Reflecting on Grief, Loss, and Being 23

     "Write hard and clear about where it hurts." - Ernest Hemingway. A quote I had come across some months ago, immediately knowing it would play a role in how I was to proceed forward with my life. Although my published work is primarily fact based and focuses on an outer topic of my choosing, at my core, I am a deeply emotional person who often craves the outlet of deeply emotional writing. Being neurodivergent, I struggle to communicate my thoughts and emotions to others. Speaking the words does not come easily, or at all. If any unkempt emotion begins to slip, a teary meltdown will often ensue. I attempt to deal with most of my baggage alone, not tolerating the feeling of being perceived and analyzed by others very well. Although, with the state of my being, and overall my life, continuing my relentless attempt to write my best work without allowing any slippage or room for my reality has begun to feel not only unsatisfactory, but inauthentic. 

     I explained this feeling during a front porch conversation with my best friend Aliyah as the sun went down one evening a few months back. She had been living out of state for a couple of years, and in November, she decided it was time to come home. It worked out well for her to move in with me, and I'm glad she did. Up until this point, I had been living alone for a few years, which had its ups and downs. Thankfully my parents live close and help with my support needs, both mental and physical health wise. Overall I had made it work, although not easy, until September came. I had been doing well for a lot of 2023 and the first half of 2024, but things began to come crashing down, consecutively and quickly. 

    On September 22nd, my grandfather died. I would say it was somewhat unexpected, although he was 89 years old. Pneumonia, and ultimately sepsis, is what got him. He was only majorly ill for a couple of days, decidedly dying as if it had been a scheduled departure. Perhaps it was, just not for us. He was a Godly man, and undoubtedly ready for whenever this day came. I suppose I never would've been. From the hospital to the funeral, the experience was surreal, somewhat a blur. My grandpa and I were extremely close. Biologically, we aren't related. My grandparents chose me, knowing about my lack of close and living family. They have given me the purest love I have ever known, and it is because of them that I understand what "family" really means. I'm no stranger to grief, but have managed to find a sense of normalcy after a loss with time. I can't say I've found that yet when it comes to my grandfather.

    Less than two months had passed when my great aunt Irene died on November 7th. She had been declining for a few months, so this wasn't a shock per say. Irene was 100 years old, and the prized matriarch of our family. Her story is an amazing one, a century of passion and courage. Like my grandparents, Irene chose me too. She is my step father's aunt, who played a large part in his raising. Since my mother and step father's marriage began when I was freshly nine years old, Irene made it a point to ensure I was included, and valued equally. I never felt like the step child with her. She was eclectic and creative, working on sewing and crochet projects up until her passing. I love that about her. Every year she would call me on my birthday, never missing the occasion until this most recent birthday of mine. My birthday is November 6th, and by that time, she had slipped into a permanent sleep-like state. I held my breath, knowing what was to come. Irene passed away in the very early morning hours of November 7th. "She waited". My mother gently spoke to me. I nodded in agreement, noting how Irene never did want to inconvenience anyone. 

    It was at Irene's funeral service that I heard my grandfather's voice again for the first time since his passing. My grandparents were career musicians, and for a time, my step father was their drummer. Irene was fond of my grandparents and their music, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that one of their gospel recordings was chosen for the service. The song began and the crowded room was quiet. I bowed my head nearly into my knees as I braced for impact. It was the most bittersweet of bullets, surely. I kept my head low, focusing on my breathing and channeling the tears into a tissue. On my way out of the building after the service, a passing staff member shot me a look of recognition, and then one of sympathy, as he realized that I had been mourning at the home just a month earlier. 

    Soon it was December. My dog, Tippy, had been slowing down for some time. My Dad and I adopted her from the local shelter when I was in the 6th grade, also around Christmas time. The volunteers told us she was some sort of terrier, but it was her big, clunky feet that gave her away. Tippy was actually a Belgian Malinois, a breed commonly used as police K-9s. She was big, full of energy, and my best friend. By this time, her eleven years had begun to show, although I'll admit that I thought she had more time. On the morning of the 2nd, I had found her in the yard, unable to move under her own power. I called my Dad, who carried her inside. We gave her immense amounts of love as we waited to take her to the emergency vet appointment we had made. When it was time for her to go, I watched my father carry her out the door. By this time, Aliyah had come home from work, only moved in for about two weeks. "I don't think she's coming back." I said to her as I began to break down. "I know." She said, trusting my intuition and holding me as I cried. Sadly, my intuition was correct.

    Although my faith is being tested beyond measure, and more questions fill my mind by the day, I couldn't help but feel it was not a coincidence that my friend had moved in two weeks earlier. In all the time I had spent alone, I was never really alone since I had Tippy. There was really no matter of life that I hadn't experienced with her by my side. She had been there for everything. She helped me learn to do my makeup, navigate puberty, comforted me through heartbreaks. She was there when I received my high school diploma in the mail, and the first time I got accepted to write for a real magazine. Most importantly, she was at the door to greet me with excitement every time I returned home. The silence in the void she left behind was deafening. Had Aliyah not been there to fill it, I don't know how I could've survived it. I know in my heart she was lead to be here, for this, at this time. 

