At this Stage of my life

Geology 101

2010-09-04T18:51:00.000-07:00

When you are driving 450-500 miles a day, you tend to fill in the hours with observations of the surounding environments and probably reading the information at the rest stops as they come along. That's where the mesa/butte/plateau debate started (scroll down to the beginning of these posts if you haven't read that scintillating discussion!)

So here's a few more additions to my new book, "Geologic formations observed driving from NJ to Alaska and back." Pictured to the left is a rock formation called a "Tor" (or a "High Tor" if you are Maxwell Anderson) (private joke to the dramaturgs among us). This is a volcanic formation, in this case above the Arctic Circle but visible elsewhere, where erosion has left dramatic rocks sticking up from the surrounding surface. They look really cool when they are completely surrounded by tundra or, in the plains states, grassy meadows.

The second picture is tundra, again above the Arctic Circle, and showing signs of impending autumn in the only way it can, since there are no trees. Tundra is an area of permafrost (i.e. permanent frost) so close to the surface that tree roots cannot take hold, so only shrubs, grasses, and sedges can grow.

A third formation, not pictured, was one I was totally unfamiliar with until we reached the rolling hills of Montana. I now understand why that state has the Spanish name for "mountain": it must have been extremely difficult for Lewis & Clark and future emigrants to cross this irregular terrain. I also maybe understand why they stopped their westward ho when, after going up and down these rolling hills, they saw the snowcapped peaks of the Rockies a few miles ahead. "Hey Ma, you know I was just thinking, we could probably settle right here, raise a few cattle or sheep - whaddaya think?"

OK, enough with the "rolling hills". Their proper names are Laccolith Domes: a rounded raised area, usually treeless, of about 50-100 feet in height. It's a Butte. When some of the rocks have been eroded, to reveal a ring of rocks about 1/3 of the way down the dome, it's known as a "Belted Butte".

Amazing what you learn when crossing this butte-T-full country. (Sorry, I could not resist.)

More wildlife

2010-09-04T18:43:00.000-07:00

Couldn't forget these two sightings: Bald eagle flying overhead in Whitehorse, Yukon (after a few views in Alaska as well) and this close up of Mama Grizzly either teaching the cub how to fish or trying to keep it to herself, just outside of Haines, Alaska.

Amazing.

(If you haven't read the other posts about wildlife, continue below...)

Wild Life

2010-09-03T18:58:00.000-07:00

Driving down the last few miles of the Alaska Highway, we were warned of various wildlife crossings ahead. Having seen these earlier on the trip, but no animals, we didn't reallly expect too much. But British Columbia was like Yellowstone for free. One of the unique signs was a picture of a bison. A woods bison, as opposed to the prairie bison one sees in North Dakota. And sure enough, there they were. They were not crossing the highway, but a large herd assembled at the side of the highway - bulls, cows, and a few calves; some just lazying in the sun, others at serious work nibbling the grass. A few miles later, at Muncho Lake, the terminal range of the Rockies (did you know the Rocky Mountains ended in British Columbia? Neither did I - somehow, I thought they just went up the spine of North America into the Arctic), a few Stone Sheep walked along the highway, licking the salts that remain on the roads from rain or winter plows. In addition, a little further down the mountain road, a single caribou glanced our way from roadside, but continued nibbling the grasses and sedges there. And then, finally, as we drove away from Fort Nelson, a black bear nosed its way out onto the highway, looking both ways and then, as we drove past him, ran across the road to berries or plant roots that always look better on the other side.
But no moose. Yet.

A real trip to an imaginary circle

2010-08-27T20:43:00.000-07:00

North of Fairbanks, Alaska, the Dalton Highway stre4tches upwards to Prudhoe Bay, the beginning of the Alyeska, otherwise known as the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. We wouldn't get that far, but we planned to get a little north of the Arctic Circle, the imaginary line that separates the polar zone from the rest of the world.

The Dalton Highway - Alaska State Highway #11 - is largely unpaved. It's occasionally rocky, occasionally muddy, and occasionally actually paved or in the process of being paved. At one section, the by-now-familiar pilot car took us through one lane traffic. To reduce dust for the workers, a tanker sprays water on the road at various intervals. While not slippery, it does produce a fine mud mist, especially if you allow yourself to get a little too close to the vehicle in front of you, some of which were large oil tankers on their way to the Arctic. By the time we emerged onto "solid" road, my beautiful burgundy car was two-toned, with the bottom half a lovely mottled tan.

