My retirement year - October

For the past 37 years, autumn meant "back to school". If we managed to see its famed foliage, it was a quick weekend trip to the Poconos, or High Point, or Sunrise Mountain's overlook at Stokes. But now, it occurred to us, that we could travel at this fabulous fall time of year. Though we had not yet closed on the house, we decided to try to relax a little by heading north to Nova Scotia, to see our friends Scott and Stef who had moved there. Wow - a non-summer visit! So off we went. Two days up - with a stop in Maine. Maine, with its beautiful shades of red, yellow, set against the evergreen pines. Through New Brunswick (Canada, not NJ), and into the maritime province of Nova Scotia. Scott and Stef live in Pictou, the birthplace of "New Scotland", on the north coast, with a view of Prince Edward Island. A short walk from their house to the shore, looking back from the bay at the changing foliage lining the bay. Restful. Then back toward NJ, with another brief stop in Maine (free of charge thanks to Choice points!) Interstate travel made New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York fly by, but beautiful nonetheless.

My Retirement Year, September

Our summer travels were no different than our usual summer vacations, except it was a week longer than most, and I did not have to work on lesson plans upon our return. So when did it hit me that I was retired?
September, when Labor Day came and went, and I was not at Verona High School, I was aware of some slight difference. When the following week began, and yet again I was not in class, and I was waking up without an alarm (!) around 8 a.m. And I was having leisurely breakfasts, reading the entire newspaper before worrying about "starting the day", then I felt retired.
Almost everyone who retires often kids "when did I have time to work?" Well, in my case, we were trying to sell my father's house, and, while we were away, we got an offer. And we accepted! So there was a final push to get the house clean and ready for the sale. How would I have ever done this if I were still working? I was over at the house nearly every day; we filled our third dumpster of stuff from the garage and cellar; we boxed some "good stuff" and got it ready to move. I met with lawyers, plumbers, CofO and radon inspectors, and real estate agents. Jim (my surviving brother) and I piled up scrap metal, aluminum, copper and brought it to the recycling center. And finally, it was just about ready. We hired a POD to put away those boxed items, which was then brought to our house for further storage (that brought us into October). It was so busy that a planned trip up to VHS had to wait until well into October, which is when we finally closed the deal and said goodbye to 497.

Home again...

Great trip. 15 states (not including NJ). 31 days. 3,117 miles. $629 in gas. And we reached our goal of having visited 49 of the 50 states. On the other hand, we also found that there are five states that we have been in, but not really explored (New Mexico - if you don't count putting your foot in at 4 corners; Texas, except by train and I-40; Kansas (I-70 and lots of cornfields); Oklahoma; and Mississippi (except a midnight bus stop in Biloxi). So we still have lots to explore in depth. And, of course, Hawaii.

Final Serendipity

Written from home in NJ:
As I've noted, we occasionally take a moment out of our planned itinerary because a sign said that something vaguely interesting was just off to the right or left. Our final testament to this came from three places, all spiritual and inspiring.
The National Fallen Firefighters Memorial. When our brother Joe died last year, one of the ways to remember him was to contribute to this small memorial in Emmittsburg, Maryland, just south of Gettysburg. As we made our way toward the battlefield, a sign told us of the memorial. It is on the grounds of the National Fire Training Academy (formerly the College of the Daughters of Charity) and the headquarters of FEMA, whom I'm sure you recall from Hurricane Katrina days. Because it is federal property, you need to sign in and wear visitor tags. But the memorial is lovely and touching in its simplicity and worth the visit. An eternal flame reminds us of how many of these men and women met their end. Plaques note the year and state they were from. One plaque by itself lists the names of the firefighters in NYC on 9/11. Nearby, a 20 foot sculpture depicts the famous picture of firemen raising the flag at Ground Zero.
Right next door is the Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, aka Mother Seton. Her shrine is an expansive basilica, decorated with mosaic and stained glass. A side altar allows a brief prayer to the saint, whose earthly remains are buried a few feet below the altar. The lower level is a testament to her life: her marriage and early widowhood; her conversion from the Episcopal Church; her founding of the Daughters/Sisters of Charity and its work in schools and healthcare.
Again, a beautiful and inspiring center of contemplation.
St. Meinrad's Abbey, Indiana. Most of us at some point have run into the catalog from "Abbey Press" with its quasi-religious posters or sayings and collectibles. As we drove along I-64, there was a sign for St. Meinrad, the town. Since we get the catalog, Patty recognized the name. It is an abbey of Benedictine Monks who work on two basic businesses: the books, posters et al; and caskets. They also have a beautiful church, built in 1904 and remodeled in the 1990s. We stumbled onto a tour being given by one of the monks, so that we were able to get a first-hand look at the church, the lower chapel (which evokes the Byzantine rite), and the garden, for which our tour guide was the primary caretaker.
The visits made us slightly late for our intended destinations, but I look forward to more traveling where time is not of the essence and we can folow the rules of serendipity as we will.