    In the time between then and now, I've lost a childhood sweetheart to violent crime, a high school friend to a car accident, and a pet parakeet, Chiquita. Granted, perhaps not as life altering for me, but salt in the wound nonetheless. I had always had an urge to write out the baggage I was carrying, but always seemed to find it too difficult to follow through with. I yearn for a break from the grief wherever I can find it, which has lead me to be avoidant in several ways. If I were to write all this down, I would have to look it in the face, which I really did not want to do. I am tired of being followed and harassed by the looming dark cloud. I struggle greatly through each day as it is. I kept running, until my sparring partner, grief, had cornered me again.

    I'm writing this on the night of August 6th, going into the morning of August 7th, 2025. On the morning of August 3rd, I awoke to a text from my mom. "Are you awake?" it read. I had my suspicions at that point that something had happened. "Yeah, what's up?" I reply. The phone rings. It's her. I answer, and she delivers the news that our beloved neighbor had passed away. Living on my own now, I didn't see him as frequently as I once did, though he had played a major role in my life. His name is Gay, a funny, compassionate man who told amazing stories and looked like Santa Claus. I was just beginning the 4th grade when my mom, step father, and I moved next door to Gay and his wife, lovingly nicknamed "Cookie". Gay has a garage building out behind their home, where he would hang out most days. After school and on summer days, I'd spend time with Gay in his garage, learning about history, cars, and Pink Floyd. He always had a stash of treats in the freezer, especially those red, white, and blue bomb pops in the summer. Being a quirky kid, I didn't always feel like adults liked to have me around. I always worried I would be perceived as strange, or annoying. Gay never made me feel that way. He treated me as one of his own grandchildren, and I'll hold those memories forever.

    Jumping back to that front porch conversation with Aliyah a few months ago, I expressed the feelings of grief and discomfort that had been keeping me from writing and creativity. "Write about the pain". She said. Reassuring me that it's okay to do so, which I needed with the way I get so lost in my own head. She didn't know about the Ernest Hemingway quote of similar nature that has stuck with me from months before. I noted her advice and felt it was clear that I am meant to put the pain on paper, yet still found it so hard to do so. I have felt stuck in this hamster wheel situation, until today. It was Gay that finally broke the dam withholding my words. Despite the grief, because of his unique character, I found it easy to talk about Gay. I wanted to talk about Gay. That's a feeling and opportunity that I couldn't allow to go to waste, which brings me here, to the near end of this year long, pent up word vomit. 

    The last time I spoke to Gay was following aunt Irene's funeral. He had come over to the house to give his sympathy and comfort the family. I'm glad he did, as Gay always knew how to lighten the air and make others laugh. He and Irene were good friends, as they both were with everyone. He upheld his usual mission to smile and nurture, but I know he was sad too. Although not closely, Gay and my grandfather knew each other as well. They spoke highly of one another and admired the work of each other's careers. Sometimes I'll envision the three of them meeting in the afterlife. "Heaven", "paradise", "the other side". Whatever you'd like to call it, I believe they're there. I imagine them greeting one another familiarly and discussing their journey, their new life in this fleshless realm. I think of what the reunion will be like when it is my turn.

    I've spent the last year learning how to cope, and continue to get up, even when it feels as if no progress has been made. Most days are still difficult. I hope that in the future I will be able to write to you all with good news of my improvement and wisdom I've gathered along the way. I'm simply not there yet. However, I still feel that there is meaning to writing in the midst. Pain of the mind has a way of being poetic, all while being relentless in its doing. Most of history's finest literature comes from the gut wrenching pains of the human experience. Is it not the deep contrast in the darkness that makes life's elements of light more vibrant? I can't deny the truth in that, however I also cannot deny that a mindset of the highest gratitude is one not easily achieved. The road to this understanding is often littered by intense trials, and profound loss.

    I'm thankful to have reminders of my passed loved ones among my surroundings. I worried that these things could be a trigger for me, but I've found that isn't the case. They bring my home an element of comfort that it has been lacking for some time. When they catch my eye, I take a moment to stop and reflect. I reflect on the person, our memories, and the relationship we had. Most times I'll get that feeling that their spirit is nearby. I smile, often with tears welling in my eyes. Loss has come with at least one silver lining, the feeling of added protection and a near constant element of spiritual companionship. 

    I have several photos of my grandfather and I throughout the house. I sit in his old recliner chair and imagine the hugging feeling is coming from his body, or even simply his being. In my office/art studio, I keep Irene's cookie tin of craft supplies, including her works in progress. On top lay her latest crochet project, hooks still intertwined in the yarn. I think I'll frame it that way. On a living room shelf sits a framed photo of Tippy, her collar hung onto the corner. Next to it, her favorite toy, a spiky rubber ball. In my bedroom a beautiful snow globe sits on my dresser. When you wind it up, it plays a song, and glitter snow flutters down on two playing children. Gay gave it to me when I was young. 

    These accompany the other memories strung about my home, many also tied to earlier losses. My great-great-grandmother's dishes, photos on the fridge of my great grandparents, a memory collage of a best friend whom I lost to cancer four years ago. Before my mother-in-law passed in July of 2023, she gave me a ten dollar bill. I never spent it. It still sits on my desk where its been since the day I brought it home. When I look at these now, I often experience more gratitude than sorrow. That keeps me optimistic about healing. 

    Grief comes with many side effects, heightening anxiety and creating anticipatory grief. I've been fumbling through each day attempting to deal with this within the confines of my own mind. I began therapy, changed medications, tried to blind myself with activities I once found enjoyable. These are good things and I will continue with them, but I've come to the realization that above all, I need to write myself through it. This wasn't a part of my "professional" plan, but clearly a part of a greater one. I had convinced myself it is important to base my writing topics on what my readers would likely find the most interesting. "Find your niche, hustle, and monetize, or you won't make it as a writer today." The "professionals" say. Any writing I have done and published is authentic and something I'm passionate about, but it doesn't cover all of what my heart yearns to write and share.

