Tour Update - Antietam To Ashburn
There was time in the schedule to put the Dad in Dad Rock.
The Saturday morning sun broke gently into the living room of Jamie’s Harrisburg home where I had slept the night away. With only a short drive to the next gig, there was time for coffee and conversation. My new friends, Josh, Jamie, and I recapped the night before and raved about what a great host Maura was.
Within a few minutes, Jamie began telling me about the decade or so that she lived throughout Southeast Asia and the Pacific Rim. She was an avid scuba diver, and became an instructor at a variety of resorts and tour companies. During her travels she lived in Bali, Thailand, Fiji, and The Caymans, and more.
In spending just an hour or two with Jamie, it was clear that diving was the love of her life. It had taken her across the world, away from home when she needed it, and it taught her to be a confident version of herself. I was reminded that songs and stories are my scuba. I would never have heard that story or met those people if I had not been seeking out my own true love as well.
There were no set plans for my day, and I had only a two hour drive to the next show in Ashburn, Virginia. Josh remarked that Gettysburg was right on my way. We had talked about my love of history the night before, and he wanted to make sure I knew it was there for the taking.
While I had no idea that I would be driving right by, I knew we were close to Gettysburg. I’d visited twice before, and both times it was a great experience. However, I wanted to see something new, and I figured that I could easily get distracted enough at Gettysburg to nerd out to the point of having to rush to get to my show on time.
I pulled up a map and quickly realized that a visit to the hallowed grounds of Antietam were only a few minutes out of my direct path to the Lost Rhino in Ashland. I’d long wanted to see the battlefield at Antietam. It seemed today was the day to make it happen.
Slurping down my second cup of coffee, I packed my Moroccan carpet bag and hit the road. It was already steamy. The downpour from the previous night had collided with a new ripple of heat in the morning sun. The air felt swampy.
It was a leisurely 90 minute drive down to Antietam. While there is signage to lead the way to the battlefield, this had none of the Civil War as Disneyland experience that can happen at Gettysburg. Antietam is a quiet place; so very quiet.
The Antietam National Battlefield is run by the National Parks Service, which offers a driving tour, rangers at several stations around the site, and a series of videos for learning more at each stop on the route. I paid my $10, grabbed a map and headed back to the borrowed CRV.
Over the next two hours, I drove and strolled across the grounds of the bloodiest day in American history. On Sept. 17, 1862, more than 23,000 men were killed or wounded at Antietam. Throughout the ten stops of the driving tour, I found myself alone more than once. The calm and quiet of a peaceful Saturday afternoon felt like a haunting reminder of the horror of that day. While I could not see or hear the ghosts, I could feel them.
One ghost I felt in particular was my Dad. He and I had always been history buddies. The first time I visited Gettysburg, we went together. We had always talked about an Antietam visit. While I did not expect it to happen, I could feel his presence as I walked the sunken road and stood inside the Dunker Church. It felt good to have him with me.
There were a number of knowledgable park rangers and volunteers with whom I had great conversations. Thankfully, this sacred space has been preserved for the public good to maintain its history and legacy. There is a very large swath of land that is encompassed in this battlefield and the care and restoration that has gone into it is no small thing.
Standing in those fields and in the sunken road, I was reminded again of my fortune. I stood on soil that saw horrendous torment, and I managed to avoid being here in September of 1862 as a combatant. Yet, nothing more than time and fate made that possible. In those fields, I could feel the pull of what could have been if I had not been so lucky.
During my visit I texted with my friend and guest on the pod, Bill Boyle. One of Bill’s great great great (not sure how many greats) grandfathers was in the field across from the Dunker Church for more than nine hours that day. He survived, and according to Bill endured many more throughout horrors the war, though he managed to make it home without physical harm. After he got home, he apparently just didn’t talk about it. How could you?
Despite the horrific nature of that day, Antietam is now a spot where families picnic, or tube along Antietam creek under the Burnside Bridge. There are a number of historic farms preserved on the site as well. They are a bucolic remnant of a bygone era and and one terrible day in our shared history.
The remainder of my drive to Ashland and Lost Rhino Brewing was a gorgeous turn through Loudon County, VA. The area is known for its vineyards and horse farms. I traveled for more than an hour along two lane country highways that wound up and down some of the prettiest scenery I had encountered thus far on my trip.
As I pulled my rig into the venue parking lot, I felt grateful and incredibly happy about my day. There had been time for history, and even some leisure. I’d seen beautiful country and and had an unexpected visit from my old man. Now, I was going to see some friends, record a podcast and play a show. We were just getting started.
Cheers,
Matty C