Things I am not doing: I am not calling home for messages. I am not reading texts or emails on my phone. I am not scrolling for news. My phone, in fact, is in my bedside drawer at the hotel. The hardest part for me: not doing Wordle.

Going for walks is an allowable do nothing activity so strolling – as distinguished from scrolling….– around the cute beach-side town of Rehoboth, Delaware a couple of hours east of Washington, DC is allowed. Shopping, not so much. Reading t-shirts in a shop, okay. “If a man says he will fix it, he will. There’s no need to remind him every six months.” Now that’s worth an appreciative look. “I’m going to go stand outside, so if anyone asks, tell them I’m outstanding.” “Exercise? I thought you said extra fries.” That could be a Thrasher’s reference but more on that later…..

Maybe I’d better explain. I travel a lot. It’s my work and most trips are filled with story-gathering activities round-the-clock. Have to do all the must-sees and track down those unknowns off the beaten track. Lots of planning, organizing, researching – even the restaurants have to be studied. So the idea of a do-nothing vacation had a lot of appeal. Relaxing. Stress-free. Laid-back. I just didn’t know how much work it was going to be.

Restaurants are tricky. Rather than seeking out the umbrella-clad cocktail du jour, I was much happier hanging out at a local bar mid-day with my go-to Fireball over light ice. I’m an exercise fiend at home but here, raising a glass from the top of Whisky Jack’s bar – could any name be more perfect for what I was seeking out? – was about as much exertion as I could muster. The resultant smile on my face almost pushed me over the top. I think I was getting the hang of this do-nothing concept.

Rather than research the de rigueur restaurants of Rehoboth, I opted instead to stop for ice cream and the area’s famous Thrasher’s French Fries. Reading the weird ice cream flavors in the street-front parlor that boasts 100 different flavors was almost as much fun as reading t-shirts: “I Don’t Give a Fork,” “May the 4th be With You,” and “Better than Sex.” Reading a hundred ice cream flavors is time-consuming. How fortunate there was nothing I actually needed to DO.

Sitting on a boardwalk bench with my fries – somehow unlike any other (Thrasher’s refuse to provide ketchup because, I assume, that would tarnish the original flavor) – and people watching. Does that count as an activity? So many different humans going in so many different directions, all so intent on their own drummers – it was exhausting to watch. I was just happy to stay exactly where I was, watching the seagulls, busily squawking and hurtling toward a dropped French fry. Seagulls are actually more exhausting. I felt even more of a need to just unwind.

Truth be told, at one beach bar it was so bright and noisy I found it very hard to chill out the way I’d envisioned. Next time – dark, quiet and low key. So first night out, big mistake.

Feeding – so to speak – my preference for down-and-dirty restaurants as opposed to white-tablecloth, the comfortable and casual Gogg’s perfectly matched my mind-numbing mood on night out number two.

Alright so there was a menu with 100 rums, rivaling the 100 ice cream flavors. Could get testy. Resisting the threat of stressful decision-making angst, I simply opted for my favorites, thus enjoying the novelty of such variety while avoiding indulging in executive-level anxiety. A win-win. I didn’t have to do anything but eat and drink.

But, of course, any further activity-involved nightlife did not qualify. Back to my do-nothing balcony. Listening to waves never disappoints.

So yes, there are arcades in Rehoboth I didn’t go to. I didn’t bike-ride on the Boardwalk. I avoided mini-golf. Although I did at times find myself lusting after all the emails I wasn’t reading. Again, hard work to do nothing.

The next day, on the beach again, I didn’t for one minute miss playing frisbee while relaxing on my chaise lounge.The one exception to my inactivity, however, was to indulge in one of my most fun undertakings: diving into waves! I allowed myself that delightful diversion before returning to a renewed level of slothness. And maybe one more relaxing drink at Whisky Jack’s.

So is this all much ado about nothing? You bet!

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No, wait, I’m being told by Brian Cannon, the Historic Site Lead Interpreter: Do not compare New Castle with Colonial Williamsburg, though that was the hook that originally got me there. CW, as Cannon not-so-affectionately refers to the tourist town, is frozen in July 1776 and its many buildings built over many centuries have been “restored” to that hallowed place in history. They’re what are not real.