    Going forward, a lot of my writing will be deeply personal. I really enjoy writing on the topics with a hook or flashy headline, but within me there is much, much more, and I feel the need to share it. My grief, life lessons, memories, and family stories may not grab the attention of the average reader, and that's okay. What may be underwhelming to some, I know will sit well with others like me. I suppose I did name the blog in reference to being my diary after all. Writing this way may not secure my chances to "make it" as a writer, but at this point in my life, I'm finding what I need to do to "make it" in general. Aside from grief and loss specifically, although typically part of the process, I'm finding my early 20s to be quite a difficult age to navigate. I know this is the case for many, and that does make me feel better. 

    If you've made it this far, I just want to say thank you. The company and encouragement of my readers lends me a sense of comfort and community, something I seek so desperately these days. I will conclude this post here, as I'm feeling a bit of weight off of my chest. There will be more writing to come as I hash my way through my overgrown jungle of a mind. Whatever it is that my mind needs to release and reflect on, it will be. Thank you for reading and being a friend, I'll talk to y'all soon.

 

 

 

The Metropolis That Never Was | Future City, Illinois | Small Town Saturday

 

Bruce School in Future City, IL, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello friends, welcome back to the blog. This week, I want to share with you the community of Future City, Illinois. Future City is located in Alexander County, a part of the "Little Egypt" region of southern Illinois. Founded as a predominantly African American suburb of nearby Cairo, Illinois, Future City first appears on the map in the early 1900s. It was a quickly growing community, and citizens felt optimistic about their young town's future. As a result, the hamlet was given a name that promised prosperity. At this time, neighboring Cairo was experiencing rapid growth, with a population nearing 13,000 by 1900, and exceeding 18,000 in 1905. (I will elaborate further on Cairo in a future series!) This was great news for Future City, and citizens were confident that progress was on the way to their town. 

    Seen in the photo above is Bruce School, the most iconic structure in Future City. Bruce School was opened in 1908, and operated until 1968, according to a local. According to The Cairo Bulletin in 1905, Future City had 200 students attending their schools, nearly all of whom attended the Garrison School. Several newspaper articles reveal that Future City had multiple schools, which were racially segregated, with a separate school being constructed for black pupils in 1907. In 1908, Bruce School was completed and seems to be the first, possibly only school for black children built within Future City proper. The previous school sat about a mile north of town, a long walk for children who were undeserving victims of discrimination. Another school that existed in Future City was Ruth School House, where many residents took shelter after the catastrophic flooding in 1912. Other articles mention schools by the name of Elmwood and Woodside existing around this time as well. In addition, an orphan home would also be opened for black children in Future City.

    After Bruce School's closure, the building would serve as a bar or nightclub under various names and owners for many years. Some of the names associated with the building are the Stork Club, Captain Joe's, The Long Branch Saloon, or Lambert's Lounge. As a nightclub, the former school would build quite the reputation of violence, gambling, and even rumors of prostitution. In spite of this, many locals share fond memories of their time at the nightclub. Some tell of local musicians filling the room with their sweet sound, and dancing until daylight broke. Others recall playing game after game of pool with friends and family. Almost all residents can share fond memories of the owners over the years.

Future City, IL, (Shiloh Baptist Church on far right) taken by Jennie Moore

    Within the first leg of Future City's existence, many amenities came to town, confirming the potential that citizens had seen from the beginning. Future City had homes, churches, stores, gas stations, lodges, and a growing population which had reached 992 in 1905, a 42% increase from the 1900 census. The town saw new jobs, and heavy railroad activity, which included a trolley line that was extended into Future City and neighboring communities. Soon it became apparent that more space for residents was needed, so the village was expanded by adding new streets. Future City was home to The Three States Gun Club, a lumber mill, a steam powered grist mill, and even their own baseball team! By 1910, Future City even had its own mayor, a man by the name of Mr. Kuntz. Things were going according to plan, until one of the things that made Future City so beautiful, turned against its people. 

An article from The Cairo Bulletin from July 19th, 1905.

     Future City, along with neighbor Cairo, sit at the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. The elevation in this peninsula is quite low, only 312 feet in Future City, in contrast to state of Illinois average of about 600 feet. Although great for agriculture thanks to its fertile soil, this region is constantly under the gun, as floods come frequently. In the spring of 1912, tragedy would strike Future City. Flood waters, peaking at 54 feet in Cairo, ravaged the community and left residents sleeping in tents where their homes used to be. Just previous to this, in 1911, a fire consumed two blocks of Future City, destroying four grocery stores and the homes of 25 families. However, the town recovered from the two incidents, was quickly rebuilt, and citizens proved their resilience. Things were looking up, but less than a year would go by before mother nature began to rear her head again.

An article from The Cairo Bulletin, acknowledging local heroes who sprung into action after the flooding in 1912.

