galena (ga leen a) n. primary ore of lead: a lustrous
blue-gray crystalline mineral that consists mainly of lead
sulfide and is the main source of lead.
Another definition of Galena is "a history-drenched town
located in the northwestern corner of Illinois." My wife and
I visited Galena and discovered that it is a place where,
historically speaking, many historical people once lived.
Named for the ore that brought much wealth to the town,
Galena today seems frozen in time. It simply oozes history,
mostly from its numerous Victorian buildings. The lead mines
have long since played out; Galena now mines a bountiful vein
of tourists.
Perhaps Galena's most famous citizen was Ulysses S.
Grant. A former soldier who had gone from job to job and had
embarked upon a series of failed businesses, Grant landed in
Galena in 1860 and became a clerk in his father's leather
shop. When the Civil War erupted Grant volunteered his
services and the rest, as they say, is history.
Galena produced a total of nine Civil War generals. One
wonders if close proximity to the stuff bullets are made from
exerted some sort of metaphysical force.
There's no escaping Grant in Galena. His image seems to
be everywhere, prompting one to impulsively think "fifty-
dollar bill" many times each day.
This is all part of a sneaky plot to subliminally inure
tourists to the exorbitant costs associated with being
tourists. It seemed as if we couldn't leave any of the quaint
Victorian shops lining Galena's Main Street without leaving a
fifty-dollar bill behind.
This was best illustrated by a couple my wife and I
passed as we strolled Main Street. The other husband, in a
voice choked with exasperation, said to his wife, "Did you
see anything in there that you DIDN'T like?!"
From a guy's point of view, many of Galena's shops
featured stuff that was totally useless. Can we live without
these ceramic figurines? I bet so. Are we the sort of people
who buy a lot of paintings? Not really. There was even a
place called The Bead Shop! Need I say more?
Scattered diabolically among these extremely unessential
shops were a few that actually had some very interesting
items. Look! Jamie's Wine Studio! It must be time to do more
wine tasting! And do I smell the aroma of broiled steak? Yes!
Let's duck into this restaurant for a quick bite! After all,
it's been an hour since I had my last steak, which was
approximately the size of a yearling calf!
There are many other things to do in Galena besides eat
or shop or sample wine. Most of these things involve visiting
historical museums, all of which are housed in historical
buildings.
We visited several museums, each boasting a bit of Grant
memorabilia. In one, we viewed the general's cavalry hat and
saddle; in another was a glass case that contained his left
boot. The town of Galena had Grant covered from head to toe,
although I wonder whatever happened to his right boot.
Speaking of museums, my wife and I stayed at the
historic De Soto House Hotel. The De Soto was named for the
first European to see the Mississippi, a man who seems to
have had a penchant for long, double-lettered words.
The De Soto has hosted -- surprise! -- many historical
figures. An aspiring politician named Abraham Lincoln gave a
speech from its balcony in 1856, as did Stephen Douglas in
1858. In 1868, Grant used the De Soto as his presidential
campaign headquarters. There really is no escaping that guy.
My wife and I paused from our hectic touring to enjoy a
cold beverage in the De Soto's taproom. I could easily
imagine Mark Twain -- yes, he stayed there too -- leaning
against the bar, one foot on the brass rail, a lazy cloud of
cigar smoke encircling his head.
After resting a bit, it was back to shopping. Various
items displayed in store fronts elicited such comments as
"cute" or "neat" or "ooh, how cool!"
In one particular store, as my wife and the proprietor
chatted, I opined that all this shopping was more than any
normal man could bear. My wife turned to the shopkeeper and
said, "You know what we did yesterday? We spent the whole day
touring the John Deere factory!"
The place suddenly became deathly quiet as a dozen
female eyes bored into me. Someone hissed, "You owe this lady
a whole lot of shopping, mister!"
