easy read.

I got a kick out of reading A Travelogue To Life, By Incidents and Accidents. I had heard that Colonel Bizzell had been an Army veteran and big game hunter. I’m not a fan of big game/trophy hunting, but I kept in mind that Bizzell published his book in 1991, when he was 98 years old! People had far fewer moral issues with hunting when Bizzell was a young man.

Colonel Bizzell was born November 11, 1892, in Tate County, Mississippi, the last of 13 children. His father was in his sixties when Bizzell was born, while his mother was 45 years old. A few years after Bizzell was born, his father’s health failed, and he died. Bizzell points out that his father had been a Confederate soldier who was captured at Lookout Mountain. He’d married Bizzell’s mother when he was 38 years old, and his mother was only 19. He also wrote that in the year 1991, his father had been born 164 years prior! That was a mind blower for me.

From the beginning of the book, Colonel Bizzell makes it plain that he wants to inspire readers to become Christians. He, himself, was not a devout Christian until 1954, when he was 61 years old. In his 37 years in the Army, Bizzell spent his military career serving all over the country and in several countries. He was the father of a son, who died at age 29 in 1953, as well as an infant daughter who died in 1927. He does not mention his daughter in the book; I discovered her when I found Bizzell’s obituary on Find A Grave. However, he does mention his son, and how devastated he was when he found out about his namesake’s passing in Washington State.

Colonel Bizzell also writes lovingly of his wives. He was married to the late Clara Mae McCarron for 41 years. Sadly, she succumbed to head injuries sustained in a car accident. Colonel Bizzell writes a bit about what happened in that accident, which occurred when they were going to Florida to visit her mother, who was dying. He later married Kathryn Jarvis, a fellow attendee of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Harcum, Virginia, where Bizzell and his first wife had been enthusiastic members. Unfortunately, in 1981, after 14.5 years of marriage, Kathryn, who was 26 years younger than Colonel Bizzell was, developed stomach cancer. She was 63 years old when she died at Riverside Regional Medical Center in Newport News, Virginia. At that time, the hospital was known simply as Riverside Hospital.

I had hoped to read more about the gorgeous house, across the highway from my house, that Bizzell and his first wife purchased after he retired from the Army. He wrote that they had almost passed on purchasing the house, because it was priced higher than he thought it was worth. The house dates from the 1700s and, even back when Bizzell was looking to buy it, was in need of many expensive repairs. Bizzell wrote that he and Clara Mae were on their way to South Carolina to look for a house when they changed their minds and drove back to Richmond to make an offer. They offered the previous owner less than he was asking, given that they would need to make extensive repairs, and the man accepted.

Unfortunately, Bizzell’s stories are frustratingly brief and lacking in detail. He only devoted a couple of pages to his acquisition of his beautiful house, from which he operated an antique business for many years. The business specialized in Persian rugs and porcelain, and Bizzell wrote that it never turned a profit. However, he was able to go to New York City for antique shows to buy high quality items from The Orient. Colonel Bizzell did mention that the construction of Bypass Route 17 did cause his business to suffer significantly. I can only imagine how disruptive it was.

Our own house had what was obviously a front door turned into a window, because the highway rendered the door obsolete. The window has since been covered up by the current owner, who worked for my dad for many years before buying the business. Our old house was built in 1949, many years before business Route 17 ever existed.

Aside from writing about his family and business, Bizzell includes some interesting stories about his many military assignments and travels he enjoyed because of that career choice. He lived in The Philippines, and when that tour was finished, took the “long way” back to the United States by a series of ships. He also served in both World Wars, and spent time in France and Germany. He even did duty in Wiesbaden and Stuttgart, two places dear to my heart.