        As previously mentioned, Future City and Cairo's location at the confluence of two major rivers, is both a blessing and a curse. The Great Flood of 1913 took place in March of said year, and left behind immense damage in 21 states. From March 23rd to March 27th, most of the Midwest had seen near constant rain. Both the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers would flood, causing catastrophic damage to Ohio and Mississippi Valleys, including many notable cities. The Cairo peninsula being at the meeting point of these two waterways, meant that they were in for double impact. While cities to the north had began seeing flood waters recede on March 28th, waters did not reach peak height in southern Illinois until April 4th-8th, measuring in at a record smashing 54.7 feet in Cairo, which has only been surpassed twice in the 111 years since then. 

Flood of 1913 aftermath in Future City, photographer unknown

    As a result of these events, Future City was left unrecognizable. Cairo faired better, but not by coincidence. During the flood of 1912, the levees around Cairo were compromised. As waters began to rise during The Great Flood of 1913, immediate action was required to preserve the city. Residents of Future City were recruited to assist with sandbagging and reinforcing the levees surrounding Cairo. This would prove to be effective, as Cairo avoided total destruction, but this left a grim fate for defenseless Future City. At this time, 214 structures stood in Future City. As flood waters cascaded into the village, these structures were swept away from their foundations, and deposited messily throughout the landscape. A fleet of motorboats, manned by the Illinois National Guard and led by Cairo's own  mayor, soon arrived in Future City to help. Accounts tell that the National Guard had come with ropes, which were tied around misplaced structures, pulled back into town, and secured to trees to prevent them from floating away once more. Although none were on their correct lots, an impressive 168 of the 214 structures in Future City were saved thanks to their tireless efforts. One waters receded, the structures were able to be moved back to their original locations. Overall, The Great Flood of 1913 was still devastating for Future City, and is often considered the trigger of the town's decline. 

An article from The Cairo Bulletin detailing the flood aftermath as well as reconstruction.

Future City, 1931

    Despite Mother Nature's relentless wrath, the people of Future City persisted. The town never fully recovered from The Great Flood of 1913, but to say Future City's story ends here as many do, would be an injustice. The truth is, although declining, Future City remained populated for decades, and is still home to a handful of families today. Although, it is hard to ignore the deliberate neglect of Future City by local government that had taken place over the course of decades. Future City and surrounding rural areas would be of the last in Illinois to have a mail route implemented. Also, Future City requested for incorporation countless times during the early 1900s, all of which would be denied.

A newspaper article in The Cairo Bulletin from April 26th, 1904, detailing the fight for incorporation.

    An interesting fact about Future City, is that it was never a true stranger to the term "ghost town". During cotton season, a large portion of Future City's population would leave their homes and travel south to pick said cotton for work. As we know, this was extremely labor intensive, and a reminder that black Americans were working on plantations long after the abolishment of slavery. This was mostly due to slim options in the work force as a result of racial discrimination. Even children would partake in the grueling work, with school attendance being noticeably low in active cotton season.

Future City, IL, taken by Jennie Moore

    When researching the people of Future City, something I saw frequently, were draft cards. Several citizens of the town served in the military, especially during World War II. It seems that the children of Future City were instilled with bravery, knowledge, and the desire to help others. When duty called, many from Future City answered that call. We have them, along with the community and culture that raised them, to thank for the freedom we have today. They are among the massive population of African-American veterans that never got the credit and respect they deserve. This honor isn't exclusive to just military however, there have been many upstanding citizens of Future City who had impressive careers.

Donald Lee Purchase (1929-2018), resident of Future City, in Military attire. Purchase was only 18 years old when enlisted to fight in WWII. He is laid to rest at Jefferson Barracks.

Dr. Nathel "Nat" Burtley (1940-2020), resident of Future City, pictured in the 1962 Southern Illinois University yearbook. Burtley later relocated to Flint, Michigan, where he served as the Superintendent for Flint Community Schools District.

Rev. Harold (1909-2000) and Helen (1913-1975) Clemons. Harold was born in Future City, and Helen was from Southern Illinois as well. Harold served in the Military during World War II, was a trucker, and also owned & worked "Harold Clemons Dairy" in the Cairo area at the time he joined the military in 1940. 

The Cawood (sometimes spelled Caywood) Family, from left to right; Sarah "Sadie" (1889- unknown, but no earlier than 1950), Jacob Nelson (1861-1940), Eliza Ellen (1864-1942) (Stewart) Cawood. Sarah is the daughter of Jacob and Eliza. The Cawoods were originally from Indiana, but made the move to Future City sometime between 1900 and 1920. Jacob Cawood was a teamster (an early version of a trucker), among other labor intensive jobs. The couple resided in Future City until their deaths in the early 1940s.

    Today, Future City is quiet, with little to show for its once thriving past. However, anyone from a small community like Future City, knows that the true town identity lies in its people. Future City tells an account of perseverance, community, and the fight for racial equality. It is in places like these where we see the heart, strength, and resilience of black Americans. These communities hold the key to the progress we have seen in the past century, and should be a motivator for us to push for the progress we still have yet to gain. Places like Future City were only the beginning, and we still have so far to go. Let us learn from their stories, to push for an even better, equal, and safe future in America for all.

The World's Tallest Stone Structure - Washington Monument, Washington D.C. | Landmark Landing

 

View from the base of the Washington Monument, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello everyone, welcome back to the blog! When I was 14, I went on a school trip to Washington D.C. It's something I'm incredibly grateful for, as my parents worked so hard to raise the money for me to go. My mom agreed to be a chaperon, so I could still take the trip in spite of my health issues. It was an incredible experience, and I remember those days so clearly. Washington D.C. is a paradise for an American history nerd like me, so I took tons of photos. I've decided it was time to begin sharing those photos and experiences from the trip, as it would be a waste not to document them as I do my other travels. In this post, I'm beginning with the Washington Monument, a D.C. icon that everyone in the states will recognize.  

