From the desktop of LHB

To my rockstars, It’s been an exhausting two weeks. I’m writing this to all of you as I sit on a plane back to the land of school, work, hot weather, and horrible football (aka Dallas). I’ve spent this past weekend with my family in Las Vegas, Nevada. You know, until now I’ve never been to the city of sin, and maybe my parents tried to keep it that way, but I sure do like it. The bright lights, warm breezes, and never-ending entertainment seem to be right up my ally. Believe me I’ll be back for my 21st birthday.

Luckily this week will be a bit of a slow one. Due to the four tests, numerous quizzes, hours of working and studying that I’ve previously encountered, I might be able to sit and watch the OC peacefully. I’m doing well. I’m struggling a bit with French, a reoccurring theme, so I’ll have to make an effort to get extra help in that subject. I wasn’t happy with my first statistics test, even though (I assure you) it was not a terrible grade. Sometimes I still have to run it through my head that I’m here to get an education and that motivates me a little bit more to get up early in the morning and tough it out until I lay in my bed at night. It’s a day-by-day thing.

It was a lovely morning. My alarm went off at 7 am and I felt an urge to go to Einstein’s bagels and get some breakfast for my roommates who had class early. As I rubbed my sleepy eyes while walking around the front end of my car, I noticed a large pile of black glass. The first thought that ran through my nonfunctioning brain was “oh that’s nice someone broke a bottle near my car. I must remember to be careful to not run my tires over that.” As I looked to my left, there was an open window on my passenger seat behind the driver’s door. It never occurred to me that someone had broken in. I only wanted to think that by some freak accident a ball had flown through my window. But my hopes were crushed as I looked into the front of the car and my radio was missing. They even bothered to leave my mixed cd that was in my cd player on my seat for me. The nerve. From my experience I have no sympathy. Sure, I used to think – hey, yah there are those “bad” people out there but that won’t ever happen to me. Ha, I was definitely wrong and now I want to find whoever stole my stereo and teach them a lesson. Personal experiences change our worldviews. I hate thieves.

Hurricanes blow. I don’t even want to talk about it.

Where is the worst place you have ever received a shot? I would have to say my behind. Due to my horrible week, I became ill on Sunday morning. This resulted in my visit to the doctor’s office and two shots in my arse. They still hurt when I sat down the next few days.

So, I’m turning in my sorority papers. Mom is highly encouraging me to do so. I guess I’ll give it a go, I mean it can’t hurt and I would like to get to know more people – network. I’m also applying to the University of Dreams – an internship program through UCLA for next summer. For those of you who know my roommate Whitney (or have heard about her) she did it this previous summer and it was awesome! I also play two intramural teams – volleyball and flag football. I enjoy taking down some opponents, in a friendly way of course.

No boys. At this point I’m planning to live my life as an old maid with five cats and a parrot. But I do want to say congratulations to Katie on her engagement!! That is so exciting!

I also wish Terri a very happy birthday and a safe weekend in Temecula!

I can’t wait to come home for Thanksgiving!! Miss you all and love you so much!
Your faithful groupie,
Lauren

AND THE HUM OF THE DIESEL IS SILENT

Tuesday, August 30, we did a drive about around what is considered by the locals as America’s playground on the coast of Lake Superior in Wisconsin. We stopped at a neat little town there and, of course, visited the marina. Ken and a husband and wife tourist team went aboard a small catamaran listed for sale. The couple vacation in the area with their children every year and were interested in the boat as a possible vacation toy for future family visits. Ken, always interested in anything that floats, climbed aboard, peeked in the windows and offered comments and suggestions that he thought worth considering in their evaluation process. I reminded him later that "he that knoweth everything should also know when to keep his mouth shut". After our stop in Munising and its Pictured Rocks and in Ontagon with its surrounding countryside from Lake of the Clouds, Houghton, Eagle River and Eagle Harbor, our Wisconsin visit to the shores of Lake Superior was anti climatic. Perhaps we were developing an immunity to beauty for that week? We completed our circle tour and proceeded on our way though were we not beginning to feel anxious to "hotfoot" it home, we would have considered a recommended Apostle Islands lighthouse tour that departs from Bayfield. We intended to spend the night in the Superior/Duluth area but alas, we missed our turn off and upon discovering our error, proceeded on for an overnight stop in Hill City Minnesota.

Wednesday, we completed our travel through Minnesota into North Dakota and spent Wednesday night in Jamestown, North Dakota. We visited the Buffalo Museum there and became acquainted with the winds of the Dakotas.

Thursday we moved into South Dakota, choosing secondary roads as opposed to the interstate highways which offered us beautiful views and less traffic. For the most part the roads were surprisingly good and untraveled. Ken almost committed himself to my wrath when he inadvertently acted on a sign without reading it thoroughly and we ended up on 43 miles of untraveled road through an Indian reservation. Once we were committed to the road, there was no place to turn around. For the approximately two hours that it took us to get to a likely stop for the night I sat in silent and controlled rage wondering why I allow myself to be so abused in this travel and adventure period of my life. My treat at the end of the 43 mile by way was early dinner/late lunch at the Indian Casino whose sign had created our confusion and caused us an unplanned excursion through isolated Indian country. After our long days drive and travel, we spent the night in the capital of South Dakota, Pierre. Earlier in the week Ken had noticed that one of the wheels appeared to be leaking lubricant and Thursday morning we took the coach into Freightliner to have the wheels checked. It turned out that both front wheels needed to be repacked and in the process, the mechanic suggested that we should replace the two front tires that were wearing unevenly as a result of the front end apparently being out of alignment. We decided to hold off on getting that work done until we arrived Rapid City where we had planned to spend three days visiting the sights of Mount Rushmore and surrounding areas.

We spent labor day weekend in the Rapid City South Dakota area, visiting Mount Rushmore, Custer Mountain, the Sitting Bull mountain sculpture which is in progress, Mammoth caverns, Thunderhead Mine, Cave of the Winds and enjoyed the beautiful wide open spaces of that scenic and serene countryside.

Ken decided to have the tires rotated and try to get home without purchase of new tires to give us more time to evaluate the problem with the wheels. Tuesday morning we had the work done and by noon we were out and away en route home in earnest.. We spent Thursday night in Casper Wyoming where we enjoyed dinner with our friend Helen Holzaepfel. Helen spent a week with us in Key West Florida and has since relocated to Casper from Orlando Florida. After dinner, we visited with Helen and her daughter, Lisa before biding them goodbye in preparation for an early departure Wednesday.

Wednesday we overnighted in Evanston, Wyoming and Thursday, St George Utah. Friday afternoon we did a brief stop over in Las Vegas before trekking on into Barstow for the night. We arrived home in Glendale before noon on Saturday thus concluding twenty weeks of adventure and road travel. We are ready for a long visit to our domicile of record, enjoying our children and grandchildren but most of all just being home! During the upcoming weeks I plan to do an in depth revisitation of our trip which I will post for what I hope will be entertainment.


