Today Is Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day.

A day of remembrance, a day to pause, and a day to say thank you — not for service, but for sacrifice.

So while you enjoy your day off and that first cookout of the summer, please remember that today, Memorial Day,  is the day we honor all those who didn’t come home. This is the cost of freedom. This is why we stop, reflect, and acknowledge the men and women who gave their lives wearing the uniform of the United States.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row

To the fallen, and to the families who carry their memory, I say: Thank you for the ultimate sacrifice. You are the reason we are free today.

Historic memoir bound in the skin of highwayman James Allen, displayed under glass at the Boston Athenæum

The Book That’s Literally Skin‑Deep

Rare 1837 book bound in human skin at the Boston Athenæum, shown with its Latin‑inscribed cover inside a display case.”


Boston’s Most Macabre Treasure

Massachusetts has no shortage of historic firsts — the first lighthouse, the first subway, the first chocolate chip cookie, even the first telephone call. But tucked away on Beacon Street, inside the quiet, book‑scented halls of the Boston Athenæum, sits an artifact that makes all those milestones feel downright ordinary.

It’s a book.
Bound in human skin.
And yes, you can actually see it.


A Highwayman, a Deathbed Confession, and One Very Unusual Request

The story begins with James Allen, also known by several aliases, including George Walton — a 19th‑century highwayman who spent his life robbing travelers along the Boston Post Road. He wasn’t a glamorous outlaw; he was a gritty, stubborn one, constantly in and out of prison, and eventually mortally wounded during an escape attempt.

On his deathbed in 1837, Allen dictated his life story — a short memoir titled Narrative of the Life of James Allen. But he didn’t stop there. He made a final request that would cement his place in Massachusetts lore:

He wanted copies of the book bound in his own skin.

One copy was to be given to a man who had once fought him off during a robbery attempt — a man Allen respected for his bravery. Another copy went to the Boston Athenæum, where it remains today.

On the cover, stamped in gold, is the Latin inscription:

“Hic Liber Waltonis Cute Compactus Est.”
This book is bound in the skin of Walton.

Subtle? No.
Unforgettable? Absolutely.


Anthropodermic Bibliopegy: A Real (and Rare) Practice

As bizarre as it sounds, binding books in human skin — anthropodermic bibliopegy — was a real, if extremely uncommon, practice in the 18th and 19th centuries. Most examples come from:

  • Medical schools (anatomy students memorializing cadavers)
  • Criminal confessions
  • Personal mementos with a macabre twist

But Allen’s book stands out because it wasn’t done to him — it was done at his own request. A final act of control? A strange attempt at immortality? A criminal’s version of a legacy? Historians still debate it.

What’s certain is that the Athenæum’s copy is one of the most famous examples in the world.


Behind the Red Doors of the Boston Athenæum

The Athenæum itself is a treasure — one of the oldest independent libraries in the United States, founded in 1807. Its reading rooms feel like stepping into a different century: marble busts, oil portraits, polished wood, and the soft hush of serious book lovers.

The human‑skin book isn’t on open display. It’s kept in a secure, climate‑controlled room, brought out only for researchers or curious visitors by appointment. Staff are used to the request — it’s one of the most asked‑about items in their collection — but they treat it with the same respect as any rare artifact.

In recent years, scientific testing confirmed what the inscription claimed: the binding is, in fact, human skin.

Boston history is full of surprises, but this one still manages to raise eyebrows.


A Story That Sticks With You

What makes this such a compelling Massachusetts tale isn’t just the shock factor. It’s the layers:

  • A criminal who wanted his story preserved — literally.
  • A library that has safeguarded it for nearly two centuries.
  • A piece of history that blurs the line between the macabre and the meaningful.
  • A reminder that Boston’s past isn’t just revolutionary — it’s downright strange.

You can walk past the Athenæum’s iconic red doors a hundred times and never guess that one of the rarest, most unusual books in the world sits quietly inside.

But that’s Massachusetts for you.
Just when you think you’ve heard every story, it hands you one bound in human skin.

 


 

Boston Light: Still Standing, Still Shining

Located on Little Brewster Island, Boston Light: America’s Oldest Lighthouse is Still on Duty

 


Oh What a Light

(A little wink to the 1960s classic “Oh, What a Night”)

Boston Light is like an old war hero — weathered, stubborn, and full of stories it never quite shares. It has guarded the entrance to Boston Harbor for more than three centuries, and those stones have seen everything from calm seas to cannon fire.

Built in 1716, Boston Light is the oldest continually used lighthouse in the United States. Its history reaches straight back to the Revolutionary War.

The first tower stood about 60 feet high and was made from rough island stones. Workers stacked unshaped rubblestone into a tapering tower and held it together with early mortar. It wasn’t fancy, but it worked.

