We wake to a cold, rainy day (in the thirties with snow and sleet to the west). I had hoped to get out and take photos of the town, but it's just too messy. I watch CNN and try to wrap my head around the China earthquake until the alarm goes off at 7:00 and the day officially begins.
We are staying in Oralee's Golden Eagle Inn, a beautifully restored inn. We have breakfast at 8:00 on the porch. It ranks as one of the best I'd ever had. Fresh juice and coffee and then beautifully prepared scrambled eggs with potato pancakes, bacon, watermelon, muffin, spice cake (pumpkin bread?) and fresh jam. The weather didn't matter any more.
Our next stop was the resort where my father stayed in 1913, The Bedford Spring Resort. It was just a few minutes south of town on 220, a massive (1800 acre) resort that was founded as a curative place where the ailing could "take the waters" and now making its name as an elite enclave where the wealthy can golf and be rejuvinated at a spa. For Kitty it is reminscent of her family's vacation spot at Capon Springs and a teenage visit to the Greenbriar. For me it summons memories of Palm Beach privilege, throwing me into a state of class identity crisis.
The class presumptions piss me off as usual. I get stirred up on the one hand because I resent all the privilege this represents. I’m enough of a Marxist to know what kind of reciprocal misery all of this comfort implies. On the other hand, I resent the distain I feel from the personnel. They see me as a fat dyke in jeans and sweatshirt and naturally read me as socially inferior and out of place, and project that disregard and contempt in their interactions. Now even though I am clearly making choices with my attire and deliberately downplaying whatever class privilege my birthright might confer, I still resent their disrespect. It’s a terrible double bind, as their dismissal makes me want to rise up and claim my status, a status that on the other hand I am desperate to deny. This happens when I visit Palm Beach. I look like a working class woman and therefore present as an outsider, but when people dismiss me, I often paradoxically claim my place like a defiant child. I generally avoid ritzy places as it brings out the worst in me.
Surprisingly, it all turns out well. I get a couple of good photos, which perks my mood. The tour is interesting enough. And when the previously dismissive concierge gets to the part about the Russell family, I cannot resist saying, “Yes, “Che, Sera, Sera is my family motto” (proudly claimed by the resort’s tacky “Che Sera Sera Café”). She gets it and goes bottom: “I didn’t realize…now I understand…Russell…Wait until I tell Mr. Dietenbaugh I had a relative of the Duke’s on my tour….” Almost embarrassing, but I am totally avenged. She’s goes out of her way to flatter me those last few minutes of the tour, and ends up by getting my card in order to put me in touch with the historian Mr. Dietenbaugh. I tip her appropriately and feel somehow sullied but victorious.
We leave the resort and head on to Cleveland. The drive is unremarkable. The rain has stopped, and we go from the Pennsylvania Turnpike to the Ohio Turnpike. Pennsylvania is especially lovely. There's a mountainous area (Laurel Highlands?) of the Alleghannie Ridge with some amazing views and immaculate farms--green, green pastures with limestone outcroppings that remind me of Ireland. When we pass Pittsburgh I regret we have no time to linger. I worked with a student (Cory) who wrote a great story about her family's history in the town, and feel a sense of connection from that.
We get to Cleveland after a 4 hour drive and are dependent on our GPS "TomTom" as I have not beeen able to spot our hotel on any map. It's an hellish drive into the city due to construction on our approach. The TomTom tells us to go straight ahead, but it's a one-lane construction zone and there's a city bus coming right at us. We are both traumatized by the time we arrive at the hotel, but there's this amazing doorman who calms us down and reassures us and makes us feel everything is just fine.
The Glidden House is more than fine. It's on the university (Case Western) campus, just around the corner from the botanical gardens. This is one of most comfortable rooms I've ever stayed in, overlooking the leafy
green campus, plenty of room, and a 42" TV. We walk around the campus for a bit and then stop for a beer in a tavern with an actual beer garden and have a wonderful dinner (local cheese plate and pork chop) in a Tapas bar adjacent to the hotel. I wish we were spending more time here, but now I know where to stay if I ever come back to Cleveland. Something about the privilege of a university that I can be comfortable with, unlike the pretention of a place like Bedford Springs Resort. We will try to make it past Chicago tomorrow. It's a lovely sunset outside and the campus is quite and still.
green campus, plenty of room, and a 42" TV. We walk around the campus for a bit and then stop for a beer in a tavern with an actual beer garden and have a wonderful dinner (local cheese plate and pork chop) in a Tapas bar adjacent to the hotel. I wish we were spending more time here, but now I know where to stay if I ever come back to Cleveland. Something about the privilege of a university that I can be comfortable with, unlike the pretention of a place like Bedford Springs Resort. We will try to make it past Chicago tomorrow. It's a lovely sunset outside and the campus is quite and still.
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