Daily Local News (West Chester, PA)
Sometimes, the best vacations are in your own backyard
This is the perfect time for a stay-cation. And the streets of West Chester are the perfect place to take one.
I’ve got itchy feet, but travel to distant lands is not now as safe as it once was. So, many of us are walking local trails and sidewalks more than ever.
My buddy and writer, Andrew McIntrye, and his standard border collie, Oban, on a recent fine winter day took an almost two-hour stroll around West Chester. We discovered the new and embraced the past. We became tourists in a town we both adore.
We met at the “Pippin Bench” in Everhart Park. Until recently, neither of us knew about this red bench, which recognizes West Chester painter Horace Pippin. The crimson bench captures the feel and spirit of the Pippin painting, “Man on a park bench.” That painting depicts a man sitting outside — maybe it was in Everhart Park.
Pippin’s work is often mistakenly referred to as primitive. His arm was injured in World War I and it changed the way he painted.
We talked about why we liked Pippin.
“He overcame so many obstacles,” said McIntyre. “He had a depth of realism, raw emotion, and captured West Chester, our home town.
“Artists help people see things they might otherwise not see.”
We first wandered over to the new labyrinth in the southwest corner of the park. Oban and McIntrye quietly weaved between the buried stones. Both looked lost in thought.
McIntyre writes threeline poems that are perfect for social media posting. He has published two wonderful books and is often inspired, while quietly reflecting, with sevenmonth old Oban at the end of a leash.
“He’s a working breed,” McIntyre said, about Oban. “I feel guilty he can’t herd sheep.”
Most of us probably feel a little like that border collie, displaced from his native Scotland. We’re restless during this pandemic — a year-long bout of cabin fever.
We walked through the empty West Chester University campus.
“Sometimes I miss the students,” McIntyre said. “At night it’s now like walking around in a horror movie.
“It’s empty. An eerie feeling.” McIntyre then smiled. “A year from now we will probably be complaining about traffic.”
We traversed the historic brick sidewalks. I told McIntyre that the bricks aren’t encased in concrete like you would expect, but rather set in sand.
I advised him, when the weather turns warmer, to take off his shoes and walk the sidewalks. He will then be able to feel those bricks move between his toes.
My buddy noted that those uneven bricks are the reason so many runners exercise in the street rather than on the seemingly safer sidewalks.
We talked of loss and change after noticing the recently shuttered Burger King. I talked of how I at
tended first grade at this site, at the long-gone High Street School.
We walked past Holy Trinity Church where I was baptized and confirmed and lamented the long-ago loss of the serpentine bell tower.
“Our lives are so temporary,” McIntyre said. “Buildings are shadows of the past.
“They are almost not here when they are here. We all return to molecules.”
McIntyre talked about how inanimate objects have a hold on history.
“You can almost, kind of, feel the people — all the stories that went on there. Once it’s gone it’s harder to find the traces of the past if the building isn’t there.”
Oban was enjoying the adventure. The three of us strolled past the Bicentennial Garage, or the “hidden garage.” We talked about when the garage first opened, how prospective parkers passed by, since its brick façade faded so well into the streetscape.
“They were trying to provide a building that comes as close as it can to what it was, but also doesn’t look like a parking garage,” McIntyre said. “It’s a homage to the past.”
With a nod to Pippin, and a yank at the leash, we said a silent prayer at the newly installed Disabled Veterans Memorial, near Old Glory, at the historic courthouse.
McIntyre showed me a beautiful wisteria that has overtaken, while surrounding, an old railing at West Chester Friends School.
“Kill the vine and lose the flower, sometimes wild is best,” he said.
We stood in awe of the towering, grand sycamore trees and were reminded of Chester County’s Wyeth Family.
We sat down at the new fountain at 44 West, which has replaced Mosteller’s.
Builder Eli Kahn heats the water at the year-round fountain, and on this winter day, steam rose. Oban gently pulled at his leash when he took notice of another pooch across Gay Street.
“Water is always symbolic of a place to meet,” my traveling companion said. “When we think of water, we think of change.
“It reflects light, time and changes, while symbolizing life.”
We picked up a couple of chocolate doughnuts, for a fair price, at Yori’s Bakery. Oh my, the smell of a bakery. Nuff said.
The elevator whisked us to the top floor of the parking garage across the street from the new Justice Center.
We looked from the seventh floor to the streets, shops, restaurants, homes and church rooftops.
We were drawn by a sense of community to the bustling life far below us.
From there, is it was on to the classic architecture on Portico Row on West Miner Street, which mimics the design of the Thomas U. Walter courthouse.
I pointed out the new gravel path in Everhart Park, which runs parallel to some stairs at the park’s northeast corner. The path was designed to bypass the stairs for those with young ones in strollers.
So, we then returned to that bench where we’d started. Oban looked like he’d do it all again.
McIntrye talked about how his 8-year-old daughter had noticed this glorious red bench before he did.
“Kids see something I don’t,” Oban’s master said. “I’ve been pointing stuff out since she was born and now she does it to me.”
That day’s journey and adventure is over. There are more paths and trails to discover. Stay safe. Get out! Explore your backyard.