Morning Magic at Delta Downs

 Morning Magic at Delta Downs

Our night at Delta Downs Racetrack turned out absolutely beautiful. We found the perfect spot right beside the track, and as dawn began to break, I took the pups out for their early walk. The air was still cool, carrying that soft mix of dew and hay, and in the distance I could hear the rhythmic thunder of hooves.

The purebreds were already out being exercised—muscles rippling under the morning light, their breath visible in little clouds against the pale sky. There’s something mesmerizing about watching such power move with such grace.

For a few quiet moments, the world felt perfectly balanced. Just me, the dogs, and the horses greeting the day in their own way. Pure beauty and peacefulness.

Good morning from Louisiana. 🌅

Kentucky Roads & Renegade Hearts

 

Kentucky Roads & Renegade Hearts

There’s something about coming back to Kentucky that feels like exhaling. The hills seem to rise and fall in rhythm with your heartbeat, the fences stretch for miles around pastures of sleek horses, and the air hums with quiet confidence, the kind that says, “You’re among friends here.”

For us, Kentucky isn’t just another stop on the map. It’s where the laughter of the Renegade family echoes through the campgrounds, where we reunite with familiar faces, and where the simple joy of belonging fills the air like the sound of bluegrass on a summer night.

The Bluegrass Rally

We rolled into the Bluegrass Truck • Bus • RV Rally with that familiar mix of excitement and “where do we park?” energy. But as soon as we were settled, we were wrapped in that unmistakable Renegade family warmth: waves, hugs, and laughter from people who just get this lifestyle.

There’s something wonderfully grounding about being surrounded by folks who understand what it means to travel full-time, troubleshoot water pumps, chase sunshine, and swap campground stories like postcards. The rally was the perfect balance of learning, laughter, and those little spontaneous moments that make the Renegade community so special.

Kyle, James, and Beth from Bluegrass Truck • Bus • RV made everything flow seamlessly, and their tech Bill Gast deserves a gold star for kindness and craftsmanship. While we were out at the racetrack having fun, Bill quietly showed up at the RV park, fixed our skylight leak, and replaced the vent that had lost a battle with a tree branch. It doesn’t get more professional or more generous than that.

People like them remind me that customer service is really just kindness in action.

Lucy at Her Best

Of course, none of it would have been the same without our girl Lucy. She was born to roam these roads, and Kentucky brought out her very best.

We left our Audi Bella resting safely in Kentucky while heading north to pick up Lou, our 20-foot enclosed trailer in Putnam, New York. It was just Lucy and us again, and she didn’t miss a beat.

On the open road she purred with confidence, holding her speed up every incline like she owned those hills. Backing into a Harvest Host site felt effortless, and even a Walmart parking lot, the true test of RV grace, was no challenge for her. Her turn radius is nothing short of miraculous.

At seven years old, she still has the heart and strength of a brand-new rig. Smooth, steady, and powerful. And when we filled up that morning? 9.4 miles per gallon, our best yet.

Sure, Lou is a necessity for protecting Bella and hauling our extras, but this trip reminded me just how spunky and amazing Lucy truly is on her own. She isn’t just a vehicle. She’s home, freedom, and friendship on six wheels.

Here’s to Lucy, the Renegade with heart, muscle, and soul.

Through the Heart of Horse Country

When rally life settled and the crowds thinned, we took Lucy out for a little joyride through horse country. The roads around Georgetown and Midway were lined with white fences and rolling pastures, each one prettier than the last.

We stopped for lunch in Midway, at a restaurant whose name escapes me now, something with barrels, which felt fitting for Kentucky. The food was good, but it was the laughter that made it memorable. There’s something about small-town hospitality that just seeps right into you.

The drive back was slow and easy, windows down, music low, that perfect mix of sunshine and gratitude. These are the moments I wish I could bottle.

Reflections from the Bluegrass

Kentucky reminded me, once again, that this journey isn’t just about miles or destinations. It’s about people who greet you like old friends, about rigs that carry not just your stuff but your spirit, and about the quiet joy that comes from living this way, one road, one rally, one connection at a time.

There’s a peace in knowing that no matter where we travel next, there’s always a circle of familiar faces, ready smiles, and a little bluegrass playing somewhere in the distance.

Author’s Note

To everyone who makes this lifestyle so special, the friends who wave from across the campground, the teams who keep our rigs rolling, and the family we’ve chosen on the road, thank you. You remind me every day that the best journeys are built on heart, not horsepower. 💙

Almost Heaven: The Song, The Singer, and a Swing in Gassaway

 

🎶 Almost Heaven: The Song, The Singer, and a Swing in Gassaway

You know that moment when a song starts playing, and before you even realize it, you’re singing along, word for word, heart wide open?

That’s Take Me Home, Country Roads, or as most of us lovingly call it, Almost Heaven.

What many people don’t know is that the man who made the song famous, John Denver, wasn’t born anywhere near West Virginia.

In fact, his real name was Henry John Deutschendorf Jr., and he came into the world on December 31, 1943, in Roswell, New Mexico.

Yes, that Roswell, the one with the UFO stories! 👽

His dad was an Air Force pilot, which meant young John moved constantly, from state to state, even to Japan. Maybe that’s why so many of his songs carry a longing for home, for roots, for the peace of open skies and winding roads.

 The Song That Found Its State

In 1970, two songwriters, Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert, were driving through the countryside, working on a tune they hoped to pitch to Johnny Cash.

They had never been to West Virginia either! They were actually thinking of western Maryland, but “West Virginia” just sang better.

When John Denver heard the rough version, he loved it, joined in to finish the lyrics, and recorded it soon after.

And just like that, a man who had never set foot in the state gave it one of its proudest anthems.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia…” became a phrase that still makes hearts swell.

