Big House in the Little Woods

One advantage of living in the country is the peace and quiet.  Though it can get pretty noisy in the summer when crickets and bullfrogs and coyotes and owls join in four-part harmony, winter is quiet.  Aside from an occasional train whistle carried on the north wind, few noises penetrate the walls of our home in wintertime.  Last night as I ventured outside to bring in some firewood, the wind was carrying something else: snow.  Snow, though beautiful, is typically not listed in the advantage column when it comes to the pros and cons of country living - ESPECIALLY when it is accompanied by its evil first cousin, freezing rain. 

At 7:30 pm Monday my wife and I were watching TV when our lights went out.  Uh oh.  In the 14 years we’ve lived in this home power outages have been common enough that I have the utility company on speed dial.  Before I could open my contacts and call in the outage the lights came back on.  Whew.   Though I like peace and quiet, I do find the hum of the furnace reassuring.  Spurred by the heads-up we dusted off our trusty power outage lanterns and filled a bathtub with water.  Though not having a water bill is nice, when the electricity stops in the country, so does the well, the water faucets AND the toilets.  A bucketful of water will flush a toilet, hence the bathtub full of water.  In case of a dire emergency, I still have the 5 gallon plastic bottle of water I bought for Y2K. 

The power went out briefly during the night and the lights have flickered several times today but they are still glowing brightly as I write.  Or at least as brightly as the new humming Chinese lightbulbs mandated by Congress can glow.  Meanwhile, the evening news carried reports of thousands of people still without power in central Missouri.   If you are reading this and are without power, you are welcome to share our light and heat in our extra bedrooms.   One catch-22:  if you don't have power, the odds of you reading this are slim and the offer hollow.  Kind of like the ad I once heard of that said "Illiterate?  Write to the address below for free help!"

In her book The Long Winter, Laura Ingalls Wilder recalled the following dialogue between her parents when they ran out of kerosene:

“If only I had some grease I could fix some kind of a light," Ma considered. "We didn't lack for light when I was a girl before this newfangled kerosene was ever heard of."

"That's so," said Pa. "These times are too progressive. Everything has changed too fast. Railroads and telegraph and kerosene and coal stoves--they're good things to have, but the trouble is, folks get to depend on 'em.”

Laura died February 10, 1957, three days after her 90^th birthday, on her farm in Mansfield, Missouri.   

Nothing like a good old Missouri winter power outage to make folks realize just how many more “good things to have” we have come to depend on since Laura’s pa spoke those words of wisdom.

Rodents and Reptiles and Rookeries, Oh My!

Welcome to Gatorland, Orlando, Florida

When we left home on January 18 for a winter getaway, gas in Jefferson City was three bucks a gallon.   As I drove into town today prior to this week’s blizzard, gas was $3.70 a gallon.  That’s an increase of 23% in 5 weeks.  If it maintains that same rate of increase for the final 40 weeks of the year, by December 31 gas will be $19.39 a gallon and we will be talking about “the good old days” when gas was only three bucks a gallon.  Come to think of it, I’m already talking about that.

 

Though most people think of Disney World, the entertainment empire built by well-known rodents Mickey and Minnie, when they think of Orlando, we spent one enjoyable day at a not-so-well-known attraction:  Gatorland.  Gatorland, home to around 3000 alligators & 89 crocodiles, has been around since 1949.  It is currently ranked #19 out of 163 attractions in Orlando on TripAdvisor.com.

 

I’m not sure all the discounts available on tickets, but if you are a veteran and your wife is “up there” when it comes to age, you can get in for about half-price.  We paid $35 total for 2 “deluxe” tickets that included admission to all the shows, a train ride around the park, a chance to get our picture taken with a gator, and free hot dogs.

 

The temperature was a chilly (to the gators) sixty degrees the day we were there.  Instead of jumping out of the water to snag chickens dangled on poles during the “Gator Jumparoo Show”, the gators were pretty much content to lie in the sun.  We went to plan B, the “Up Close Encounters” show.   This show gave visitors a chance to see, and in some cases hold, snakes, spiders, lizards, etc.   Large ones.  If you ever attend this show and get called up on stage, when the coin is flipped to see who holds what, pray that you do not get “heads”.  (Hint:  it involves a snake.)

 

When lunch time rolled around, we headed to the concession stand for our “free hot dogs”. 

 

Concession worker:  May I help you?

Me:  Yes, we got the tickets that include free hot dogs.

Concession worker:  Sir, the free hot dogs are to feed the alligators.

Me:  Oh. 