But before we knew it, we were at the Yukon River Bridge. We'd had fun following the Pipeline, as it sometimes got extremely close to the roadway and then disappear into the spruce trees. On hills, we could see the brown-gray road and the silver pipe ahead. In some spots, the pipeline went underground, under the road, and even under rivers. At the Yukon, it joined our bridge and stretched over the mighty river. At the other side, a Visitor Center welcomed us, for which we had to drive under the pipeline!

A few miles further took us to the strange land of Finger Mountain. Large piles of volcanic granite made formations - one like a 40-foot high pointer finger beckoning "come here" to those who drive up themountainside. Few trees grew on the tundra that surrounded the mountain. Small shrubs and blueberry bushes decorated the ground, some of them turning yellow and red in the sub-arctic autumn that was fast approaching. The story goes that the Fireweed plant keeps blooming to the top as the season progresses. When the tip-top blooms, winter is just around the corner. Many of the roadside plants were flowerless and it's "only" August.

And finally we reached the Arctic Circle. No, there's no line on the road at latitude 66 degrees, 33 minutes. But there is large plaque that proclaims we made it - a probable once in a lifetime crossing (well, 3 times actually, as we had to go back a few miles for our sleeping arrangements...and we had to come back this way!) It was kind of cool (literally and figuratively). We had set a goal and achieved it. No flat tires, no broken windows (yes, OK, a few scratches under that muddy exterior). But we'd reached it - "top of the world, Ma!" Now onto Coldfoot and Wiseman, the two towns above the circle that would provide us food and shelter for the next two days.

North to Alaska

2010-08-20T22:37:00.000-07:00

The way to travel...Ferry from Washington state to Haines, Alaska. From there, drive the Haines Highway through part of British Columbia into the Yukon Territory.. (Pictured: our ferry M/V Columbia leaving port after dropping us off in Haines and a very welcoming sign.)
And onto the Alaska Highway. Built in 1942 to help get our troop equipment to Alaska to fight in the Aleutian Islands (Japan had landed on Attu), it has been rebuilt several times since (and they are still rebuilding parts of it - about 20 miles of it is dirt which we travel following a "pilot" vehicle to guide us safely through construction.). It runs from Dawson Creek in British Columbia to Fairbanks, Alaska. We're only doing a section of it on the way up, but we will drive the entire highway heading home.

Welcome to Alaska.

A Northwest Passage

2010-08-16T19:33:00.000-07:00

Wow - we're back on land and online!
Leaving San Francisco, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and left it and its fog behind to enjoy the fog of the Oregon coast, which burned off by noon most days to allow us a clear view of a rose garden in Eugene, cheering on the Eugene Emeralds in an A team baseball game (they won 3-1), stopping at a lighthouse or two and the fabulous Columbia River Maritime Museum in Astoria.
Up I-5 to beautiful Bellingham, Washington to catch the ferry on the Alaska Marine Highway. With no WiFi on water, we relaxed watching the Canadian coastal mountains and its many islands float by us.

We listened and learned about northwest flora and fauna from a naturalist (a Forest Ranger from Tongass National Forest); we saw a few seals frolicking, "ooohed" at a humpback whale breeching a few hundred yards from the boat, and then, as we arrived in Haines, Alaska, we were treated to a mama brown bear teaching her two cubs how to catch salmon. What a great way to travel!