View of Washington Monument from WWII Memorial, taken by Jennie Moore

    It is no secret that a major pillar in the United States' origin story is Founding Father, Army Commander, and first President, George Washington. Although smaller monuments had been placed to honor Washington during his life, it was shortly after his death that his peers and admirers suggested a much more substantial monument be built to properly honor America's hero. There would be several snags in this early process however, delaying any progress on the proposition until 1833. Several design changes took also place during the conceptualization of the monument, due to oppositions and lack of funds, delaying the process even further. Then, the Washington National Monument Society decided they would hold a design contest to determine what their monument would become. With the most approval from the society, the highly skilled South Carolina born architect, Robert Mills wins this contest. Further changes would be made to Robert's design due to additional hiccups, but the final design was set in stone (no pun intended) in 1848, with the cornerstone being laid the same year.

  

Unfinished Washington Monument c.1860, taken by Mathew Brady

    Construction took place from 1848 to 1854, when more issues began to arise. Low funding, an ownership battle, and the American Civil War halted progress on the monument, leaving it unfinished for years at around 1/5 of its intended height. Following the Civil War, the design of the monument was changed again to match the proportions of a true Egyptian Obelisk, the inspiration behind Mills' design. Construction resumed once more in 1879, and thanks to government funding, the monument would finally be completed in 1884, with it being opened to the public in 1888. At this time, the Washington Monument was the tallest building in the world, but was later dethroned by the Eiffel Tower.  Today, the Washington Monument is still the tallest stone structure in the world, (coming in at 555.5 feet), the tallest building in Washington D.C., and the world's largest obelisk! 

Nighttime view of the Washington Monument from the Lincoln Memorial, taken by Jennie Moore

    What you may not know (and I didn't even know at the time I visited), is that we could've lost the Washington Monument, and came far too close to it. On August 23rd, 2011 at 1:51pm, a 5.8 magnitude earthquake struck the nation's capitol. Thankfully, no casualties were reported, but several were left injured, and the quake caused up to 300 million dollars in damage. Aftershocks came one after another, one even being a 4.5 magnitude. This earthquake was a record breaker in several ways, with approximately 1/3 of Americans feeling the initial quake, and even causing the evacuation of the Pentagon. 

    Things were not well at the Washington Monument either, as visitors were touring the tower at the time. Those in the observation deck (a small room at the very top with windows to view the city) were thrown around, while others were struck by falling mortar and stone. Miraculously, the monument's elevator had just reached the bottom when the shaking began. No serious injuries were reported among the people, but the same could not be said about the monument itself. Several cracks had formed throughout, pieces of stone were broken, mortar joints had failed, and there was a clear debris field around the Monument. For several years after, the monument would spend time periodically closed for various, tedious repairs. Thanks to the dedication and craftsmanship of the repairmen, the Washington Monument is standing proudly today, and able to be enjoyed by the people once more.

View of the WWII and Lincoln Memorial from the Washington Monument Observation Deck, taken by Jennie Moore

    We visited the Washington Monument on a rainy day in March, and it truly was even more impressive than I expected. What particularly jumped out to me, were the intricate tile floors and ornate carvings in the walls of the elevator shaft. The elevator is partially transparent, so you can view the carvings on your trip up or down the monument. I didn't get a great photo of these due to the motion, but that can be a surprise for you if you decide to visit the Washington Monument! This elevator ride is a bit longer than average, since you must climb near 500 feet, but it is completely worth the stomach flutters in my opinion. 

Different view from Washington Monument Observation Deck, taken by Jennie Moore

    I specifically remember enjoying the experience with my mom, and friend Belle. Belle and I have known each other since the 5th grade, and although we don't see each other often anymore due to life's craziness, I'm so glad we made this memory together. The view of the country's living, beating heart really overtakes oneself. I really couldn't believe that I was looking over at the real Washington D.C. For the first time, I am able to see these places I had read about with my own eyes, and the Washington Monument gives one the opportunity to see several of these landmarks at once! I knew I was seeing and feeling something amazing, something I remember so clearly. How could I be seeing so much power, so much historical significance just within my field of my vision alone? That is truly something to behold. 

    Thank y'all for tuning in, I hope you enjoyed and learned something new! I'm excited to share more from this trip in the future, and continue to express my gratitude for the opportunity. I walked away with so much knowledge that I still use and reference to this day. I would love to return to Washington D.C. someday, because even after spending nearly a week there, I still haven't even scratched the surface of what there is to see and learn. Feel free to share any of your Washington D.C. travels in the comments, let me know where else I need to visit!

    

    

    

Mary Jane Burgers and Brew - Perryville, Missouri | Small Business Sunday

 

The Cowboy Burger and fries, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello everyone, and welcome back to the blog! Most of you already know how much I highly encourage supporting small business, especially the local ones. When I travel for blog projects, I try to make it a point to try a new eatery when I can. Recently my family and I spent an afternoon in Perryville, and we happily took the opportunity to eat at the much loved Mary Jane Burgers and Brew. To no local's surprise, it did not disappoint!

