Hit the road, Jack.

Rusted Root sent us on our way. Rhiannon Giddens empowered us on the Mass Pike. The Sound of Music carried us over the Catskills and Yo-Yo Ma brought us into Williamsport, Pennsylvania where we find ourselves for the night at the City Hall Grand Hotel.

We (read: I) chose Williamsport not for the Little League baseball nor for the outrageous number of law firms we passed on our evening walk (no longer outrageous once we passed the county court house). The city sits on the Susquehanna river and afforded us the opportunity to drive through Ridge and Valley Appalachians and get a sense of the land for which I did my last real archaeology project: using statistical techniques of pattern identification to try to identify cultural affiliations between different Susquehannock sites around the time of European contact. Because the work used existing data, getting ourselves to Williamsport seemed the best way to link the days in the lab to the actual geography.

A nice amble around downtown to remind the legs how to work (and give the bottom a break) led us to the Old Corner Hotel for dinner. We sat beneath stained glass windows and under a ceiling bordered with mirrors.

And now we plan the music for tomorrow. Mom, managing to remember all the words to “Doe, a deer” after 4 repeats, has challenged herself to get it right the first time tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

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