Leaving one's heart in San Francisco

2010-08-07T22:23:00.000-07:00

OK, so I should have planned an extra week beyond the conference in this fabulous "city by the bay". In addition to workshops on improvisation and theatre games, we managed to explore a little portion of Golden Gate Park (the Japanese Gardens and the Dahlia garden), bypassing the fairly expensive deYoung Museum, even though I would love to have seen the Impressionist exhibit; the Embarcadero (featuring a fabulous performance of "Peter Pan" combining live performance, puppetry, and CGI); Fisherman's Wharf and a sunset cruise that could not quite find the sun setting, but enjoyable nevertheless as we sailed past Alcatraz and under the fog-bound Golden Gate Bridge; and some shopping in Macy's, Bloomingdale's, and Nordstrom's. We finished up with a hike through The Presidio (a National Park at the base of the Golden Gate), stopping to visit the Disney Family Museum, an intensive exploration of the life, films, TV shows, and entertainment parks of Walt Disney which suggests it'll take 1 and 1/2 hours to explore, but you really need 2 days.
And tomorrow we head north, thinking that we do indeed need to come back, because a heart is a terrible thing to lose.

land formations

2010-08-04T21:06:00.000-07:00

When one is driving across the USA, one pays attention to the divergent landscape. After the Great Plains of Iowa and parts of Nebraska and Wyoming, mountains are quite interesting. Of course, there's the patches of snow on the peaks above 10,000 feet, but along I-80, some of the most interesting formations are raised platforms of rock and sand. I have learned that the largest of these is a plateau - an area that is above the adjacent terrain on at least one side; similar is the mesa - from the Spanish for "table", it too is a flat raised area, but it is toyally surounded by lower terrain. Finally, the smallest of these is a butte - which one dictinary says is an "eroded mesa". but can be seen as a smaller version. Completely eroded buttes often result in hoodoos - tall spire like formations. Descending from the mountains into the basin of Utah, one encounters the salt flats - a flat section of land that is covered with salt from evaporated water (aren't you glad you asked?) We drove passed the most famous of these - the Bonneville Salt Flats, a section of which is used to speed test cars. The speed limit on the highway near there is 75 mph, although most folks go a bit faster. A favorite practice of the locals is to take dark rocks and stones arrranged on the white salt to make formations like hearts (better than carving on a beech tree I think) or initials or messages like "peace" or "Go Vikings" (I don't think they mean the ancient Danes, probably a local sports team).

Rocky Mountain High

2010-08-02T20:04:00.000-07:00

We're in Utah, about 40miles from Park City (home of the Olympics), surrounded by the grassy sagebrush hills of the Rocky Mountains. We're staying in a lovely little cabin (emphasis on the little) near a stream in the quaint town of Coalsville. After dinner, we took a stroll up a country road and saw some wildlife: an osprey on his nest (didn't know they liked streams), a goldfinch (had to come to Utah to see the NJ state bird), a rainbow from a distant storm, and now, as I finish this outdoors on the picnic table, thunder and lightning from that not-so-distant storm!

Shy Anne

2010-08-01T18:09:00.000-07:00

We covered the entire state of Nebraska today. We made good time, traveling through its capital (Lincoln) and following the various Platte Rivers as we drove. Lunch was a Sunday Buffet at "Grandpa's" in Kearney, NE (pronounced just like the one in NJ). Very popular spot for locals, but I think we were among the youngest in the room. Nevertheless, they gave us the "senior discount" without being asked. Damn - I didn't think we looked old enough. But "all you can eat" for $10 each? I'll take the deal.
We also took a get-out-and-stretch break in Ogallala, where we found the "Mansion on the Hill" open for tours. We'd been by this home years ago on a previous trip while visiting nearby Boot Hill cemetary, but it was closed. So we took an hour to explore this brick home built in the 1870s, filled with interesting items from those years and on into the early 20th century, when the nearby river was dammed, creating a reservoir. With the time change (we're now in Rocky Mountain time, even though those peaks are not yet in evidence), we made up the visit, went way past our intended destination in Nebraska, and made it about 60 miles into Wyoming to stop for the night in Cheyenne. No camping though - it's raining and we need showers after the 90 degree temps down on the plains.