 

So the deluxe ticket does not include lunch for the visitor.  It includes the visitor feeding lunch to the alligators.  Actually, that was even MORE fun.  Hint:  When feeding the alligators, do not hold your wieners where they are visible to the large, sharp-eyed, predatory birds that also call Gatorland home.  They have bad manners, large appetites, and love hot dogs (and probably fingers).

 

Included in Gatorland’s 110 acres is a rookery and a breeding marsh (once again, for the gators, not park guests).  The day we were there, dozens of wild wood storks were building nests.  Per the guide, though the storks are wild and could nest anywhere, they have discovered how building your nest in a tree surrounded by a gator-filled swamp tends to discourage many predators.  

 

We had a very enjoyable time at Gatorland.  Like Silver Dollar City, the only exit from the park is through the gift shop.  It features a wide array of gator-related novelties and t-shirts with logo’s like Gatorland, Gator Hunter, Gator Country, Darth Gator and the ever-popular “BITE ME” gator t-shirt, the perfect attire for when you fill your car up with gas.

 

 

Perfect attire when you fill your tank

 



Two Feet Low & Rising, Sixteen Stories High & Dropping

It is a snow day for much of Missouri.  Outside the window in front of me countless swirling snowflakes ride a strong east wind to the ground as leafless tree branches wave frantically in the background.  My tractor and snow blade stand ready to clear our driveway just as soon as I motivate myself to tackle the frigid task.  Our pond is up to only two feet down as a result of recent rainfall.   This snowfall will raise the level even more.  I am thankful for moisture in any form, though it is grudging thanks if the moisture is in the form of branch-snapping, power line-breaking freezing rain.  So far it has all been snow or sleet, occasionally punctuated with eye-widening flashes of lightning and rolling thunder.  Our lights have flickered but not faltered. 

I have been scanning the long-range forecasts for any sign of spring.  The high temperature for the next 10 days (through March 2) does not reach 50 degrees.  Branson's Silver Dollar City re-opens on March 15.  This week I entered a contest to be in the first group of riders on their new Outlaw Run roller coaster.  It is billed as "The World's MOST DARING Wood Coaster".  It features a 162 foot drop at an 81 degree angle, the steepest drop in the world for a wooden roller coaster.  It is also the only wooden roller coaster in the world to twist upside down (a record-breaking 3 inversions).  If I win (slightly higher odds than me being named the next Defense Secretary on President Obama's cabinet), I get TWO seats.  One for me and one for my wife.  Since my wife very nearly puked on Silver Dollar City's kid-friendly Barn Swing, in the unlikely event I win I may need a volunteer co-rider.  Blog readers get first shot.  Let me know if you would like a chance at this historic event.  Here is a link to the ride:  Outlaw Run

But now, a thrill ride of a different type.  I am going to go plow the snow off my driveway.  It features 1500 feet of snow-covered gravel on rolling hills, including a 450-foot stretch across the dam to our pond, while wearing glasses that have usually frosted over.  I have previously, while clearing a 20-inch snowfall, (unintentionally) ridden my tractor 150 feet down the dam at a 45 degree angle.  Not Outlaw Run standards, but pretty thrilling just the same.  Luckily, that was on the dry side.  It is the 12 foot drop on the water side that concerns me most.  Not for me - for my tractor.

I am optimistic that snow and ice will be a distant memory in 3 weeks and that March 15 will be a pleasant day.  Seems unlikely at this moment, but then Missouri residents know all too well the wisdom in the following poem by Lilja Rogers:

First a howling blizzard woke us,  Then the rain came down to soak us,  And now before the eye can focus,  Crocus! 

              Above -Outlaw Run - thrill ride I hope to ride on March 15.  Below

              Thrill ride I will definitely be riding on February 21.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

John Basilone - A Hero Remembered

Gunny Sgt John Basilone wearing the Medal of Honor he earned on Guadalcanal

I am currently reading an eBook titled I’m Staying with My Boys – The Heroic Life of Sgt. John Basilone, USMC.  I’m not quite finished with this remarkable true story but I concluded that today, February 19, 2013 is the day I should write a blog about John Basilone.  This is the 68th anniversary of the day he gave his life in service to our country.

 

A high school dropout, Mr. Basilone found his true calling when he joined the military.  He first joined the Army, where he served from 1936-1939.  After serving his hitch and trying his hand as a deliveryman and, later, working for a utility company, he decided his true calling was in the military.  In 1940, John Basilone joined the Marines.  He sensed a war was coming and he felt the USMC offered him the best opportunity to get in on the action.  They didn’t let him down.

