An expedition...

It's apparently been quite some time since I've added my musings. The funniest part of it all is that I really can't even tell you what I've been doing this past week. Since my parents' arrival, I've not had much time between work, spending time with them and keeping up with my daily chores.

On Friday my mom and I putzed around Gordonsville. It's an endearing little town about 20 miles from my house. The speed limit is 25, and everyone obeys it! There are some shops in which we stopped, but they apparently aren't seeking patronage. Overall they weren't a friendly lot, and in one boutique we never even saw a shopkeeper. That might not be an accurate assessment, and I don't want to cast a shadow on the stores that were friendly. The Gentle Gardner was a happy, cheery spot with friendly and helpful folks. Admittedly I had a moment's hesitation before entering since, propped up in the front window, was Al Gore's silly book. The two southern-most stores had more sociable people manning post: one a sweet home store and the other an antique store which offers each customer a cup of tea or coffee.

Our best find, however, was in the jewelry store. While chatting with the owner, we discovered that she lives just down the road from me! Even before that revelation, she was by far the friendliest person we encountered. Before we left, she gave me her card with her home number so that in the event something happened to me or at my house, I could call and either she or her husband would come over--and she meant it, too. I thought that was very nice.

On our way back home, we stopped in a couple of 'antique malls'. The second was rather bare, and the first...I swear it is run by Norman Bates' cousins or that family from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You think I'm kidding, but it is one of the creepiest places I've been in. As we approach the door, there is a woman with her young son. He's perhaps 6 with light blond hair, fair skin and pale, vacant eyes. When we walk in, it takes a moment or two for our eyes to adjust to the quiet darkness. At the counter is an elderly couple who neither greet us nor acknowledge our hello, but merely stare as though we are intruding upon their solitude.

As we head down the side aisle the check out the booths, we hear a third employee talking with customers. (how perfect that the radio just now played the Twilight Zone theme) We continue our way around the store, and we now hear him talking about the Tower of Babel and godly people and God's wrath. Of course, as he starts on this, Mom and I have just turned into a booth featuring old farm tools--scythes and ferrier/blacksmith tongs and all sorts of sinister looking items. The booth could just as well have been a basic, but well-equipped torture room. In the dim light everything looks menacing--is it rusty or is that dried blood from the last unsuspecting tourist? In the backgound, but near enough to be heard above the brimstone sermon, is the baleful buzz of a solitary fly.

Needless to say we hurry through the last few booths and return to the front, and seemingly only, door. The men have disappeared, and only the old woman remains. She does say goodbye and wishes us a good day, but there is no smile offered, and no warmth in her guarded eyes. The younger woman and her son are still outside. He stops his game and stares at us, blank and expressionless, as we walk back to the car. I've never been so grateful for the sunshine.