That original lighthouse didn’t survive the war. In 1776, British forces retreated from Boston Harbor and set explosives that destroyed the tower. (Those darn Redcoats!)  Boston rebuilt quickly. By 1783, the Commonwealth raised a new lighthouse using the island’s rubblestone once again. This version had thick 7.5‑foot walls and reached 75 feet into the air.

In 1859, the tower needed more height to hold a massive 4,000‑pound Fresnel lens. Builders added another 14 feet, giving the lighthouse the profile we recognize today.


The Modern Boston Light

Boston Light glows bright while Graves Light keeps its quiet watch beyond

The lighthouse on Little Brewster Island blends the 1783 rebuild with the 1859 expansion. It rises 89 feet (102 feet above sea level) and still contains the old rubblestone core, now reinforced with brick. Only the bottom 9 to 14 feet include stones from the original 1716 tower, but that small section connects the modern beacon to its earliest days.

Not bad for a lighthouse that once relied on candlelight.

Today, Boston Light is a National Historic Landmark. By law, it remains permanently manned, even with modern automation. The island isn’t open to the public, but several harbor cruises pass close enough for great views.

At night, the beam reaches 27 miles into the Atlantic. After 300 years, it still calls sailors home.

 

A 12‑Park Western Road Trip

 


🚗 A 12‑Park Western Road Trip Inspired by 1920 — With My Own Travel Notes Along the Way

Intrepid travelers in the 1920's braved poor roads and mechanical failures to visit the national parks

In 1920, a group of early adventurers set out on a grand loop through the American West, visiting a dozen national parks long before paved roads, GPS, or timed‑entry reservations. Their route still makes an incredible modern‑day road trip — and as I read through their journey, I couldn’t help weaving in my own experiences, near‑misses, and bucket‑list dreams.

Here’s how their century‑old adventure lines up with mine.


🏔️ Stop 1: Rocky Mountain National Park

Leaving Denver, the route climbs straight into the high country. Back in 1920, the only way in was Old Fall River Road, a narrow dirt track that still exists today. Modern travelers have the far smoother Trail Ridge Road, the highest continuous paved road in the U.S., soaring above treeline with sweeping alpine views.

I’ve tried to visit Rocky Mountain myself — emphasis on tried. In 2022, the park required timed‑entry tickets, and their online system glitched every time I attempted to book one. So instead of exploring the alpine tundra, I skirted the edges, catching glimpses of those jagged peaks from the outside looking in. One of these days, I’ll get back there and do it properly.


🦬 Stop 2: Yellowstone National Park

From Colorado, the road heads north through Cheyenne and Cody before entering Yellowstone, the world’s first national park. The original travelers stayed at Lake Yellowstone Hotel and spent four days exploring geysers, canyons, and wildlife — a pace that still feels just right today.

I spent several days there in 2017, entering from the south after passing through Grand Teton National Park. It was one of those trips where every turn reveals something new — steam rising from the earth, bison wandering across the pavement, colors you don’t expect in nature. Next time, I want to enter from the north and save myself some drive time. If your explorations are limited, this is the one park you absolutely shouldn’t skip.

 


❄️ Stop 3: Glacier National Park

Next comes the old Yellowstone–Glacier Bee Line Highway, rolling through Montana towns before reaching Glacier National Park. In 1920, the group counted roughly 80 glaciers and found almost no roads. Today, only about two dozen glaciers remain — but the park gained something extraordinary: the Going‑to‑the‑Sun Road, one of the most spectacular drives in America.

I’ve heard so much about that road. It’s firmly on my bucket list. What breaks my heart is how quickly the glaciers are retreating. Thanks to our warming climate, no one knows how long they’ll be here. It makes visiting feel urgent — like catching something precious before it slips away.


🌋 Stop 4: Mount Rainier National Park

Heading west on Highway 2, the route crosses Idaho and Washington before turning south toward Mount Rainier. The early travelers reached it by mule; today, you can drive straight to Paradise, a wildflower‑filled slope with jaw‑dropping glacier views.

I didn’t make it into the park itself, but I did get a stunning view of Rainier from the top of Seattle’s Space Needle back in 2013. Even from a distance, the mountain dominates the skyline — serene, massive, and a little otherworldly.


💙 Stop 5: Crater Lake National Park

Continuing south through Oregon, the loop arrives at Crater Lake, a deep‑blue caldera lake so vivid it almost looks unreal. The 1920 group stayed at Crater Lake Lodge and drove the newly completed Rim Drive, still one of the most beautiful loops in the park system.

Crater Lake has been on my list for ages. Between its clarity, volcanic origins, and the Native American legends woven into its history, the whole place feels like it belongs in a myth. One day, I’ll finally see that impossibly blue water for myself.