    Immediately upon walking to front door of the restaurant, the atmosphere was set. Music, great smells and bright colors fill the senses. Upon entering we were greeted kindly by staff, and sat quickly. Our waitress was an absolute doll, so friendly and helpful. It took us some time to decide what to order, due to there being so many options on the menu. I decided to go for the Cowboy Burger and fries. I was very happy with that decision, as both were delicious. My parents also loved their meals, and we were already planning when to come back before we even left the table.

    I am happy to report that this place is absolutely worth the hype, and I recommend making a stop here if you have the chance. Not only is the food superb, but the vibe and aesthetics are eye catching as well. The building is a brick beauty dating back to 1894, with its Victorian details still on display for patrons to see. The décor is artsy and will put a smile on the face of any creative. They also even host events, from live music to renaissance fairs. What is your go to order that we need to try from Mary Jane Burgers and Brew? I am always open to suggestions! Thank you for reading and taking the time to appreciate our local small businesses. If there is a small business you would like for me to check out, feel free to comment, message, or email me!

Visiting the American Pickers' Nashville Shop - Antique Archaeology, Nashville, Tennessee | Landmark Landing

 

Antique Archaeology, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hi all, and welcome back or greetings if you're new! I got to check off one of the stops on my bucket list, and I wanted to share that experience with you. If you enjoy my content, there is a likelihood you are familiar with the History Channel TV show, "American Pickers". If not, a brief rundown; two guys in a van travel the United States and search for vintage and antique treasures. They specialize in searching in old barns and buildings filled to the ceiling with collectables that typically haven't been touched in twenty years. Bonus points if the owner of the collection is a grumpy older gentlemen who isn't interested in selling anything. I really enjoy the show and watching them hunt for these hidden gems across America. 

    I remember watching the show often on summer mornings with my step father, after he had gotten home after a long night shift. When school was out, him and I would watch TV together until it was time for him to go to bed for the rest of the day. American Pickers was in our main rotation, and to be completely honest, became a reminder of good times. Those of you who know me will know that I fight chronic illness, and tend to find myself in the hospital a few times a year. Those who are in a similar boat know just how important and soothing watching TV can be when cooped up in a hospital room for days on end. One channel that any hospital TV will have, is the History Channel. When poor health finds me and must be dealt with, you can find me in my room watching American Pickers. From my hospital bed, I can travel many miles without a hair of stress on the body. Myself and whoever is visiting at the time will chat about the pickers' finds and the history behind them. It's amazing what troubles can be made bearable by means of passion and community, something as small as discussing a common interest. 

    One thing I hold true to, is taking advantage of and being grateful for my days of better health. I get a lot of those these days, thanks to my amazing medical team, and our good Lord. I vow to use the better days to explore the world myself, the world that I have spent a lot of my time watching from a bed in a beige painted room. I have spent many good days in vain, out of fear, insecurity, and I lacked understanding of the magnitude of how small daily decisions can impact the general narrative of your life over time. I am more eager to say "yes" to the opportunities to enjoy life each day. Now, with my new mindset and this blog, I like to think I can be your eyes into the world during those times you can't see things for yourself. Everyone deserves to have access to that knowledge, and experience our world and people's vibrancy. 

    Anyway, I'm getting off track but I have decided to be more personal in my writing, to be a better friend to you. I hope you don't mind. With all of that being said,  a while back I had the opportunity to visit Antique Archaeology, the store that sells all of the treasures that the American Pickers find on their adventures. I went with my mom to the location in Marathon Village (a neat place as well) in Nashville, Tennessee. I'll admit, most of what was in the store was over my budget, but I wasn't going there with strict expectations to buy something. To me, it was like a museum. Looking at each piece and wondering where it had come from and what its story was, or maybe if I could even spot it in the show. Just knowing that it had likely traveled hundreds of miles and maybe even experienced a restoration to end up here. I ended up taking a photo of one piece that really stood out to me, and had I not been a broke teenager at the time of this trip, would've maybe purchased. 

Vintage neon sign, taken by Jennie Moore

    This old sign really caught my eye. I'm no sign collector, but I can appreciate some vintage neon. I tried to research this sign and get some information on it, but I have had no luck. Even a reverse image search yielded nothing. If you know anything about this sign, I would love to hear about it! Leave me a comment, message, or email. I find that it reminded me of an ancient figure, like an Egyptian Pharaoh or noble statue that knows something we don't. The sign in fairly large in size, as you can see it next to several full sized instruments. Even if I did have the money, I'm not sure my mom would appreciate me cramming this into the back of her Ford Escape. 

    I had a great time wandering throughout the store with my head in the clouds. I did get an iron on patch with the companies logo on it, to add to my patch collection that I will add to my denim jacket... eventually. Being able to do these things on my better days make the flare up days a well worth it payment, and a lesson that God teaches me more on everyday. I'm on a mission to appreciate the gifts of life in full, and be truly aware of the blessings we experience everyday. Thank you for coming on this journey with me, and as always, thank you for reading.

165 Scenic Overlook - Branson, Missouri | Landmark Landing

View from Overlook, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello everyone, and welcome back to the blog! I want to share with you a beautiful place my family and I visited during our last trip to Branson, Missouri. Branson has no shortage of natural beauty, as it lies in the heart of the Ozark Mountains. Many tourists will see only the hotspots downtown, and although just as special, I recommend taking the time to see the views that have been Branson's beauty for thousands to millions of years.

