The Dalai Lama's visit celebrated an agreement to admit two Tibetan
students yearly to Berea College, a practice begun over a decade ago.
Indeed, I was greeted by an empty dining room since dinner isn't
served until evening. I toured the lobby and the excellent gift shop,
and the desk clerk called me sir and offered to show me a room if I
wished. I might not have left town had I caught a view of a room with
handmade antique cherrywood furniture & heirloom coverlets on the
beds. The lobby had a cherry wood table, and upon it on silver tray,
awaited a dozen freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I asked, and he
offered, "They're free sir, be my guest." As I sit here in my car
outside, I consider another pass but a Kentucky gentleman would be
content and grateful now and so shall I be. In the tavern building, a storefront is dedicated to retailing student
crafts. I walk in an I'm greeted by a young woman, student working her
10 - 15 hour a week commitment for tuition. She can watch the store
and work on earrings and jewelry. Long counters behind glass are
provided for this work. The earrings, she cautions, are not yet for
sale. Berea added an artisanal jewelry major last year, and my hostess
is one of a cohort of two. I wonder aloud if she'll be asked to join
faculty as she graduates. Remember I was sitting in the car when I started this note, harboring
lustful thoughts about chocolate chip cookies baked at a Christian
college. Well, I made a stop into the Berea Coffee & Tea Shoppe for
one more sampling of Kentucky Appalachian baking. I'm patronizing this
cafe with my own good money, so no lack of decoram here. The students
are studying at tables here, and a father and his young son are
playing spelling games. Dad is probably a student. A cherry turnover
awaits for after I hit the send button. I am pressing keys in tempo
with the bluegrass music playing in the background. I have two hours before sundown, so I'll depart town on the Dixie
Highway, which leads to Renfro Valley. I'll call dad from there
because we listened to the radio show together. When dark falls, I'll
grind out miles on the interstate.
students yearly to Berea College, a practice begun over a decade ago.
Indeed, I was greeted by an empty dining room since dinner isn't
served until evening. I toured the lobby and the excellent gift shop,
and the desk clerk called me sir and offered to show me a room if I
wished. I might not have left town had I caught a view of a room with
handmade antique cherrywood furniture & heirloom coverlets on the
beds. The lobby had a cherry wood table, and upon it on silver tray,
awaited a dozen freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I asked, and he
offered, "They're free sir, be my guest." As I sit here in my car
outside, I consider another pass but a Kentucky gentleman would be
content and grateful now and so shall I be. In the tavern building, a storefront is dedicated to retailing student
crafts. I walk in an I'm greeted by a young woman, student working her
10 - 15 hour a week commitment for tuition. She can watch the store
and work on earrings and jewelry. Long counters behind glass are
provided for this work. The earrings, she cautions, are not yet for
sale. Berea added an artisanal jewelry major last year, and my hostess
is one of a cohort of two. I wonder aloud if she'll be asked to join
faculty as she graduates. Remember I was sitting in the car when I started this note, harboring
lustful thoughts about chocolate chip cookies baked at a Christian
college. Well, I made a stop into the Berea Coffee & Tea Shoppe for
one more sampling of Kentucky Appalachian baking. I'm patronizing this
cafe with my own good money, so no lack of decoram here. The students
are studying at tables here, and a father and his young son are
playing spelling games. Dad is probably a student. A cherry turnover
awaits for after I hit the send button. I am pressing keys in tempo
with the bluegrass music playing in the background. I have two hours before sundown, so I'll depart town on the Dixie
Highway, which leads to Renfro Valley. I'll call dad from there
because we listened to the radio show together. When dark falls, I'll
grind out miles on the interstate.
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