Moving along with

the Moravians.   It was discovered (by the Yard Man and myself, as we continued our celebratory weekend) that the Moravians (a religious group) came to this country from Germany and

settled here in Bethlehem, PA, in the seventeen-hundreds.  The town is filled with their beautiful early architecture.  There's a Moravian college, a Moravian bookstore,  a museum filled with Moravian artifacts,  and a fact-filled guide named Gary, who is not a Moravian.

..........

Of course, there is a fact about Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, that is better known than the story of the Moravians.  It is the story of Bethlehem Steel. The sadly-defunct steel working structures punctuate the skyline, and there is a museum detailing the history of this bridge-and-ship-and-all-things-steel-making company.  (It is a long history [I tried to maintain my steely determination to stay and hear all of it.])

More interesting was the afternoon hoopla on the lawn below the elevated walkway (that runs along the side of the abandoned steel plant).  Before the Yard Man and I walked over here from our delightful lunch at the historic Bethlehem hotel, we had spotted many hat-wearing women.  It was slightly mystifying.  But when we got here, aha; Reader Dear, we got the clues we needed.  The Kentucky Derby was coming to Bethlehem, Pennyslvania, via an outdoor large-screen TV!  The crowd was gearing up!  

 

(Meanwhile, some less-celebrated horses gave a live performance to at least a few interested persons who happened to be watching [Reader Dear, one of these persons asked the other, "Is that a Percheron?"  and the other responded: "It's a mix"])

The Yard Man and I watched the festivities for a while, but eventually we decided we'd enjoy the "most exciting two minutes in sports" from the comfort of our hotel room.  I coaxed the Yard Man into stopping by the off-track betting building (conveniently located near the hotel).  Now,  it's true that my dear old dad was of the strong opinion that this kind of betting is "a tax on stupidity" and I tend to agree.  It's not a wise use of money.  But, Reader Dear, as soon as I saw that horse with the number seven was favored to win, I paid my small  tax.  "Seven has always been my lucky number, you know!" I said to the Yard Man with fervor.  "I know this horse is going to win!"


And don't you know, Dear One, he did!
Which means, of course, I did (nearly enough to buy that Yard Man some ice cream in the hotel lobby)!
And, don't you know, Reader Dear, even without that win, I'd have had a winning day!

................
Stay tuned, Reader Dear, for Sunday morning with the Moravians.
i.e. back soon.