Our Stake in Omaha

2010-07-31T18:07:00.001-07:00

We are finally "camping" - in a KOA, sleeping in the van, and heating up some leftovers on our new Bass Pro stove. We're just outside Omaha, Nebraska in the town of Gretna. It's a little buggy - gnats and flies don't totally understand how the new "Off fan" works. But I'm sitting at our picnic table, listening to the locusts buzzing in the trees and watching the sun go down, a little after 8 p.m. CST, across the cornfields. We had a great drive from Illinois, 415 miles on I-80. We crossed the mighty Mississippi (running high; they had floods in Iowa last week) and saw fields of wind turbines - about 30 in a row, stretching across the cornfields and rolling hills of Iowa. (Interesting place, Iowa. Is it "State Fair" that says "You really ought to give Iowa a try"? We have in the past - the bridges of Madison County, the Danish themed town of Elkhorn, - but we could come back for a cluster of German villages from the 1850s called Amana Colonies and, of course, there's Des Moines and Council Bluffs. It really is amazing what is out here - or anywhere for that matter - for us to see and explore.)

But no time. San Francisco beckons in 3 days. And Nebraska is more than 450 miles long!

Continuing a theme...

2010-07-30T18:16:00.001-07:00

Well, we missed Utica (see last night's post) because of a diversion of traffic on I-80 just west of Chicago. But, in a continuing theme of last night's entry, we traveled "alternate I-80" through Newark, Lisbon, Norway, Peru, and Marseilles, all within the space of 30 minutes and geographically in Illinois. Talk about "alternate". We ended up staying the night in Ottawa - no, still in Illinois. But we got talking with a couple in the parking lot (small dog in their arms, a ball of yarn in Patty's: natural elements for a conversation to start up) who were actually from Ottawa, Canada! They're heading for Vancouver Island and decided it might be fun to visit a namesake town. Forecasts of heavy T-storms made us pass up on our planned encampment at Starved Rock State Park and settle on Holiday Inn instead. We'll watch for a camp tomorrow, somewhere in Nebraska.

On the road again...

2010-07-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

It's 2010 and I'm going to try to keep this blog up to date with an occasional entry as we travel west to San Francisco and then North to Alaska once again. Our first day took us through several major back-ups thanks to closed lanes on I-80 in PA, but we arrived safely if late. As we drove along, I was thinking about the places that replicate other place names across the USA. I mean, here I am in Boston Heights, Ohio! Not a hill overlooking the Massachusetts city. Not too far from here is Miami (OH) and on the way out, we passed by the Jersey Shore in Pennsylvania. (I've heard that a group from NJ settled on the banks of a nearby river and the natives of the area began to call that bank of the river "the Jersey shore".) And we also passed nearby Indiana, Pennsylvania - those folks just can't decide where they are!
Of course, there's only one Rahway.
Tomorrow, it's off to Utica...Illinois.

History in a Weekend

2009-09-06T16:43:00.001-07:00

Heading the opposite direction from our summer travels, we concluded the summer of 09 with a trip north and into the past. Massachusetts, being one of the oldest settlements in the "New World", has a fascinating and involving history, both political and literary. We settled on a long weekend in Sudbury, about 20 miles west of Boston, largely because we got a great offer through Travel Zoo. (If you don't know that site, check out http://www.travelzoo.com/ - we have enjoyed our various stays through its services.)
Anyway, Sudbury is home to the Wayside Inn, as in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Tales of a Wayside Inn", reclaimed from history by none other than Henry Ford, who used it as a summer home. It is now a restaurant and a BnB, and its grounds feature the removed-from-its-original site-and-reconstructed Red Brick Schoolhouse which reportedly is the school attended by Mary of little lamb fame. It also has a rebuilt gristmill, still used - the flour, cornmeal, and bran ground there is used by the restaurant for its delicious breads served wth meals. (The gristmill is also the site of the plastic "duck race" on Labor Day to raise funds for a children's hospital. We have a "six quack" of entries - their words, not mine - so wish us or them luck. The ducks are released upstream of the mill and then careen down a waterfall and stop a few yards down stream.)
A few miles north of Sudbury is Concord, of grapes and revolutionary war fame. We spent a while walking over the "Minuteman Bridge" (which Ralph Waldo Emerson called the "shot heard round the world"), and pacing the old Boston Post Road which begins the "battle road" of April, 1775. We also visited the Emerson home known as the Old Manse, which was owned by the Emerson family and borders the Concord battlefield. Years after, it was the temporary home of Nathanial Hawthorne, who authored "Mosses from the Old Manse" there which contained his early short stories like "Young Goodman Brown". (He also wrote graffitti on the windows by etching the glass with his wife's diamind ring. The words are still there.) And, of course, you can't spend too much time in Concord without mentioing Henry David Thoreau - a main shopping street in town is named for him; he was a good friend of Hawthorne; his Walden Pond cabin is a few miles south of town; and he, Hawthorne, and Emerson are all buried on "Author's Ridge" in the nearby Sleepy Hollow Cemetary. Down the road a piece is Lexington where the battle continued and essentially began the Revolution.
Another short - well, about 50 minutes - trip southwest of Boston is Quincy, home to the birthplace and residences of John and Abigail Adams and John Quincy Adams, the first father-son presidents (we won't be visiting the homes of the second). They are also buried nearby, in a crypt under a Unitarian church that John Adams helped raise funds to build. Fact I did not know (or at least remember): John Q. Adams is the only president to return to Congress after his presiency, serving 17 years in the House of Representatives, where he literally died while giving a speech one day at the age of 81. It was a slight thrill to stand on the same porch that John Adams did and walk down the "President's Hall, used by John Quincy, when he stayed in his "summer white house" there.
Some great natural areas abound as well - Boston has "Blue Hills Reservation", a huge public park that borders Quincy and Milton, with some fabulous trails through the woods and up to a few hills (only 500 feet above sea level, so not a lot like West Virginia) but with an astounding view of Boston and its harbor. Nice trek through piney woods.
An instant return to the 21st century as we drove onto I-93 and I-95 at 65 miles per hour back to our lovely little Carriage House Inn in Sudbury.

