My friend Darin says that, if you are within 50 miles of a dead president, you should detour to the grave to pay respects. Since the poor, short-termed William Henry Harrison is buried west of Cincinnati, I left the hotel by the river road this morning and visited his burial site high on a hill overlooking the Ohio River. I was the solitary visitor at this quiet little grave.
Harrison’s grave has not always been as well-tended. Take a look.
I judged the Carroll Classic show choir competition in Ft Wayne on Saturday, arriving there late on Friday evening.
Sunday included a trip over to I-75, then south to Dayton, to see Darin and his son Quintin. We laughed a lot, caught up on the news, and took in a portion of the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson AFB there.
Then I drove on down to Cincinnati, meeting Jim Helton, staying at a fabulous hotel, and seeing Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along at the Playhouse in the Park.
Today I drove through portions of Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri to arrive home.