September 29, 2023- A cheerful voice, when my early morning call was answered, reassured me that the birthday lady was already having a fine day. Her daughters were on their way to the dream home.
She was, as I’ve said before, my first friend and a parallel traveler, visiting many of the same places as I, though usually before or after-and very often in a more focused manner. Among our shared likes, in terms of places to visit: Bar Harbor/Acadia National Park; Hilton Head Island; Plattsburgh, NY. I will stop in the first one, on the way back from Atlantic Canada, next May-it’s been too long since my last Bar Harbor sojourn. One can never tell about Hilton Head, but it won’t be all that far in the future. Both she and I visited Grandma’s hometown of Plattsburgh, in separate trips, five years ago.
Sis has raised three daughters and a son to stand on their own feet. Eight grandchildren, each a success story in their own right, have their maternal grandparents to back them up,both directly, through their personal bonds and their having raised the kids’ parents in a consistent, loving manner.
She has, most importantly, survived and overcome each personal challenge-and there have been many. A keen native intelligence, a loving heart and a deep well of fortitude have kept my sister going. Her steadfast husband and intensely devoted family have added strength.
She inspires me, with every step she takes. May it long continue to be thus.
September 20, 2023- Several tree branches graced the highway, between Winslow and Strawberry, leading us to stop and wait for fifteen minutes at a stretch, as one lane was open, and we took turns with oncoming traffic. At least this time, no one jumped the gun and refused to wait-unlike last year on Cape Breton, when a pick-up coming towards our traffic line challenged the lead vehicle-a semi-trailer. Guess who backed up five hundred yards?
Today’s episode led to a pushed -back chiropractic adjustment-which was no big deal. The evening Zoom meeting, which was the other reason for making sure I was back at Home Base-Prescott by this evening, was lengthy, but well-organized. These next three weeks need to be similarly focused, on my end at least. A fair amount of work is on tap and renewed attention to weight reduction, though this journey has not been as hard on that part of my life as it might have been. Connecting a few more dots on the Philippines trip needs to happen-so long as the plug is not pulled on TSA and the air traffic controllers, come October 1.
Recapping, the four-day Colorado East Baha’i Summer School provided spiritual grounding before I headed north and east. Laying a wreath at the grave of a fallen police officer was the other side of the coin from George Floyd World Square, where I stopped in 2021. A corollary visit to Oheyaw Ahi, land sacred to the Dakota people, was an added blessing. Visiting the Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette is essential to me, personally, in ensuring both physical and spiritual well-being on any cross-country jaunt. My mother’s 95th birthday, though rather low-key, was the centerpiece of the drive. The birth of a grand niece, though I did not hang around and witness it, was as good a reason as any to stop in the beloved climes of southeast Pennsylvania, spend time with my newly relocated brother and sister-in-law, and of course stop in at Glick’s Greenhouse. It was also a reason to make homage to a much-loved cousin, who spent her final years in York, a place of considerable historical importance-as is its namesake in England. Visits with old friends in Crossville, TN and Amarillo topped off this year’s cross-country.
Other old friends were welcoming, in Wilmette, IL; Saugus, Bedford and Wilkes-Barre, PA; and Moriarty, NM. There were new friends made-in Luverne, MN; Toledo; Kittery, ME; Harrisburg; Marion, VA; Atoka, OK-and Amarillo. The most important, enduring feature of any journey, though, is the connection with family. At journey’s end, I can say that it, almost alone, determines the success or failure of the effort.
September 15, 2023, Marion, VA- In the small Korean market, the emphasis is on organic foods, combined with a standard American submarine sandwich shop menu. Besides that, there is a mash-up with convenience foods on the shelves. Green Foods Market is on the east end of downtown York, an area of unexpectedly broad streets, high traffic and seemingly prosperous residents.
York drew my late cousin, Linda, many years ago, during a time of uncertainty in her life. There was a farm and a sense of plenitude, a place where she could deal with matters that had inserted themselves into her previously serene life. Linda was like an angel, and was always helping others, especially us cousins. She was almost too good for this world.