MACKINAW CITY
Our arrival in Mackinaw City on Monday was without event. The park located on the shores of Lake Huron offered a beautiful view of the Mackinac Bridge which connects Mackinaw City with the Upper Peninsula and Canada. The rally got off to a bang up start with a tasty dinner on Monday night. Tuesday was a day of seminars designed to update or review operating procedures for the Allegro amenities provided in our coaches. Factory technicians and Allegro vendor representatives were available to address any problems that the attendees might be experiencing with their coaches.
Wednesday was "Mackinac day". Breakfast at 7AM with shuttles departing for the ferry to Mackinac at 8. After guided carriage tours of the island, a buffet lunch was provided at the majestic old Grand Hotel which sits on a hill overlooking the island as icing on a beautiful cake. The hotel has been completely redecorated and painted since we were last there in 1997 or 1998. It’s decor s reflects the high price of admission. A visit to Mackinac Island and the village that bears its name is a step back in town, a reminder of the days of yore when the best part of the good life was the tax rate.
Thursday was a free day and we, like many others, used it as a day to explore the surrounding area. We drove to the Soo locks at Sault Ste Marie and planned to take a two hour boat tour through the locks. Instead, as we were arriving two large freighters were preparing to pass through the locks and we were able to catch them as they maneuvered through the locks from Lake Superior into Lake Huron. To see those two large ships move into the lock, see the great doors of the lock close and the water drain 20 foot for the ships to move into the lower lake was awesome. Our neighbor at the rally reported that they were still in town when a thousand foot freighter maneuvered through the locks. We were envious of their good fortune. We had to settle for 500 footers. Our day Thursday closed with dinner and entertainment provided by local entertainment that was good enough to keep us reasonably attentive until the end.
Friday was another free day which prompted us to consider an early getaway inasmuch as rain was forecast for Saturday. We decided to strike out mid morning and travel to Tahquamanon Falls with the thought that we would take the combination 8 gauge tooner trolley and boat trip up the river to view the falls on Saturday. However, we arrived early enough on Friday to explore the falls on our own. Saturday morning we were awakened by heavy rainfall that ruled out the morning train/boat trip. While the falls were interesting, we’ve seen lots of falls on this trip. Thus, we were not disappointed to make do with a pleasant hike through the woods and some nice photos from our Friday visit.

We stayed in the Michigan State Park at Tahquanomon Falls and were grateful for our comfortable camping style as we left the park where traditional "tent" campers were seeking shelter under "make shift" canopies. We thought that we should have invited our neighbors for breakfast in the shelter of our comfortable abode but we didn’t think about it until we were on the way out.

Our decision to forego the train and boat trip was a good one. The early morning showers escalated into heavy showers as we drove from the Tahquamenon Falls area to Munising where we hoped the weather might clear enough for a boat trip viewing of the Pictured Rocks Coastline along the Pictured Rocks National Shoreline of Lake Superior. A rally acquaintance recommended the Pictured Rocks as a side trip worth taking as we traveled through the Michigan Upper Peninsula. It was a great recommendation. We arrived at Munising just at noon and to our amazement, the sky had cleared, the sun was out and our three hour trip on Lake Superior turned out spectacular in both beauty and enjoyment.

A fellow passenger dutifully made notes of the ad lib of our Tour Captain and thanks to her, I will provide you with some of the details that he shared with us. The rocks were formed 500 million years ago and they are truly stunning examples of Mother Nature’s masterful sculpturing. The seashore extends 37 miles along the South Shoreline of Lake Superior from Munising to Grand Marais. The shoreline consists of 15 miles of multicolored sandstone cliffs, 12 miles of sandy beaches and 5 square miles of sand dunes, accessible only by boat or foot. The Captain pointed out the locations of several ships that have gone down in the lake during heavy storms, most of which were in October as early winter storms caught ships captains by surprise. Lake Superior has a reputation for never giving up its dead. The cold water does not permit bodies lost to its depths to float and thus, Lake Superior claims forever its victims. Grand Island an island larger than Mackinac Island, protects the Coast of Munising from the harsh winter storms that the Lake produces. The Island has a few "hearty" inhabitants (mostly summer I think). It is primarily rugged and unspoiled, accessible only by boat except during the winter when the ice provides a "cool" navigational resource for transiting the bay as well as a temporary sturdy platform from which ice fishermen may seek their prey.

Our visit to Lake Superior was the last of our visits to all five of the Great Lakes during this trip and it is, I believe, the most beautiful of these great wonders of nature.. Until this visit, I was not aware that Lake Superior is the coldest, the deepest and the cleanest of the five great lakes. Four of the five Great Lakes border the State of Michigan and we could not help but think that the Great Lakes are a vastly under utilized resource of our great country.

On Sunday, we concluded what was to be our Mackinaw week that had become a Michigan upper peninsula week with a visit to Ontonagon and the beautiful Lake of the Clouds, located in the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park, another superb recommendation from a fellow traveler. After our trip through the "Porkies" (as they are referred to by the locals) and our visit to the Lake of the Clouds we drove up the Lake Superior coastline to Houghton, Eagle Harbor and the village of Eagle River, where we had dinner at Fitzgeralds, a lovely German restaurant overlooking the bay. While we enjoyed "authentic" German "vittles", we watched as a large cargo ship made its way up the Coast in the distance. On our drive back from our Coast safari, a black bear crossed the road ahead of us, which provided a nice end to our sightseeing day.

We concluded our visit to Michigan’s beautiful and scenic upper peninsula with an overnight at Marquette Monday night, August 29. From there, we commenced our long journey home that will conclude with a visit to Mount Rushmore and the Rapid City area of South Dakota. We understand outstanding adventures of visual beauty and natures bounty of a different type await our visit there.

A few pictures of our Canadian adventures.

CANADA

Friday, August 12 we made our way into Quebec City and parked across the river from the walled city. Our location provided us a view of Quebec City’s beautiful skyline from the St Lawrence, satisfied Ken’s need for his weekly boat ride and gave us many good photo “ops”. Quebec City provides an inspiring peek at beautiful European architecture , the old world charm and an unsteady walk on cobble stone streets of “yore”. It is a beautiful city, quaint, nostalgic and visually pleasing. However, within the walls, the city is more French than France itself. There are no signs in English and French is the dialogue, not of preference but, of necessity. This was our second visit to Quebec.