Trying to Understand the Civil War

The Civil War has been an integral part of our travels, even though that was not a primary objective. We began, of course, in Atlanta, whose burning by Sherman's troops was an important event in bringing the war to a close and "Gone With the Wind" to a climax. We spent some time in Montgomery, where the vote for Alabama to secede was held. We saw various signs for battlefields off the interstates. And then came two very different and geographically close sites: Harper's Ferry, West Virginia and Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
Harper's Ferry was the site of the attempted rebellion led by John Brown in 1859. Incensed by slavery, he attacked an armory there to try to get weapons for a slave rebellion. To some, he was a scoundrel - daring to attack the government itself, not knowing an even greater rebellion lay less than two years away. To others, he was a hero. When something is held to be morally wrong, some believe that you must do everything in your power to stop it; even violence. In 1861, after South Carolina, Virginia, and Alabama led the way to the formation of the Confederacy, Harper's Ferry was once again the scene of violence, with the armory and most of the town being laid to waste in bloody battles by the North and South.
A study in contrast is Gettysburg, only about two hours to the north, just over the famed Mason-Dixon Line that separates Maryland from Pennsylvania. The town of Gettysburg was smack in the middle of the bloodiest battle of the war, yet only one citizen was killed by a stray bullet (Jennie Wade, for those trivia fans out there). The battle lasted three days, with luck and a few bad decisions (Pickett's Charge, for example), deciding victory for the North. Yet on July 4, 1863, so many dead bodies lay strewn around the farms that they were often buried on the spot they died. Later, local officials decided to bury them just outside their local cemetery (which had even been the site of a battle itself - Cemetery Ridge). Within 5 months, it had become a National Cemetery and was dedicated by the great orator of the day Edward Everett, and the president, Abraham Lincoln. Everett spoke for two hours; Lincoln for two minutes. Everett was hailed by the press; Lincoln was ridiculed for his "silly comments" (which, by the way, was not composed on the back of an envelope). Which do we remember? There's a lesson to be learned somewhere in there.
Thousands died in those three days - 5000 alone in Pickett's Charge. Some from as far away as Indiana, Texas, and the Nebraska territory. For something they believed in: states' rights or union. I'm not sure I could or would do the same.

Homogenized America

I occasionally have mixed emotions as I drive the highways and byways of the USA. No matter where you go, there may be a Walmart, or Home Depot, or Sears, Target, or J.C. Penney. There are Borders Books and Staples; "Mall West" here and "Mall East" there. There are, of course, McDonalds and Burger Kings, Wendy's, Cracker Barrels, and several Pizza Huts, even right here on the "country roads, West Virginia...." On the one hand, it's comforting. This is America. Even though we travels hundreds of miles from our home state, we are in the same land. Whether it's New Jersey or Missouri, we can count on the same products, the brand names we trust and purchase back home. While there are the occasional regional choices - Bass Pro Shops (for hunting/fishing/camping enthusiasts) as opposed to L.L. Bean; some restaurants differ slightly in their menus - there's no pulled pork like that of Memphis; you can't get biscuits and sausage gravy in too many places up north. But most of the time, if you drive just a little farther, you can find the store just like "back home".
On the other hand, it's also a little like listening to rap in Ireland. What has happened to our regional identities? Is there no more "South" or "West"? Just America? And is that a bad thing?