I went there, on my way south, early this afternoon, stopping at the aforementioned Green Foods, for a seafood salad, which would become lunch and dinner, on my way southward along Virginia’s “spine”: I-81. I have long wanted to visit York and see what drew one of my favourite cousins. While not getting to the area where she lived, I did get a sense of the source of York’s good fortune. Here was where the United States of America came together, with the Articles of Confederation being ratified-away from the uncertainty of Philadelphia and the imminent threat of British occupation. Confederation Square remains the town’s centerpiece.
Enough rambling. Here are some scenes from downtown York.
A homeless man, sitting on a bench, pointed to this sign. It was, he said, a sign of the city’s commitment to public health. That he himself was well-groomed, wearing clean clothes, was proof of an effort being made in that regard.York City HallLaurel Fire Station-one of the few I’ve seen with its original bell tower.The blue-black bear image is quite common, in south central Pennsylvania.York County Courthouse, with domes in the back.In 1777, the seeds of a national culture were sown, from York.For no reason, other than levity, Jack Haley’s Tin Woodman is presented as “The Tinker”.
With a favourable image of York, and satisfied that this town treated a beloved family member well, I headed southward, with relatively little trouble, save brief interludes of Washington area traffic headed out of town, briefly visited treasured Harrisonburg and arrived in Marion, on the south end of Appalachian Virginia, in time to tumble into bed.
September 13, 2023, Exton, PA- The three of us had the theater to ourselves, this afternoon. We endured twenty minutes’ worth of promotional ads and previews of coming attractions, so that we could watch Denzel Washington dispatch two groups of villains, both of which were trying to cash in on the international drug trade. One of the bad guys shot Denzel’s character in the back, then ran away when he turned around and gave him the McCall Stare. The others, well, you’ll have to either see for yourself or read the Wikipedia cheat sheet. It’s enjoyable seeing Dakota Fanning playing grown women, having watched her from her earliest years as an actress. It’s also a guilty pleasure of mine, to see justice dispensed in clever, stealthy fashion.
We all have such rather vapid pleasures. I will miss the cop shows this Fall, just as others will miss the sitcoms and “reality” shows. It is more important to me, however, that the workers-actors, writers, show runners, gofers-all get the fair shake they have been due for a long time. I have plenty of stuff to read and there are always those streamed series that have been accumulating. Besides, I’ll be in the Philippines and thereabouts, for 3 weeks next month and at work for quite a few of the days that I am at Home Base, between now and trip #4.
There are plenty of innocent pleasures in this life, as well. We enjoyed a nice lunch at P.J. Whelihans’ Pub & Restaurant, in nearby Downingtown. It always helps when an engaging server is involved-as has been the case for both of our meals on this leg of the trip and in Massachusetts. As has been mentioned before, I return, time and again, to places where the server has been warm and congenial. Abbie was like that for us, this noon.
I also get comfort from fine service to my vehicle. The local Firestone shop took great care of Sportage, this morning, and I was able to replace two wearing tires, in a reasonable manner.
Finally, tomorrow, I will be “down home”, at Glick’s Greenhouse-definitely a pleasure that elicits anything but guilt. Blood family and extended family bring the same sense of well-being.
September 11, 2023, Kittery, ME- I rang the doorbell to an old friend’s home, in mid-morning, and was glad that he was home and agreeable to a visit. He looked slightly better than when I last saw him, four years ago, though he is moving slowly. We reminisced, as always on such visits, about the old neighbourhood, whose make-up has gone from mostly European ethnicities- Irish, French, Italian, Polish and English, to largely Brazilian and Cuban. He, unlike me, still lives in the house of his youth-inherited from his parents, whom I adored.
Many of the gripes he had with others are similar to behaviours he has himself exhibited on occasion, as have I. Not answering one’s phone, in times of busy-ness, or while driving (not everyone has Bluetooth), or when someone has already called three times in a span of two hours, is an understandable situation-though it probably hurts the caller on some level.
