Living Dreams

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May 28, 2021- In the midst of settling back in, for four weeks or so, I took the time to work on resolving the one nagging issue that has pursued me, for three years and, most recently, across the country and back: Doing something about African poverty. To his credit, my constant correspondent has become much more forthcoming about how he specifically plans to use any funds that are raised in his name. That made it much easier for me to set up a secure transfer process, for the funds which others and I raise, from now until June 21. There are two things to consider, both matters of justice: 1. Neither I, nor anyone else, am/is obligated to send money, in perpetuity, to anyone who requests it (Calling me “Dad”, or “brother”, does not help matters any, either); 2. At the same time, neither I, nor anyone else, can simply ignore the less fortunate. I have mentioned before, that I give, locally and further afield, to a reasonable extent, so that others may realize their goals-or at least survive. This current, limited and task-specific effort is an example of that. Each person is free to pursue a dream. No one is free to bleed another person dry.

My own dreams are quite simple. Most involve building and maintaining friendships, and being there for people, emotionally and physically. So, I am present, when here at Home Base, and when on the road. This summer will be another one of “those”, which make more sedentary people roll their eyes. The fourth week of June, in Carson City/Reno and Pyramid Lake; July 5, onward, to the Dallas area, New England and several points in between, then across the northern tier to Oregon and Washington, before September beckons, and I take another Home Base respite. October, in western Poland and Germany(Mom’s ancestral region), and a zip down to Croatia to visit an online friend, is still possible. Yes, I get my fill of visiting historical and natural wonders, but I do that here, too.

Dreams are affected by the wider reality, and a relatively minor medical issue may alter my plans a bit, but in the end, the dream and the goal are the bases for what one achieves in life.

A Few Learnings

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May 27,2021- The squeaky toilet kept waking me, and in my semi-conscious state, I thought it was the room next door, which was being renovated, that was the problem. I got up, for the day, and found that it was my room, at Days Inn- Grants, that had the issue. Having had plenty of experience with such things, I fixed the toilet myself, and so informed the desk clerk, upon check-out. It was a simple matter of re-attaching the chain to the release lever.

I have now returned from the journey to help Mom move out of the family home and become settled in a more social place. She has all her wits about her yet, so I have every confidence that this will be a bright chapter in her life.

For myself, I know that the journeys that await me, this summer and autumn, will be more leisurely, without the sense of urgency that I felt this time, especially heading east. There were deadlines and commitments involved. Thankfully, the COVID protocols, to the extent they still exist, are very cut and dried. Masks are worn, when the community or the enterprise requests it, The same is true, with respect to physical distancing. Dealing with the pent-up aggression of drivers is more a matter of not using the passing lane, except to pass. If I find I am being tailgated, no matter the lane, there is always the next lane over to the right-or if that is where the aggression is happening, I can bide my time and let the impatient one go around.

The nice thing, this time around, is I heard a lot of “Come back and see us!” This is always gratifying, especially to one who has encountered the opposite, in times long past. Then again, I have cast off a lot of baggage, over the years.

I was asked, by a loved one, what new things I had seen and what I had learned, on this trip. I saw the Missouri State Capitol, and Harry S, Truman’s birthplace. I was reminded that people around major cities can be extremely impatient, if they are overbooked, overloaded and uncomfortable being in a given place. I found that would-be thieves are discouraged from breaking into my car, when they see the blue security light-which makes my double security system that much more gratifying.

Finally, I was reminded that, even when someone is making the most obvious of errors in reading or speech, to not interrupt them, to let them finish. After all, the world is not going to cave in from that error.

Home Base Bound: Day 4

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May 25, 2021, Enid, OK- I woke up to rain, this morning, in Wheatland, MO. After a delightful breakfast, at Hickamo Cafe, it was time to load up and head west and south. In keeping with my practice of not bothering working family and friends during the week, I stayed north of Joplin, and made a brief stop in Lamar, MO-the birthplace of Harry S, Truman, 33rd President of the United States.

Marker in Lamar, MO
Biographic of former President
First home of Harry S. Truman

Lamar is a fairly active, but unassuming, city, near Missouri’s southwest border with Kansas. The journey continued, across southern Kansas, an area that largely belies the state’s reputation for being flat and featureless. There are a number of forested areas, rolling hills and scenic ravines, in the area from Baxter Springs to Arkansas City-largely the watershed of the Arkansas River and its tributaries. I have presented some of these before, in a post on Sedan, KS.

Today, though, the intention was to get to Enid, and try to connect with old friend, John Glaze. Making my way to Enid’s da Vinci Coffee House, I was able to do just that. John’s house is most often open, so here I am, for a welcome break from motels and the road.

