
I miss two things about Ohio. One of them is the Blossom Music Festival, the summer home of The Cleveland Orchestra. We had season tickets and would attend outdoor symphony concerts nearly every hot, sticky summer weekend. We'd bring a picnic supper, sit on the grass or in the pavilion and get lost in the music. As darkness fell and the stars came out, the music would lift my soul to the heavens.
The other thing I miss about Ohio is getting lost on drives to Amish country in South-Central Ohio on crisp fall Saturdays. My ex-husband didn't care for the adventure, so I went by myself.
I would drive about 2 hours and reach the tiny towns of Sugar Creek and Berlin (pronounced BER-lin), turn right, and just meander down the country roads. If there was a tiny unpaved side street, I'd take it. I learned that these streets were the homes of Amish furniture, quilt and dry-goods stores.
I bought beautiful furniture, quilts for my beds, wonderful jams, mustards, sauces and incredible baked goods. My favorite were the amazing soft, huge molasses cookies with white frosting in one of the bakeries.
I also loved looking through the blacksmith shops that catered to farmers. I learned serious horsemen and women across the country relied on these shops to keep them in high-quality bridles, harnesses and saddles.
Once, I took an unexpected left turn, and drove and drove, only to come across an Amish funeral. I was mortified because I had interrupted the service. I backed up as quietly as possible and turned around when the road was wide enough.
And once, in the town of Berlin, I ate in a Main Street cafe that was popular with the tourist trade. All the waitresses had to dress in Amish clothing, but it was easy to spot the only real Amish young woman working in the restaurant. She used straight pins to hold her apron on, and close the neck of her dress. Her hair was perfectly swept into a bun on the top of her head, and the head covering was impeccably clean and starched ribbons hung down from the sides. She carried herself in such a way that I knew I had seen the embodiment of the word "grace". She was God's grace in human form.
The simplicity of the people, and their strong values were a comfort to me, especially when personal issues clouded my thinking in Cleveland.
And why doesn't' GPS work for me? Because none of these places are mapped by satellite, and a GPS system would not have shown me the random turns that would shift my consciousness.
Don't be afraid of getting lost. Because that, my friend, is where you may find a part of yourself.