On our first visit in the late 90's we took a tour of Quebec City with an English speaking tour guide who pointed out the sights and provided us with a familiarization of the city and recommended good restaurants that were “English friendly”. Once our tour was completed we had lunch and went on our way. This time we wanted to experience the city on our own and the prevalent attitude on the street was disappointing. We simply did not feel welcome and did not have the impression that non French speaking tourists were either welcome or encouraged. We enjoyed dinner at a restaurant that we enjoyed on our previous trip to Quebec City and the management and staff not only spoke English, they were exceptionally friendly, the service excellent, the food good and the prices reasonable. Their cordial welcome and good service provided us with a reminder that not all French speaking people are jerks. As a matter of fact, our visit to French in 1993 was very pleasant. The next day we had lunch at another restaurant that was similarly congenial and the overall service of both restaurants was a notch above most restaurants in the States and the elegance of the ambiance outstanding. However, the common ordinary person that we encountered on the street left much to be desired insofar as friendliness and though there were exceptions, for the most part we felt no spirit of kinship with the masses. After two days, we were ready to flee the “city”. This commentary would probably not be rated as a positive dialogue on “political correctness”.

On Sunday, the 14th we “broke camp”, fired up the diesel and meandered down the road alongside the St Lawrence to Trois de Riviera where we stopped for the night. Ken did a drive about, but I preferred to use the afternoon for reading and relaxing without benefit of sights French. Monday we drove to our resort outside Montreal which turned out to be 50 miles south of Montreal. The facilities and amenities were pleasant, quiet and relaxing but the prospect of the long drive into the city was not encouraging.

Tuesday, the 16th, after breakfast prepared in honor of Ken’s 74th birthday we were off to Montreal. The drive into the city was along a nicely paved country road bordering beautiful, well manicured and maintained farms with large old country homes that reflected affluence and European charm at its best. If the people of Quebec were half as friendly or inviting as their countryside, the province would be a tourist haven. We found our way into down town Montreal, parked and found a tourist information center where we inquired about tours and places to see in the city. Of course, insofar as our interests, there was only one place of interest for the birthday boy, and that was the river and the docks. We found a place that seemed to offer a good lunch with English speaking translations and it turned out to be a good choice. After lunch, our orientation seemed improved so we went to reclaim our car and found that our one hour and a half of public parking was $13.00 and that discouraged our interest in further tourist activities in downtown Montreal. Ken wanted to visit the waterfront, but alas, parking was non existent and by now we had lost interest in either the city or the people of Quebec. Thus, we departed the city prior to “rush hour” in an effort to reduce our further frustrations with the Province of Quebec. I understand and to some extent encourage the need for people to maintain their cultural kinship but Quebec seems to me to reflect an independence that should be reserved for an independent nation. It is my understanding that Quebec depends mightily upon the rest of Canada for its support and maintenance and thus, it seems to me that it’s devotion to cultural sanctity is over done. I feel that every immigrant to a new country and a new life has a responsibility to meld into the community of his or her new homeland. Although they should be encouraged to maintain and protect their cultural heritage, their religious faith and their language,. However, they chose to emigrate and by doing so, I believe they have an obligation to accept an allegiance to their adopted country. I have no problem with France and its requirement that one speak French. It is their country. I have no problem with Quebec French Canadians preserving their French culture and language. I have a problem with their insistence that their French background “trumps” their patriotism of Canada. And with that you can put me down as a “maybe” insofar as my appreciation of Quebec’s French Canadian culture.

Thursday, we moved into Ontario and basked in our escape from the French influence and it was like moving into another country. We enjoyed a beautiful day on Lake Ontario in Toronto, had a good lunch on the waterfront and basked in the welcome comfort of our neighboring country of Canada. The highlight of our tour in Toronto was a sailing trip aboard the 165 foot schooner “KAJAMA” which Ken particularly enjoyed. He was able to help raise one of the four sails and reported that much to his surprise, he felt his age as he was pulling on the lines that raised the sail. He, of course, carefully examined everything on the boat and quietly commented to me that the crew was not as efficient as they should be in adjusting the sails to changing wind conditions. He later complained that he didn’t ask to take the helm for a chance at feeling first hand the thrill of handling the boat at sea. His afternoon aboard the KAJAMA seemed to compensate for our failed day in Montreal. We left Toronto feeling a closer kinship with the language, people and city of Toronto. Thumbs up for Ontario, down for Quebec.

On Saturday, we had an easy reentry into the US. A pleasant friendly border guard welcomed us back into the US with a smile and to our relief, did not subject us to a search of the coach. Perhaps two old folks who speak English, smile and appear happy to be home seem unlikely terrorists? We were grateful for his welcome and glad to be back home in the USA.

We spent Saturday night on Saginaw Bay in Michigan though we saw neither Saginaw or the bay. Sunday we drove into Gaylord Michigan where we spent our last night on the road before GOING into Mackinaw City for a five day Allegro rally. The week is filled with activities oriented to Allegro RV owners and club members.

So went another week on the road.

DOWN EAST

Monday we “folded our awnings” and took to the road “down east”. A stop over in Bath permitted Ken a visitation at the Maritime Museum. He pronounced the stop “worth it” and I enjoyed relaxing with a book while husband gazed upon the sailing vessels of “yore”. We decided to overnight at the Elks Club in Rockland which permitted Ken time to get the Vue serviced and broke up our trip to Baaar Haaaarbaaaa (the correct down East pronunciation, we understand). We decided on Route 1 as opposed to I-95 in order to enjoy the beautiful Maine coastline that is absolutely spectacular in its scenic beauty. Our friend Bruce told us that Maine has one month of summer. If that is true, we were treated to Maine’s best as the weather has been fantastic.

Tuesday, August 9, we were greeted by early morning fog that accompanied us into Bar Harbor and served as a reminder that all days are not perfect. However, once at our Camp site overlooking the islands off the coast, all seemed perfect and “life was good”. The weather holds in the high 80's and 90's but always a nice cool breeze brings comfort and perfection. Once “en residence” we did a “drive about” downtown Bar Harbor and concluded that we should extend our stay another day. Each day our enthusiasm for the East Coast, and Maine especially, grows.

We started Wednesday with a trip to Acadia National Park and a drive around with enough “hikes” to provide our exercise for the day. We traveled to the Southeast Harbor where we caught a “mail boat” (they use this term loosely in Maine) trip to Cranberry and Isladorah Islands. (Little Cranberry Island) Cranberry Island didn’t have much to keep our attention but Little Cranberry had a restaurant where we enjoyed lunch on the “terrace” (porch?). As we returned to Southeast Harbor a 150 - 200 ? foot private yacht came in behind us. I maintained it was a cruise boat of some sort while Ken was sure it was a private yacht. As usual, “he who knows everything” was right so we watched them try to bring the ship in bow first which didn’t work. They got it into the slip but some enlightened “yachtie aboard” discovered they couldn’t get on or off the boat so they had to back it in. Of course, all of this maneuvering drew a crowd and when it finally became obvious that they were docked, Ken started the car and I announced to those standing around our car that “we had done all that we could so we were moving on”. They seemed amused, Maine or no.