🌋 Stop 6: Lassen Volcanic National Park

Crossing into California, the road reaches Lassen Volcanic National Park, one of the few places where you can see all four types of volcanoes in one park. The 1920 travelers couldn’t explore much — no real roads yet — but today you can wander through hydrothermal basins and stand beneath Lassen Peak.

This one surprised me. I’d never heard of it, and I love volcanoes. I’ve spent many happy hours with Kīlauea in Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park, watching the earth breathe fire. Discovering that California has its own volcanic playground felt like finding a hidden chapter in a book I thought I knew.

Lava Lake Glow at Kilauea Hawaii


🏞️ Stop 7: Yosemite National Park

About 300 miles south, the granite cliffs of Yosemite rise into view — waterfalls, meadows, and iconic formations like El Capitan and Half Dome.

I haven’t made it there yet, but I’d love to time a visit to see Horsetail Fall during the “firefall,” when it glows orange in the setting sun. If I’m lucky — really lucky — maybe I’ll photograph it myself.


🌲 Stop 8: Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Parks

From Yosemite, the route dips into the land of giants — the massive sequoia groves of Sequoia and Kings Canyon. In 1920, Kings Canyon was still known as General Grant National Park, named for the enormous tree that still stands today.

Oh, those massive trees. If trees could talk, these would be the old wise men of the forest — ancient, steady, and full of secrets. Another bucket‑list stop for me.


🏜️ Stop 9: Zion National Park

After reaching Los Angeles, the route follows early Route 66 eastward. From Barstow, modern travelers can detour north to Zion, a 500‑mile side trip the original group skipped.

I’ve already included Zion in my list of Southwestern parks to visit. Check out my Southwest Wish List The photos alone make you want to lace up your hiking boots and head straight for those glowing canyon walls.


🏜️ Stop 10: Grand Canyon National Park

Back on Route 66, the road passes through Kingman and Williams before reaching the Grand Canyon. The 1920 travelers stayed at the historic El Tovar Hotel, perched right on the rim.

Grand Canyon

On the South Rim, Grand Canyon 2008

This one is a toss‑up for my favorite park — I can’t choose between the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone. My first glimpse literally took my breath away. I stood there dizzy, trying to comprehend the scale. It didn’t seem real then, and it still doesn’t now. It’s just so BIG.


🪨 Stop 11: Petrified Forest National Park

Heading east, the route crosses into Petrified Forest National Park, a landscape of rainbow‑striped badlands and ancient fossilized logs.

My sister and I loved exploring this one. The petrified wood is everywhere — no searching required. The colors are unreal, like nature painted each piece by hand.

 


🏺 Stop 12: Mesa Verde National Park

The final stop is Mesa Verde, home to remarkable cliff dwellings built by the Ancestral Pueblo people. The original group drove the precarious Knife Edge Road, now replaced by a safer trail with the same sweeping views.

I keep flirting with this park. I’ve visited cliff dwellings in Arizona — Montezuma’s Castle among them — but everyone tells me Mesa Verde is on a whole different level. One day, I’ll finally see it for myself.

Montezuma’s Castle


🛣️ The Road Back to Denver

After Mesa Verde, the original 1920 loop turned northeast toward Colorado, passing through Durango and climbing back into the Rockies. Today, the drive back to Denver is just as scenic — a mix of mountain passes, river valleys, and those wide‑open Colorado skies.

If you’re following the modern route, you can swing through Durango, then head north toward Salida, tracing the spine of the Rockies through Pueblo and Colorado Springs before rolling back into Denver. It’s a fitting end to a journey that started — and ends — in the shadow of the mountains.


🍂 Best Time to Drive the Park‑to‑Park Highway

Late summer into early fall is the sweet spot for this 5,000‑mile adventure. You’re balancing open roads, mild weather, and fewer crowds — especially in the northern parks.

  • Late August to early September: best overall window
  • Mid‑summer: long days, everything open, heavier crowds
  • Winter or spring: not recommended due to snow and closures

The original group took 76 days. You don’t need quite that long, but a solid four weeks gives you time to breathe, explore, and not feel rushed.


🧭 Know Before You Go

  • Timed entry may be required in several parks
  • Lodges book months in advance
  • Weather can change quickly at high elevations
  • Road conditions vary — always check ahead
  • Gas and services can be sparse in remote stretches

🌟 And This Only Scratches the Surface…

Just outside Williams sits Meteor Crater, a massive impact site that feels like stepping onto anotherPainted desert landscape planet. Near the Petrified Forest, the Painted Desert spreads out in waves of pink, lavender, and rust. And closer to Denver, Pike’s Peak and Garden of the Gods are waiting patiently for their own spotlight. They’ll have to wait for another post — and honestly, they deserve one.

