THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 3, 1996 TAG: 9611010262
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: RANDOM RAMBLES
SOURCE: Tony Stein
LENGTH: 77 lines
By the time you read this, another chunk of what made Great Bridge the way it was will be gone. The Great Bridge bookstore closed Thursday after 21 years of good books, good conversation and that touch of small-town quaintness quickly being buried by the bulldozer of progress.
Progress, so-called, deep-sixed the bookstore. Its corner, at Battlefield Boulevard and Mount Pleasant Road, is to be widened, thus chomping off what had been a corner of the building. Judy Kerr, the amiable, knowledgeable lady who operated the store, can't find another location she can afford, so she's riding off into the sunset. Temporarily at least.
Couple the loss of the store with the demolition of what had been the village green in Great Bridge and I figure progress is as welcome as Dracula at a blood bank. If you have just tuned in, there was a wonderful patch of green on Battlefield Boulevard in Great Bridge. It is now being converted to a site for a bank and a drug store. The area needs another bank and drug store like the Titanic needed more icebergs, but, hey, we can't just leave green space enriching us with untouched serenity, can we?
My wife, the wondrous Miz Phyllis, and I have a cure for the grumps that settle on us when we see change stomping out the happy havens around us. We crank up the ever-faithful '88 Chevy wagon and head for the mountains. Sometimes it's western North Carolina, sometimes the Shenandoah Valley. This time it was the Valley.
I read in a book somewhere that ``Shenandoah'' is an Indian word supposed to mean ``daughter of the stars.'' Something about how the stars are supposed to gather and sing there. They should. The Valley we have just seen, blazing with autumn color, had a kinship of beauty with the diamond clusters of stars on a clear dark night.
Interstate 81 takes you into the Valley region, but the traffic is heavy and the road resounds with the basso profundo rumble of massive trucks. We pick up Route 29 at Charlottesville. That lets us amble automotively Valley-ward and bathe our eyes and our souls in the reds and gold hues of the changing leaves along the way.
Funny, isn't it? We combat our irritation at change at home by traveling to see change at work elsewhere. But there is a humongous difference. The change at work in Great Bridge slashes away at the reasons we moved here in the first place. We left Norfolk 25 years ago to escape heavy traffic and concrete and asphalt pollution. It's followed us.
Ah, but the change of the leaves is an annual assurance that nature's wonders are going to happen in spite of the relentless charge of the construction crews. On Route 29, on Route 211 out of Warrenton, on byways like Route 20 at Charlottesville, there were still constant moments when we were awed by what we saw.
And the beauty of the leaf color was framed by the mountains, now misty in the distance, now sharply etched in sunlight. Most dramatic were the times when deep black shadows fell across the peaks and valleys as if night was battling day for possession of the scene.
Yes, it was great food for the soul, but there is a less poetic hunger that needs satisfying. So, if you are ever heading for the Valley, let me toss in a quick commercial. Rowe's Restaurant, off exit 222 of Interstate 81, is breakfast bliss, lunch luxury and dinner delight. No way fancy, it serves up mortally satisfying Virginia food at reasonable prices.
Not all my eating adventures in the Valley have been pleasant ones. I was once looking forward to Sunday morning country ham biscuits at another Valley restaurant. However, they had a Saturday night buffet and I over-stuffed on pork tenderloin, ignoring warnings from Miz Phyllis. Sunday morning, all I could manage was tea and toast. She ate the ham biscuits with the biggest I-told-you-so smirk you ever saw.
Unfortunately, the beauty of the Shenandoah Valley this fall has been small comfort to the book-lover in me. The Great Bridge Bookstore was a glorious semi-jumble of used volumes on just about any subject in the universe. Looking at the shelves could be a downright voyage of literary discovery. And, whereas the cost of new books makes your wallet hyperventilate, used books are far less hazardous to financial health. Nor was the store just a place to buy. It had a special flavor made for simply browsing and visiting.
Eventually, says Judy Kerr, she may find another place or run a small, by-appointment operation at home. I certainly hope so. I like to think that the Great Bridge Bookstore, like the South, and maybe even the Atlanta Braves, will rise again. by CNB