Go East, retired man

The circle is starting back, as we head east for the first time since Atlanta. It's somehow fitting that we do that by going backward through the Gateway of the West - St. Louis, Missouri. And even more fitting that we mark the occasion by ascending in the Gateway Arch (real name: Jefferson National Expansion Memorial) which we first observed (almost 32 years ago to the day) as we drove west on our honeymoon. The Arch is 630 feet above the Mississippi River, built in 1965. You ascend in a small (about 5' high) tram car that takes 4 minutes to reach the top where you can then look 50 miles east and west. A brief side trip before St. Louis had continued our literary tour, this time to the home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, known for the "Little House" book series, who lived most of her 90 years in this house. The visit gave a new appreciation for the books, and introduced me to her daughter - Rose Wilder Lane - who was also quite the writer. Her "most famous novel" was "When the Hurricane Blows" aka "The Young Pioneers". She was a news correspondent right up to the Vietnam War before her death in 1968.
PS: IF YOU WANT TO READ THE BEGINNING OF THE TRIP POSTS, SCROLL DOWN AND SELECT "OLD POSTS". THE PICTURES ALL STAY IN ORDER, BUT THE POSTS DON'T.

Fueling Around

One of the jokes from the Baldknobber crew goes like this:
- What separates Illinois from Missouri?
- About 40 cents per gallon!
When we left NJ, we'd heard that Missouri had the cheapest gas in the nation on average. And it's true. Of course, as we've traveled, gas prices have been coming down anyway. My fill-up pre- leaving NJ was $3.93 per gallon, off-brand. In Virginia and the Carolinas, it hovered in the same area - only once going over the $4 mark and that was near Baltimore-DC. Alabama's prices were around $3.85; Arkansas a little less - we were able to fill up at a highway stop for $3.79. But Missouri has them all beat. The most expensive is here in Branson (get them tourists!) and it is $3.65 at name-brand stations. But while we traveled to Carthage, we actually got gas for $3.36! Now, I'm not sure if oil is just cheaper here or, like NJ, they have a low gas tax. But whatever, I'm filling up again before I hit Illinois...

Baldknobbers?