In 1984, when he was 91 years old, Colonel Bizzell left his estate to the Southern Baptist Foreign Mission Board. He mentions in his book that he received an annuity for the property, which I assume must have become the church’s property when the colonel died in 1994. I wonder what Colonel Bizzell would think about the state of the world today, given that he served in both World Wars. Colonel Bizzell is buried next to his first wife, Clara Mae, at Arlington National Cemetery. Kathryn is buried at the cemetery at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Harcum, since Arlington National Cemetery does not allow more than one spouse to be buried next to a qualifying veteran.

Colonel Bizzell’s book is not the most professionally written book I’ve ever read. He writes in the acknowledgments that he was assisted by a couple of Gloucester ladies who typed and edited the book for him. They did a decent job for amateurs, but I was reminded more than once that this was not exactly award winning writing by someone who does it for a living. There are some misspellings and wrong word choices. However, if you are from Gloucester, Virginia, and you are old enough to remember times there from decades past, this book is well worth the effort. It’s a quick read, and it details a man’s fascinating, long, historic life. I know he was much beloved and respected in Gloucester, even if I never got to meet him myself.

I wish the book had been a little bit longer on details, yet more organized. Bizzell has some amazing stories, and seems to be trying to point out that the Lord saved him many times from situations that should have killed him. However, the book lacks that flow. He didn’t streamline the writing to tie in the stories with his testimony. On the other hand, the stories themselves are pretty entertaining and exotic, and most readers would probably prefer them to the message that they should be Southern Baptists. 😀

Anyway, I have to tip my hat to Colonel Bizzell. He lived a remarkable life, achieved great things, and affected many people in a positive way. And that beautiful home that he and Clara Mae purchased, after his Army career finished, continues to enchant and intrigue people, 31 years after Colonel Bizzell’s life ended. For that reason alone, I would recommend his book to the interested. My husband, Bill, is not from Gloucester, but I’ve even recommended the book to him, since he’s also an Army veteran.

Buy A Travelogue To Life from Amazon.com.

As an Amazon Associate, I get a small commission from Amazon on sales made through my site.

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Uncategorized

Natural Bridge and Lexington circa 1957

As seen on my main blog…  Sorry for the rerun, but this blog is read by different people than the main blog is.

A very interesting film made in 1957 about my family’s American home… Special thanks to my friend, Joann, for posting this fascinating video about Natural Bridge and Lexington, Virginia.  

 

I have mentioned before that I come from Virginia. My family has been in Virginia since the early 1700s.  The earliest relative I’ve found in Virginia was a man named Johann Tolley, who came to Virginia from Hamburg, Germany.

Johann Tolley evidently fathered the people in my family who eventually settled in Rockbridge County.  Rockbridge County is kind of in the west central part of the state, in the Shenandoah Valley and Blue Ridge Mountains.  Although I have been visiting Natural Bridge and its environs my whole life, I did not grow up there myself.  I was born and mostly raised not far from Williamsburg and Jamestown, Virginia, clear across the state.

Because my dad was an Air Force officer, the family he made with my mother was nomadic.  My parents spent the first 24 years of their marriage moving to different towns, mostly in the southern United States, but occasionally in other countries.  I was born during their fourteenth year of marriage, so I missed a lot of the moves and didn’t have any sense until the bitter end of my dad’s military career.

The one place that has always been a constant in my life has been Natural Bridge.  I’m pretty sure my family has lived in the same creekside house since at least the 1940s.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen when my aunt and uncle pass on.  I hope someone in the family will keep the house.  It’s a special place that is mostly full of wonderful memories.

Granny’s house… where my dad grew up.  There is a creek that runs in front of the house and another one that runs perpendicular to it on the left.

Down by the creek…

After a rare November snow in 2014… when I last visited.

Another shot up the hill.  I pray this house never leaves our family.  The street it’s on was named after my grandfather.

My family as of 2014.  Sadly, a couple of the people in the photo are no longer with us.  I think we’re missing about twenty people, too.  The Mormons have nothing on us.

 

The family church, High Bridge Presbyterian.  This is where we held my dad’s memorial service.

