The rocky coastline and the special appearance of the homes and buildings make seaside New England villages instantly recognizable. Those towns, with their gray-shingled structures and buoys bobbing off the coastline, have a kind of brand that Midwestern communities can never hope to attain. You see a picture and you can almost feel the cool breeze and smell the salt and marsh at the water’s edge.
This picture was taken from the fishermen’s dock, looking back at downtown Stonington, Maine.
America — and not just Minnesota, either — is a land of lakes. We love to fish their waters, zip across them on motorboats, whip them into rooster tails on our jet skis, and skim their surfaces on sailboats. We love to sit peacefully on the lakefronts, smell the watery scents of their shorelines, look across the ruffled surfaces, and feel the freshening breezes.
This photo was taken on the shores of Lake Erie, near Huron.
It’s the national pastime. For more than a century, professional baseball has been the focus of America’s leisure time attention during the summer months, when a fan can go to the old ball game, eat a hot dog, keep a scorecard, and root, root, root for the home team’s triumph. There is something comforting and nostalgic about the leisurely pace of the game, the familiar sounds coming from the field, and the buzz of the crowd.
This picture, with friendly and helpful ushers in the foreground, was taken while the Chicago White Sox took batting practice during our trip last month to Progressive Field in Cleveland, before the heavens opened.
Amusement parks are a big part of the American summer. Every year, millions of children of all ages travel to these asphalt-topped celebrations of speed and thrills to eat ice cream and cotton candy and cheeseburgers and then scream like banshees as we are flipped, twisted, turned, dropped, and soaked on the fastest roller coasters, the tallest Demon Drops, and wettest water rides. We’re Americans — it’s just what we do.
This photo was taken in the line for the Millenium Force at Cedar Point.
Of course, not all of America is picturesque scenery. In our capitalist economy, businesses are created, grow and thrive, and fail. Great factories are built, are filled with workers, manufacture products, and then are closed forever. Those relics of crumbling concrete and broken glass now stand abandoned in towns and cities across the land, reminders of the days when the America was booming and millions of blue-collar workers grabbed their lunch pails, walked to work, and produced the goods that made the American economy the envy of the world.
I’m not sure exactly where this abandoned factory is located — the photo was taken years ago, during a trip to look at potential colleges for Russell — but does it really matter? Similar scenes can be found in Anytown, U.S.A.
So much of our vast country remains wilderness. You can be only a few minutes outside a town, pull off the road, take a few steps down a trail, and suddenly find yourself in near-virgin wilderness.
This is especially true in the west. The photo above was taken just a minute or two outside Red Lodge, Montana, where we came upon this vista of bracingly cold rushing water, dark, cool shade under the green trees, and deep quiet on a hot summer day.
Paddle-wheel boats were a huge part of water-borne commerce in the United States in the 19th century and early 20th century, as they ferried passengers and cargo up and down American rivers and lakes. Now they are seldom-seen relics that have become too slow for most people and too expensive to maintain. Those that still operate cater mostly to passengers who want to experience a living piece of the past and ponder the days when the paddle-wheelers ruled the inland waterways.
It is always a treat to see one of these great ships that look like wedding cakes on water, as it churns the water and steams toward its destination. The Minne-ha-ha pictured above plies its trade on the waters of Lake George, New York.
In the vicinity of Custer, South Dakota, you will find the ongoing work on the Crazy Horse Memorial. The project has been underway for nearly 70 years, and it has been slow going. The photo above was taken when we took a trip out west six years ago. You can click here to see how the monument looks today and what the finished product, carved in the round, will look like.
Although the Crazy Horse Memorial is largely unfinished except for the face of the legendary war chief, it is impressive, both in size and in concept. Richard and Russell found it more awesome than Mount Rushmore. I think part of the impressiveness is that although the huge project has taken decades and is still far from completion, no one is giving up. The project is moving forward and taking shape, step by step. In an age that seems to prize instant gratification and speed over everything else, you could call it a tribute to American stick-to-it-iveness.
I love to drive, and I particularly love to drive west. That is because when you drive west from Ohio you can see the country change — gradually, to be sure, but inexorably. You roll through the remainder of the Great Lakes region and past the Mississippi River, and you see the land flatten out and dry out. Then rolling hills arise, and they become rockier and craggier. The vistas become more sweeping, and the horizon retreats into the far distance. And then, at some point, the last spots of green are bleached from the landscape, and suddenly you recognize that you are entering the great western American desert.
I love that moment when you realize that you are truly in the west, in the land of browns and buttes, with the ground dessicated and cracked and the outline of the craggy mountains in sharp relief against the blue sky. I think it is some of the most beautiful country you can find anywhere. This edge of the desert photo was taken in Wyoming.
Could any single object be more evocative of the American story than a wind-beaten, weathered wooden wagon, such as may have been used to help take settlers into the great western wilderness? This version of the classic American icon was found several years ago outside Cody, Wyoming.
The wharf in Oakland at Jack London Square was beautiful last September — bright with fluttering colored pennants, white sailboats, and blue sky.
How many Americans spend summer days on the water, working the rudder and sail, skimming across the water ahead of a fine warm breeze? One of these days, I need to learn how to sail.
How many small towns in America feature a waterfall? The waterfalls probably are the reason the town is there in the first place — they once turned a waterwheel that powered a mill wheel that ground grain or performed other functions that required water power.
This splendid example of a small town waterfall is found in the center of Wadhams, New York.
How many small towns in America have you driven through on summer vacations where a white clapboard church was a prominent part of the local scenery? In colonial days, and for more than a hundred years thereafter, a town’s local church was the center of activity and social life. Those churches typically were not grand, awesome structures, such as you might find in Europe, but instead were simple, small, and unassuming — three qualities that make them distinctive and attractive today.
This photo was taken last summer of the church in Omena, Michigan.
This photo was taken as we walked down the street in Red Lodge, Montana during our trip west some years ago, but it could have been taken just about anywhere in America’s heartland on a day in the high summer. It has the common elements of a brilliant blue sky, green grass, a barn, and a grain elevator reflecting the sky like a finely polished mirror.
Americans like to take road trips during the summer, and part of the attraction is the chance to stumble upon beautiful everyday scenes like this, which can be found just about anywhere in this land of ours.
Webner House 