Thursday morning we did laundry, cleaned the coach and prepared for our entry into Canada and Quebec City. Thursday night, we stopped at a camp site in West Fork on the Kennebec River. After breakfast Friday morning, we hiked a long mile down to some falls that were, in my opinion, marginally interesting. However, the two mile hike was worth it inasmuch as it provided needed exercise.

After our hike through the woods, we returned to the coach and took to the road for Quebec City where we gained an introduction to the bizarre attitude of the residents of the Provence of Quebec. We visited Quebec City, Montreal, Ottawa, Sudbury and Sault Ste Marie on a previous trip to Canada but we were, nevertheless, taken aback by what seemed a definite “elitist” and, perhaps, anti-American attitude. For a country where 2/3 of the people speak English, Quebec does not have any road or street signs in English and like France, if you don’t speak the language, “may the force be against you”. Hopefully, people did not understand English any better than they let on because I had some choice words for them that I expressed in English. If their understanding of English was greater than they let on, they got an ear full from one “ugly American”. I didn’t want to disappoint them and make them feel that their attitude against non French speaking people was inappropriate.

More about our visit to Quebec in my next posting.

THE GANG
It has been a wonderful week, one that has made our hearts overflow with special thanks for good friends, beautiful scenery, wonderful food and the rare blessing of being permitted to share time with good friends.

Friday, July 29th, we rendezvoused with our friends, Bob and Kitty Van Horn at the new Tyler Lake home (near Goshen Connecticut) of mutual friends, Bob and Marvis Gersten.
We met the Gerstens and Van Horns on a Cruise from Barcelona Spain to Lisbon Portugal in 2000. We bonded in adventure, curiosity and interests in a willingness to explore strange places, sights and countries. From that trip, we have managed to coordinate a visit or trip together almost annually. These brief sojourns are always too short but as always, most enjoyable. The Gerstens just returned from a month long trip to China. Their trip included a week long side trip with local enterprising Chinese business men in which they were given a rare insight into the Chinese business model, their way of life and culture.

Kitty and Bob purchased a 40 foot RV in 2004 and shortly thereafter, Bob was diagnosed with cancer and is currently undergoing chemo therapy and radiation treatment. While he is on the medication related to his treatment, he is unable to drive a car or the rig and Kitty has become the “master” chauffeur of both the car and rig. She vows that she would rather drive the RV (with its “towed”) than their Chrysler minivan. As a “chicken” in the rig and a “turkey” on the road – I am impressed with her adept handling of the rig, awed by her courage and her spunk. She’s a keeper!!!

On Monday, we had a scenic drive through Connecticut into Massachusetts. We stopped in Boston for dinner at the “Commons” and a “walk about” downtown before “crashing” for the night at Walmart (our faithful overnight spot). On Tuesday we drove into Cape Ann and immediately struck out on a sight seeing trip to Gloucester where we enjoyed lunch and a whale watching trip.
Back at shore, we drove to Rockport, had dinner at Ellens on the wharf and did a drive around the charming bayside community of Rockport.

On Wednesday, we drove to Essex to attend the ships museum but it was closed. We then drove to Ipswich for lunch at the Clam Box, a recommendation of a friend and indeed, the clams, scallops and fish were “out of this world”.
We returned to Glocester for a visit to the Hammond Castle Museum, a replica of a Medieval Castle built by America’s second greatest inventor., Dr. Hammond. Dr Hammond and his wife lived in the “castle” until their deaths. Neither the decor or castle design appealed to my sense of taste but to each their own. After our “castle” visit, we drove through Long Beach to Pigeon Cove and then back to Rockport for Ken’s “lobster” fix. We both ordered one lobster but I ate only a small portion of mine and Ken was happily blessed with 1 ½ lobster. We capped our day off with a visit to Wingaersheek Beach, a beautiful white sand beach reminiscent of the beach at Siesta Key in Sarasota.

Thursday morning we “packed up camp” and took to the road through New Hampshire and into Old Orchard Beach just outside Portland Maine. Friday we did a drive to Kennebunk and Kennebunk Port, saw the Bush compound from afar and drove downtown Portland. After reviewing the mail boat schedule in anticipation of a trip to the islands, we took advantage of a few photo opportunities and had a nice visit with a couple transplanted from New York City. The couple briefed us on the Maine psyche and explained that they could never be true Mainelanders because they were not born here. They suggested places to visit, things to see and we enjoyed our brief exchange with them and their candid assessment of Maine life. Ken asked, “How do you like the winters?” The lady responded, “you don’t like winter, you do winter!”. She went on to say that the winters provide the people of Maine a common bond of survival. They retired to Maine after spending their summers here during their working career with the New York Public Schools. Their devotion, loyalty and pride in their adopted State was an inspirational tribute to the “spirit” of the State, the likes of Olympia Snow excepted. We were advised that the residents of Northern Maine look upon the Southern part of the State as “fureigners”. The East Coast psyche is truly an interesting study.

Saturday noon, our friends the Gerstens arrived from Connecticut to share our Portland weekend. They drove six hours and through four States to share the weekend with us and that, in our opinion, is friendship above and beyond Webster’s definition. They no more than arrived at the coach until we were in our car and en route down town for the “island” mail boat trip.
We had lunch at a local “wharf” restaurant with lots of character and salty charm before boarding the mail boat for a trip through the island chain and five stops to deliver people, mail, food and freight including a sofa set, some appliances and several dogs and two cats. It was a kick. We visited the Portland Headlight, one of the most photographed spots in Maine, according to our Maine informant at large and our day concluded with a lobster dinner all around.

Sunday morning we had breakfast with the Gerstens at Mims across from the wharf and spent the morning shopping in downtown Portland. We capped our short day off with a visit to the Public Market and bade the Gerstens goodbye with our sincere thanks for their company and friendship.









The Gerstems (lighthouse) The Van Horns (RV)

Tomorrow we are off to Bar Harbor and into Canada for a trek along the Saint Lawrence to Lake Ontario and back into the US at Sault Ste Marie.

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THE HOUSE WHERE I WAS BORN
INDIANA RETROSPECT

Our visit to my “Indiana roots” and with my kinfolk concluded with a rip roaring 4th of July weekend at the home of nephew, Steve, in Bedford. Most of the second generation nephews and nieces that were available (and even some 3rd) made an appearance for which I was grateful. On July 5, we departed Southern Indiana and after an overnight stop over in Greenwood, for dinner with niece Debbie and her family and saw their new home, we drove to Monticello, Indiana for a visit with my niece, Zoe and her family in their new home. The nephews and nieces all were most generous with their time, their hospitality and their affection for which I am very grateful. I am, indeed, blessed with a loving, caring and loyal family.

