Okay, yes – the common cliche is “Washington Slept Here”. 

And on a recent trip back east, I did find the spot where ol’ George famously took his troops over the Delaware River:

I claimed in my last post to be a “lifelong” fan of Twain’s. To make sure that wasn’t an exaggeration, I’ve been happily recalling the sources and confluences of our relationship. This wasn’t the first Twain residence I’d visited – but it just might come to mean the most.

Being new to Connecticut, I was happy for great friend and host, Dee (who knows my fascinations and foibles…), to set our itinerary – with my one request that it include the Mark Twain House and Museum in Hartford. 

And did Dee ever come through!

She arranged for our guided tour led by a skilled actor portraying Twain’s butler, George. He not only led us through this stunning Victorian Gothic style confection, but took us back in time to the years between 1874 and 1891 when the Clemens family called it “home”. Twain had gotten to order up the mansion of his dreams, complete with the latest innovations of the age, lavish decoration, and three stories of rooms – including a billiard room/private study where he could write like no other has!

Photography inside wasn’t allowed but, trust me, this was an elegantly far cry from the site of Clemens’s humble beginnings – which I’ve also seen! Mark Twain Birthplace State Historic Park in Florida, Missouri, was one destination on an “All Things Twain” pilgrimage I made in 1988. The park’s namesake is a modest cabin entirely engulfed by a structure that I remember thinking looked like a church (I mean, the address is on Shrine Road!). And since Twain boasted that his birth in the 100-person town increased its population by 1%, I’m sure he’d also be proud that the lake created by a local dam bears his name!

As does the cave near his boyhood hometown of Hannibal, Missouri! I toured this and Cameron Cave, and also wandered through the Mark Twain Boyhood Home and Museum, took two steamboat rides on the Mississippi River and (in a city that clearly knows how its bread gets buttered) even dined on Mark Twain Chicken Strips!

I’d love to say this kinship with Twain began when, as a precocious child of six, I picked up “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” and immediately divined this was an author for the ages!

But nope. I came to Twain by way of a kids program called “The Banana Splits Show”, with its dreadfully catchy theme song and serialized “New Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” where Huck, Tom and Becky were real actors who moved through an animated world.

Next, I’d have been nine when my thoughtful big brother took me to see the movie musical “Tom Sawyer”! By an incredible coincidence, a female high school classmate of his was at the theater too and sitting right behind us. Rich gallantly moved back to keep her company, leaving me to become totally enthralled by the film – so much so that I couldn’t tell you what Rich got up to. (Although I do have a couple theories now.)

Okay, so then I started devouring Twain’s more youth-oriented tales! I even asked Dad if I needed any legal authority to write my own “Tom Sawyer” sequel – but I discovered there already was one…

I studied “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” as an English major at UC Berkeley, and began really to appreciate how deftly Twain could capture the antics and angst of boyhood at one turn, then deliver profound social comment round the next. I even tried to make a career out of further study but was turned down for a job working with the Mark Twain Papers (a collection of his personal writings curated at Cal). All I can think is that they just weren’t looking for the Banana Split perspective…

After a brief career in PR, I found myself lighting out for Missouri on that pilgrimage, soundtrack to the musical “Big River” blasting on the cassette player, and Twain’s invocation of a summer world that was “bright and fresh, and brimming with life” fueling my passion to explore!

And this July, after decades of swirling through life’s currents and eddies, I finally got to explore the lovingly preserved Twain landmark I’d long wanted to see (thanks again to Dee)! It was so moving to stand there and get a feel for the depth of meaning this place held for Twain – the place where, after his “happiest and most productive years”, financial trouble forced the family to leave, and where the death of a daughter kept them from ever feeling up to returning…

The visit’s had me wondering why I keep seeking out these kinds of experiences when, um, not everybody cares to. 

During a Northern California jaunt years ago, I had to drag my friend Judy away from the natural splendor of Yosemite to clatter up a rocky road at someplace called Jackass Hill – just to view the cabin where Twain supposedly wrote “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County”:

It was only a replica, but I was still thrilled! Judy, however, figured if I thought it was worth going out of our way to gawk at some shack with a dodgy chain of title, then I was definitely atop the right hill. (But she indulged me anyway!)

Back in 1988, I kept a travel journal (even though Twain asserted there’s no worse punishment…) and wondered if I might have artfully addressed this issue in its pages. I hunted down promising entries like one from just after the extraordinary night when I witnessed a lightning-punctuated storm over the Mississippi from the window of a steamboat:

“Yesterday I almost ran out of gas and then got going the wrong direction out of the gas station.”

Alright, maybe not.

I’m tempted huffily to resort to the argument that I don’t have to have reasons for any of this! But I’ll try and take one more run at the thing:

While savoring being off on these journeys, I think I’ve always carried a sense of how much they’d mean later as well – how recalling their details would be a way to keep holding close to my heart the people who traveled with me.

In the case of Sam Clemens/Mark Twain, seeing his house brought back sweet – and comical – recollections that entwine him with all kinds of other dear companions! It felt like touching base with an old friend – one who helped inspire in me a curiosity and sense of adventure. He’s also one who penned such wonderfully entertaining examples of how a person can be tried and tested in life but come out stronger for it. He challenged me to examine what I believe and not be afraid to change – 

And does he ever make me laugh!

Guess I’m nearly out of “Twain Slept Here” places to hit at this point. But I haven’t read all of his works yet so, to make the “lifelong” moniker an honest one, I look forward to literary journeys yet to come – even as I cherish the ones that came before!

Cheers!