The things that rankle us about others are also the things that most bother us about ourselves. Mother gets irritated, when I am too fastidious about placement of napkins or eating utensils on a table, but guess who taught us that etiquette? I don’t like getting three Messages a day, from the same person, generally about small matters-but I have been known to Spam people about things that are so crucial to me. Life is certainly a big opaque mirror.
The rest of the day was spent with Mom, though I got in a half hour of exercise-as Saugus has a Planet Fitness. I also had dinner with my brother and sister-in-law, before heading up here, to a cozy room, in rainy Maine. In between, there were a trio of Lifetime movies, each with similar plots and dialogue to the other two. It makes Mom happy- and I recall the devotion she had to the repetitive activities of ours, as toddlers. It’s different in tone and intellectual level, of course, but letting her routine be repetitive is only fair.
September 10, 2023, Lynnfield, MA- Mother turned 95 today. The first thing out of her mouth, after acknowledging her age, was “As long as I get to 103, I’m good.” Why 103, is between her and the Divine, but I’ll take it.
I am quite a bit like her-she used to call me “Gustav the Stubborn”, and she can be obstinate, though less so than in her younger years. We each adapt to broader change quite well, though, so figure that out. We each have a more romantic view of the opposite sex, and she has always encouraged us, her sons, to be forthright in our feelings towards the women in our lives-the way she was with Dad and expected him to be, in return. We are each comfortable in our own skin and can happily spend lots of time alone-she prefers television as a backdrop, while I am usually with my nose in a book. She enjoys my activities and goofy sense of fun, though she herself tires easily-and is grateful for us being able to wait on her. Considering all she did, for us and for the extended family, over seven decades, it’s beyond fair. Most importantly, Mom taught us to keep the needs of others on the same level as our own. This has informed my own social engagement.
So, let 98, 100 and 103 come along. As long as mom is in good health, we, her four children, are blessed.
September 9, 2023, Saugus- As I left the Massachusetts Turnpike and headed north, on I-95, towards this town of my youth, a warm stream of air enveloped my shoulders and the back of my neck. I was being greeted, reassured, by someone-my father, my brother Brian, maybe even Penny. This was good, especially as the off ramp is extremely winding, for about 1/4 mile, and all protection is welcome.
Each time that I have taken this route, over the past dozen years, stops at Bedford and Wilkes-Barre, PA diners have been routine. In both cases, the initial visit was at a time when I was emotionally vulnerable, and a kind woman was my server. Of course, the food at both places was great, ample and reasonably-priced. The ambiance was comfortable, as well. I came to enjoy each subsequent visit to Rte. 220, in Bedford and D’s, in Wilkes-Barre, with different people, equally engaging, have been present and welcoming.
The energy in both places seems to have shifted, just a tad. There was a world-weariness about the staff. I think it is largely a sign of the times. People who have lived all their lives, according to certain rules and expectations, are finding the pace and direction of change almost too much to bear. Being one who has learned to go with the flow, to a reasonable extent, I am not as perturbed by the need for adjusting the sails and hope that future stops will see a resurgence of well-being.
I have, though, drawn the line at certain points. When a writer who has done great work, over the past two years, came out with a paean to satanism, this believer in the Divine said “Enough”, and cut off connection. I know that is “only an opinion” of hers, but there is a deeply troubling energy behind it, and truthfully, darkness is the absence of light, not its opposite. I am no fundamentalist, just an optimist who sees great things ahead-provided people work together to BUILD, not to tear down (except in the case of walls); to elevate, not ravage; to support one another, not sacrifice innocents.
I am here for a day or two, to celebrate the ninety-fifth birthday of the woman who made my own life and times possible. It will likely be a low-key event, but one much worth the drive here and all the reminiscences that are sure to arise. I also hope it will be followed by at least five more-so long as the quality of Mother’s life remains constant.