A sampling of the highlights of our family visits include breakfast at nephew David’s and wife Becky’s new Pinnick Store in Williams. Niece Katie, a third year bio-chemistry major at Ball State, prepared us an old fashioned down home breakfast. Should academia fail her, Katie has a backup career and a loyal clientele at the ready. After breakfast in Williams, we visited nephew J. D.’s house and “pole barn” that is under construction.
The pole barn is a concept that I am still trying to sort out but in spite of my learning disability related to pole barns, it seems to fulfill the needs of JD and wife Holly. We also enjoyed a visit with Tom and Shirley and admired the recently added new family room. And, of course, we enjoyed and are deeply grateful for the hospitality, patience and kindness of nephew Steve and wife Terri and grand nephew, Kyle. In Greenwood, we had a wonderful dinner and visit with Debbie, Scott and Erin in their new home and enjoyed a Sunday brunch with Zoe, John and their daughter, Rachel and fiancee, Nial. Food was not in short supply during our Indiana visit and every meal is prepared by outstanding cook.


During our visit in the Monticello area we visited the museum where my niece and nephew spend their “retirement” days. They along with others, have done a great job assembling memorabilia of the towns history. At the suggestion of my nephew we took a side trip to the site of the battle of Tippecanoe, which was just a few miles from Monticello. The term Tippecanoe immediately brings to mind the phrase “Tippecanoe and Tyler too” from our history lessons. However, seeing the site first hand was a reminder of the historical consequences of that battle so long ago and an interesting side trip.

On the 12th of July we reluctantly said goodbye to Marian, our “guest” of the past two weeks who was a good sport, first rate companion and wonderful guest. She returned to California with, hopefully, an understanding of the Pinnick pride, ego and character. Granted, there is a bit of “red neck” in many of them but hopefully, she recognized that there is also a loyalty, commitment and love that rises to the occasion and gives me a great appreciation for my family and what they mean to me.
A short three hour drive put us into Kalamazoo, Michigan where we visited with our friend “Corky”, the widow of our friend and Ken’s best man at our wedding, Ray Tripp. We had a wonderful visit with Corky. She joined us as we retraced our memories of Battle Creek and the outlying areas where we spent much of our time during our Battle Creek period. Our last night in Kalamazoo, we met Ray and Corky’s daughter, Susan, and family and shared a simple bbq at the RV resort and exchanged many wonderful memories of time spent with Ray and Corky. Ken and Ray served together in the Army and both were stationed in Battle Creek.

After Kalamazoo, we spent three days in Port Clinton, Ohio where Ken was able to get in a fishing trip He caught several but a walleye was our only dinner sacrifice. Port Clinton is near Cedar Point, Ohio, a major entertainment park where our friends, Bill and Helen Holzaepfel often spent their summers helping Bill’s mother with a cotton candy and candied apple stand. Bill and Helen were both from the general vicinity of nearby Sandusky and, after years of hearing stories of the area, we were delighted to finally get a first hand look at their old “stomping grounds”.

A brief stopover in Meadville, Pa provided Ken with some little known insight about the pioneer founder of that area, David Mead, who was the brother of a grandfather several times removed. Our brief period of acknowledging the location and details of Ken’s kinfolk has underscored the need for us to go back and read more carefully the history of the family, as it exists.


NIAGARA FALLS

Our next stop was in Niagara Falls and the Buffalo area where we were awed with the beauty and the power of the falls. A highlight of our brief visit to this area was attending an outside presentation of the Buffalo Symphony in which Ken’s first cousin, Bill Burns, performs as first chair in the string base section. It had been over 20 years since Ken last saw Bill and it was a wonderful visit and opportunity to reacquaint both cousins with what each have been doing during the interlude between visits.

Cousin Bill

At the conclusion of another week on the road we needed some r&r from all of our r&r. We selected a resort in the Alleghany Mountains of New York for our routine cleanup, cheerup and recharge of our personal psycho batteries. After our routine housecleaning, a few days of recoupment and rest, we spent one day in Warsaw, New York, where Ken’s father was born and did our best to retrace the Burns heritage. Another day was spent in Ellicotville, New York which provided us with a “flavor” of the area. Otherwise it was a laid back quiet week in preparation for our next round of travel and a much anticipated visit with our friends, the Gerstens and Van Horns. That will be included in my next posting.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful summer.

MOVING ON
Our days in Indiana were filled with activity. We spent a day in Louisville and visited Churchill Downs where we wagered a few dollars to justify our attendance. Of course, we spent a day visiting the cemeteries where loved ones of the past now reside and several days touring the countryside, visiting old friends, relatives and a day at the Lake. Our visits with the nephews and nieces were great and since our last visit to Indiana there have been several additions to the “clan’ through marriage, births and by assimilation of affections, awaiting “the binding”. I am blessed with a wonderful family, good friends and pleasant memories of my roots.

A particular highlight of our trip was a day exploring the Amish country in and around Montgomery. After a bountiful lunch of traditionally prepared Amish bounty, we drove through the outlying countryside where we were treated to the cordial hospitality of those unique and those I call “down to earth” gentle people. Our drive through the community resulted in an enlightening visit to a buggy factory, watched as a “free style” artist applied beautiful trim on a buggy door, observed barefoot children delivering a cool afternoon “refreshments” to the laborers and sampled cheeses at a cheese factory.

The simple traditions of the Amish, their dedication to a culture and way of life that scorns modern “luxuries” provided a reminder of just how far we have advanced in our upward mobility. Horse drawn plows and farm implements of yesterday do not and cannot meet the same standard for accomplishment as a power driven tractor and other modern day devices. I was particularly taken by the thought that the environmentalist among us should visit these “back to nature” enterprises. They should have the opportunity of experiencing first hand the pesky flies, draw water from a well, travel on dusty gravel country roads, smell the aroma of fertilizer freshly dropped from its source and gaze upon a field devastated by animals who savored the fresh crop of what was intended to provide food for the cold winter months.

A comparison with the “old ways” and the “modern way” becomes more striking when one travels a few miles down the road and sees, first hand, evidence of the vastly improved productivity of a farm utilizing modern day technology. Electricity, power motors, pumps, trucks, cars and automation provide an improved quality of life that is discernable even to my unenlightened eye from a distance. As we drove in 90 degree heat down dusty gravel roads in our closed air conditioned car with its tinted windows we passed horse drawn buggies transporting families on errands and destinations unknown. I smiled at myself as one part of me yearned to satisfy my curiosity with an in depth study of the faith, convictions, character and moral standards of these simple, good people and face the recognition that I could not survive a week in their midst. I am sure that my “impatience, intolerance and assertive ways would soon tax their gentle nature and I would be in for a long, dusty and hot walk to the nearest traditional farm. Thus, I must admire them from afar and forever be puzzled by the motivation that keeps a people blind to progress and bound by faith. It is more than my simple mind can bear. There you have it – another dribble from the drab.

