New Bern

Every year when we are staying in Atlantic Beach, we like to take a day and drive to New Bern, and that is what we did yesterday.  It was a chilly day, bright sun shining, and we got an early start.  It is a beautiful, historic city, settled in 1710 by immigrants from Bern, Switzerland (thus its name), the second-oldest European settled colonial town in the State.  It was also the site of the State capital until it was relocated to Raleigh in 1792; the Governor's Palace, now known as Tryon Palace, was destroyed by fire but has been lovingly restored on the original foundations.  We toured it four years ago - that's when I took this picture -  on our first trip here.  There are also acres and acres of beautiful gardens which are, alas, not as bountifully in bloom in January as in April.

New Bern was badly flooded in September of 2018 by Hurricane Florence, but none of the damage is visible anymore, although we have always thought that it looks like it is vulnerable to flooding, flat and without any hills at all, and surrounded by water.  There are some fine old homes in the historic district, and in addition to Tryon Palace there is the especially beautiful Craven County Couthouse with a Swiss-style clock tower, a nondescript brick building on Middle Street which was the birthplace of Pepsi Cola, and the lovely Episcopal Christ Church, which I toured a year or two ago.

The shopping district also includes two famous buildings which we never miss visiting, Morgan's Tavern and Mitchell Hardware, nearly side by side on Craven Street.

I especially love wandering up and down the wood-floored, dark corridors of Mitchell, a real hardware store with everything you could possibly want:  obscure sizes of nuts and bolts, hinges, plumbing supplies, tools, garden equipment,  and pots and pans.  I ended up buying a taco stand ($6.99) that is much too large; I just couldn't leave without buying something.

We usually enjoy the fish tacos at Morgan's Tavern just down the street, an appealing old converted stable, but in September we had discovered a new restaurant right on the Neuse River called Persimmon.  We were the only diners at 11:30 a.m., but others soon began drifting in.

After lunch, we spent most of the afternoon at the North Carolina History Center, adjoining Tryon Palace.  We have stopped here many times in the past, especially since it is where an event called Winterfeast, featuring fresh oysters and other downeast delicacies, is held each year; we have attended this for four years but decided to forego it this year.

In all the times we have visited here, though, this is the first time we spent any time in the History Center itself, a very fine museum which was partially damaged by Florence but now is fully operational.  I suppose we never thought we had enough time to visit it in the past, but as I said we got an early start today.   Its exhibits are interesting even if you may not love history as much as we do, filled with historical artifacts and displays and made even more interesting by many sound and video recordings available throughout at the touch of a button.

The History Center did not shy away from the deplorable treatment of Native Americans and the tragedy of slavery.  Slaves were used for most of the agriculture and industry in the area, beginning with the harvesting of pine trees and the lumber, tar, and turpentine which it produced, which were essential to the early shipping industry.  It is hard to believe that slaves were treated as commodities rather than people, and some of the photographs and descriptions are just heartbreaking.  I was struck by these actual advertisements for runaway slaves.

 

I hope that Bob and Ulysses managed to elude capture and make their way to freedom.  So many others did not.

A new exhibit in the History Center had just opened three days before called Stories in Fabric, featuring quilts from the Twin Rivers Quilters Guild.  These were some of the finest quilts I have seen, historically originating in the need to use everything in those hard times, including every scrap of fabric, and today transformed into works of real art and imagination.

Martha was reminded of a story she had read about a famous quilter who was honored by her family at her funeral by draping her quilts on all of the church pews.  A search on Google confirmed that more than one famous quilter was honored in this way, a beautiful way to be remembered.

It had been a long day, and we returned just in time to watch the sunset out on the dune-top deck before a light supper.  Another woman came out of the condos for the same event, tearing herself away, she said, from a movie she had been watching on TV.  I hope she felt it was worth it, watching this daily phenomenon which calls so many out on their decks, down to the beach in pickup trucks, watching the bright orb slowly fall, floating on the surface of the ocean for what seems like only a minute or two, sinking into the water, and then suddenly disappearing completely, as if a light-switch has been abruptly turned off.