September 5, 2023, Luverne, MN- The lady from somewhere in Florida stepped out into the open air observation deck, at Golden Spike Tower, North Platte, felt the bracing Great Plains wind and rushed back inside. When I came back in, myself, she remarked that it was “a nice two seconds of fresh air- Brrr!” My mind went back to the February, 1987, ride on the Chicago El, and a stoned goofball opening the door, which got stuck until a world-weary conductor came along, giving the rest of us a true dose of “bracing”. 67 F , 40 mph winds and all, just felt refreshing, this morning.
Golden Spike Tower
I like the Great Plains, finding more here to appreciate than many do. Then again, that may be said of anywhere I’ve been-and the Southwest does remain my Home Base of choice. Nebraska has its share of flat cornfields, which are themselves hugely important to the nation’s, and the world’s sustenance. It also has its share of forested land, including a National Forest, up near Chadron, in the northwest of the state. I did not get anywhere near there, today, but did pass a number of small forests, particularly along the Platte River, its forks and the many irrigation-focused reservoirs that dot its plain. The Platte, like its fellows to the west, is suffering. It is mostly sand bars, these days-hoping for rain.
The first part of the morning was spent in homage to all that the railroad industry has done for the good of humanity-even as we, with some degree of justification, fret about the after-effects of fossil fuel use. My take is that all this concern should propel us into a Green Economy, which it is doing-just not fast enough to suit some people. The change-over needs to be done carefully, though, lest those whose interests lie in the old energy format convince the masses of people to resist what is, in the long run, best for the planet and for all living things within its gravitational pull.
Corn fields abut the Bailey Yard, home to Golden Spike Tower. The Bailey is the largest Classification Rail Yard in the world, being 8 miles long and occupying 2,850 acres. Union Pacific trains, centered here, transport goods, and more than a few crafty travelers, to 23 states. As the name, Golden Spike, implies, it was on a Union Pacific track, in Promontory, Utah, where the spike that brought the country’s rail system to completion was driven into the ground. This tower, at this yard, underscores that feat.
Union Pacific’s leased cornfield, at Bailey Yard, North Platte (above and below)
There has been more care taken to let tired land lie fallow or be protected by cover crops, in the past five or six years. People are learning, from the excesses of the Monoculture Boom of the last two decades.
A field at rest, on the northwest side of Bailey Yard.
One more fact about Bailey Yard: In 1941,in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor, a young North Platte woman named Rae Wilson recalled that the grandmothers of her town had operated a canteen for servicemen, during World War I. She wanted to do the same in her time, and approached Bill Jeffers, the President of Union Pacific, and a North Platte native, for permission to use a vacant room in his company’s North Platte terminal. He gladly offered the space, free of charge, with the caveat that the community provide all that was needed-food, drink and furniture. He knew that North Platte, and the surrounding area, would rise to the occasion. That, the community did, in spades. Beginning with a company of Kansas National Guardsmen, on Christmas Eve, 1941, thousands of troops passing through North Platte were fed and shown a warm welcome by the community-with plenty of support from communities across Nebraska, northern Kansas and northeastern Colorado. Remember, this was before there many processed foods, before microwave ovens; everything was made from scratch. The effort continued until 1946. The passenger terminal was torn down in 1973, so Bailey Yard maintains a replica of the canteen and offers a video account of the efforts.
I continued on, after viewing the video, stopping for lunch in the town of Gothenburg, an hour east of North Platte. Here, at Deb’s Diner/Nana’s Country Kitchen, I struck up a conversation with two local gentlemen, over lunch. One of the men had been in Colorado Springs, as I had, this past weekend. He told of taking a cabin at a large facility on the northwest side of town, and of his hapless wife getting into bed-and being stung by a bee, that had been trapped between the sheets! Good thing she wasn’t allergic-and there was plenty of mud outside, as it rained almost incessantly, on that side of town. (Mud, for those too young to remember, was the farmer’s medicine for insect stings. I’ve used it quite a few times, though I am no farmer.)
The capital of the Cornhusker State, Lincoln, is a medium-sized city, about an hour west of Omaha, which is somewhat larger. I stopped by the state capitol, for a short circumambulation. The edifice is in the shape of a skyscraper, though its base has expanded, as state government has grown over the decades.