After the Civil War, a vigilante group set themselves up to patrol the unruly wilderness in the Ozarks - the place that fueled the popular image of Hillbillies and the feuding MacCoys and Lil Abner. These guys adopted masks to conceal their identities from neighbors and called themselves "Bald Knobbers", after the nearly treeless hills or knobs that are in this area. Then, as so many law-enforcement groups do, they were corrupted by their power and became abusive criminals themselves. In the 1950s, as Branson was just catching on as an entertainment capital, a group of locals began to perform an outdoor drama version of the book, "Shepherd of the Hills", which apparantly was very popular in the early 20th century. It's a classic love story set against this lawless era - think "Oklahoma" with hills. Part of this performance included a barn dance backed up by blue grass musicians. A few years later, these musicians began performing in one of the newly opened theatres. Someone recognized them as the guys who played the baldknobbers in the play and they thought it sounded like a great name for the group. Today, almost 50 years later, they - the Mabe family and friends - are still playing, in their own theatre. They play mostly country-style music - no blue grass anymore - and have added a variety of hillbilly comics, with names like Willie Makeit, Hargus - the sad sack face, Droopy Drawers - think Tim Conway, and Stub, who can actually put his lip over his nose! Their humor is vaudevillean, usually based on the stupidity of either Hargus or Stub. ("If you had $13 in one pocket, and $12 in the other, what would you have?" "Somebody else's pants!") though it is occasionally topical: "You know there isn't really any oil shortage. We have oil, we just can't measure it." "Really, why is that?" "All the dipsticks are in Washington." (cymbal crash please)
But here's my favorite: A man goes to a revival meeting and says he's worried about his hearing. The minister placed his hands over the man's ears and prayed that he be healed. After a half an hour of prayer, the minister says "So how's you hearing?" The man says "I don't know. It doesn't come until Tueday at the court house!"
Other shows we enjoyed: The Showboat Branson Belle, a recreated sternwheeler, that features the classic foursome of two gals and two guys singing the hits of Broadway, as well as a ventriloquist who works with real dogs and even brings people up on stage, "throwing " his voice into theirs as he squeezes the back of their necks and they open their mouths. It was really fun, though we felt sorrier for the dogs than we did the people.
Roy Rogers, Jr. - the son of the Son of the Pioneer who does a decent job of telling his father's story and singing some of his songs. There is a museum attached that has Trigger (stuffed) and the old Lillybelle jeep from the TV show.
The Presleys: they were the other family that "started Branson". Outstanding musicians and vocalists, they tried their hand at comedy as well, often with the same jokes we'd heard earlier. But it was a good show.
The World's Largest Toy Museum with a million toys and artifacts of our youth. It could use a slightly better labeling system - there are a number of times when you say "what is that?" or "I wonder how old that is?" But I've never seen so many miniature cars, trucks, games, dolls etc. And then there's Titanic: the outside of which resembles half of the ship and the inside has a rebuilt "grand staircase" and state rooms - both first and third class, plus a room about the film, with behind the scenes video and costumes and props from the film version, and a lot of stories from survivors and early passengers who were lucky enough to have disembarked in Ireland.
All in all, lots of things to see and do. We even took an extra two hour side trip to go to Carthage, Mo, for the "Precious Moments" museum and chapel. Those little large-eyed figurines have done well. Sam Butcher, their creator, has built a chapel there with murals depicting, in figurine-like drawings, his slightly humorous view of heaven, the Beatitudes, and various tales from the Bible.
Still more proof that "no matter where you go..."

Branson, MO

We are only midway through our stay in Branson and, so far, it is well worth the trip. We missed several of our favorite "oldies", as they have chosen our vacation time to take their own - so Andy Williams, and Bobby Vinton, the Lennon Sisters (from Lawrence Welk) and even Shoji Tabuchi is off relaxing this week. Who? He's sort of a made-in-Branson star who apparantly puts on one hell of a show. We even missed Paul Revere and the Raiders because we were just too tired to get out for our first night and their last performance here.
So, what to do? Well, we decided that we did not want to see the imitation acts - the Elvis impersonators, the Liverpool Lads, the "salute to the 60s" etc. We'd prefer original performers - so last night we went to see Jim Stafford. Like other performers here, he had one big hit in the 70s called "Spiders and Snakes", but apparantly made enough money to buy himself a theater. He , and his two children, do some music; he's an incredible guitar player; and a sort-of stand-up comedy - "Welcome to Branson. That's an old Indian word for 'bumper-to-bumper'" he explains, referring to the tendency here to wait through several changes of traffic lights out on "the strip". Earlier, we were treated to some more downhome Southern "hillbilly" humor when we explored the Homestead at "Shepherd of the Hills", an historic site that was the basis for the best selling novel that I'd never really heard of until I got here. But I'm told that it is the fourth best-seller in the US, and it was the basis of four movies. It is also the basis for one of those huge outdoor dramas, with 100 actors and live animals telling the tale. We'll see the show on Friday, but meantime we explored the site and took a trip up Inspiration Tower, a 230 foot high extension above the Ozarks, looking down on "Mutton Hollow" and the Bald Knob - a treeless hill whose name will be significant later. From the enclosed viewing area, we were alongside a few turkey vultures and actually looked down on a red shouldered hawk flying by!
Bald Knob gives its name to a group of vigilantes who ruled the area in the post Civil War days and also to another musical comedy act that was one of the first performers in the developing Branson entertainment area.

