I'm re-reading one of my favorite murder mysteries, At Bertram's Hotel. The people who stayed at Bertram's knew that, (1) in 1955, it was still like stepping back into Edwardian England, and (2) they could afford it. The War had scarred but not destroyed it, and it had enjoyed a very expensive renovation.
"People of almost any [anatomical] dimension could find a comfortable chair at Bertram's."
"As for eatables, you could ask for anything you liked--and get it!"
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The past few days have been among the best yet. Jed came over Friday, and on Saturday we went to Moundville, Alabama, an astounding place. Many flat-top mounds, 3+ stories high, upon which "well-to-do" Native Americans (the Mississippian Culture) built their houses near the Black Warrior River, and the less affluent built on smaller mounds farther away from the river. Ponds in the spots where the peons dug up the dirt to build the mounds.
Ramey, Reed, and Philip's younger little daughter went with us and added to the fun. We ate lunch at an O'Charley's, then toured the archaeological park.
I'm thankful that I was in good enough shape to climb three flights of metal stairs up the side of the big old mound, where we're pictured above, without gasping for breath.
Some people were down by the river, fishing.
On Sunday, Jed, Pat and I had lunch at the Irondale ("Whistlestop") Café--and overate, of course.
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A sadder note: On Friday, we attended the memorial service for my former brother-in-law, Ron Channell, a very dear friend and relative.
1 comment:
As I knew I would be, I'm sorry I didn't go. But my back would never have let me do all the walking and climbing. It's so mean to me. Glad y'all had fun.
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