Like Washington, Sleep Where You Can, Cross the River, Keep the Faith.

By Fred Bruning

Jan. 4, 2026

George Washington did not sleep here.

This is the forthright acknowledgment of the Black Bass Hotel, Lumberville, Pennsylvania, situated 14 miles from where Washington crossed the Delaware to New Jersey for a surprise assault on Hessian mercenaries in Trenton fighting on behalf of King George.

Turns out, Washington, commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, sought respite at the Black Bass, a handsome riverside inn, but was turned away sometime around Christmas, 1776.

“Have a room?” asks Washington.

“Reservation?”

“Been busy, forgot. Revolution, and all.”

“Out of luck, sorry, booked for the holidays.”

“Really bushed. You sure?”

“Try next door, small place, drafty, no pool, but OK for a night, and, hey, good luck. Tough town, Trenton.”

That didn’t happen.

According to the Black Bass, Washington flunked at the front desk because the innkeeper, loyal to the Crown, would not shelter a colonist upstart about to confront the King’s forces – forget about it, pal, keep moving, see ya’ around, and here’s to the Hessians.

Built in the 1740s and operating under a number of names, the Black Bass continues welcoming guests on the banks of the Delaware, renovated, of course, open to all, no need to state your political preference at check-in, we’re all Yankee Doodle Dandies now, Amex accepted.

Old friends who live an hour away introduced my wife, Wink, and me, to the inn several years ago and, better luck than General Washington, we have been accommodated often since, including last week for New Year’s.

Happy time it was, joined by our two daughters and their husbands, despite a spectacular spill I took on an icy path that required a visit to the emergency room at Doylestown, Pennsylvania, Hospital. No breaks, x-rays showed, but left side ribs feel like I’d been stomped by Washington’s white steed – aaargh! in almost every position except sitting at the computer which, warning, means this could turn into an epic poem, just me searching for relief.

DocMikeEvans/YouTube

On the trip to the hospital and back – my elder daughter driving, I wouldn’t have been able to turn the ignition key – we went, hill and dale, through Bucks County, steep and rugged terrain, and even if still stuck on Episode 1 of the admirable (but really long) Ken Burns revolution documentary, you could not help but think of what those ordinary people – townsfolk turned soldiers – faced, fighting in freezing weather, ice floes on the river, peril where they least expected.

Where are we, Americans, everyone wants to know, as 2026 arrives, what’s left of that upstart energy and high-principled sense of purpose, is the country in hibernation, dull and downhearted?

In the Washington Post, a columnist lists all the things he likes about the current government and, in the comment box off to the right, readers say, whaddaya nuts or what, just look around and the madness is just getting started.

But wait, shout the hopeful: There’s Mamdani in New York City, seems a sweet fellow, and who wouldn’t like free buses, we’ll see what he manages, and how about the crowds Bernie and AOC drew around the county, Idaho, Montana, Utah, for crying out loud!

Just a moment to reflect here on the couple, Walter and Kathy, who told us about the Black Bass.

We’re different politically, seriously apart, but Wink and I, love them – kind-hearted people and decent, full of fun. If not for my fall, we would have met them for lunch, but just as well, Walter’s sciatica been kicking up, better luck next time.

For more than 60 years, we’ve been friends, all the way back to school days in the Midwest, Winky and I, East Coast kids ending up – where? – the University of Missouri, still fresh in memory, the heartland, open and stirring, corn and soybeans, cattle grazing, Burma-Shave signs along old Route 40.

Big country ours, room for all of us, still the truth. Once, we showed a King what spunk, solidarity and conviction can do.

“For time and the world do not stand still,” said John F. Kennedy. “Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or the present are certain to miss the future.”

Signing off, taking Motrin, no epic, after all.

Keep the faith, friends, and Happy New Year.

At Trenton, Washington routed the Hessians.

King George III for Scholastic. By Greg Newbold

Previous Invisible Ink posts at: https://fredbruning.substack.com/archive