A LITTLE INDIANA HISTORY

Our stay in Southern Indiana was a “look back in time” with “dear hearts and gentle people” from my childhood. Marian Herbert, a former associate from the workplace joined us for what I promised would be an introduction to my roots. I warned her in advance that a first look may give the appearance that it is one step above Appalachia. I was concerned after a quick drive through my hometown that perhaps I should amend that warning to reflect the possibility that it might not be “one step above”. However, as I gained my orientation and friends told me of the pending changes for the town, I realized that after a long period of economic depression, the people are upbeat and hopeful and I know for a fact that the people of the Valley are of the “right stuff”. The towns people are encouraged and enthusiastic about pending changes that they believe will return the town to its once “lofty” status as a playground of some renown.

In their heyday, the little towns of French Lick and West Baden Indiana (only one mile apart) enjoyed a reputation for providing upscale accommodations that only the very rich could afford. Similar to the luxury resorts of Europe at the turn of the century, the West Baden Springs Resort and the French Lick Springs Resort were seasonal locations where the wealthy went to bathe in the warm mineral spas, golf on three well manicured professional golf courses, engage in horseback riding and in the case of the West Baden Hotel, exercise on a combination entertainment complex and bicycle track. It was said that after an evening meal of togetherness with family and friends, the well healed men of major economic standing slipped off to enjoy games of chance operated off the premises in quiet, elegant and secure surroundings. Gambling was not a legal leisure time commodity but, nevertheless. it existed and provided the “icing on the cake” and made the Springs a preferred vacation destination. The “season” began just prior to Derby Day at Churchill Downs in Louisville 60 miles away and continued until the fall when cool weather sent guests to warmer “climes” or home to bask in the warmth of their own paradise. On Derby Day, a special train carried the “pampered” guests to Louisville where a special track prov ided provided comfortable surroundings where, presumably,` guests studied the handicap sheets, enjoyed an elegant lunch preceded by mint juleps and a “look see” at the field.

The mineral wells formed the foundations for the success of both hotels, built around the turn of the century. The West Baden Hotel, built by William Sinclair ceased operations after it suffered the “hard times” of the great depression and it was “sold” to the society of Jesuits for the sum of $1.00 by its then owner, Ed Ballard. During my youth the West Baden Springs Hotel with its beautiful dome (until the Astrodome was built it was the largest free standing dome in the world) and manicured lawns was the home of the Jesuit College. My memories are of young men walking in prayer and meditation along the walkways as I was occasionally treated to a drive through the streets of brick, surrounded by gardens of beautiful flowers and well manicured lawns. The college and its grounds was a showplace even then.
After 30 years, the Jesuits found the building and its grounds too expensive to maintain and they sold it to a couple who donated the building and grounds to a hotel management and culinary school. When the maintenance and upkeep became prohibitive for this group the property was sold to a group out of Beverly Hills, California. This group “pillaged” and stripped the beautiful old building of its pride, esteem and every removable element of priceless antiques before declaring bankruptcy and tying it up in legal disputes that went on interminably. When I visited the old hotel sitting abandoned, forlorn and in disrepair in 1987, a wall of the building had fallen down and the beautiful old building looked doomed forever.
In early 2000, the Cook family out of Bloomington, Indiana contributed several million dollars in conjunction with a plan by the Indiana Historical Society to restore the building and the surrounding gardens. The gardens, exterior and the first floor have been restored to its original stature and though many million will need to be spent to restore it to its former grandeur, the Cook group appear committed to its total restoration.

The French Lick Springs Hotel built by Democratic operative and former Mayor of Indianapolis, Thomas Tagart still operates today and has survived various ownerships and management through the years. In my youth the hotel was a primary source of jobs for the townspeople of French Lick and the surrounding area. I remember vividly the traffic problems that would accompany a major convention or conference at the hotel and the anticipation of the energy level generated on Derby Day. For a small town country girl, the fancy dressed and beautifully coifed “wealthy” hotel guests were a source of “awe and dreams”. Upon the death of “Little Tom” Tagart (as my father referred to the son of the pioneer Tagart), the family sold the hotel and it has such undergone several changes in ownership. It, too, is in need of restoration and to that end the Cook group has also purchased the French Lick Springs Resort complete with its golf courses and ancillary properties. Earlier this year, the State of Indiana approved and issued a license for a gambling casino to be located in the area. The Cook Group has joined with another Group to form a joint venture for development of the two hotels, a lake, casino, golf courses and other local amenities into an entertainment and tourist complex of international repute. The people of “my valley” are jubilant in their anticipation that the area will once again be restored to its former prominence.

When I return “home”, I undergo a felling of both excitement and depression. Excited to be where I still call home (my friend’s husband admonished her with “You lived in the valley 16 years and in Michigan over 30 – GET OVER IT!) When I told Ken of this admonishment he thought I should do the same. I feel depressed because the years have not been kind to the valley. Yet, in spite of this reality of difficult times, these dear people have not lost their faith or their spirit. They remain the same good people who formed the “community” of my youth and helped me through my “growing up” years. There were the summer revival meetings, the homecomings, the church suppers, the family reunions, evenings with neighbor friends spent in the yard catching the fireflies that magically lit our summer nights. Many of those friends are still there. Barbara Lynch Nicholson, Norma Kirby Jacobs, Donna Kirby Holmes, Joan Daugherty Ward. I remember with fondness John and Mabel Daughtery and their dedication to keeping the young people of our church busy, Roy and May Lands and their family whose presence in Church suggested a full house; Harry and Alma Kirby whose home was as familiar as my own and my elementary teacher, Miss Mae Carnes who had a funny little curl that hung over her forehead when she was “stressed”. On the mornings when Miss Mae entered the old one room school with the curl in the middle of the forehead, we knew that it would be a day of “no nonsense”. The list goes on. My summer would conclude with the annual “homecoming” service at Church. This service, an all day affair with a noon day “pitch in” lunch (my mouth waters with the memory of the good food) that brought the faithful and those less faithful in, what I believe, was a renewal of “kinship” both of the spirit and of the family. Those were good and wonderful days for a child growing up. I remember my feeling of deep uncertainty and confusion as I, with my family, listened to President Roosevelt’s speech regarding the attack on Pearl Harbor and the declaration of war. The subsequent loss of friends, neighbors and families in defense of our country, the sadness of losing loved ones and friends, the economic reality of relying on the good earth for the essentials of life and the simple and devout faith of our community provided stability, compassion and depth to our development. In looking back, I think of these as a special time that prepared me for good citizenship and gave me an appreciation for the good life that I have enjoyed. In the community of my youth, people do not judge others based on artificial appearances. They accept you for who you are and not what you have. I have often wondered why I have so little appreciation for “status symbols” and now I know. It isn’t the symbol that reflects reality, it is the product of the effort. I think that too often we believe in the symbol and do not recognize that the product of our effort is the real measurement of our value. I feel a special kindred spirit with my friends and relatives in Southern Indiana. To those who have known me “in another life”, my Indiana roots are my strength and from my roots I learned the value of being me. In other words, “WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET” – for better or for worse.