 

 

On October 24, 1942, Gunny Sgt Basilone and the 12 men in his squad found themselves front and center as a Japanese regiment of 3000 men tried to retake Henderson airfield on the Pacific island of Guadalcanal.  John’s actions that day were described as follows:

 

“While the enemy was hammering at the Marines defensive positions, Sgt. Basilone, in charge of 2 sections of heavy machine guns, fought valiantly to check the savage and determined assault.  In a fierce frontal attack with the Japanese blasting his guns with grenades and mortar fire, one of Sgt. Basilone’s sections, with its gun crews, was put out of action, leaving only 2 men able to carry on.  Moving an extra gun into position, he placed it in action, then, under continual fire, repaired another and personally manned it, gallantly holding his line until replacements arrived.  A little later, with ammunition critically low and the supply lines cut off, Sgt. Basilone, at great risk of his life and in the face of continued enemy attack, battled his way through hostile lines with urgently needed shells for his gunners, thereby contributing in large measure to the virtual annihilation of a Japanese regiment.” 

 

 

According to his own count, Sgt. Basilone and his men fired 26,000 rounds at the Japanese.  He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions on Guadalcanal.

 

 

He was later shipped back to the States where toured with other war heroes promoting war bonds.  He hated it and asked to be sent back to the action.  Though his request was denied,  he didn’t give up.  He turned down a cushy assignment as an instructor and a commission as an officer before his request was finally granted to return to action in the Pacific theater.

 

 

On February 19, 1945, Sgt. Basilone stormed the beach on Iwo Jima with his Marine brothers.  Over 22,000 well-entrenched Japanese soldiers were there to greet them.  For his action that day, Sgt Basilone was awarded the Navy Cross.  Posthumously.  His citation read, in part:

 

 

For extraordinary heroism . . . in action against enemy Japanese forces on Iwo Jima . . .  shortly after landing when his company’s advance was held up by the concentrated fire of a heavily fortified Japanese blockhouse . . . (Sgt. Basilone) boldly defied the smashing bombardment to a position directly on top of the blockhouse and then, attacking with grenades and demolitions, single-handedly destroyed the entire hostile strong point . . . he then fought his way over the battle-torn beach . . . he repeatedly exposed himself to the blasting fury of exploding shells and  . . .  proceeded to aid a friendly tank which had been trapped in an enemy mine field under intense mortar and artillery barrages, skillfully guiding the heavy vehicle over the hazardous terrain to safety, despite the overwhelming volume of hostile fire.  In the forefront of the assault at all times, he pushed forward with dauntless courage and iron determination until, moving upon the edge of the airfield, he fell, instantly killed by a bursting mortar shell.    Stouthearted and indomitable, Gunnery Sergeant Basilone, by his intrepid initiative, outstanding skill, and valiant spirit of self-sacrifice in the face of the fanatic opposition, contributed materially to the advance of his company during the early critical period of the assault, and his unwavering devotion to duty throughout the bitter conflict was an inspiration to his comrades and reflects the highest credit upon Gunnery Sergeant Basilone . . . He gallantly gave his life in the service of his country.”

 

 

6,821 U.S. soldiers died and 19,217 were wounded on Iwo Jima before the iconic picture of the US flag being raised in victory atop Mount Suribachi was taken.  Of the 22,060 Japanese soldiers on the island, 21,844 died and 216 were taken prisoner.  The battle for Iwo Jima lasted from February 19, the day Sgt Basilone gave up his life, to March 26, 1945. 

 

 

Thank you, John Basilone, and thank you to all the men and women of the U.S. military, past and present.

 

Sgt Basilone's headstone at

Arlington National Cemetery

 

The ebook I'm Staying with My Boys, by Jim Proser with Jerry Cutter, is available from Barnes and Noble as an eBook through Nook.  I highly recommend it.

 



A Land of Alerts

When we left home for warmer climes we did so as a Norovirus alert was being sounded.  We carried bottles of germicide and virus-killing wipes for defense.  Along the way we kept an eye on the sky and listened for weather alerts that might necessitate a route change.  The first night of our trip I received an email with a Cyber Alert.  Homeland Security had firm evidence that terrorists planned to attack our financial and utility companies vast computer networks, playing havoc with our finances and leaving us in cold, dark homes.  Or cold, dark motel rooms.  Or dimly-lit Super Bowl seats, for those rich enough to afford them.

 

Just today I learned that person’s unknown were successful hacking into our nation’s public warning system.  They posted the following warning: 

 

LOCAL AUTHORITIES IN YOUR AREA HAVE REPORTED THE BODIES OF THE DEAD ARE RISING FROM THEIR GRAVES AND ATTACKING THE LIVING.  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPROACH OR APPREHEND THESE BODIES AS THEY ARE CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.

 

A Zombie alert!!!  Posted by hackers with a sense of humor who will still be in big trouble if their identity is discovered.  Sure beats financial chaos or living in a cold dark home.