Nebraska State Capitol, LincolnBase of Nebraska State Capitol, spreading southward.View of Nebraska State Capitol, from the east.The capital city’s namesake.
The day was fading, though I had plenty of energy left, so I wended the way north, past Fremont, Winnebago, Sioux City and the southeastern sliver of South Dakota, to the small quarry town of Luverne. Tomorrow, I might hike a bit at Blue Earth State Park, and pay respects to the victims of the Mankato massacre, before heading to Mendota Heights, and laying a wreath at the grave of a police officer, who was the work partner of an extended family member, and who was killed in the line of duty, nine years ago. I became aware of his murder,whilst paying similar respects to George Floyd, in 2021. It is past time, but murder is murder-and Officer Scott Patrick deserves to be remembered for his service and his life, every bit as much as any other victim of our national intemperance.
August 30, 2023- On the patio of a coffee house, in Ocean Springs, MS, in early 2015, the bearded sage talked of his Golden Circle-an area between Knoxville, TN and Sylacauga, AL, where he preferred to do his exploration-finding hidden gems in places he’d visited countless times before. He loved his caves-as places to wander, and his waterfalls, as places to sit and wonder. He urged me to develop a similar relationship with my own chosen Home Base, as “traveling far distances can get old”.
J.R. Cline’s idea of a long journey was a drive to New Orleans, a city he loved passionately. He took his last several trios there in his motor home, on occasion taking along the son of his closest friends-and of course, his faithful dog went everywhere with him, until the animal died. a few years back.
I saw Ralph, as his close friends called him, a couple of other times, within the bounds of the Golden Circle, once in Cleveland, TN and once just outside Knoxville. He touted what he called “Pig Wings”, white pork loin formed the way one would prepare “boneless chicken wings” and deep fried. I later had them, somewhere in Texas, and found them as tasty as their avian counterparts, though both he and I cut back on our consumption of fried foods, a few years ago. He loved his family in Knoxville and his adopted family in Sylacauga, equally well, spending his final days with the latter.
J.R. left this plane a few days ago, and left us all with the fondest of memories. On the way back from Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, I will put in a visit to his beloved Rock City, in Chattanooga, in his memory and seek to offer condolences to both families, hopefully in person. I might even cheat and nibble some Pig Wings, at that place near Childersburg, Alabama.
J.R., having greeted us a few days ago, “from the ether”, let me wish you an amazing solo flight in the Great Beyond. Your life here was amazing; thanks for sharing.
August 29, 2023- The little boy held five crayons in each hand, carefully divided between primary and secondary colours. He sang a song of his own composing, in a rudimentary form of English, the words’ meanings known only to himself. The melody, though, was pleasant and his whirling dance juxtaposed nicely with the song. This occupied him for almost forty minutes.
Creativity is a bounteous thing, and we can learn more ways in which it may be applied, by almost anyone-regardless of their intellect or state of mind. With regard to the former, my youngest brother, with limited speaking ability, nonetheless would raise a cup of juice and call out “Achtung!”, wanting those at table to join him in a toast. (He got this from watching episodes of the TV show “Hogan’s Heroes” It sounded to him like something that would be a nice cue for a toast.) Mentally challenged people are among the most loving and generous of all humans. With regard to the latter, mankind has shown both a limitless capacity for generosity and inclusivity; on the other hand, whole museums have been devoted to the Holocaust of World War II and there are Museums of Torture in a good many cities across Europe, as well as in Chicago.
Among the items in my own wardrobe is a cap that features a wraparound shield, covering the sides of my face, my ears and neck. Of course, some find it amusing, but I am pleased with what it does for my dermatological health. Whoever designed this cap has done fair-skinned (and a goodly number of swarthy people) a huge favour, in this time of approaching Solar Maximum.
We will each have moments when we may be called upon to devise a novel solution to a problem, large or small. Let it then be a time when one’s own dance of ten crayons comes to fruition. May that dance be a peaceful, regenerative one.
A Sagittarian Seeker 