Billy Goats At My Door

Billy Goats At My Door

Thursday, October 3, 2013

October 3, 2013, Lewiston NY and Four Mile Creek Campground.





 


 

 
 
 



October 3, 2013, Lewiston NY and Four Mile Creek Campground.  This is our second day in this area which is in the extreme northwest part of New York State.  It was a slow morning followed by a leisurely walk through Lewiston, a quaint little town near Niagara Falls, about seven miles from the campground.  In fact, the morning was so slow, we bought a hair dryer at CVS to replace one left behind and also got our flu shots while we were there.  I concluded that time is less precious today in New York than it will be when we return to Kansas City. 

The pictures will give you a taste for Lewiston.  One of the local bakeries displays a sign touting the fact that the Marquis de Lafayette stayed there on his Grand Tour of the United States fifty years after the Revolution.  The town is more than two-hundred years old and many of the buildings show a town aging gracefully and pridefully.  

I got a hair cut this afternoon by a barber whose father and grandfather were barbers in Lewiston.  My barber said that he went to college and became an accountant because he didn't want to become a barber like his father and grandfather.  When he retired from a career in accounting, guess what he did?  He bought a store front on Main Street and hung a barber's pole on the front.  That was thirteen years ago and he is still cutting hair.  Mine was the best $10 haircut I've had.  I felt a little odd tipping an accountant.  

Tomorrow, we will move eastward, toward Vermont.  It will take us several days to get there.  I'll let you know where we are when I figure out where that is. 

Most of the pictures above are obvious, some are not.  There is an alley antique emporium, a bed pan being used as a planter, churches, a side entrance to an apartment, the town clock, geese forming a flight line, a barn in town, stacked picnic tables, and Mickey Mouse sitting regally on the dashboard.  Mickey and Gypsy, the GPS, quarrel and fuss over whose directions I should follow.  I follow neither and I get lost .  Men my age have the right and privilege to do that if they want.  And I want.   

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