Hot Springs and other things

Several people, when presented with the fact that we would explore Arkansas on this trip, responded with "why Arkansas? Beyond so you can brag about being in 49 of the states?" Well, I'm back to my theory about "no matter where you go..."
Out of Alabama, we moved quickly through the main part of Arkansas - it's in the plains and there is not much scenery beyond the cornfields and cotton plants. A little like Kansas, except for the cotton. We were tempted to stop in Little Rock: Capitol/capital; Civil Rights center; a national cemetary; Bill Clinton's Presidential Library - all kinds of possibilities, but we'll save that for another trip. When it's not 100 degrees out.
Instead, we reached the beginning of the mountain region. If you divide Arkansas with a diagonal through its almost-rectangular shape, the eastern side is flat; the western half has the Ozarks, a mountain range that is actually one large plateau separated by river valleys. Hot Springs is at the start of those mountains. Hot Springs was one of those towns that grew up from the - um, well - hot springs that pour out from its rock outcroppings. Very medicinal, you know. Especially in the late Victorian age when polite society could "take to the baths"; immerse themselves in about 100 degree water (it comes out of the ground at 140, but that's almost scalding, so they cool it down a little.) Bathhouses line Central Avenue (actually built over a hot creek) until bathing was less fashionable, a depression hit, and a war. But way back in the 1820s, the federal government recognized the need to preserve these forests and springs and Hot Springs was declared a national preserve - way before the concept of "national park" had developed with Yellowstone. Today, Hot Springs is a national park and its visitor center, since 1989, is one of the bath houses. The town hugs the park's boundaries and has several classic "hotel and spa" buildings left from the 20s. At various points in town, one can fill a jug with the natural waters ("it has no taste" explained a film in the visitor center. Well, duh, it's water.) People line up with gallon jugs (for sale in several local establishments for 73 cents or more) and some with five gallon jars, often a truck-load full. A drive up the north mountain takes you to an observation tower, about 760 feet above the town. A west mountain drive takes you to a more natural observation post.
A little further north is Eureka Springs, a similar town but without the national park designation. To get there, you drive through Dogpatch (it's on the map, but no road sign identifies it) and nearby Flippin (an article in a newspaper said to watch for the sign that says "Flippin Police..."), but we sped on towards Branson, mid-America's music capital, no matter Memphis might think.