 

After visiting South Carolina and Savannah, we continued our journey southward along I-95.  After visiting St. Augustine to check out the fountain of youth (they want ten bucks for a drink with absolutely no guarantee it works), we continued our journey to Orlando.  South of St. Augustine we passed a sign advertising a “VEGETARIAN RECOVERY CENTER”.  At least what the sign outside “Smokin’ D’s BBQ” described the place as.

 

Though I am familiar with Amber Alerts, signs along Florida Interstates advised us of a Silver Alert.  A Silver Alert, we learned, is declared when a “cognitively-impaired” person is missing.  Sadly, I imagine that in Florida, Silver Alerts are not uncommon.  Twenty states (but not Missouri) have Silver Alert programs.  According to information I uncovered, if not found within 24 hours, up to half of wandering seniors with dementia suffer serious injury or death. 

 

Before our trip was over we encountered several “wandering seniors”.  Not on the highways - in Disney World’s massive parking lots.  Anytime we parked our car in the Magic Kingdom, I ALWAYS wrote down the section, row, and zip code where we left it.  One evening, as we neared our vehicle, two seniors approached us.  “WE FROM GERMANY.  WE CAN’T FIND OUR RENTAL CAR”.  “What kind is it?” I asked.  “Black” they replied. Well, we from Missouri, and we couldn’t find their rental car either.

 

I’m happy to report that by the grace of God and repeatedly pressing the EMERGENCY button on their key remote to activate their rental car's horn, they were finally reunited with their vehicle, danke shon you very much. Just in time, too.  They were so pooped their tongues were hanging almost down to their leiderhosen.

 

 

Something to Write About

Lunch at Savannah's Clary's Cafe, featured in the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil



The first time my wife and I visited Savannah we spent the better part of an hour searching for a parking spot.  On this visit we solved our parking dilemma by touring the city’s landmarks aboard an Old Town Trolley.  For $26 a piece we got free parking, all day on-and-off privileges at 15 stops and a narrated tour of Savannah conducted by funny, knowledgeable drivers.  One even had his own laugh and sound effect track.

Though not always perfect, four words consistently describe the weather in Savannah while we were there:  WARMER THAN BACK HOME!  The trolleys have windows that close for cold-natured visitors and open for those who enjoy the fresh air.  We sat in the open-window section.

Near the end of his “March to the Sea” across Georgia, Union General William Tecumseh Sherman employed a “scorched earth” policy of burning everything the Confederacy might find useful.  When he reached Savannah, Confederate troops retreated and Savannah Mayor R.D. Arnold rode out to formally surrender the city in exchange for an agreement not to burn it.  In December, 1864,  General Sherman sent President Lincoln the following message by telegraph:  “"I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the City of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty guns and plenty of ammunition, also about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton."

Due to Mayor Arnold’s foresight, Savannah’s pre-civil war architecture is still around for all to appreciate today.

Several notable movies have been filmed in Savannah, including my favorite Forrest Gump.  Trolley Stop 3 was near Chippewa Square, the location of the bench from which Forrest told his life story while waiting for a bus.  That bench now resides in the Savannah History Museum.

Probably the second most famous movie filmed in Savannah is Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.  Based on a true-life murder story, our tour passed several locations featured prominently in the movie, including the home where the murder was committed, Forsyth Park and Clary’s Café. 

Across the street from Forsyth Park stands a 300 year-old live oak tree known as the Candler Oak.  The Candler Oak was alive and well when George Washington was giving STATE OF THE UNION speeches.  Though it once sheltered both Union and Confederate troops, it is now owned by a law firm.  While we were admiring the tree from the parking lot, the law firm’s security guard chased us away. Despite the tree's status as a Georgia Landmark and Historic Tree, don’t plan on standing in its shade unless you are prepared to outrun a chubby security guard who probably still has a grudge against “Yankees”. (Note:  Missourian’s do not consider themselves to be “nawthiners”.)

Oh well – at least the incident gave me “Something to Talk About” after our brief admiration of one of the “Forces of Nature”.  Those are also the names of the third and fourth most popular movies filmed in Savannah.

A picture of the 300-year-old Candler Oak taken from the wrong side of the fence (per the security guard)

 

Amazing Gracie



Little Gracie Watson

 

Bonaventure means “good fortune”, but the Savannah, Ga. residents who now reside there might have a word or two to say otherwise about that.  In my opinion, no visit to Savannah is complete without wandering the hauntingly beautiful 160 acre Bonaventure Cemetery.  Giant live oak trees, Spanish moss suspended from the branches, adorn the grounds.  Ornate sculptures mark the location of the earthly remains of area residents who departed this life as early as 1765.  