Home Base Bound: Day 3

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May 24, 2021, Wheatland, MO- It’s been a sweltering few days, in the east central region, and across the nub of west central Indiana, central Illinois and a north central to southwest diagonal in Missouri, I alternately used AC and outside air, to keep the good times rolling.

Today was a first for me: Salad for breakfast; being the remnants of last night’s chicken salad from Fricker’s. Of course, Niemerg’s was also on the itinerary, so brunch in Effingham, it was. After that, I chose a northward route around St. Louis, bypassing the worst of the construction snags. Just east of Columbia, the southward route to Jefferson City, Missouri’s capital, beckoned.

A few miles north of “Jeff” is Fulton, a mid-nineteenth century river port, with a red brick downtown. Naturally, I stopped for a quick look.

Downtown Fulton, MO
Downtown Fulton, MO

Arriving in Jefferson City, I headed directly over to the State Capitol, where two quarters gets one fifty minutes of parking. The capitol building is understated, in terms of etchings, inscriptions and statuary. It does please the eyes with its relative simplicity, though, and since Jefferson City is a modest regional commercial hub, the fit is snug.

Western view of the Missouri State Capitol, Jefferson City
Fountain on west side of Missouri State Capitol
Eastern view of Missouri State Capitol

l walked around the capitol grounds for several more minutes, stopping to say a silent prayer. This drew the curiosity of a plain clothed security guard, who watched me for about two minutes, then moved on.

Reflecting Pool, on east side of the State Capitol
Missouri River, at Jefferson City
Row of War Memorials, from the Mexican War to Persian Gulf War

Wanting to make further progress, I headed out of Jefferson City, past Lake of the Ozarks and on to a series of small towns, along the way to Kansas. I found a comfortable room at Wheatland Motel, albeit one that had no Internet or phone connection, owing to an earlier power outage. A local high school student helped me get a cell phone connection, but WiFi via laptop would have to wait. Still and all, Wheatland Motel and the nearby Hickamo Cafe offered a comforting, downhome welcome.

Home Base Bound: Day 2

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May 22, 2021, Terre Haute- Any day that begins with a simple, but fortified, breakfast at Route 220 (formerly Bedford) Diner, in Bedford, PA and ends with tossed crispy chicken salad from Fricker’s, Richmond, IN, is a good one. I go as much by the ambiance of an eatery as with the quality of the food and the congeniality of the staff is always a huge factor. Both the above-mentioned establishments are high on my list, along with nearly two dozen others, in this country and abroad.

The thing that stood out for me today was the tenor of the traffic. It was slow only in one spot, east to west: The area in and around Wheeling. That is largely do to the seemingly endless construction projects along I-70, which have been part of the scene for at least four years now. West to east, I was awestruck by the length of a tie-up from about 5 miles west of Richmond, IN-to the Ohio state line. As we sailed along, in the other direction, there was scant movement across the highway.

The other common thread was capricious speed and lane-changing. I-70, at times, resembled the Indianapolis Speedway, or should I say Phoenix International Raceway. Several of us were excoriated for staying a safe distance behind the vehicles in font of us, with the horn-blasters and fist-pumpers upset that they could not squeeze behind us, on whim. The prize went to one, from an undetermined state, doing 100 in the outside lane-and few saw him coming, until his squealing horn made us abandon our own plans to pass others, in a safe manner. Last time I saw, he was still doing 100, in the slow lane-which is the passing lane of choice for too many these days.

I spent the last leg of this day’s drive on U.S. 40, from Plainview to Terre Haute, finally locating a motel which was actually open for business: The Woodridge. It’s a relaxed, homey place, which again is what appeals to me about overnight accommodations.

The life of this sometime wanderer is a series of blessings.

Home Base Bound: Day 1

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May 22, 2021, Bedford, PA- It is most often a good idea to end a visit to one’s hometown with a call on an old friend, or two. So, I spent my last hour in Saugus with a couple who live diagonally across the street from our old house, and down a couple of houses. It’s always good to catch up with local news and discuss what would be best for the town.

With the future of Saugus set, for now, I headed to nearby Wakefield’s Gingerbread House and got a coffee and breakfast, for the road. This was enjoyed at a Massachusetts Turnpike Service Area, giving me an extra boost, in the event that the Connecticut and New York portions of the trip became traffic-jammed and tedious. There were a few short backlogs in Connecticut, passing through Hartford, Waterbury and the junction of I-84 and Rte. 7, west of Danbury. This is de rigeur for the Constitution State (Connecticut’s ratification was what put the Great Document over the top, and put our country on the map, for real.). New York’s segment of I-84, sometimes a scene of long back-ups, was smooth as silk today.