And on to Memphis, Tennessee

Bound for Memphis and Graceland (because, after all, why not?), we discovered that US 72 took us right through Tuscumbia, Alabama. Now there's a familar name for anyone who has read, watched, or taught "The Miracle Worker" lo these many years. So we took a slight detour to visit "Ivy Green", the birthplace and childhood home of Helen Keller, in Tuscumbia. It is a quaint farmhouse that is a complete surprise to anyone expecting the midwestern look that it has in the movies. And the little cottage that Annie Sullivan takes Helen to, so she can teach her away from Mom and Dad's influence? It's right next door. In fact, it's the litte bridal cottage built for Kate (the second Mrs. Keller) and the actual birthplace of Helen. It's a few steps away from the main house, not miles away on the plantation as it is usually seen. But the pump?
The pump is there - now enshrined in a gazebo like covering - but right there in the yard. The pump where Helen made the discovery that W-A-T-E-R meant that liquid stuff pouring over her hands. And from that connection, she went on to graduate cum laude from college, hobnob with presidents and world leaders, and write several books.
Back to Route 72, we soon found ourselves in Mississippi where we stopped for lunch in Corinth. We thought about exploring a few Civil War battlefields, but decided to hold those off for another (perhaps cooler) time. And then a short drive back into Tennessee and Memphis.
Our first stop was to Beale Street - center of town and the birthplace of the blues and rock'n'roll. We celebrated its heritage by grabbing dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe and wandering the street, listening to bar musicians playing the blues and r'n'b live. W.C. Handy is given credit for the birth of the blues when he wrote "Memphis City Blues" right here on this street. Today, there's a statue in his honor, horn and all. Beale Street was also the home of Sun Records, Sam Phillips' recording studio that was visited by a young Elvis Presley in 1955.
Two years later, after "Hound Dog" and numerous others, he bought Graceland - a beautiful stone facade mansion that served as his home until his death 20 years later. Now it is Presley Enterprises: tours of the mansion (headphones and players in hand) through the "jungle room" living room, his indoor racquet ball court (and lounge area where he died), and the gravesites for him and his parents and paternal grandmother. In addition, across the street (Elvis Presley Boulevard), separate museums celebrate his films, his cars, his two airplanes, his life in the Army 1958- 60, his outfits (those jewel-bedecked jump suits that all the imitators have) and gift shops/cafes galore. We bought VIP passes - why not? - and took the full 4 hours to really get to know and/or remember Elvis.
But the heat - it's closing in on 100 again - made us get back to the AC in our motel - only 5 minutes away. Luckily. Because while we sat in the room and wrote postcards, a major thunderstorm hit and continued pouring for over an hour. But this time we had our car windows closed!
We ordered pizza delivered to our room and just relaxed. Tomorrow we head for Arkansas - the actual goal of this trip after Atlanta, remember? But who knows? There may be a side trip or two in store.

No matter where you go...

We're back to that fascinating theory of ours that it does not really matter where you go, there is always something of interest that was somehow not originally obvious in the planning. After discovering Montgomery (our description of which also should have included the beautiful grounds of the Alabama Shakespeare Festival) and the world of Talassee, we proceeded through the countryside of Alabama through the infamous Birmingham and up to Huntsville, home of NASA's Space and Rocket Center.
Huntsville was formerly home to the Marshall Space Center, where Werner Von Braun and other German and American scientists formulated the American space program. Today, the center is a tribute to that program - dominated by an actual Saturn V rocket, towering over the parking lot. Trivia: In a scale model of the rocket, a person would only be 7.5" in comparison to its height. In addition, the center has lunar modules, astronaut suits, artifacts from the Apollo program, and an full-size mockup of the space shuttle and its booster rockets.
We also had a lesson in perspective: given the heat, we had left the moon roof slightly open in the parking lot. During our lunch break, we noted dark clouds and increasing winds, but failed to respond appropriately. After exploring the museum a little more (they have a shutle simulator where you have to try to land the shuttle successfully), we looked outside and it was teeming! Quick with the umbrella and through the storm to try to rescue our vehicle and its contents. Which I did. Sort of. Some things were wet; the seats were soaked; but nothing major destroyed. Not like another person who was leaving the museum, slipping on the wet stairs, and taken away by an ambulance. Something else must have occurred as well, for, after the lightning storm had abated somewhat, two fire trucks arrived and stayed. A final reminder that a little rain is nothing to get upset over came as we walked back to our motel room after feasting at a local "Barnhill's Buffet". A loud crack pulled us out of our conversation to see a car ramming into another at a red light - did one not stop? It happened so quickly, we could not be sure. One car did a 360 turn, its airbag and alarm went off; the other vehicle (the one hit?) took a while to stop, finally resting about 100 feet down the highway. EMTs arrived quickly, so we wandered back "home", reflecting that it had been a strange day. Space, with its disasters of Apollo I and Challenger; Earth, with its ability to change focus within seconds. "There but for Fortune, go you and I" says Phil Ochs. I think I'll drive very carefully tomorrow.