 

 

As we followed the directions of our GPS to Bonaventure on an unseasonably warm January morning, my wife asked “Do you think they will have restrooms there?”  “Have you ever been to a cemetery with restrooms?” I asked.  After neither my wife nor I could think of any cemetery’s that had restrooms, we made a quick stop at McDonalds.  Shortly after arrival at Bonaventure we were greeted by members of the Bonaventure Historical Society who answered our questions, including “Yes, they do have public restrooms at Bonaventure”.

 

I am a student of epitaphs, words deemed important enough to inscribe on the headstone of one’s final resting place.  Corrine Elliott Lawton died January 24, 1877.  About Corrine, her headstone says “Allured to brighter worlds and led the way”.  John Russell Kellam expired March 18, 1892.  His headstone says the following about John:  Thou are gathered safely home free from pain and toil and care.  12-year-old Carrie R. Mallare (Mallard?) died August 10, 1898, the same summer my grandfather was born.  Her grieving parents inscribed “She was a bright sweet child and gave promise of a lovely womanhood”.

 

Famous musician Johnny Mercer’s remains are interred at Bonaventure.  Mercer received 4 Oscars for movie lyrics and is known for songs like “Accentuate the Positive”, “Moon River”, Autumn Leaves” and “The Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe”.  His gravesite has a bench with a caricature of him and the words “Buddy, I’m a kind of poet and I’ve gotta lotta things to say”.  Savannah recently erected a bronze statue of Mr. Mercer between the City Market and Paula Deen’s restaurant.

 

 

The most amazing gravesite to me was that of 6-year-old Gracie Watson who died of pneumonia two days before Easter, 1889.  Gracie’s dad was the manager of Savannah’s Pulaski Hotel and commissioned sculptor John Walz to create a life-size Georgia-marble replica of Gracie from a picture of her in her Easter finery. 

 

 

Bonaventure Cemetery was featured in the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil based on the 1994 novel of the same name by John Berendt.   That movie was directed by Clint Eastwood and is based on a true story.  In the movie, visits to the cemetery were made at 11:30 pm.  The 30 minutes before midnight were for good.  The 30 minutes after midnight were for evil.  If you plan a visit, I’d suggest you do it between the normal operating hours of 8 am – 5 pm.  Some visitors have reported seeing little Gracie Watson playing among the graves of other children buried at Bonaventure.   Maybe that’s why they have restrooms.  If I saw her I know I’d sure need one.



 

Definitely Not a One Car Parade

Though Hilton Head Island was our home base for the first week of our trip, January is not the ideal time for beach activities.  We spent our first full day after our arrival an hour away in Savannah, one of my favorite CITIES in the United States.  PLUS, it is where Forrest Gump sat at a bus stop and narrated a movie by the same name, one of my favorite MOVIES of all time.

Our plan to hop on a trolley and tour the city was derailed because we arrived on a national holiday, Martin Luther King, Jr. day.  Instead of riding around and viewing the sights of Savannah we sat curbside at the intersection of M.L.K., JR. BLVD & Oglethorpe and let the sights ride by us in Savannah’s MLK, JR day parade.  The entertainment actually started a little early when a little old lady in a Cadillac tried to get onto MLK, JR. Blvd just before the parade began.

COP:  STOP RIGHT THERE!  YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG-WAY ON A ONE-WAY STREET!  The little old lady then backed up, steered into a parking lot and reemerged on MLK, JR. Blvd a half-block away, leading the parade.

Other than that incident, the parade was memorable for me in four ways:

1.      Unlike parades back home, I did not see one tractor or pickup truck.

2.      It was TWO HOURS long;

3.      My butt’s curb-sitting ability maxed out at ONE HOUR; and

4.      As certified hillbillies from Missouri, WE were the main source of diversity.

Savannah was established on February 12, 1733 with the arrival of General James Edward Oglethorpe.  General Oglethorpe was dispatched to the area by King George II to establish a city and protect British interests.  When Oglethorpe founded the city of Savannah, he had only 4 rules:

1.     No slavery.

2.     No hard liquor, though beer, wine and ale were acceptable.

3.     No Catholics; and

4.     No lawyers.

Over the years those rules have been defended, derided, amended and rescinded various times.  After Oglethorpe was recalled to England, slavery was allowed until the Civil War brought it to an end.  Savannah now allows alcohol of all types to be consumed on its streets as long as it is in a plastic container.  The city houses St. John the Baptist Catholic church, one of the largest and most beautiful Catholic churches in America.  AND, there are 675 listings for attorneys in the Savannah yellow pages.

After the parade we had an alcohol-free lunch at the historic Blue Moon Brewery, reportedly the only haunted brewery in the United States.  (Motto: Come drink with friends past and present).