The drive through Pennsylvania is frequently the longest stretch, east of the Mississippi. I zipped down I-81, and headed over to the Oley Valley, visiting with Beth and David Glick, their faithful collie, Manny, and their interesting house guests, Beth’s relatives from Illinois. The couple have four vibrant and talented children, the eldest of whom can pilot a small airplane. We discussed the relatively small number of women pilots, which, considering that Amelia Earhart was one of the pioneers of American aviation, seems a bit disconcerting. I think the young lady will do a lot to counter that, given her self-confidence, and her parents’ support.

As I have a late night Zoom call, I left the Glicks’ house, after a sumptuous dinner, and made my way to this community, in west central Pennsylvania. One of Bedford’s draws, for me, has been Bedford Diner. I found the omelets and freshly-ground sausage patties there to be worth making this my overnight stop, when heading towards New England. The old diner appears to have closed, but the crew is now at Route 220 Diner, so that will be my breakfast stop, tomorrow. It’s gratifying that people for whom I have developed warm feelings are able to bounce back from hard turns, and continue with what they do so well.

Goodnight, all, from Janey Lynn Motel, in Bedford.

Around Hometown, Day 3

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May 19, 2021, Saugus- Today was a bit of a break from the house clearing. I focused more on getting the car’s regular service. No problems arose there. Otherwise, today was mostly spent resting.

I made the choice to spend the last two nights here at Chisholm’s, rather than sleeping on the carpet in the old house, “for old time’s sake.” There is only so much emotional value, in spending time where ghosts actually did call on me, in my childhood. There are also the ghosts of my own inferiority sense, which I realize now was just a reflection of the inferiority that some very vocal people, in my family and close by, seemed to feel in my presence. It would have been better, had they never felt that way. Putdowns flowed pretty freely, back and forth, in the days of my youth. Much of that has been overcome, but there is the residue that I sense, after being with certain people for more than a few hours.

I know this much, though. There is no length to which I would not go, to defend and protect any of my family and townspeople from attack. Every one of us has been wrestling with demons, and for far longer than we sometimes care to acknowledge. I have urged people who want my help, in other communities and countries, to learn to work together at a local level. That admonition has sometimes been put to the test, these past few days, in my own situation. I find that a good thing; self-purification makes giving advice to others a whole lot more trustworthy.

Around Hometown: Day 2

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May 18, 2021, Saugus- My visit with Mom, this evening, produced a lot of talk of her long life, with the joyous acknowledgement that her life is far from over. She is grateful that she has us, her children, tending to the house and making time to visit her in this first week in new quarters. None of us would have it any differently. Mother has given us so much of herself, from my own Day One, onward. Another woman in our nuclear family has taken on so much of tending to her needs- as well as initiating and maintaining the process of clearing and selling the old house. This week is the least we men can do to help out. I will likely be back, in late July or early August, to follow up with Mom’s progress in adjusting to her new home. In the meantime, she has plans to join in the Center’s activities and I know she will make new friends.

Curiously, the “don’t forget about us” calls and messages I have been getting, from elsewhere in the country and across the globe, have both made me put this current effort into perspective, and have triggered some old trauma, which has only been vaguely in my memory. I have figured a way to help another family, experiencing dislocation, even as my mother has successfully been resettled. There is someone else, in another part of the world, whose difficulties are, in large part, the result of his community’s failure to act in concert with one another. When I have encountered such dystopia, in the past, the feelings that have arisen are confusion, anxiety, then sadness, and finally, an angry outburst at those who refuse to work together. There is also a measure of self-loathing, as invariably those same people will turn and list all of what they claim are my own shortcomings and all the ways that I have failed them.

My psyche is changing, though, and I am seeing more clearly that the only way out of any impasse is for those on the ground to work together-and never for someone from outside to swoop in, throw money at the problem, and leave. That colonialist and patriarchal method has become the default for so many, in impoverished communities, both in this country and elsewhere. I am no longer going to blame myself for the refusal of others to help themselves, regardless of their own past experiences.

When I left Saugus, so many years ago, I was hobbled by fear, uncertainty of self-worth and the Rescuer Syndrome. That was not my parents’ fault, but it was my burden to cast aside. It is gone, now, and I feel it important to hold others to the same standard. All communities, especially those which are disadvantaged, need to band together and raise themselves up-confronting, as a unit, every single obstacle in their way.

Hometown Bound: Day 4

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May 15, 2021, Hartford- The governments are scaling back their mandates, but businesses are protecting themselves and their employees. So, I am still finding, in the swath of the Southwest, Midwest and Northeast that I have visited and enjoyed, over these four days.

