You Can Never Go Back

"You can never go back," I heard them say.

At first I didn't believe those words.

"Of course, you can," I thought.

But over the years, I've proven myself wrong again and again. Several times, I've gone back to my childhood neighborhood in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Those yards and streets that once were filled with my young friends, most of whom were the children of professors at then Mary Washington College, were different from almost the moment we left. The city grew and sprawled out into malls and suburbia that overtook the farmland. My uncle's horse stable is gone, replaced by highways and businesses I never imagined would one day exist there.

"Hotel Del Cornado" ©Mary Montague Sikes

Even the places I've only visited change ever so quickly. A couple of years ago, I returned to the Hotel Del Coronado, a favorite destination from my book, Hotels to Remember. To my surprise and disappointment, the beaches looked different there. The sands were far more crowded than I remembered. But the sturdy old building was the same in many ways. For that, I was thankful.

Many of the hotels from my book are different now. Some changed their outside appearances before the ink was dry. One of my favorites, the Adams Mark St. Louis, was soon gone. I enjoyed looking from my hotel window, down on the outdoor art gallery below, so I was especially sad. Hilltop House in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia has been closed for several years, but a movement is underway to reopen it.

The children are gone; the landscape, changed; the hotels, different.

"You can never go back," they said.

"You can never go back," I agree.

Don't Hide Away in that Artist or Writer Studio

So often I am tempted to hide out beneath the skylights inside my bright and happy artist studio. Even more often, I want to stay to read and write in my writer's studio that overlooks our woods and West Point Creek.

That's a good thing, but as creatives, we can't hide out forever. It is important, perhaps essential, to get out and mingle with the world.

This past weekend, I visited Fredericksburg, Virginia where I grew up. It was satisfying to recognize Cornell Hill and remember how hard that street was to climb with short little legs en route to Lafayette Elementary School all those many years ago. It was poignant to drive along Sunken Road where I once found tennis balls lost over the fences from the college tennis courts. We lived for several years on the next street below the college, and I made lots of friends with children of the professors. Many tears were shed when we moved away to a little town so very different from that city. Years later, I returned to attend Mary Washington College (now the University of Mary Washington) and felt very much at home on those city streets where I played as a child.

"Alumni Weekend with Lee Hall (UMW)" ©Mary Montague Sikes

I enjoyed driving through the campus and then getting to meet folks I knew mostly through e-mails exchanged over the past few years. The college bookstore carries my novels, so I've gotten to know Margaret Mock because of them. It was good to meet Mark Thaden in person for the first time. Mark is Executive Director of Alumni Relations at UMW, so I've had contact with him from time to time. A book signing was part of the Alumni events, and I was delighted to meet Kristen Green, author of Something Must Be Done About Prince Edward County, a book I had to buy because of parallels in my own area of Virginia.

"Margaret Mock and Kristen Green at book signing" ©Mary Montague Sikes

After the book signing, we drove for over two hours to reach my next destination for the day, the Mathews Bay School in Mathews. That was the location of a fun event by the artist and writer members of Chesapeake Bay Pen Women. These imaginative women chose paintings, sculpture, prose, and poems to serve as "seed" works to which other writers and artists would create response pieces. The result was a gallery devoted to writing and artful beauty.

"Looking at the Pen Women Collaboration Show" ©MMSikes

With my sculpture seed project.

Even though there was extra travel involved, the Saturday events emphasized to me once again the importance of leaving the studio sometimes. Hide out there when you can, but enjoy the company of others occasionally as well.

Air Race Classic Promotes Women in Aviation and Brings Back Memories

More than 50 airplanes lined the taxiways of the Stafford Regional Airport, located a few miles across the Rappahannock River from the historic City of Fredericksburg VA. At the start of the 39th annual Air Race Classic on Monday, June 22, the paved areas and the Terminal Building bubbled with excitement . A group of young girls from Alabama, along with their adult leaders, watched with enthusiastic interest as each plane took off. Some of them dreamed of one day flying in this race.

My husband and I were among the spectators. Because I was born in the old Mary Washington Hospital near the edge of the Rappahannock in Fredericksburg and because I spent my early years exploring the town, I was especially excited that our adventurous daughter, Alicia, was part of the race that started nearby. After all the planes took off, we decided to go to Fredericksburg and visit some of the places I remember from long ago.

We strolled along Caroline Street and peered through windows of the many antique shops that were not yet open. The Griffin, a bookstore where I've had several book signings and even an art show once, featured signs for its "retirement sale". Sad, but that's the way it is in the world of books. Sammy T's where we've dined in the past was not yet open for the day. We looked at the menu posted near the door and went on to the Visitors Center to learn about area art galleries. Because it was Monday, none of them were open that day. Next, we ambled down a side street to Sophia Street that edges the muddy Rappahannock.

Everything is old in that part of Fredericksburg. We paused at the back of the old Lafayette School that when I attended still had floors stained with blood from usage as a hospital during the Civil War. It's now a library, and I wondered what the floors are like. As a first grader, I walked 12 blocks from our home located in the block next to the entrance gate to Mary Washington College (now the University of Mary Washington). Sunken Road where thousands of soldiers died during that war is the street by the college. Along the way to school, I walked past the Confederate Cemetery and Kenmore, famous from Revolutionary War times. My mother loved Kenmore, and I went with her when she served tea to visitors during Garden Week. We drove past the house I lived on Franklin Street. It was like I remembered it but smaller. The house next door looked the same, but the street itself appeared much narrower with houses closer than I remembered from the eyes of a child.

Since none of the restaurants on Caroline Street were open during mid-morning hours, we went into Goolrick's Pharmacy and ordered drinks and salads. A sign said the business has been in operation since 1867. The chrome and red stools along the counter brought back memories of childhood days when I ordered ice cream cones there and sat on similar seats.

Memories from my childhood were both sad and wonderful. I loved my friends and remember now that most were children of college professors. How depressing it was for me when my family moved away, and I had to leave them and the comfort zone of my hometown.