My sincere thanks to Phyllis Jones Lemon and her husband Tim who volunteered their home “on the hill” for my friend to enjoy while she was with us. Also a special thanks to Frank Leonard, my dear friend and cheerleader cohort of long ago, for his thoughtful gathering of valley information and school memories. I thought my visit in the valley would be over endowed with spare time, but alas, each day was busy from dawn to dusk. Consequently, I missed seeing and spending as much time with many of my friends of “yore” as I would have liked but the memories of our past bind us and keep our spirit alive.

BACK TO MY ROOTS

Whomever said you can’t go home again, had it right. Nevertheless, it is insightful to try.

On Saturday, the 25th, Ken and I attended a class reunion with a few of the 49 graduates of the class of 1950 from what was at that time the French Lick Springs High School. The school districts of West Baden and French Lick were merged together in 1957 and a new school, the Springs Valley High School, was built. The school from which I graduated ceased to exist. An annual Alumni Banquet is held on the last Saturday of June where, in spite of diminishing numbers, a few brave graduates meet to “break bread” and share memories of their school days. Through the years I have attended only three such festivities, in 1988, 2000 and 2005. Many choose not to attend these sessions because they find it depressing to see the aging process in others. I long ago gave up on retaining my youth while seeking a state of “ultimate wisdom”. Thus, the fact that I no longer recognize those of my age with whom I shared my youth bothers me not. Nor am I disappointed or upset that they return the “honor” and do not recognize me. It is true that the aging process is more flattering to some than others and therein lies the yardstick for humility or vindication, as the case may be.

Between the class reunion and the alumni banquet, the brief view back into time spurred my memories of many somber times that accompanied my youth years, World War II, the loss of a parent, academic successes (and failures) but always, my memory page carries the banner of happy times spent with the good friends and neighbors from my youth. Our life was simple, our coffers lean but our larder blossomed with the bounty of the land and our “community” looked after its own. We found our enjoyment in each other and the friendships that we derived from sharing our burdens, disappointments, dreams and visions. Some of us left the area, others stayed behind. When I return “home” to my roots, I am reminded that no matter where we have been, what we have done or accomplished, those who stayed behind enjoy the same sense of fulfillment or lack thereof as those who spread their wings and sought success elsewhere. My fellow classmates and alumni all brought to the event their special memories and achievements. When day is done we can measure our success by goals achieved (lofty or simple) but real happiness can be found in our sense of fulfillment and contentment with the life we have achieved. I am sorry for those who can not or do not take the time to “smell the roses of the past” or stop to bask in their good fortunes.

We have been out of “easy web” access so my next contribution will cover a summary of our Indiana visit hopefully, with visual effects.

MORE RAMBLES FROM THE ROAD

With a hip hip hooray we were “on the road again” thus, concluding our Memorial Day holiday. We pointed our “coach” toward the hills of Tennessee with a plan to go into Nashville but ended up spending two nights in Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge. We enjoyed our stay and found the area rustic, alive and touristy. We enjoyed a tasty BBQ dinner at Bennets BBQ and a well prepared prime rib dinner at Peddlers on the river in Gatlinburg. Ken deemed the prime rib to be comparable to Lowery’s in West Hollywood which is highly complimentary and I deemed the salad bar awesome.

Wednesday we awoke to rain showers that lasted throughout the morning but by noon blue sky could be gleaned afar as thunder heads moved silently above. We believe in blue sky so we gathered our faculties and drove into Pigeon Forge where we had a light lunch at Alabama’s(the country musical group)Bar and Grill. Ken wanted to do a country western evening and Louise Mandrell was “en residence” but I lacked enthusiasm. Inasmuch as it was my birthday of sorts,my preference carried the day, much to Ken’s disappointment. After lunch, we did what I enjoy most and drove into the countryside in search of the “spirit” of the culture and the beauty of the country side. As we drove into the “outback”, Ken wondered aloud whether any or how many "moonshiners" might still practice their trade in “them thar hills”. I was “put out” that he would dare suggest that “moonshine” might still be a viable labor in those heavily wooded and protected hills. I retorted that I believed the production of “moonshine” liquor ceased with prohibition and that, of course, sparked debate. We engaged in spirited “banter” each of us holding firm to our preconceived ideas and assumptions.

We stopped at a combined “country store” and gift gallery in a beautiful setting on a paved country road. We each went our own way and as I browsed a local shop, I engaged a nice man in one of the stores in conversation. I told him about my discussion with my husband and to my great surprise, he said Ken was right. I know that I sometimes look at “my world” through square rose colored glasses (friends have accused me of this) but I do admit that I was surprised to learn that the folklore of “moonshine liquor” still exists.. The man further stated that the “moonshiners” hate the “pot growers” and conduct their own vendetta in pursuit of the “pot” transgressors. . To my inquiry as to why the “Revenuers” do not “raid” the stills, my “source” assured me that they are not only hard to find and catch but that the Feds are afraid to pursue the moonshiners who are well protected by the thick foliage and timber and carry guns with LIVE ammunition. Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather, cause I was sure that those “days” were behind us. The man added that the business of “moonshine” brings good money. Ken’s win brought a look of glee on his face but I still have reservations and I can’t help but think that “old country boy” thought he had a couple of “live ones” and was having fun feeding us a line. Admittedly, it did add a “little glamor” to what otherwise seems a quiet, laid back lifestyle. Nevertheless, the countryside is green, lush and beautiful and if those “good old boys” from Tennessee can eek out a living by “brewing” a cup of Tennessee Tea” more power to ‘em.
A STILL IN THE HILLS?

FLY FISHERMAN

Ken stopped to capture on camera a man fly fishing in a nicely flowing stream in an effort to capture a moment of “vicarious” living before we circled back into the Smokey Mountain Park and Gatlinburg where we concluded our day with dinner on the river. So ended this, the first day of my 72nd year. And the ‘GIG” goes on.

Early the next morning we pointed our coach toward Knoxville and into Kentucky for our last night on the road before arriving at the source of my roots in Southern Indiana. We did a brief stop at Renfro Valley, where in my childhood I remember the weekly country music presentations by the Renfro Valley boys.