"Shanandoah..."

2009-08-18T13:08:00.000-07:00

Go ahead, I dare you to not have that song in your head as you read this.
West Virginia was lovely and we celebrated our departure, and our anniversary, by hiking up to the top of the Seneca Rocks, 1000 feet from the valley floor, about three miles round trip. And then it was down the mountains into Virginia and a relaxing BnB in Staunton (pronounced as if the 'u" wasn't there). Staunton is home to the American Shakespeare Company, performing in a replica of the Blackfriars Theatre, Shakespeare's indoor theatre in London. The small company performed a rousing production of "The Merry Wives of Windsor", one of the comedies that I have not seen. Very funny - almost the invention of sitcoms, with trickery, puns, and jokes, including a "stand-up" dialog where a teacher and a student dscover that some Latin declensions sound absolutely vulgar in English. "Horum est" indeed!
Staunton is also close to the southern end of Shanandoah National Park and its Skyline Drive. Choosing to enter the park 1/3 of the way up the drive, we discovered that Sundays are "no fee" days. We also discovered that, contrary to the website, the lodges on the drive had rooms available. So we were able to get a fabulous room at Skylands, overlooking the western side of the mountain. Which enabled us to explore a little more of the park: Dark Hollow Falls, a short but steep walk of about 1.5 miles round trip. It was tough to ignore the little voice in the back of our heads whispering, as we descended toward the falls, "you have to walk this back up...you have to walk this back UP..." But we made it. Enough to allow us to walk up (you get to walk down after!) to Stony Man Point, another mile or so to a rugged cliff, supposedly on the "forehead" of a face-like outcropping, just in time to watch the sun set into the mists over the western Appalachians. Walking back in the dusk, a few deer and their fawns took a moment out of their evening meal to watch us go by. We returned to Skylands and sat on the porch once again, watching as the stars above and streetlights far below began to twinkle on.

"Country Roads....West Virginia!"