It has not affected traffic, all that much. Going around Indianapolis and Columbus, I saw about as much traffic as I remember, in those fair cities. I noticed scant fear of strangers, so long as those strangers adhered to posted rules. My longest stop of the day was at the Bedford (PA) Service Center, along the Pennsylvania Turnpike. There, I picked up some road food, rather than go into town and visit Bedford Diner, as I really needed to get to the night’s lodging, before dawn tomorrow. Good-natured banter with a truck driver, whilst waiting for the food to be readied, made this break refreshing, and the food was energizing.

That was crucial. I did not have the luxury of stopping by and visiting with friends in southeast PA, as I so often do, on these jaunts. My destination was here, in Connecticut’s capital, some five hours from Bedford. Most of that, of course, was crossing the Keystone State. The scenery is ever enticing in Pennsylvania, with dense green forest and shimmering valleys. The Turnpike, though, is not enticing. Though the toll collection system, mercifully, is digitized, as it so often elsewhere in the country, the state of the roads is as much in flux as it ever was. Construction equipment is still everywhere, even as there were few, if any, workers present on this Saturday.

The icing on the cake came, in crossing New Jersey. The roads were not at all bad, and I-78 Express, towards the Big Apple, was finally finished, and smooth as glass. I stopped at a filling station in Basking Ridge, between Bedminster and Newark, was permitted to both fill up my own vehicle (rare in New Jersey) and use the restroom, even though the place was closing. The only other blip came at the toll booth for Garden State Parkway. There, I saw no ticket slot, in the dark, and walked over to the guy behind me in the vehicle line, telling him I was confused about where the ticket slot was. He grinned, and fortunately was understanding, handing me the ticket which he had found waiting, even without pushing the usual button.

After gratefully paying my ticket at the toll collection booth, five miles further, it was on through a small swath of New York City: The George Washington Bridge-which resembles a small village, anymore; the squeeze point of I-87 and the Cross-County (Westchester) and Hutchinson River (Connecticut) Parkways. Notable in this was the pair of racing teens, who deftly zigged and zagged through traffic, along the segment of Thruway we used to get out of the city. There was another guy, seemingly a bit hopped up, who flashed his lights behind me, several times, then also zigged and zagged out from behind me, and on into the night.

These sideshows, as potentially deadly as they might have been, seemed to me, edging towards this long day’s conclusion, to be just part of the mix. I still feel nothing but love and connection to the people I am meeting-more so than in times past. The shared struggle is likely a good contributor to that.

So, when I finally walked in the door of Travel Inn, a huge building that is still largely locked tightly, due to COVID-based restrictions, I felt like I had walked into home sweet home. Just about any place at all can feel like that, after 16 hours on the road.

Hometown Bound: Day 3

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May 14, 2021, Cloverdale, IN- Looking around this morning, in Joplin, for a breakfast place, I checked out one strip mall, across from Budget Inn and found it completely empty. A block to the west is Granny Shaffer’s- which, down to the feisty Filipina manager, is one of those “home away from home” places that serve as anchors, both to locals and to people like me, who keep mental sticky dots on the map of memorable spots. Like Gramma’s Kitchen, in Banning, CA; Harpoon Henry’s, in Dana Point; The Beachcomber, in Newport Beach; Fricker’s, in Richmond, IN; D’s Diner, in Wilkes-Barre; Bedford Diner, Bedford, PA; and Prescott’s own Zeke’s Eatin’ Place and Raven Cafe, Granny’s holds a strong place in the culinary register. With me, good food is one thing- but it’s the human connection that matters most.

I set out, after breakfast, as my cousin who lives east of Joplin was hard at work. Getting to Rolla, a bit after Noon, I found that another friend’s place, Cupcakes and Cravings, had gone under, due to Covid. So, it was onward and eastward, through a short bottleneck near downtown St. Louis and a somewhat longer, but not excruciating, traffic jam, due to bridge construction, once on I-55/70. When I-70 became separate from I-55, the traffic flow was much lighter. I enjoyed a healthful dinner at Niemerg’s Steak House (grilled catfish), Effingham, IL, with another standing welcome to come on back, whenever I’m in the area. That puts Niemerg’s on the above-mentioned roster. My server, L, never stopped working and told her manager that she didn’t need a break. I’ve said before, that there is no dearth of a work ethic among the younger generations. This is just more proof.

Another aspect of this road trip is mask-wearing. I have put mine on, when I see a sign requesting it. So far, Arizona and Oklahoma leave it up to the individual; New Mexico, Illinois and Indiana have posted signs asking that masks be worn indoors; Texas and Missouri pretty much have no state-wide mandate, but some individual businesses expect people to don masks, when indoors.

Here in the Super 8, Cloverdale, mask and gloves are required when getting our breakfasts (to take back to the room), and when in the lobby. I am fine with this. We will get through the rest of t.his, only with courtesy