At 1:30 the trolleys finally started rolling.  Due to the shortened time frame, the Old Town Trolley Company gave us a two-day pass for the price of a one-day pass.       Forrest Gump once said “My Mama always said you've got to put the past behind you before you can move on”.   Not so for us.  With a trolley beside us and Savannah’s past ahead of us, we hopped on a trolley and moved on.

Bystanders and Bysitters at Savannah's MLK Jr. Parade

Bird Poop on my Shoulder Makes Me Happy





My Beautiful Wife Reminding Me Bird Poop is "Lucky"

We bid a fond farewell to Forsyth, Georgia on the third morning of our recent trip and continued south on I-75.  Twenty miles down the road we got on I-16, a short 170 mile stretch of Interstate dedicated to carrying traffic from Macon to Savannah.   It was a Sunday morning, traffic was light, and the sun was shining brightly.  We settled in for a relaxing drive to the sea. I entertained myself by watching the number on our car’s outside temperature gauge steadily increase as we rolled south.  Over coffee this morning a headline caught my attention:  4 DEAD IN FIERY HIGHWAY CRASH.  That crash, involving 27 vehicles, was on that same I-16, a seemingly benign stretch of Interstate if ever I saw one.

 

We arrived without incident at the Marriott Surfwatch on Hilton Head Island, S.C.  Marriott’s are normally not in our lodging price range.   Luckily, we were the recipients of some foreign aid.   Joe and Terry, our Australian cousins and frequent travel companions, transferred a couple of bonus timeshare weeks they were unable to use to us.  Only catch – they had to be used in January.  It was Joe and Terry my wife and I were traveling with last fall when I got the call my mom had died and our trip came to an abrupt end.  That brings me to an amazing coincidence:

 

While we were on our just-completed roadtrip, Joe and Terry were in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.  While there, Terry was making some arrangements for a future trip and spoke with a representative of Booking.com, an Internet travel website. During the course of the conversation, Terry asked the representative where he was located.  “Springfield, Mo.” he replied.  “Oh?”, said Terry (who had spent a week in Branson with us last October), “do you know Doug Reece?”  “Yeah, he’s my cousin” said Johnny Brown, the Booking.com rep.  I’m not sure what the odds are for a person calling from Malaysia to call up an Internet travel company and get a representative that not only knows me, but will actually admit they are related to me.  It probably makes winning the Powerball lottery look like a coin flip by comparison.

 

Another instance of "what are the odds" events occurred later that week.  A seagull attempted to deposit a another layer of fudge-like substance on the hot fudge sundae I was enjoying.  It missed and hit my shoulder instead.   My wife was quick to remind me that being pooped on by a bird is SUPPOSED to be good luck, though the only good luck I could think of at the time was that it hit my shoulder instead of my ice cream.  The incident did reinforce the traditional Missouri wisdom about being grateful that cows can’t fly.

 

On second thought, I think I must be a lucky man for two reasons:

1.      Sometimes “good luck” is “the absence of bad luck”.  I didn’t win the lottery but I didn’t get in a 27 car pile-up on I-16 either.

 

2.     Why else would my wife so frequently remind me  “You don’t know how lucky you are!”



Seven States in Seven Seconds

View of 7 States from Atop Tennessee's Lookout Mountain

After a trek inside Lookout Mountain, our next stop was the summit.  From a vantage point near Rock City's Lover's Leap,  a sign advised us that seven states were visible in the distance.  Though that would have saved us some time and money, we still decided to visit several of the states a little more up close and personal.  After taking in the attractions on and inside Lookout Mountain, we stopped by the Ooltewah, Tn. home of former Jefferson City residents Tim & Laura Parker.  One source I checked said locals tell tourists that "Ooltewah" is an old indian word for "See Rock City".  It actually an old indian word for "owl's nest".

 

 

As fate would have it, we encountered another bird later that same day.  It is nearly impossible to travel through Georgia without going through Atlanta.  Our journey took us through the heart of Atlanta on I-75 on a day when Atlanta Falcon's fans were doing the "dirty bird" in preparation for the NFC championship game vs. the San Francisco Forty-niners the next day.   The "Dirty Bird" is a dance that combines rap and a simulated wing-flapping love for the home team Falcon's.   The South may or may not rise again, but the Falcon's motto is "Rise up!"  Unfortunately, the Falcon's never got off the ground and the Forty-niners represented the NFC in the Super Bowl.  Traffic was not week day heavy but driving through the city is always a bit of a white knuckle experience for me.  Our goal was to find a place to stay SOUTH of Atlanta and not have to deal with game day traffic.