2009-08-11T18:34:00.001-07:00

We flipped a coin from Harrisburg...north or south. I think maybe we saw an ad for West Virginia or something, because south won. And we are glad it did. A cyber-search led us to a little "town" (unincorporated) called "Cabins". Probably because there are about 100 cabins and cottages to rent. We chose Harmon's North Fork cabins, located along the Potomac River (the north fork of it, clever name, no?). The cabins are about 15 years old or less and are literally located along the river. Each cabin has a jacuzzi in the bedroom, air-conditioning (needed these 85-95 degree days), and a full kitchen. Front porch with a view of the river and a swing. Comfortable. Gorgeous. And not right on top of the neighboring cabins (some of which have hot tubs if you want to pay a little extra).
In addition, there are a lot of things to see if you get bored sitting on that porch or wading/swimming in the Potomac. (So Washington threw a dllar across the Potomac? We swam across! Well, walked. It's a fairly narrow and shallow river out this way.) Hike up a trail to a 900 foot high outcropping of sandstone to see the river and surrounding farmlands. Drive an 8 mile road up to "Dolly Sod", an Allegheny plateau, 3500 feet above sea level, where another 8-mile road takes you along the top of the world. Stop and walk through Bear Rocks where bare rocks mark a path through blueberries, mountain laurel, and scappy "one-sided" pines holding on for dear life against the wind and the rocky soil. Drive the 16 mile road through Smoke Hole canyon. Seneca Rocks. Seneca Cave, the largest in WV. Spruce Knob, the highest point(4800 feet). Or just relax in the jacuzzi with a bottle of local wine, cheese, and fruit after a fun day of driving, hiking, or sightseeing. Sound like a commercial? Sorry. It's just a great place to spend a few days and one to which we would return.

Baseball, slots, and flat tires

2009-08-07T12:29:00.000-07:00

Lots of things to keep one busy in Harrisburg. Thursday night, after dinner, we took a stroll to City Island, down a few blocks from the hotel and across the steel Walnut Street bridge, closed to vehicular traffic since 1972. A sign announced a ballgame tonight! Harrisburg has an AA team affiliated with the Washington Nationals called, appropriately enough, the Senators. So we bought a reserved seat for $8 and went on to "root, root, root for the home team". But, like their namesake senators, they just couldn't get it together. We left after the 7th inning stretch with the score at 5-1, in favor of the Binghamtown Mets, affiliated with...well, you can figure it out.
And then there's the car. After getting some articles from our car, the valet staff discovered that one of my tires was almost flat. By the time they reached me, it was completely flat. So the valet (Russ) and I (and another employee who was on his day off but passing by) took off the spare and changed the tire - the first time I've had to do that with the Honda in nearly 8 years. Then off to Firestone to get it fixed. Nope, can't fix it, slow leak, need a brand new one. Oh well, maybe I'll get to the Capitol tomorrow. But while they were fixing, I took a nice walk in the sunshine along the Susquehanna, learning the history of the town through roadside markers (it's their "Susquecentennial" - that's what they're calling it - 150 years since John Harris established the town) and getting some exercise - a little more than a mile round trip from Firestone.
And a side note to our travel: on the way to Harrisburg along I-78, we stopped for a brief sojourn in Bethlehem, PA, and the new Sands casino, built to resemble an old steel plant. We dropped their welcome package pretty quickly, even though it was penny slots, but I managed to make back my own investment (plus $15) with the "Hee-Haw" slots. Of course, then I spent the winnings on lunch at the Irish pub. Oh well, at least it's closer than Atlantic City.

What's there to do in Harrisburg??

2009-08-06T10:44:00.000-07:00

Summer of 2009 was the first one in over 20 years that we did not go to the AATE convention. Patty decided that, after years of her traipsing arond towns while I went to theatre workshops, it was my turn to explore while she learned about dolls - specifically Madame Alexanders. So here we are in beautiful downtown Harrisburg, PA. Now a lot of people said to me "Harrisburg? What can you do in Harrisburg?" But our philosophy is "no matter where you go, there you are..." so there must be something! It is the state capital, after all.
And, true to form, there are a number of things unique to Harrisburg - not the least of which is its Capitol - one of the few that does not have a gold dome, but rather a multicolored mosaic. And the Pennsylvania State Museum, just down the street, is also quite interesting in its presentation of natural and cultural history of the state. Do you know the difference between a pond and a lake? A lake, through succession, becomes a pond when it is smaller and shallower, though it did not specify a particular depth. A hill, on the other hand, becomes a mountain when it is over 1000 feet tall. Some fabulous displays on animal life in PA and one of the nicest collections of transportation vehicles since the Ford Museum in Michigan.
And still to come: City Island, in the middle of the Susquehanna River; the Harris Mansion (founder of the town) and seeing "Harry Potter" in IMAX.
And you thought there was nothing to do in Harrisburg.