Montgomery: home of Civil War and Civil Rights

After a brief visit to the Atlanta Zoo, itwas down the road towards Montgomery, Alabama. We stayed outside of the city in a little town called Talassee (accent on the first syllable), in the Hotel Talisi (said exactly the same way, just spelled differently). It is a quaint old style hotel, looking like something out of "Gunsmoke" except it has a bathroom. Actually ours has two because it used to be two rooms! The lobby has an old bathtub/shower which the owner suggested could be used, but I couldn't see any pipes. I knew he was kidding around with the Yankee. The hotel has a restaurant that closes at 3 p.m., so dinner on Sunday was at a Hudde House. Our room, on the second floor, is off a lobby that has several arm chairs, tables, a piano, several cases containing Hummel-like knick-knacks, and an old-fashioned phone booth. In fact I'm writing this from the hallway because the wi-fi doesn't carry into the rooms.
We had a fabulous (albeit hot - it's closing in on 100 in town) day in beautiful downtown Montgomery, under the guidance of our good friend Phillip, who spent 17 years here as a teacher before he left for the slightly cooler (in all senses of the word) New Jersey. Anyway, it was fun to get a hometown boy's tour. It began with breakfast at Chappy's, a "NY style deli", that makes you buy the milk for your coffee if you don't use cream. Then, it was on to town.
Montgomery was the capital of the Confederacy and is the current capital of the state. Driving around town, there are a number of historic markers explaining the beginnings of the Civil War: the vote for secession was taken in the House of Representatives' room in the Capitol; the telegram that OK'd the bombing of Fort Sumter was sent from here. Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederacy, lived and ruled here, in what is affectionately called "the Confederate White House". It is white and it contains a large number of artifacts and belongings from the period. One room holds the furniture that was in the NY hotel room occupied by Mrs. Davis at her death in 1906 and the chair that she sent to him when he was imprisoned by the North. Ironically, just down the street is the Baptist Church in which Martin Luther King was pastor in the 50s, and the place where the vote was taken to begin the bus boycott after Rosa Parks was arrested for refusing to give up her seat in 1955. The march for civil rights took place on the very street we drove on, heading up "goat hill" toward the Capitol.
We visited a few other churches before enjoying lunch in the Davis Cafe, a primarily black dining establishment which Phillip used to frequent while employed nearby in the Booker T. Washingon Magnet School for the Arts. We had fried pork chops; Patty tried some turnip greens and brown beans, and we feasted on a sweet "red velvet" cake for dessert. Very tasty.
The heat took us back to Talassee, after bidding goodbye to our tour guide. And the heat in the hall is sending me back into the air-conditioned room.

More thoughts on Atlanta

Southern hospitality has a true representative in the people of Atlanta. From our very first experience (getting lost), we were treated kindly by all we met. A fire fighter returning from a fire said "Wow, how did you get here?" when we told him where we wanted to go and then explained what streets and what turns we needed. When that didn't work completely, we flagged down one of Atlanta's finest - police this time - and he not only gave us specific directions, but he said "Now, you'll want to turn left onto Peachtree. Turn left! Even if it says not to (several streets in Atlanta do not allow left turns), do it anyway. And if you get stopped by a police officer, tell them that Officer Somers (and he gave us his badge number) said it was OK." And then he proceeded to give us his cell phone number in case we got lost again!
In addition, several folks in white uniforms walk up and down the downtown streets and, if you look a little confused, will say "May I help you?" And then give directions to the restaurant or hotel or MARTA (their subway & bus line). And down in the MARTA station, another color uniform says "where do you want to go? Will you go again tomorrow?" And shows us how to use the coin-operated ticket machine and then how to use the ticket to get through the gates. And finally, even the guy on the street: a valet parking employee (well, he was wearing a uniform so it seemed OK to ask) was happy to point out that we were going the wrong way to get back to our hotel from the subway. All in all, very pleasant people.
Atlanta is also very lovely. Today we visited its Botanical Gardens in Piedmont Park. Not overly large but well represented in the flora collection. A Japanese garden, complete with contemplative shelter, to relax and chant "om" (I don't know, is that Japanese?) A rose garden that unfortunately in the drought was not doing too well- so the garden gave us little lessons on how to conserve water and stil have a garden. And the indoor conservatory with its tropical desert from Madagascar, trees and frogs from Costa Rica, orchids from Asia, and the mountain tropics (a cool and wet respite from the 90 degree heat outside).
From there, with its natural beauty, we went on to the High Art Museum, a complex of three buildings with three floors of fine art. The current display is "The Louvre Atlanta", a collection of Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and mid-East sculptures from as long ago as 4200 BC and the more recent first millenium AD. In addition, a floor of American folk (self-taught) art and another on 18th-19th century American and European art. Other floors presented other eras and styles, but time would not allow us the pleasure. I'm supposed to be attending a conference, remember?

