(aside: I attended a recent neighborhood party (featuring fantastic BBQ BTW) and was chided by one friendly literally-attuned little lady about the absence of blog entries lately. So with my thanks and apology, I submit my following 2¢ for which “1¢” is now responsible.)
In early November I found myself a new Texas experience as I was working my way down I-35 toward San Antonio. After stops in Waco, Austin and San Marcos, I decided to pull up for the night in New Braunfels, arguably a suburb of the Alamo City.
New Braunfels was named after, of course, (old) Braunfels in Germany by none other than its wayward son Prince Carl who had a temporary job as Commissioner General of Adelsverein, a Society for the Protection of German Immigrants in Texas. Shortly after establishing NB as the first Germanic colony in Texas (circa 1845), he became homesick for the old castle and returned to Germany (you would too if you saw his Texas castle – kind of looked like a drive-in beer store before its time).
Like Prince Carl, I’m also of German ancestry and I got to Texas as soon as I could too. So I guess I was genetically disposed to be absolutely enthralled when I stumbled into the traditional New Braunfels celebration called “Wurstfest”. – billed as their annual 10 day salute to sausage. Thankfully it is not a celebration of Hossenfesser, which I suspect would be much harder to market.
For a Tuesday night there was a big crowd, maybe 1500 or so. About 15% of the people there were dressed in Germanic garb – and maybe half of those were there as entertainers, booth workers, etc. Lots of funny hats prevailed. I’m sure the attendance was helped by the mild weather. Except for lack of any costume, I had the weirdest feeling of blending right in with the crowd – age, hair/skin color, waistline, appetite. I am a stereotypical Tuesday evening Wurstfest attendee!
True to form, there were dozens of different type of sausage offerings. The most popular seemed to be a combo sausage, potato pancakes and apple sauce plate – no fewer than 150 people in line all three times I counted! The most iconic offering was the “wurst-kabob” consisting of 5 kinds of sausage on a stick. Personally, I opted for a foot long sausage link wrapped in a tortilla along with a couple mugs of Shiner Bock while listening to a few really good polka bands (enough Shiner may impact your judgement).
I was back at the Hampton Inn ~3 hours after my Wurstfest arrival, well fed, oiled and convinced that regardless of what they say, lederhosen is not designed to make you appear slimmer (although it is better than wearing knee socks with Bermuda shorts). My only regret is I didn’t buy the T-shirt that proclaimed “I’m Perfect . . .and I’m German too!”
While Wurstfest would typically provide all you could want in terms of encountering sausage, my return trip home included a small side trip through Elgin – home of three sausage companies (and three brick companies if you want a full accounting). One of the sausage outlet’s motto is “You’ll Love Our Guts!”
Actually, the real draw of my visit to this place was due to the town’s name. My boyhood hometown is just south of Elgin, Illinois (where namesake watches and street sweepers were made). But the locals of these two municipalities pronounce the name of totally differently: Up north it’s el-GIN (like L-Beefeaters); in Texas, it’s said el-KEN (kinda like L-Barbie’s boyfriend). Who knew I was pronouncing it wrong all these years?
When I got back to the interstate on the way home, I pulled into the “Czech Stop” in the town of West. This is one of the few places where you can gas up AND load up on kolachies – and you guessed it – sausage. In recognition of my Wurst Texas trip ever, it just seemed right to bring home some local six inch “Hot Chubbies.”
Hope you always experience only the best Wurst – wherever you are! Click here to see pictures/evidence. (suggest you select slideshow)
Monday, November 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
New Beginnings Again
This past week brought about a new school year, and for some of a tender age, the entry into the most German of American educational experiences – Kindergarten.
This is our daughter’s ninth year in Kindergarten. Of course, the first time (see picture) was a couple of dozen years ago, when she was facing the teacher along with a bunch of other 5 year olds. Whatever happened that year apparently resonated with her—enough to grow up with the desire – and now with 8 years of experience – to be the one facing an ever increasing number of kids in her classroom. The current count is 22, but others are expected to show up after Labor Day when their “traditional” parent(s) think that’s when school really starts. [Side thought: I know there will be those who might argue with me, but I really think Labor Day exists primarily to recognize our nation’s teachers return to their livelihood.]
I’ve been observing the preparation/tension that precedes the start of each school year for awhile now and can say, honestly, the time frame for foreboding shortens with each passing year – but is no less intense in the final week. In the beginning, my BBL initially volunteered to help prepare the classroom. While I think that characterization still “officially” applies, lately for some reason, it seems more like she’s been drafted!