View from Overlook, taken by Jennie Moore

    

    Located along Highway 165, this scenic overlook may be my favorite in the Branson area. From this peak you can admire downtown Branson, Lake Taneycomo, Table Rock Dam, and more. Below you can watch athletes golfing away on the lush course, along with beautiful homes along the lakeshore. In the distance, the rolling hills seem to go on forever, meeting the bright blue sky. If you visit in the summer like we had, the floral smells are carried up the hillside and stimulate the senses. 

Myself at Overlook, taken by dad

    Something I haven't shared on the blog much, is that I am disabled. I have several chronic conditions that cause pain, and limit my mobility. I struggle to climb, hike, or walk long distances, which can make my passion of traveling challenging. Although I am endlessly grateful for locations which accommodate those with disabilities, and I want to be more vocal on this going forward. I want to help others like me decide which places are best suitable for them to visit. I am happy to say that this lookout was perfect for someone like me. Parking is directly across the road from the lookout spot, and requires minimal walking. However the surface area is quite rough as seen in the photo above, which is something to keep in mind for those using mobility aids such as a scooter or wheelchair.

My father and step mother at Overlook, taken by Jennie Moore

    Here is my parents enjoying the view as well. They are also travel lovers and two of the biggest supporters of the blog. If it wasn't for them and their companionship, I would not be able to produce nearly as much content, or be able to do so many projects. My step mother Holly (pictured) loves the Branson area, and introduced me to Branson's scenic side. The bright lights and music are something to behold, but don't let it keep you from all the other great things to see. Thank you for reading and I hope this has inspired you to get outdoors on your next visit to Branson! If you have any must-see Branson attractions, leave a comment or send me an email!

I.C.R.R. No. 1518 Steam Locomotive - Paducah, Kentucky | Landmark Landing

 

I.C.R.R. No. 1518, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello everyone, welcome to the blog! I've got something cool to show you. My partner Walter and I are both interested in mechanics, and we love learning its evolution throughout history. He is mainly interested in automobiles, but can appreciate it all. Me, I'm a train enjoyer. I love cars too, but something about the massive machines fascinated me from the time I was a toddler. I know I'm not helping with the stereotype that all railfans are neurodivergent, but hey, you have to admit, trains are sick. This will be hopefully the first of many trains that will be featured on the blog!

    Walter and I paid a visit to this giant when on a weekend getaway to Paducah for my birthday last autumn. Belonging to the Illinois Central Railroad (I.C.R.R.), engine no. 1518 is a 2-8-2 Mikado Engine, built by Lime Locomotive Works in 1923. As you can see in the photo above, the locomotive is also accompanied by a mail car, and a signature red caboose. Being there during the holiday season, allowed us to see the train covered in Christmas lights! I wasn't able to get a nighttime photo, but it was beautiful. 

I.C.R.R. No. 1518, taken by Jennie Moore

    This train sits near the river, just feet from the floodwall. We were able to make a full walk around the train, and take in its features. The area is clean and well maintained, the train is very clearly cared for. As I stood in its presence, I could almost hear the families giving their farewells to loved ones departing on the train. The thuds of suitcases being loaded into storage, while mail that needs carried across the state by morning is loaded on by the crate. I wonder how many young people embarked on this train to fight for our safety in WWII, and those who never returned. Maybe this train played a part in a love story, reuniting a pair of soulmates who had long been apart. Thousands of people have rode the steam power of no. 1518, all of whom lived separate lives.

    Now, she rests. Dormant, but loved by the community and used to educate the young minds who weren't here to see 1518 in her full glory. Engines like 1518 were among the first of their kind. Humans had never seen such powerful, fast moving machines before. In this era, rail service was prospering across the U.S., being singlehandedly responsible growth across the map, even creating new towns all together. Paducah was no exception, and they honor that past by having 1518 proudly on display in the heart of the city's historic district.

Info sign at rear of train, taken by Jennie Moore

    There is also a railroad museum in Paducah, not far from the train display. I haven't been myself yet, but it is on my to do list! If you are visiting the museum, you might enjoy visiting the train display as well, as the train is public and completely free to view up close. As Walter and I chatted about the display, we realized that we were viewing the train exactly 100 years after it was first built. From 1923 to 2023, no. 1518 still serves Paducah's people, just in a different way these days. Thank you all for reading, I hope you will tune in again at my next stop!

Thebes Courthouse - Thebes, Illinois | Landmark Landing

 

Thebes Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello everyone, and welcome back to the blog! Today I bring you to the "Little Egypt" area of Southern Illinois, to share with you a place that I only learned of thanks to a small roadside sign. Sitting proudly on a hill overlooking the Mississippi River, is the Thebes Courthouse in Thebes, Alexander County, Illinois. I travel through this area occasionally, and I noticed some time ago, the small sign that reads "Thebes Courthouse" along with an arrow, on the side of Illinois Highway 3. This always confused me, as I knew the county seat of Alexander County is Cairo. I decided to do some research, and realized this is a place I must see. When my mother and I were traveling to Tennessee in 2023, I pointed out the sign to her as we passed and mentioned that I'd like to visit. Without hesitation she made a right turn into the small village of Thebes. After navigating a few winding streets and following the occasional signs, we reached the impressive structure. The road and parking is in the rear of the courthouse, but the breathtaking view comes when you make the walk to the front.