Hotlanta

"Oh Atlanta, I hear you calling...." (Allison Krause & Union Station)
Well, it's calling because of this theater and education conference, otherwise I think I'd come back in cooler time of year weather. We arrived in the midst of a thunderstorm (they badly need the rain - a drought has lowered their reservoirs considerably and I understand they've had to go to Tennessee to get some water.) Our travel day took us through 100 degree temps, though after the storm, it's closer to 88.
But Atlanta is beautiful. I spent part of the day in the Woodruff Arts Center (named for the founding owner of Coca-Cola) and the Center for Puppetry where I learned to make a shadow puppet. Lots of things to see and do here - a new aquarium, a botanical garden, Coca-Cola, and CNN. And, oh yeah, I'm supposed to go to theater workshops!

Why don't you stop by?

Be careful with those words, everybody. Like Elwood P. Dowd in "Harvey", I am not only likely to say "w-w-when?" but I am also likely to show up! On our way south, I got in touch with an old Summerfun colleague who had married and moved to Maryland. One of Jeanne's e-mails said "come by sometime" so finally, after several years of e-mails and Christmas letters, we did! A beautiful home in Chesapeake Beach slightly damaged by a recent tornado but otherwise absolutely gorgeous.
A little further south our cousins Betty Ann and George, in the middle of Virginia, near Skyline Drive. "You're welcome anytime" she said so there we were. A lakeside cottage. A tad warm this time of year, but still a lovely drive in the country, especially over to a peach farm to pick your own peaches and enjoy a tasty frozen peach yogurt (or the peach-strawberry combo, yum!)
A third visit to the nephew and family in Henderson, NC. Another fine repast together.
And now we are headed for Atlanta, but first - I remembered that one of my VHS colleagues lived in South Carolina. And hey! It's right off I-85, which is where we're going. Look out, Sigrid, here we come!

48 and counting

As anyone who knows us (my wife Patty and I) knows, we love to travel. In addition to the occasional Canada, United Kingdom, and Ireland trips, we have traveled throughout the United States - visiting 48 of the 50; missing only Hawaii and Arkansas. Now when I say visit, I mean stopped in for at least a few hours or overnight. We are constantly amazed that "no matter where you go, there you are" to borrow a phrase. This has taken us to Teddy Roosevelt NP in North Dakota, lighthouses along the Oregon coast, Disneyland and Disney world, the coastal islands of North and South Carolina, my father's birthplace of Tucson and its neighboring vilage of Ajo, Arizona. But somehow, following interstates, bus, or Amtrak lines, we went right by Arkansas. Arkansas? How do you miss Arkansas? (Or, more likely, some would ask, why go there in the first place?)
That will be the goal of this 2008 travel - to discover the wonders of Arkansas (beyond it being the birthplace of Civil Rights and Bill Clinton). Our trek will take us south to Atlanta, then west to Montgomery and Huntsville, Alabama; Memphis and Graceland; and on to the Ozarks - actual home of the "hillbilly" - somewhat ironic after spending 27 years in Verona, NJ, whose "mascot" is a hillbilly.
Hawaii will have to wait.