 

Many of my relatives are buried here, including my dad, who was moved about two years after he was initially buried at Granny’s house.

 

Goshen Pass, which is very close to Lexington and where Bill and I honeymooned…  It’s also kind of where we fell in love, the weekend before 9/11.  That’s another story, though.

My friend, Joann, who originally posted the above video, lives in Lexington, Virginia.  Lexington is about ten miles from Natural Bridge.  It has sort of a special place in my heart because not only is a super cute town, it’s also where many of my family members went to college or worked. It’s also where Bill and I got married in 2002.  Before the area was taken over by transplants from up north and out west, it was mostly settled by Scots-Irish Presbyterians.  According to 23 and Me, that is surely enough the lion’s share of my genetic makeup.  I was raised Presbyterian, too.

The video is interesting viewing for me, since my parents who are/were both from that area got married the year it was made.  Mom was 19 and Dad was 24.  They had lived in Rockbridge County their whole lives.  My dad finished his degree at Virginia Military Institute in 1956 and immediately became an Air Force officer.  The following year, he married my mom and they left the area for good, only to come back for visits.  My dad is now buried in the graveyard at the family church.  Originally,  he was buried on a hillside at the house where he grew up with his eight brothers and sisters, but my mom had him moved.  I guess she realized that house might not always be in family hands.

Another reason why that video is interesting is because it basically reflects the ethos of the 1950s.  The story is told from the Natural Bridge’s viewpoint.  It explains how the area used to be populated by “red men”, also known as Native Americans.  The Bridge explains that it tried to explain to the natives that it was created by God.  Alas, they worshiped the Bridge as a Pagan God, even though the Bridge tried to explain that it was the Christian God who created it.  The Bridge sounds almost grateful as it explains that white Christian settlers eventually moved into the area in 1737.  The white Christians “got it right’.  (I’m being facetious, here.)

Based on the video, a lot of great people came from Rockbridge County.  Even Sam Houston, who eventually went on to be the namesake of Houston, Texas, was born in Rockbridge County.  I never knew that.  It’s actually pretty interesting, given the impact Sam Houston had in Texas.  In fact, reading about Sam Houston is uniquely fascinating, given his family history in Scotland and Ireland.  I was just in Northern Ireland a few months ago and we stopped in Larne.  There is a plaque there commemorating the history of the Houston family before they moved to Virginia.

Sam Houston also moved on the Maryville, Tennesee when he was fourteen years old.  I have not been to Maryville, but I do have a couple of friends who attended Maryville College and one who moved back to the town after she retired from teaching at my alma mater, Longwood University.  I also lived in Texas for a year… and Bill spent several years there and graduated high school in Houston.  I’m amazed at how all of these places are interconnected with Rockbridge County, which even today is still pretty rural.  Although a lot of new people have moved there, there is still a core of people descended from the original settlers.

I’m not sure why, but somehow when I was growing up, I never realized or appreciated the deep connection my family has to Virginia, especially Rockbridge County.  I think it’s because I was a military brat, even though I spent most of my growing up years in Gloucester County.  Gloucester is another one of those places where people settled and stayed, much like Rockbridge County is.

There were several last names there that would always come up at roll call in school.  A lot of them were the children of people from England who had stayed after the Revolutionary War, which was won in nearby Yorktown.  In the early 80s, Gloucester was still so rural that people who moved there were “come heres” and never really got the sense of community that the locals had.  My parents owned at house in Gloucester for about 30 years, but it still doesn’t seem like home, even though it’s probably the one place in the world where I feel sure I could get help immediately if I ever needed it.  I still have a lot of friends who live there.

I didn’t appreciate Virginia when I was younger.  I used to fantasize about moving somewhere else, where the people and the scenery were different.  Now, as much as I like Germany, I’m starting to think about going “home” to Virginia.  Maybe I would only go there to visit, though… I’m not sure if I want to die in my home state or even if circumstances will allow it.

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