The Eastcoast Jam, Day 5

Happy to say that this was as nice a day as could be expected for a family of 6 in a single vehicle. Started out in Las Viagara, headed to Old Fort Niagara, where the Brits strung up the Frogs in and around 1759, then drove through some of the prettiest country I've ever experienced in western NY and PA. It was a wonderfully scenic drive, with golden and orange leaves covering the 350 miles.
Passed through Williamsport, PA, home of the Little League World Series. While I considered a stop at the museum, I was told "No" by the Mrs, I decided against it.

We're staying near Gettysburg, where we will do our best to string the kids along, while soaking in the solemn power of the place: for 3 days 160,000 clashed with 50,000 casualties, a turning point in the war, a turning point in the history of western civilization, and the catalyst for one of the most enduring collection of words crafted by man.

On a lighter note, we are in a 2-room cabin with the kids bunking in the back room (as opposed to sharing a single hotel room). We were looking forward to a bit of fermented ale. However, after stopping at a couple of gas stations in town which failed to carry such items, we have been forced to spend the evening drowning our proverbial sorrows into our blog posting. Apparently, in a fit of regulation, PA doesn't sell alcohol in convenience stores. That seems to prevent fulfillment of said nomenclature.

Conversations between modern Baptists:
Baptist_A: "You mentioned beer in one of your posts. So... you drink?"
Baptist_B: "I have a beer every once in a while (or maybe more, but that's none of your business, and who's counting anyway). And (feeling a surge of righteous independence that propels one to excessive explanations) I like red wine sometimes, but not white; it gives me a headache." (We'll leave out the bottle of Scotch and Margarita mix in the cabinet over the refrigerator).
Baptist_A: Noticing an ounce or three of defensiveness, "Oh, of course, No problem. I don't mind, I just never go into it."
Baptist_B rambles on: "I mean, I drink, but I don't (air quote) 'DRINK'. I'm not an alcoholic. I just have 1-2 every once in a while. I don't get drunk... you can have a drink or two without getting drunk... I don't even notice the effects of the alcohol."
Baptist_A: Enjoying the exasperated explanations of his recently-outed drunk friend while pretending he never intended to cause them.
Baptist_C: walking up, "What are you two talking about?"
Baptists_A&B: "Baseball"

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.