Released in 1971, the song shot up the charts and straight into the soul of the Mountain State.

By 2014, it was officially declared one of West Virginia’s state songs, and it’s now impossible to imagine a WV celebration without it.

 From Music to Memory: The “Almost Heaven Swing”

Fast-forward to today, and you’ll find that Almost Heaven isn’t just a song, it’s a whole vibe.

All across the state, there are giant Almost Heaven Swings, wooden swings with the words carved above them, placed in some of the prettiest scenic spots around.

One of my favorites?

The Almost Heaven Swing at the historic Gassaway Depot, right here in Gassaway, West Virginia.

Perched near the Elk River Trail, it’s the perfect place to sit, sway, and hum those familiar lyrics while the evening light turns golden.

Whether you’re a local or just passing through, it’s impossible not to smile as you realize, yes, this really does feel a little like heaven.

 So, Next Time You’re Here…

Find the swing, take a seat, and let your feet dangle over the moment.

Whisper a quiet “thank you” to Henry John Deutschendorf Jr., the boy from Roswell who somehow captured the soul of a state he’d never seen.

And when you do, don’t forget to hum along:

“Country roads, take me home,

To the place I belong…”

Our Last Day in Gettysburg

 

Our Last Day in Gettysburg

Our time in Gettysburg is coming to an end, and I find myself both grateful for the days we’ve had here and humbled by the weight of its history.

This morning, I set out on a hike to Big Round Top and wandered through Devil’s Den. Standing in those places where so much was lost, I could almost feel the echoes of the past woven into the rocks and trees. It was both grounding and haunting, a reminder of how fragile peace can be.

Later in the day, I strolled through downtown Gettysburg, where life bustles on in cheerful shops and streets, before heading to the farmers market. The energy of the town today feels like such a contrast to its past, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how a place once marked by unimaginable suffering now pulses with life and community.

To close out our visit, we followed a recommendation and dined at the Garryowen Irish Pub. What a treat! The food was incredible, the beer was perfectly refreshing, and the Irish Coffee… well, that was the icing on the cake—warm, rich, and beyond yummy. It was the perfect ending to our stay, a moment of comfort after days filled with learning and reflection.

Gettysburg leaves me with so much more than memories of a trip. It leaves me with perspective, gratitude, and a deep respect for all who came before us.

Gettysburg: History That Still Breathes (Sep/Oct 2025)

 

Gettysburg: History That Still Breathes

When we first arrived in Gettysburg, I knew it would be emotional. What I did not know was just how much this place would seep into me, one story and one encounter at a time.

I began my journey at the Visitor Center, a natural starting point for any newcomer. From there the paths opened wide—to Little Round Top, where I joined a guided hike and stood where Union soldiers had fought desperately to hold the high ground. Looking out over the rolling fields, it was almost impossible to reconcile the beauty of the landscape with the brutality that once unfolded there.

One of the highlights of our stay was a two-hour bus tour led by a National Park Guide. Her knowledge and passion brought the battlefields to life in a way no book ever could. She wove together troop movements, personal stories, and the geography around us with such clarity that the past felt alive all over again.

Ron and I also shared other memorable experiences together, including watching a re-enactment of cannon fire. The ground shook, the air filled with smoke, and for a moment I could imagine what soldiers must have felt as battle closed in on them. One evening we even attended a Civil War ball. I was taught a few dances by some of the most charming re-enactors, their kindness making the past feel alive in a lighter, almost joyful way, even amidst the weight of history.

Gettysburg offered me not just sweeping battlefields, but also intimate human stories. I toured the Eisenhower Farm and House, learning about the General who later became President, and how he chose this quiet place for respite. At Spangler Farm, I walked with guides who explained its role during the war. Back at our campground, I was gifted something truly special: a one-on-one conversation with a female history interpreter. For an hour and a half she opened a window into civilian life during those three harrowing days. Her words painted a vivid picture of families torn between fear and duty, and how ordinary lives were forever changed.

I also set out on my own with a self-guided walking tour through downtown Gettysburg. Along the way I explored two very different cemeteries. The National Cemetery, where Union soldiers are honored, carries an atmosphere of solemn pride. Nearby, the Evergreen Cemetery holds its own powerful story. There I learned about a woman, six months pregnant, who dug one hundred graves herself while her husband fought in the war. Both husband and wife were of German descent, reflecting a wider truth: many here in Gettysburg and across Pennsylvania were of German Lutheran roots. Hard-working, faithful, and deeply anti-slavery, they threw themselves into the cause of Union and freedom.

As a Lutheran myself, I felt a strange sort of relief, even joy, in learning that Germans were on the “winning side” this time. My silly mind could not help but contrast it with other times in history, when Germany stood on the wrong side and bore a heavy burden. Meanwhile, England, had sympathized with the Confederacy. History always complicates our sense of belonging.

One of the most intense stops was the Lutheran Seminary Museum. Its exhibits pulled me straight into the raw realities of war. Some rooms recreated the grim world of Civil War medicine, complete with graphic scenes of surgeries carried out without the mercy of anesthesia. Another exhibit explored the moral debates of the time: Should a Lutheran take up arms? Should you risk everything to hide a runaway slave? The questions were not just historical—they echoed forward in time. I could just as easily imagine them being asked during the Second World War, when conscience collided with fear and conviction demanded courage.

Walking away, I realized Gettysburg is more than a battlefield preserved in stone and plaque. It is a living classroom that still demands we ask ourselves: What would I have done? Which side would I have stood on?

Perhaps the best way to end is with the words spoken here by President Abraham Lincoln, less than five months after the battle. His brief address has carried through generations, reminding us that sacrifice must always be met with responsibility:

The Gettysburg Address

November 19, 1863

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”