One of the best concerts ever

2009-05-04T19:49:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Pete Seeger. For those too young to know him, you probably know his songs - "Turn, Turn, Turn", "Where Have All The Flowers Gone?", "Wimoweh", "We Shall Overcome" or his versions of others, especially those by Woody Guthrie like "This Land is your Land". He turns 90 this month and a few friends got together to pay tribute - with a few thousand fans in the audience. It was a fundraiser really for his Clearwater sloop, an educational ship that trolls the waters of the Hudson River urging environmental concerns. The packed Garden was happy to donate, myself included (thanks to friend and former clleague Jim Sauer). And what a lineup! I didn't recognize every name, but the fact that all of them felt touched in some way by his music, his activism, his life was astounding. After an brief appearance by Native American narrators, John Mellencamp led it off, followed by appearances by actor Tim Robbins (he sang later, too, with his son) and the NY Labor Chorus. One performer said he was glad we were singing under this president and not the former - several very liberal opinions were expressed, not the least of which was Billy Bragg singing part the "The Internationale". Ani DiFranco, Bruce Cockburn, Tom Paxton, Eric Wesberg, Dar Williams, Bernice and Toshi Regon, the blues man Taj Mahal, Steve Earle, Emmy Lou Harris, Kate and Anna MacGarrigle with their children, including Rufus Wainwright, Teddy Thompson, Joan Baez, Bela Fleck, a poetry reading by actress Ruby Dee, and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, and that was just before intermission! Afterwards, we heard from TV producer Norman Lear, Tom Chapin with Oscar the Grouch (singing, appropriately "Garbage, Garbage" - Carol Spinney came out with Oscar later), Kris Kristofferson (who amazingly sang the old camp song "There's a Hole in the Bucket..." with Ani DiFranco), the Irish singer Tommy Sands, Richie Havens, Jay Ungar and Molly Mason (who will be in Chatham later this month), Arlo Guthrie, Del McCoury, John Hall (from the group Orleans), Ben Harper, Pete's sister Peggy who read from her journals, Rambling Jack Elliot, Roger McGuinn (of the Byrds), Dave Matthews, Bruce Springsteen (who did an amazing version of "The Ghost of Tom Joad" with Tom Morello, and, of course, Pete Seeger, whose voice was never the greatest and is showing his age, but his banjo picking and his enthusiastic gait strutting on and off stage several times sure didn't look 90. And I'm sure I missed a few.
Those who left after the finale of "This Land" missed Pete's grandson Tao Rodriguez-Seeger leading the entire cast and garden in "Bring 'Em Home" and "This Little Light of Mine", two others popularized by Pete. And he introduced us to the family - his older (!) brother John (95 - good genes in that family), Peggy, and his grandchildren.
I'm not a big fan of arena shows - but this show was filled by true fans of Pete and these artists - they were respectful of those they didn't know that well (very few catcalls of "Bruuuuce" at inappropriate times) and they were fanatic about those they did. And the artists were amazing too - no egos demanding more time or "headlining". It was truly one of the best concerts ever.

Where does the time go?

2009-05-03T20:29:00.000-07:00

Wow - I really thought retirement meant relaxing - nothing to do but read, write blogs. Hmm. I have certainly managed to keep busy. Some travel. In January, we went to Disney World and stayed at our "home" in Sarasota Springs Resort. I directed a production of Neil Simon's "Fools" that ran in March in Westfield. I helped build the set and hang the lights for Cranford's "Peter Pan" that opened May 1st. And did a little work around the house. And garden.
We've also seen several concerts and shows. We're new fans of Two River Theatre in Red Bank, watching their fabulous productions of "Mary's Wedding" and "Melissa Arctic". And we're getting set for new travels coming up in August. Hmm. Good thing I'm retired.

My retirement year - October

2008-12-23T13:57:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-01T15:59:00.000-08:00

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...

2008-08-23T08:51:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-18T18:50:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-18T17:51:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-13T18:41:00.001-07:00

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

2008-08-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-09T16:23:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-08-09T12:32:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-06T14:27:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-04T17:46:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-31T17:34:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-07-29T18:42:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-28T17:52:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-25T17:56:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

"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?

2008-07-21T19:35:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-15T07:53:00.000-07:00

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.