On the drive down I-81 to southern Virginia, I passed four groups of Calvery crosses. It is gorgeous country nonetheless, and the Shenandoah mountains are at their peak of fall color. Oddly, it’s colder here than in Massachusetts, and it will dip below freezing tonight. I overshot my exit in Lynchburg and passed by Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University, shuddered involuntarily, and worked my way to the north end of the city where Randolf Macon Woman’s College lies in a pretty tree filled vale, enclosed by a four foot high brick wall.
My bed and breakfast host's speech is full of you-all’s, and she was alarmed that I had to be at a meeting at 8 the next morning. Is it going to be OK to feed me beforehand? "I won’t like it, but I’ll do it," she said brightly. "I can’t send you out without feeding you. It’s my job! I’d feel terrible!" Oh, that guilt-laced southern hospitality.
George, the other host, couldn’t help but comment on the cameras on my shoulder. "Those are serious," he said. I showed him my samples from other colleges. "You’re here to do pictures for the co-ed thing," he surmised. The RMWC board recently voted to admit men next year, to howls of protests. "You wouldn’t believe the reaction. They acted like it was the end of the world." Sounds about right for 20 year olds, I think.
I’m having a wonderful meal just steps from my lodging, at Shad’s on Rivermont Avenue. They serve a great Pinot Noir by the glass from a winery I’d never heard of, Patricia Green Winery in Oregon, and I just enjoyed some fabulous crab cakes, accompanied by grits, with green beans substituting for the spinach they’re still not serving. It’s the best meal I’ve had on this trip. It’s the best meal I’ve had in some time. I keep track of these things.
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