She was right, of course. So we shopped, and shopped,
then shopped some more. I shattered my personal record for
shopping, which was definitely a historical event.
blue-gray crystalline mineral that consists mainly of lead
sulfide and is the main source of lead.
Another definition of Galena is "a history-drenched town
located in the northwestern corner of Illinois." My wife and
I visited Galena and discovered that it is a place where,
historically speaking, many historical people once lived.
Named for the ore that brought much wealth to the town,
Galena today seems frozen in time. It simply oozes history,
mostly from its numerous Victorian buildings. The lead mines
have long since played out; Galena now mines a bountiful vein
of tourists.
Perhaps Galena's most famous citizen was Ulysses S.
Grant. A former soldier who had gone from job to job and had
embarked upon a series of failed businesses, Grant landed in
Galena in 1860 and became a clerk in his father's leather
shop. When the Civil War erupted Grant volunteered his
services and the rest, as they say, is history.
Galena produced a total of nine Civil War generals. One
wonders if close proximity to the stuff bullets are made from
exerted some sort of metaphysical force.
There's no escaping Grant in Galena. His image seems to
be everywhere, prompting one to impulsively think "fifty-
dollar bill" many times each day.
This is all part of a sneaky plot to subliminally inure
tourists to the exorbitant costs associated with being
tourists. It seemed as if we couldn't leave any of the quaint
Victorian shops lining Galena's Main Street without leaving a
fifty-dollar bill behind.
This was best illustrated by a couple my wife and I
passed as we strolled Main Street. The other husband, in a
voice choked with exasperation, said to his wife, "Did you
see anything in there that you DIDN'T like?!"
From a guy's point of view, many of Galena's shops
featured stuff that was totally useless. Can we live without
these ceramic figurines? I bet so. Are we the sort of people
who buy a lot of paintings? Not really. There was even a
place called The Bead Shop! Need I say more?
Scattered diabolically among these extremely unessential
shops were a few that actually had some very interesting
items. Look! Jamie's Wine Studio! It must be time to do more
wine tasting! And do I smell the aroma of broiled steak? Yes!
Let's duck into this restaurant for a quick bite! After all,
it's been an hour since I had my last steak, which was
approximately the size of a yearling calf!
There are many other things to do in Galena besides eat
or shop or sample wine. Most of these things involve visiting
historical museums, all of which are housed in historical
buildings.
We visited several museums, each boasting a bit of Grant
memorabilia. In one, we viewed the general's cavalry hat and
saddle; in another was a glass case that contained his left
boot. The town of Galena had Grant covered from head to toe,
although I wonder whatever happened to his right boot.
Speaking of museums, my wife and I stayed at the
historic De Soto House Hotel. The De Soto was named for the
first European to see the Mississippi, a man who seems to
have had a penchant for long, double-lettered words.
The De Soto has hosted -- surprise! -- many historical
figures. An aspiring politician named Abraham Lincoln gave a
speech from its balcony in 1856, as did Stephen Douglas in
1858. In 1868, Grant used the De Soto as his presidential
campaign headquarters. There really is no escaping that guy.
My wife and I paused from our hectic touring to enjoy a
cold beverage in the De Soto's taproom. I could easily
imagine Mark Twain -- yes, he stayed there too -- leaning
against the bar, one foot on the brass rail, a lazy cloud of
cigar smoke encircling his head.
After resting a bit, it was back to shopping. Various
items displayed in store fronts elicited such comments as
"cute" or "neat" or "ooh, how cool!"
In one particular store, as my wife and the proprietor
chatted, I opined that all this shopping was more than any
normal man could bear. My wife turned to the shopkeeper and
said, "You know what we did yesterday? We spent the whole day
touring the John Deere factory!"
The place suddenly became deathly quiet as a dozen
female eyes bored into me. Someone hissed, "You owe this lady
a whole lot of shopping, mister!"
She was right, of course. So we shopped, and shopped,
then shopped some more. I shattered my personal record for
shopping, which was definitely a historical event.
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