My niece, Rachel, and her fiancee, Niall, joined us Saturday evening. Together we toured the renovations at the West Baden Springs Hotel. In the early 1900's until 1929, it was a grand hotel visited "in season" by the rich and famous. During my “youth” it was a Jesuit College and my memories of the hotel include robed young Jesuits out for an evening stroll and meditation. The gardens and grounds were immaculate and the stately, domed building seemed the most exquisite building in the world to my young eyes. The hotel is in the process of being restored hopefully, to its once elegant status, in preparation for accommodating patrons of a new casino to be erected nearby. Hopefully, the new casino will bring “action” and new life into an area that has suffered economically by lack of enterprise.

DOME WEST BADEN HOTEL

WEST BADEN HOTEL INTERIOR
We concluded our evening “on the town” with a walk through the grounds and lobby of the French Lick Springs Hotel, just one mile away. At a later date, I will share more pictures of the area and review its history in greater detail but suffice to say the town is more than the birthplace of Larry Bird. There is hope of a renaissance now that Indiana politico’s have finally approved the site for a gambling enterprise. A return to its past, perhaps?

After breakfast, prepared RV style, Sunday morning, Rachel, Nial, Ken and I did a drive "about" through the hills where Rachel's great grandparents on both her grandfather and grandmother's side lived and worked the small farms that through long hours and hard work provided economic support for their families. In the afternoon we were joined by a nephew and his wife and the six of us drove into the countryside for a visit to the recently opened country store and cafe of another nephew and his family. Soon we were joined by two grand nephews and the porch of the country store took on the look of a family reunion.

PINNICKS COUNTRY STORE

RELATIVES PORCH SITTING

OLD STORE

INDIANA COVERED BRIDGE

ANOTHER VIEW

Monday was a laid back day, preparing for our Wednesday departure to California and a wedding, on Sunday the 12th, in the Sonoma Valley. Tuesday morning we drove the coach to my nephew, Steve’s, where we left it and our “towed” until our return. Tuesday night, we dined with family including Jaxson, our youngest “kin folk” (just 10 weeks) and enjoyed a delightful evening of visiting and “catching up” with nephews and nieces that I see too infrequent. Grand nephew Kyle tapped on our “door at 4AM on Wednesday morning and we were off to Indy’s airport for our flight into Los Angeles. Gary was waiting for us when we arrived, the cat ignored our arrival and Terri seemed glad to welcome us home after our seven weeks on the road. Ken’s brother, Don and wife, Linda with friends from Cottonwood had arrived on Sunday so we were treated to a short visit with them in between their full vacation schedule,before leaving for Santa Rosa California and the wedding that brought us home for the occasion.

Our friends, Raoul and Jan Roth gave us notice of the wedding date of their daughter, Stephanie a year and a half ago. Thus, we had plenty of notice to make trip plans around the date and all arrangements were made before we left in April. We have known the Roth children since they were teenagers and we remember Stephanie when she still needed her "blanky" on our sailing trips to Catalina. The Roth children were always a joy to have aboard boat and they seemed to be enthusiastic sailors, had a wonderful sense of humor, and great fun. Thus, the wedding was a very special occasion for us and we were delighted to be included in the family celebration.

The outdoor wedding was beautiful and the day was picture perfect, bright sunny and warm but pleasant thanks to the redwood trees that provided shade as we watched the couple exchange their vows. Stephanie and her new husband, Ken, are honeymooning in Aruba, a locale suspect for safety at this time but Stephanie assured us that she would not be nightclubbing with strange young men and certainly did not plan to get into stranger’s car.

Monday we meandered over to Bodega Bay where we had a wonderful breakfast on the wharf and then followed the coastal route into San Francisco, over the Golden Gate Bridge. We stopped in Monterey for lunch at Abolinettes's on the wharf, concluding with an overnight in San Simeon. Tuesday morning we were up early and back home by noon. So went our weekend.

As I write this, we are preparing to return to Indiana where I will attend my 55th class reunion and the alumni bash at my alma mater. I’ll report on that in my next “blog”. We will remain in Southern Indiana until after the 4th when we will once again mount our "diesel stead" and take to the road Eastward. In the meantime, let us not forget the "sweetness" of the freedom that we celebrate on July 4.


SIGNING THE KETUBAH

DEED IS DONE

MOTHER OF THE BRIDE

HERE COMES THE BRIDE

HAPPY COUPLE

BROTHER OF THE BRIDE

BODEGA BAY NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

ANOTHER WEEK FROM THE ROAD
Sunday, after seeing Terri off for home, we drove on to St. Augustine where we enjoyed a nice visit and dinner with our Palm Coast friends, Bob and Kitty.
Monday morning we moved on into Jacksonville where we spent the day having some routine maintenance done on both the “coach” and the “vue”. Inasmuch as the work was not completed until 8PM, we overnighted at the Elks Club in preparation for an early departure Tuesday.
We decided to spend two nights in the Savannah area so Ken booked us onto Tybee Island for a pleasant two nights of Southern Coastal hospitality in a RV park near the water. Wednesday we revisited old Savannah and enjoyed a walk through the down town area that is Georgia’s “Southern Spirit”. We then drove to Hilton Head Island for a visit to that very modern, well planned and coordinated community that is truly a showcase of modern day planning and upscale living. This community has managed to maintain very strict standards of architectural design and even the fast food establishments maintain the color and design scheme of the community “fathers of design” decree. It is obvious that there is a dedicated group of persons who run a very tight ship in enforcing their the planning and design of their city image. I can only imagine what it must be like dealing with the Homeowner’s Associations!
Thursday we moved from Tybee Island to Charleston South Carolina and immediately upon completing our normal hookup, departed for Myrtle Beach. That was my “must do” for the day and for it, I must do penitence until Ken pulls a similarly dumb “ gotta do”. We arrived in Myrtle Beach to learn that the city was hosting a convention of motorcycle enthusiasts and the town was overrun with bikers. I was thoroughly disappointed. We had driven 95 miles from Charleston to Myrtle Beach and were not able to get a really good look at the town. I felt doubly bad because Ken drove the distance there and back and by the time we got back to our coach, he was exhausted. We did enjoy a drive “about” Charleston for a view of the lovely homes that overlook the ocean that brings the era of Rhett and Charlotte to life and further endows the spirit of the south to my memory.
Friday morning we “broke camp” and took to the road for our holiday weekend stay at a RV resort at Salisbury, North Carolina. Our “digs” are in a rustic setting with all of the amenities provided in the city. It is a good setting in which one can stop, enjoy the clean air and admire the countryside. We will be here until after Memorial day when we will again take to the road on the last leg of the Southern portion of our trip.
Hope all of you out there are having a wonderful holiday weekend.

brunch on the veranda


fire eater at Mallory Square


Terri and Helen gone South


Terri auditioning for an act on Mallory Square ?


Fort Jefferson ahoy


Ken and Helen - luch on the patio


SAILS IN THE SUNSET


VIEW OF OUR CONDO FROM THE GULF

FRIENDLY DRAGON ON DUVAL

CRITTERS OF CHOICE