Rear of Thebes Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore

    

Since 1860, Cairo, Alexander County's only city, has been the county seat. However it was not the first, not the second, not even the third, but the fourth county seat that Alexander County has had since its creation. Alexander County was formed in 1819, and originally included what we know today as Pulaski County. There, a small town called "America" in the spirit of patriotism, was selected to be the county seat the same year. America would serve as the county seat until 1833, when it was decided that the county seat should instead be the newly founded and promising community of Unity. Unity residents had a courthouse built for $270, and the town prospered for nearly a decade. Unfortunately, in 1842, a fire consumed the Unity Courthouse and it's precious documents inside. It's approximate location was 37º08'59"N89º16'22"W. In 1845, it was decided once again to move the county seat, this time, to the riverside village of Thebes.

Thebes Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore

    Settled in the early 19th century, Thebes, Illinois quickly became an important steamboat port due to its prime location on the Mississippi River, and the river's deep waters in this area. Plans began on the Thebes Courthouse in 1845, with Thebes being officially designated as the Alexander County seat in 1846. In 1848, construction on the courthouse is complete, and it is a standout structure. The style is Southern Greek Revival, (a personal favorite) and the architect is L.L. Lightner. The contractor is Henry Ernst Barkhausen, who built the courthouse for $4,400. Its walls are made of sandstone, and its large pillars leave a bold first impression on those arriving on the river. This courthouse has been touched by greatness, with visitors such as Abraham Lincoln during his time as a frontier lawyer. Other reports tell of Dred Scott, an enslaved man and history making black rights activist, being imprisoned in the Thebes Courthouse dungeon. If only these walls could talk.

Dyer Cabin, taken by Jennie Moore

    Also on the Thebes Courthouse grounds, is this quaint historic cabin. This cabin originally sat on Pigeon Roost Road in Thebes, and was built sometime around 1880 by William and Nancy Dyer. William and Nancy's great grandchild just so happens to be a member of the Thebes Historical Society! When given the opportunity to preserve the cabin, the answer had to be yes. The cabin was carefully dismantled, moved, and reconstructed piece by piece at its present day home overlooking the mighty Mississippi. This was made possible by the love and passion of the people of Thebes. Many volunteered, and the project has been a great success. The society says the cabin is intended to be a tool for education, and I think that is wonderful. Projects like these are made possible mainly through donations. If you would like to donate to the Thebes Historical Society, you can mail donations, made out to Thebes Historical Society, to this address: 26086 Rock Springs Rd., Thebes, IL 62990. 

Myself in front of the Thebes Bridge, taken by my mom.

    Another historic structure that can be admired from the courthouse grounds is the Thebes Bridge. Thebes Bridge is a railroad trestle, a five span cantilever truss bridge, to be exact. The bridge spans across the Mississippi River, connecting the small community of Illmo, Missouri to Thebes, Illinois. Opened in 1905, Thebes Bridge has been carrying vital rail traffic over the rushing waters for more than a century. Just as Thebes was an important steamboat port, Thebes was also a notable railroad hub, even for years after it's title of county seat was stripped away. Prior to the bridge's construction, rail cars had to be taken by ferry over the river, a huge slow down for the railroad. Thebes Bridge was a game changer. It is 3,910 feet in length, and at the time of construction, was the only railroad bridge across the Mississippi River from St. Louis, Missouri to Memphis, Tennessee. 

    If you ever find yourself cruising on Illinois Highway 3, take the extra time to stop and visit this small village with deep history. Although population has heavily declined in Thebes, there is a strong sense of community among those who want to preserve their history. Today the Thebes Courthouse serves as the Thebes Historical Society HQ, and a museum. Places like Thebes deserve to be cared about, and now you and I can do just that! Thank you for reading, as always.

1904 Red Bridge - Potosi, Missouri | Landmark Landing

 

1904 Red Bridge in Potosi, Missouri taken by Jennie Moore

    

    Hello everyone, and welcome back to the blog! Today I want to share with you a quaint and charming landmark Walter and I stumbled upon some time ago. Potosi, Missouri is deeply rich in history, and I admire the historic preservation measures taken in the city. Potosi is filled with elaborate historic homes, classic brick storefronts, and a noble courthouse. Among its many points of interest, is this little red bridge, which is initially easy to miss. 

    Constructed in 1904, this bridge is a pin connected, three panel, half-hip Pratt pony truss design. Originally built for horse and wagon use, the bridge was accompanied by a wooden deck, which was common for the time. Built by Stupp Brothers Bridge and Iron Co. St. Louis, MO, the bid price for construction was about $775, which would be split and paid by the city of Potosi and Washington County. Amazingly, Stupp Brothers is still in business today, and is run by the 6th generation of the founding family.

1904 Red Bridge in Potosi, Missouri taken by Jennie Moore

    

    In 1968, the bridge's wooden deck would be replaced with concrete, presumably to better accommodate motor vehicles. In 2014, a walkway accompanied by a curb and safety rail were added to the bridge, making it safer for pedestrians to cross. The historical marker on the bridge (pictured above) was erected thanks to the Mine-au-Benton historical society. I am unsure who chose the iconic red color for the bridge, or how long it has been sporting it, but I believe it suits it well. I can almost hear the sounds of the horse's hooves clacking across the former planks, guiding their owners across Mine A Breton creek all those years ago. 

    This year (2024), the bridge will reach its 120th birthday, a feat that many historic bridges do not get to see. If you are in the Potosi area and are a fan of industrial era history, I recommend paying this little red bridge a visit. It is located on S Missouri Street, just behind the business district on the main drag through town. Thank you for reading and I hope you learned something new! If you know of any other historic bridges I need to visit, leave a comment or send me an email!