I woke up at 6:30 this morning, but since Hubbie was asleep, I waited until he woke to get up, around 7:30. After breakfast, I hit the treadmill, as usual, followed by weights exercises.
Mother came over while I was on the treadmill and put a pork roast with carrots and onions in the slow cooker. We had that for lunch with mashed potatoes and gravy, sliced tomatoes (fresh from our raised garden) and applesauce.
We spent the morning before lunch reading the Sunday newspaper, and in my case, programming the DVR for the week's shows and movies, and washing clothes.
After lunch, Hubbie, Mother, and I went to the restaurant overlooking the river and dam to hear a 2 p.m. program sponsored by the local historic society about a fabled river monster that has supposedly been seen from time-to-time, over many years, by various people in a nearby town.
There was supposed to be a slide show to accompany the talk, but technical difficulties nixed that. The president of the society commented that the glitch was par for the course. Apparently, during a program at the museum last Sunday, the power went out, leaving the speakers to address the audience in the dark. "So it's appropriate to hear about a river monster on this dammed river day," he quipped.
The speaker was very interesting, noting that the river monster had been spotted as far back as during the time of the Native Americans (though how this is known is a mystery to me), as well as during the Civil War era. But some 40 years ago, when there was a sighting, a monster frenzy developed in the nearby town where the beast is supposed to live. It caught the attention of local, state, national, and international media. Naturally, all that attention brought hundreds of folks to the area, boosting the economy of the small town. A festival atmosphere evolved at one point, when a diver went into the river to see if he could find it. He didn't, of course, but some folks insisted that was because all the noise on the river banks scared the monster away.
There is one fuzzy picture of the "monster," which looks like the very long hump of an elephant (as large as a boxcar, many say). Some speculate it was a huge alligator gar or a giant sturgeon, or possibly an upended boat. Apparently, no one has ever seen the monster's head, but an artist's rendition depicts the beast as a typical sea-serpent figure.
The speaker said that "sightings" occur about every 40 years, so it is time for another one. And necessary, I would say, if the story is to be perpetuated for the purposes of tourism. In fact, our state's tourism literature promotes the river monster, thereby lending authenticity to it. The State Senate has even designated a section of the river in the area where it is "unlawful to kill, molest, trample or harm (the monster) while it is in its native refuge."
Following the talk, the audience of about 35 folks were invited to tour a nearby small museum related to the hydro-electric plant. The museum features a table model of the river, the dam, the hydro-electric plant and the surrounding countryside. Someone did a great job making the tiny houses, barns, and trees on spreading fields, where itsy-bitsy cattle, and itsy-bitsy horses graze along each side of the river.
On the walls, there is a display of photos showing the progress of dam building, which began in the late 1800s. We were also shown a video about dam (there are three) construction, their use, and their eventual abandonment when the railroad was built. Transporting goods by rail was easier, cheaper, and more convenient than by river.
The video was narrated by the same fellow who is president of the historical society. He is a retired professor from the local college, and was my very favorite teacher when I attended classes there. He is a stand-up comic, who made potentially dull subject matter funny and exciting. We all enjoy him, so we make it a point to attend his lectures.
We were back home about 4 p.m. Nothing exciting happened for the evening...just a sandwich supper, followed by watching TV.
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