 

 

After making it safely through Atlanta we began to ponder where to spend the night.   Aided by a cell phone, a GPS and Trip Advisor, we began to search for accommodations in our price range that had the best reviews.  We found our match in Forsyth, Ga,  twenty miles north of Macon.  With about 30 minutes of daylight still available we found a nice room for seventy-five bucks a night, including a hot breakfast.  As our wives waited in the car, Bill & I walked into the motel lobby to seal the deal. 

 

 

The front desk was vacant.

 

 

After a few minutes, a seasoned citizen entered the lobby and took her position behind the desk.  "I was looking for my car" she said.  "I loaned it to a guest to go get some wine and I wasn't sure where they parked it when they came back".  "Well", I said, "you know loaning your car to a stranger to go get wine may not be the best idea".  "I've found that if you try to do the right thing the Lord takes care of you!" she said, before adding "usually".  The desk clerk's name was Dee, probably short for "Dee-Lightful".  After checking us in she gave us the rules.  "Breakfast is served from 6-9, checkout by noon, you can use the inside pool tonight until 10, 11 if you don't have a boom box.  Show this ticket at the Shoney's next door and you get 10% off your ticket.  I just baked some cookies and you can get yourself some right over there".  I felt like I had just checked in to Grandma's house. 

 

Shoney's was a buffet line.  With the norovirus at epidemic levels around the country, we carry germ-x, wipe down all motel rooms with germ-killing tissues and avoid eating at buffets.  We skipped Shoney's buffet line and ate at a Captain D's where the odds of picking up a bug were reduced but definitely not eliminated.  Facebook status updates from friends were telling dire tales of kids and spouses afflicted by a "devil" ailment from Missouri to Virginia.

 

As near as I can tell, Forsyth, Georgia's only claim to fame is being the county seat of Monroe county.  The town motto is "What you need, when you need it".   Worked for us.  Guess it worked for the stranger who borrowed Dee's car to go get wine too.

 

 

 



Babe Whiffs and Ruby Falls

Babe Ruth at Ruby Falls in 1931

 

Baltimore has been reveling in sports glory this week after the Ravens eked out a win over San Francisco in what is now referred to as the "Black-Out Bowl".  118 years ago on February 6, 1895, a baby was born who would become arguably Baltimore's greatest claim to sports fame.  Kate Ruth gave birth to a baby boy who became known as "the Babe". 

 

In 1931, Babe Ruth and the New York Yankees played an exhibition game against a Double A minor league team, the Chattanooga Lookouts.  That was around the same time that a reporter asked the Babe to justify his salary demand of $80,000 a year when President Hoover was only making $75,000 a year.  "I had a better year than Hoover" explained the Babe.  During that April 2, 1931 game, Lookouts' pitcher Jackie Mitchell struck out Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and Tony Lazzeri. When you consider that Babe Ruth struck out 1330 times in his major league career, it is not too remarkable that even a minor league pitcher could strike him out every now and then.  What is remarkable is that Jackie Mitchell was female.

 

During his 1931 visit to Chattanooga, Babe Ruth visited what was, at the time, a new attraction, a giant waterfall named Ruby Falls deep inside the bowels of Lookout Mountain.  On day 2 of our vacation we followed in the Babe's tracks.  We toured Ruby Falls.  Our tour began with an elevator ride that took us down 26 stories.  From there we hiked close to a half-mile into the heart of Lookout Mountain observing the various rock formations along the way.  Behind me was an 8-year-old kid marveling aloud at the various natural oddities inside the cave (other than me).  "Wow!  Potato chip, steak and potatoes and Dragonfoot!  They have neat names for things in here!"  Later, as we walked along a pathway with running water below us, his awe turned to dismay.  "This is freakin' me out!" 

 

Awaiting us at our destination, 1120 deep inside Lookout Mountain, was Ruby Falls, a 140-foot waterfall.  I visited the cave in 1967 before embarking on Basic Training.  Back then, before turning on the Ruby-colored spotlights, the cave guide turned off all the lights.  The darkness was profound.  They don't do that anymore.  I'll bet that would have really freaked that kid out.

 

If you like cave tours, you will like this cave tour as well.  If you don't, you probably won't, though one side benefit, even for non-cave lovers, is approximately one hour of freedom from any and all cell phone calls.  "If you get a call down here, I want to know what company provides your service" said the guide.

 

My 1967 visit to Ruby Falls was part of a 3000 mile roadtrip I took in January prior to heading to Army basic training the next month.  Driving a 1964 VW Karmann Ghia, I spent a grand total of $32 for gas on that trip. On this trip, $32 would barely get me out of Missouri.  Things have sure changed.

