upstate

Our Memorial Day weekend was certainly memorable. Productive, too, as I, for one, was able to check several things off of my bucket list.

We started our weekend a day early -- at 4:00 am Friday morning, to be precise, when we pulled out of Brooklyn and headed north. We stopped for a quick breakfast in Scranton, PA (thinking fondly as we ate of those fictional Dunder Mifflin employees we love so much), then continued up the road to the now nonexistent settlement of Harmony (currently known as Oakland), Pennsylvania, to see the site where, on the banks of the Susquehanna River, the Aaronic Priesthood was restored to Joesph Smith. A nice memorial has been built, but all that is left of the home where Joseph and Emma lived is a small foundation. Immediately next door is an old cemetery where both Emma's parents and her infant son are buried. It was rainy and muddy and cold, so we didn't linger, but I was glad we took the short detour to make this stop.

A few more hours up the road and some stunning views of the Fingerlake District later, we arrived at the Peter Whitmer Farm in Fayette (now known as Waterloo), New York. Next door to the homestead is the beautiful Fayette Chapel, which was designed to match the style of other churches built in the early 19th century. It was here, in the Visitor Center wing of the building, where our missionary-led tour started. It was also here where Caleb threw a glorious tantrum that ended in a self-inflicted time out on the couch.

The Whitmer home, for those who don't know, is the site where, on April 6, 1830, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was formally organized. Fifty to seventy people crowded into the tiny home as the first orders of church business were conducted. Although the home is not original, the spirit felt there as we were reminded of the miracles that took place on this land was real and strong.

Next on our list were the remaining church history sites in Palmyra, New York. We first visited the Grandin Print Shop where the Book of Mormon was first printed. This tour was a pleasant reminder of my brief book-binding days.

 Notice the ink stains on the wall. Those are all original.

Next stop was the Smith Family homestead. Our sister missionary tour guide was Italian and spoke with a very thick accent. Consequently we didn't understand much of what she told us as she took us through the log home, the original frame home, and the accompanying threshing barn. But that was okay, since stories of the events that happened here, from the nighttime visits of the Angel Moroni to the Golden Plates safely hiding under the hearth bricks, were pretty ingrained in our memories anyway.

Our guide said goodbye to us as we neared the entrance to the Sacred Grove, which I really appreciated. Walking through those woods was something I wanted to do quietly as a family. And then the small but incredibly meaningful miracles began in earnest. Miracle #1: The rain, which had been falling all day, finally stopped. Miracle #2: The boys, who got a stern talking to from Blake in the restroom before we entered the grove, not only finally behaved themselves (it had been a long, rough day with them up to this point), but even walked reverently the entire way through. These two combined made for exactly the kind of experience I was hoping for as we walked through the Sacred Grove.

Before we left the neighborhood of the Smith homestead, we drove by the Palmyra temple, which is about a half-mile away on the original Smith family property.

Our last church history stop was the Hill Cumorah. Because we were tired, we opted out of the guided tour and, in fact, skipped the visitor's center altogether. We climbed up the [unbelievably steep] hill, admired the the monument at the top as well as the beautiful view, then headed back down to begin our search for dinner.

My favorite part of the day was, hands down, our visit to the Sacred Grove, but if you asked Garrett what his was, he'd tell you without skipping a beat that it was the hotel stay. It was nothing extravagant, but it had a pool, which he and his brother were dying to swim in (even though neither of them can swim or are particularly brave when carried to the "flooded part," which is Garrettese for "deep end"). It was also a place where you could watch cartoons in bed and pick whatever you wanted from the buffet at breakfast. They were both in heaven. In fact, on our drive home, Garrett spontaneously said to me, with a sigh of longing in his voice, "Mom, I love you, but I really want to live at the hotel."

If the hotel was their first love, Denny's was their close second. There was one next door to the Holiday Inn where we stayed, which made it a convenient stop for dinner after our long day of sightseeing. The boys loved picking their meal from their extensive kid's menu, and asked after we'd finished if we could eat there again sometime. Unfortunately, we don't live near a Denny's, but that wouldn't stop them from asking. The next day around dinnertime, as we were driving back home, the boys requested that we eat at "the Denny's by the hotel" again. That obviously was not going to happen, but we did check the GPS to see if we were near any. The closest one was about an hour away, but that didn't deter them. They waited -- and very willingly -- until we reached it, and once we got there perused the menu for something new to try. I get the feeling that this will be the pit stop of choice on future road trips.

The next morning, after filling ourselves full of the continental breakfast, we checked out of Garrett's beloved hotel and headed west toward Niagara Falls. Through a series of texts en route, we coordinated with some Brooklyn friends, the Durhams, who were also spending their holiday weekend upstate, to meet up at the Falls where we arranged to ride the Maid of the Mist together. The boys were excited for a boat ride, but two of them probably wouldn't have been had they realized the soaking they were in for. Niagara Falls was even more breathtaking than I imagined it would be, and I'm so glad we made the trek to see them. My only disappointment was that the lens of our camera got a little wet and so a lot of our pictures turned out blurry. I guess we might have to go back someday.

We started the journey home right after we saw the falls because, really, how could you top that? As we wound our way through the tree-covered hills ("mountains"?) of upstate New York, I commented how pretty it was and asked the boys what differences they could identify between there and our home in Brooklyn. "Here is a jungle!" Caleb said, his voice brimming with awe as he took the view in. Comparatively speaking, I suppose it is. I could also interpret his comment to mean that we need to get away more, which I wholeheartedly agree with. There is a lot of this part of the country that I still want to see, and I'm already starting to dream about where we should spend the long 4th of July weekend (Pennsylvania? Boston? The possibilities are endless, really). After all, I'm sure the boys would love another night in a hotel and another meal at Denny's.