John Cannon
The Independent
ASHLAND —
I fell in love last week. Not with a person, mind you, because my wife and I already loved the couple we were with so much that we have maintained our friendship even though they left Ashland for northern New York 25 year ago.
Instead, I fell in love with the Finger Lakes region of southcentral New York, which has to be one of the most beautiful spots on Earth. It is an area where tiny villages take you back in time, where downtowns are alive and well with coffee shops and ice cream stores and churches that offer tours and boast they can connect visitors to the Internet as well as to Jesus.
It is a region where the beautiful lakes were built by God instead of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and where the rolling hills remind you of eastern Kentucky minus the scars created by strip mining and the trash left by humans. We spent four days in Bath, N.Y., a village just off Interstate 86 and near Keuka Lake. Our friend, Jan, grew up in Bath, and we met her husband, Steve, and her at Jan mother’s house. Jan’s mother died earlier this year and they have been making regular trips to Bath to prepare her mother’s house for sale. We met there to help them in this task.
Or at least that was our excuse for being there. In truth, we did not do much work during the week. The house is ready to go on the market as soon is Jan is ready to part with the family home and all the memories it holds. Instead, we used her mom’s house as a place to eat and sleep while we toured the region, enjoyed each other’s company and played hours and hours of double pinochle.
We spent a lot of hours visiting museums, wineries and other local attractions. For us, visiting local attractions actually began before we arrived in Bath when we visited the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. It was the first visit for both of us, but it won’t be our last. I already want to go back to see the rest of it, since we only made it through three of the five floors before the hall closed for the day.
We also visited the Glenn Curtiss Aviation Museum in Hammondsport, N.Y.
I confess I had never heard of Glenn Curtiss before entering the museum named for him. But I should have, because he was a mechanical genius who was nearly as important to the development of the airplane as the Wright Brothers. In fact, today he is known as "The Father of Naval Aviation" and "Founder of the American Aircraft Industry.”
Curtiss, who like the Wright Brothers had a bicycle shop, also is recognized as the developer of the motorcycle and for many years had the speed record for motorcycles. Later on, he moved to Florida and became an early designer and builder of travel trailers. He was one amazing man.
This museum is not for everyone. It only has a short video and no interactive displays. Kids would probably be bored there and so would a lot of adults. However, my wife and I were not.
Bath is only a few miles from Corning, N.Y., so we spent one afternoon visiting the Corning Museum of Glass. The museum covers all aspects of glass from ancient art to modern art to fiberoptics and everything in between. It also includes demonstrations of glass artists creating beautiful sculptures while you watch. This is a museum for everyone, and if you are ever near Corning take time to see it.
All in all, it was a great week except for one little incident that happened soon after we arrived. The grass at Jan’s mother’s house needed to be mowed, and since I enjoy actually mowing, I volunteered for that task. I had just started my mowing when insects came flyng out of a hole in the ground I had just mowed over.
It was de ja vu all over again. A few years ago, I had stirred up a nest of yellowjackets while mowing my daughter’s yard, and before I could escape the bees, I had been stung 13 times, requiring a trip to the emergency room.
I thought it was happening again, except these were not yellowjackets attacking me. They were a type of insect I had never previously encountered, but since they were repeatedly stinging me on the arms, legs, hands, and even on the top of my bald head, what was stinging me was of less importance than getting away from the angry insects. Steve and my wife rushed to my rescue, getting stung several times in the process.
After escaping the attack, I counted 17 different stings on me. They did not swell up like the yellowjacket stings had, but they were quite painful, more painful than the yellowjacket stings had been. The stings hurt for the next three days, particularly when I washed my hands. Once the pain subsided, the itching began, and it continues as I write this a week later.
A neighbor who had witnessed the attack called the insects “mud wasps” and he may be right, but they looked different than any wasps I had ever seen.
However, all in all, my wife and I agreed it was one of the best vacations we had ever had. It is just that the next time I visit the Finger Lakes I want a different welcoming party.
JOHN CANNON can be reached at jcannon@dailyindependent.com or at (606) 326-2649.