 

Babe Ruth was miffed when 18-year-old Jackie Mitchell struck him out on April 2, 1931.  After swinging and missing twice, with a count of 1-2, the Babe took a called third strike.  On the way back to the dugout, the Babe let the umpire know exactly what he thought of his umpiring abilities and it was not a favorable review.  After the game, the Babe said "I don't what's going to happen if they begin to let women in baseball.  Of course, they will never make good.  Why?  Because they are too delicate.  It would kill them to play ball every day."

 

While we were on our trip, Defense Secretary Leon Panetta announced the Pentagon was lifting the ban on women serving in combat.  Like I said, things have sure changed.

 

If folks near Hawthorne, N.Y. heard an unusual whirring sound in the vicinity of Gate of Heaven cemetery after Leon Panetta's announcement, I reckon it was the Babe spinning in his grave.

 

Babe Ruth's grave in Gate of Heaven Cemetery, Hawthorne, N.Y.  The Babe's epitaph reads:

May That Divine Spirit That Animated  BABE RUTH to Win the Crucial Game of Life Inspire the Youth of America"

 



The Wind at My Back

 I am an unusual traveler.  I love to travel.  I hate to leave home.  The month of January makes leaving home much easier if the attire for our destination involves shorts and sandals.     Mark Twain once observed "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”    Good advice, though with all due respect to Mr. Twain, I suspect in 20 years I will be dead.  All the MORE reason to “throw off the bowlines.”  Especially if they are frozen.

In the back seat as we began our journey were our neighbors, Bill & Mary, among the nicest people in the universe.  We’ve been friends for years but never traveled together for more than a few nights.   A couple of weeks together should test the fiber of our friendship.  So should the fiber I had for dinner at Cracker Barrel our first night on the road – a large bowl of pinto beans.   Hey, you get the trade winds in your sails your way and I’ll get them my way.

After hitting the drive-thru at Dunn Brothers Coffee, we headed east – our first night’s destination unknown.  The roads were clear, the sun was up and the gas prices were down.   First stop – Vienna.  Not, Vienna, the small town an hour south of Jefferson City - Vienna, Illinois - between St. Louis and the Kentucky state line - at the Dairy Queen.

Nine hours and 517 miles from Dunn Brothers Coffee we pulled into a Comfort Suites Hotel in Manchester, Tennessee, the county seat of Coffee County, Tennessee, for the night.  For about 15 hours we boosted the population of Manchester from 8994 to 8998.

In 2011 we barely escaped Jefferson City to meet my wife’s cousin’s in Orlando after a 20-inch snowfall combined with a minus 7 degree temperature reading to make it REALLY hard to cast off the bowlines.  On Day 2 of that trip, after escaping the snow and sub-zero Missouri temperatures, we awoke in Tennessee to a freezing rain weather advisory.  We made it to Chattanooga only with the aid of a fleet of salt trucks.

Day 2 of THIS trip was much less eventful.  The only ice we encountered was on our windshield and was easily disposed of before heading to our first stop of day 2, Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, the subject of my next blog.

The ever-observant Mark Twain ALSO noted “I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them."   

Even more so when pinto beans are involved.

 

We Are All One Phone Call From Our Knees

This week I have gotten several emails from friends checking on my well-being and/or wondering if their subscription to my blog had somehow been terminated.  In response:

1.      I’m fine;

2.      It hasn’t; and

3.      Thanks for noticing the blog has been dormant for a while!

My philosophy about the blog has always been to:

1.      Experience life;  and

2.      Write about what I have experienced or observed.

Without fail, road trips have consistently provided me with a treasure trove of things about which to write.  While most of them are good, February 1 marked 3 months since a phone call with the news my mom had passed away unexpectedly brought my last road trip to an abrupt end.  Since that phone call, I have experienced a lot of life.  In fact, it is amazing to me exactly how much life I have experienced as a result of a death.  Unfortunately, writing about that experience has been difficult for me. 

Since my mom’s death, my brother and I have:

1.      Moved our dad back to Springfield to live with his sister and her husband;

2.      Sold his house;

3.      Had ANOTHER auction to dispose of my dad’s excess possessions (though “excess” and “possessions” are two words my dad would NEVER combine).

4.      Dealt with all the red tape & minutiae involved when one life ends (my mom’s) and another that has been intertwined with it for 65+ years, my dad’s, is forever changed.   

If it is true that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” I should be pretty strong right now.   In my case, I suspect it might be more accurate to say that what didn’t kill me made me appreciate life, and those around me that make it worth living,  a whole lot more.   

It is time to end the blog drought – or constipation – depending on your opinion of the blog.  You can now expect either

A.     A refreshing shower of new blogs; or

B.      Blog constipation to be replaced with blog diarrhea.

It’s time for another road trip – the kind remembered for what one sees and not phone calls that bring you to your knees. 

Stay tuned.