The Murphy Method Blog

(Little to no bluegrass content!)

I have just this moment returned home from my very first mother-daughter vacation. It was so much fun that I can only hope there will be many more. And since Virginia Woolf said, “Nothing has really happened unless it has been recorded,” I will now proceed to make our vacation really happen!

The focal point of the five-day trip (Wednesday through Sunday) was to visit the RowHouse restaurant in Topeka, Kansas, which is owned and operated by one of Casey’s Nashville friends, Greg Fox. (You can find more about it at www.rowhouserestaurant.net.) We had also purchased tickets to see Chuck Berry perform in St. Louis on Wednesday night. In addition we had been looking forward to visiting the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum in southern Missouri, and perhaps catching a St. Louis Cardinals game on Sunday before we flew back.

All in all, a lovely vacation. But you know what they say. If you want to make God laugh, just tell Him (or Her) your plans.

There must have been guffaws in Glory when the Dixie Beeliners scheduled a photo shoot for Saturday morning at 9 AM in Abingdon, Virginia. (You will recall that the Beeliners recently hired Casey to play banjo. Copping out was not an option.) This required a drastic change in our agenda (Casey would drive her car, not fly), along with some heroic mental gymnastics as we worked hard to make lemonade out of lemons.

Long story short (as Bob Van Metre would say), everything turned out FINE and lemonade was made. We saw Chuck Berry, we ate a magnificent meal at the Rowhouse and got the Grand Tour from Greg, we stayed in cool places with four fluffy pillows on each bed, and we took a hike on the Appalachian Trail.

And the most mind boggling thing on the whole trip had to do with the hike. Which also has a tiny amount of bluegrass/Murphy Method content. (Logan is mentioned!)

After our wonderful dining experience in Topeka, Casey and I drove all day Friday (over 700 miles) to get back to Bristol, Tennessee/Virginia, which is the closest big city to Abingdon. After the photo shoot, we had the rest of the day to hang out, so Casey decided we should take a hike on the Virginia Creeper Trail, which was recommended by Brandy, the lead singer with the Beeliners. I was all for that, since my friend Robyn (who is Logan’s mother) and I have been hiking regularly these last few months, doing little bits of the Appalachian Trail which are close by.

After a lovely picnic lunch procured at the local Abingdon farmer’s market, Casey and I set out along the Virginia Creeper Trail, which we picked up in Damascus, Virginia, a few miles south of Abingdon. The flat trail was a converted railroad line (“Rails To Trails”) so it was easy walking. After about half a mile, we spied some steep wooden steps going off to our left, across the road and up the side of the mountain. We also saw white blaze marks. “It’s the Appalachian Trail,” Casey said. “Wanna try that?” Of course I did.

Aside: Casey and I had a small discussion about who should go first up the steps, which looked none too steady. Finally I said, “You go first. That way I can catch you if you fall.” She said, “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you!” She went first.

I was so excited about finding the Appalachian Trial that at the top of the steps I said, “I’m going to call Robyn right now so I can gloat about what we are doing.” Of course there was no signal.

So we walk for a short while and then we turn around and come back because basically I’m a novice hiker and can’t go very far….yet! As we walk back down the steps, I say, “I think I’ll text Logan and he can tell Robyn I’m hiking.” But again, no signal.

Then Casey and I are heading back into Damascus on the Virginia Creeper Trail which runs along a busy highway. We’re talking and minding our own business and trying to stay out of the way of bicycles coming up behind us when we hear a loud car horn. Someone is really laying into it. It is abrasive and disgusting. “What the hell is that?” I think. “Some local teenagers saying howdy to other local teenagers, I guess. Just like we used to do!” Still, I turn to look and see a small white car pulling off on the side of the road opposite us. I barely have time to register the license plate “Sojourner” when out pops…..Robyn! Followed by Logan and his sister Hannah.

“Murphy!” says Robyn. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Kansas!”

(I felt I should reply, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, “No, Robyn, we’re not in Kansas anymore!”)

Casey and I are completely astounded to see Robyn and company along this small road in Damascus, Virginia. Especially since I have twice said I wanted to call her. (Did my saying that conjure her up?) You gotta admit it’s weird.

As it turns out, Robyn has come down for Parents’ Weekend to visit Hannah who is in her first year at the nearby Emory and Henry College. (Actually, the college is ten or fifteen miles away.) But what are the chances of running into Robyn here? A million to one? What if we’d gone a little further up the trail? What if we’d stopped longer at any point? (Bluegrass content: Logan is wearing his Old Crow Medicine Show T-shirt!)

The strangeness is complicated by the fact that I am presently reading Traveling With Pomegranates, a book about a mother-daughter journey, by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor. Robyn introduced me to the writing of Sue Monk Kidd a few years ago by giving me the book Dance of the Dissident Daughter. Now, Robyn has come to visit her daughter and I am vacationing with my daughter. And I, who never travel without something to read, purposefully waited until I got to the airport to select a book for this trip, curious as to what the Universe might provide. A book about a mother-daughter journey. By a mother and daughter. I had no idea the book existed.

The story is almost over. Just one more thing.

Sunday morning, as Casey and I were leaving Abingdon, we stopped at a red light, fixing to turn left to pick up my rental car in the Kroger parking lot. Who should pull up alongside us on my right? It was Robyn. With Logan and Hannah. (I believe Logan had changed shirts, but could not swear to it!) As Robyn told us in the brief moment before the light turned, she had seen Casey’s Women in Bluegrass bumper sticker and said, “That can’t be Murphy.” But it was.

What does it all mean? I have no idea. But the word “synchronicity” keeps coming to mind. I’ll keep you posted.

Tags: Chuck Berry, Greg Fox, RowHouse Restaurant, synchronicity, vacation

This entry was posted on Monday, September 21st, 2009 at 7:51 am and is filed under By Murphy, General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.