I love Fredericksburg. I never need prompting to go there! If it weren't for the horrible traffic, I'd want to live there.
My Dad worked hard as a Brooklyn boy to get into the pants of a belle from Fredericksburg, and took the train down most every weekend for awhile. In the end he failed, but learned the "manners," of the Southern elite. (My Dad was this quite interesting chap who transcended class, and was classless, who seemed to swim with the sans culottes as well as he swam with the British upper class elite who ran the record company that he worked for. I can't quite put my finger on it, as to just how he managed it all.) In any event, he made the mistake of seeing her about 35 years later, and found her to be a frumpy provincial airbrain. Hormones can be dangerous. He become life long friends with her brother however, and they corresponded for about 50 years, until one of them assumed room temperature. Life is just so interesting isn't it?