 

 


🎟️ Senior Pass Spotlight

If you’re 62 or older, the America the Beautiful Senior Pass is one of the best travel deals in the country. It gives you access to more than 2,000 federal recreation sites — including all national parks — and you don’t have to renew it annually if you choose the lifetime version.

  • Lifetime Senior Pass: one‑time purchase
  • Annual Senior Pass: lower upfront cost, renew yearly

Many parks also offer discounts on camping, tours, and ranger programs. If you’re planning to visit even a couple of parks, the pass pays for itself quickly.


✨ Closing Thoughts

Meteor Crater

This century‑old loop reminded me just how vast, varied, and breathtaking the American West really is. Some of these parks I’ve explored, others I’ve only admired from afar, and a few are still waiting patiently on my bucket list. What struck me most is how the landscape keeps changing — glaciers shrinking, roads improving, new stories unfolding — yet the sense of wonder remains the same. The 1920 travelers saw a wilder version of these places, but the magic is still there for anyone willing to follow the road. And now that I’ve traced their footsteps, I’m more inspired than ever to keep exploring, camera in hand, curiosity in tow, and a few more parks calling my name.

Lower Falls on the Yellowstone River


 

Celebrating 100 years of the Mother Road

The mother road is 100 years old and still fascinates travelers


Celebrating a Road That Isn’t All There Anymore

Every now and then something pops up in my feed that feels like a tap on the shoulder. Today it was a notice about the upcoming Route 66 Centennial — a once‑in‑a‑century celebration for a road that’s somehow both legendary and, well… missing in places. I was out and about, minding my own business, when suddenly the Mother Road wanted my attention again.

And honestly? I didn’t mind.

A Road That Crosses Eight States… and I’ve Only Seen a Sliver

The article reminded me that Route 66 stretches across eight states, from Illinois cornfields to the California coast. Eight states of diners, neon signs, motels, migration stories, and dusty postcards. Eight states of American mythology.

My own experience? A tiny sliver — the stretch near Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. A few miles, a few minutes, and yet it still felt like stepping into a vintage travel poster. The kind with a smiling family in a station wagon and a promise that adventure is just one more mile down the road.

 

It’s funny how a place can be both new to you and instantly familiar.

The Centennial That Sparked This Post

The blurb I saw summed it up perfectly:

The centennial commemorates the original designation of Route 66 on April 30, 1926, celebrating its cultural, historical, and economic impact across eight states. The celebration also highlights preservation efforts, tourism, and the ongoing legacy of the Mother Road.

That’s the heart of it — not just a birthday party, but a celebration of everything Route 66 has meant to travelers, dreamers, and the communities along its path.

Whether you’re attending the kickoff in Springfield, joining a satellite event, or just driving a surviving stretch, the centennial is being billed as a “once‑in‑a‑century opportunity to experience the heritage and spirit of America’s most iconic highway.”

And that’s what got me thinking.

Why Celebrate a Road That Isn’t Whole Anymore?

Route 66 isn’t intact from end to end. Some pieces have been rerouted, abandoned, or swallowed by the interstate system. Some towns faded when the traffic did. Some stretches survive only as cracked pavement and fading paint.

But maybe that’s exactly why it deserves celebrating.

Because Route 66 was never just a road.
It was a promise.
A pathway west.
A symbol of possibility.
A ribbon of stories stretching across eight states and nearly a century.

Even in fragments, it still carries all of that.

 

My Little Piece of the Mother Road

Standing on that stretch near Flagstaff, I remember thinking how strange and wonderful it was that a simple road could hold so much history. I wasn’t driving cross‑country. I wasn’t chasing the whole route. I was just passing through — and yet I felt connected to something bigger.

And because the universe has a sense of humor, one of my favorite photos from that trip is of Mater the tow truck — yes, that Mater from Pixar’s Cars — sitting proudly along Route 66. A fictional character on a real road, reminding me that Route 66 lives just as much in our imagination as it does on the map. Pixar didn’t just make a cute movie; they captured the heartache and hope of all those little towns the Mother Road once carried.

Maybe that’s the magic of Route 66.
You don’t need all 2,448 miles.
Sometimes a few feet — or a rusty tow truck with a big grin — are enough.

Looking Ahead to the Centennial

The centennial feels like an invitation — not just to celebrate the past, but to appreciate what remains and to honor the communities keeping the spirit alive. To wander a little. To remember that roads don’t have to be perfect or continuous to take you somewhere meaningful.

Maybe I’ll explore more of it someday.
Maybe you will too.

Either way, the Mother Road is turning 100, and that’s worth a moment of appreciation.

Maybe a road doesn’t have to be whole to take you somewhere.