Last night, feeling disconnected from humanity, I decided to get in the buggy and head to Lancaster Brewing Company.
I have friends that meet every Sunday night there and it is a great way to start or end the week depending on how you look at it. Despite the icons of agrarian and bucolic scenes pasted on the brews, LBC is in the city of Lancaster. No horses in sight. Although, I do see the Amish shop at the local COSTCO with the horse and buggies having their own parking area. No fooling. That is a clash of cultures for sure, but the Amish are thrifty and like a bargain, so it makes sense.
I have lived here in Lancaster for nearly 30 years with only a couple of years out of the county after college. I was born in St. Louis, Missouri, spent my early youth in West Virginia, and then moved to the Philadelphia suburbs in 1970 to a town called Devon, unofficially and affectionately known as Devo on all of the highway signs for years…until the musical group de-evolved into oblivion and the graffiti artist grew up….I believe his name was Bo something. He went to my high school. Devon is also known for its yearly aristocratic horse show. Despite Devon being about an hour from Lancaster, let me put it this way. We go from Bob the Snob to Bob the Billy Bob in 6o miles. Where Blue State and Red State meet.
I came here for college and stayed. Although the locals will not grant me that status because I was not born on this blessed soil. Lancaster is a nativistic.