New Castle, on the other hand, Cannon explains, “is a continuously occupied community containing over 500 buildings spanning four centuries of Colonial, Federal and Victorian architecture.” He adds: “We celebrate our historic diversity. CW has no historic diversity.” Admonished, I move on.

Fortunately, New Castle is replete with history unrelated to the Revolutionary War, as well. William Penn, of nearby Pennsylvania fame, first set foot on American soil here is October 1682. At an alleyway called Penn’s Place – no surprise there – is found the oldest building foundation in town which dates its original construction back to Penn’s arrival. Take that, Williamsburg! You can’t get more authentic than that.

Fast forward a half-century to 1732 when the Old Courthouse was built. Of course, it was later updated. The modern renovations? The new steps put in in 1845, right about the time Thomas Garrett and his pal, Harriet Tubman, were hustling runaway slaves to freedom via the Underground Railroad, whose many stations ran right through neighboring Wilmington.  Garrett, Tubman’s right-hand man and “head stationmaster,” was tried for just such activities in the New Castle Courthouse in 1848. The presiding judge? Conservative Supreme Court Justice Roger Taney of the Dred Scott decision fame denigrating the Constitutional rights of African-Americans. Not surprisingly, he ruled against the abolitionist, bankrupting him.  Garrett’s reply: “Judge, thou has left me not a dollar, but I wish to say to thee and to all in this courtroom that if anyone knows a fugitive who wants a shelter and a friend, send him to Thomas Garrett and he will befriend him.” Pretty impressive courthouse to this day!

And yes, there is also a Revolutionary War connection. On June 15, 1776, the Delaware Assembly meeting in the same courthouse declared independence from Great Britain, predating the rest of the country. Williamsburg didn’t catch up for another month! Somehow these comparisons are hard to avoid.

Further American history abounds everywhere, with several houses of famous people over several centuries dotting the streets. And the cemetery at the Immanual Episcopal Church, founded in 1689, is home to its own well-known clientele, many of whom lived in those houses.  Gravesites from the early 1700’s to the present-day, of Founding Fathers to state governors, generals from the War of 1812 and Civil War to WWI and WWII veterans. The past brought into the present in a beautiful peaceful setting that does justice to both.

Two of the oldest houses in New Castle include the original framing structure of the Dutch House on East Third Street, which dates from 1690-1700 and is the best example of an intact original period dwelling, and No. 8 The Strand which was built as a much smaller brick house around 1690.

Williamsburg can’t boast such early architectural edifices. And another several hundred homes cover multiple centuries and architectural styles, with close to a hundred spanning the 17^th-19^th century time frame. Did I mention the cobblestone streets upon which I was sure the sounds of stagecoaches still reverberate?

A visit to Jessup’s Tavern and Colonial Restaurant: more confusion, more confirmation. The sign stating that it is now home to the largest selection of Belgian beers in Delaware, despite the Dutch, Swedish and British flags flying overhead, was jarring.  I’m pretty sure that’s not one of the more famous legacies of the Revolutionary – or any other American – War.  But once inside, impressions change. Beer of any country served in a crock mug somehow tastes better that way. Several flavors of “Colonial” ice cream are a sweet testimonial to the Colonists if not in reality a favored dessert. And although there are indeed dishes on the Bill of Fare representative of all the flags – and therefore history of New Castle – it is the English pub fare and candle-lit ambience that pre-dominate.

The server was dressed like…well…what can I say? The word wench comes to mind. Not that I know what one would actually look like, but the menu written is Olde English script is exactly what I assume a wench would write.

So yes, very much the feel of an 18^th-century tavern. And how would I know? Well, okay – I experienced one in Williamsburg. Admittedly, the USB charger in the center of the napkin holder was somewhat disorienting.  But as we were leaving, I spotted a Revolutionary War musket on the wall – somehow that made me feel better. But shhhh – don’t tell Mr. Cannon. Get more information about New Castle.

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