As if it's not queasy enough to stay in a stranger's home and sleep in a bed bedecked with nineteen pillows. The real reason bed-and-breakfasts make me nervous is breakfast. They're "cozy," meaning that a guest has to keep her belongings on the floor because every conceivable flat surface is covered in knickknacks, except for the one knickknack she longs for, a remote control. They're "quaint," a polite way of saying "no TV." They are "romantic," i.e., every object large enough for a flower to be printed on it is going to have a flower printed on it. I understand why other people would want to stay in B&Bs. That said, I am not a bed-and-breakfast person. It was a lovely old country mansion operated by amiable people. A nauseating four-hour bus ride from the Port Authority terminal just to see the room where some patriotic chiseler came up with a marble statue? For some reason, none of my friends wanted to come with.īecause I had to stay overnight and this being New England, the only place to stay was a bed-and-breakfast. I was there to visit Chesterwood, the house and studio once belonging to Daniel Chester French, the artist responsible for the Abraham Lincoln sculpture in the Lincoln Memorial. Mostly, I came to the Berkshires because of the man who brought one of those presidents back to life. Not that I came all the way from New York City just to enjoy a chorus line of presidential assassins.
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May 2023
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