My arm length involvement is sooo much longer than her mother’s, but my respect and pride of her daily endeavors takes a backseat to no one. There is no doubt that I could NOT do her job -- even if I had two Aggie degrees in Education. And I challenge any school administrator or public official involved in setting teacher compensation to try it for a year. And I know I would fail at the most rudimentary of her tasks – like remembering the kids’ names. Seems like these days most of their first names are distilled from a brew of alphabet soup spiked with vowels. I’m not saying that’s bad (our surname certainly contains a hefty surplus of consonants); just that it’s an indication of my memory limitations.
Along those lines, I regret to admit I don’t remember my own Kindergarten teacher’s name, but I suspect my mother would. Just like the cashier today at our local PETCO store did of her kid’s. I had provided my credit card to her to pay an exorbitant price for some food to feed the Koi (fancy carp) in our pond. The cashier asked if I was related to a certain Kindergarten teacher. After I responded in the affirmative, she told me her daughter had been in my daughter’s class three years ago and had loved the experience.
That absolutely made my day.
This is our daughter’s ninth year in Kindergarten. Of course, the first time (see picture) was a couple of dozen years ago, when she was facing the teacher along with a bunch of other 5 year olds. Whatever happened that year apparently resonated with her—enough to grow up with the desire – and now with 8 years of experience – to be the one facing an ever increasing number of kids in her classroom. The current count is 22, but others are expected to show up after Labor Day when their “traditional” parent(s) think that’s when school really starts. [Side thought: I know there will be those who might argue with me, but I really think Labor Day exists primarily to recognize our nation’s teachers return to their livelihood.]
I’ve been observing the preparation/tension that precedes the start of each school year for awhile now and can say, honestly, the time frame for foreboding shortens with each passing year – but is no less intense in the final week. In the beginning, my BBL initially volunteered to help prepare the classroom. While I think that characterization still “officially” applies, lately for some reason, it seems more like she’s been drafted!
My arm length involvement is sooo much longer than her mother’s, but my respect and pride of her daily endeavors takes a backseat to no one. There is no doubt that I could NOT do her job -- even if I had two Aggie degrees in Education. And I challenge any school administrator or public official involved in setting teacher compensation to try it for a year. And I know I would fail at the most rudimentary of her tasks – like remembering the kids’ names. Seems like these days most of their first names are distilled from a brew of alphabet soup spiked with vowels. I’m not saying that’s bad (our surname certainly contains a hefty surplus of consonants); just that it’s an indication of my memory limitations.
Along those lines, I regret to admit I don’t remember my own Kindergarten teacher’s name, but I suspect my mother would. Just like the cashier today at our local PETCO store did of her kid’s. I had provided my credit card to her to pay an exorbitant price for some food to feed the Koi (fancy carp) in our pond. The cashier asked if I was related to a certain Kindergarten teacher. After I responded in the affirmative, she told me her daughter had been in my daughter’s class three years ago and had loved the experience.
That absolutely made my day.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
The Walking Hub City of the Universe
After a brief stop in Big D to allow my BBL a day at work (somebody has to keep a job in this household), we were off to Boston via AA along with everybody else who could fit in the 757. This was the maiden visit to this fair city for my maiden, although I had visited the area once over 35 years ago. It's funny the impressions of a place that stay with you--lingering in my subconscious was what terrible drivers I had seen, maybe on a par with those in Puerto Rico. First time I had ever seen both freeway shoulders regularly used as passing lanes! Anyway, I had no desire to see if 3 ½ decades of driver education had had any positive impact on the area drivers, so you can imagine how my my interest peaked when we learned that Logan Airport is serviced by water taxis: $20 and 10 minutes later we arrived downtown only a half block from our hotel with both a new experience and several restaurant suggestions from our driver/captain. We took this as a very good omen about the time we were about to spend here. One of Boston's nicknames is "The Walking City" and as soon as we deposited our luggage at the Marriott Long Wharf, we were (mostly) on our feet for the rest of our stay. It’s probably called “The Walking City” because available parking spaces are extremely rare and expensive.
Boston welcomes tourists with a “Freedom Trail” that winds all through the city and neighboring Charlestown. The Trail is (usually) clearly marked by either a broad red line painted on the pavement--or by a much classier double width red brick line embedded in the sidewalk. We followed this "line" everywhere and it took us past more historic sites than we’ve ever seen. And it's amazing how you want to keep your feet in contact with that line (which shrinks the width of the sidewalk considerably when encountering tourists going the opposite direction)!
The Freedom Trail line took us a few days to complete. It led us by Faneuil Hall/Quincy Market where you are free to indulge in 50x50 different ways to snack/eat/shop. It took us by the Boston Massacre that apparently occurred on a small traffic island in a street intersection (hard to miss . . . there was usually a tour group standing on it). Of course, any intersection in this city has the potential to continue the massacre of pedestrians with automobiles in the constant daily struggle for right-of-way.
We saw lots of churches with their attendant steeples and cemeteries, most squeezed by modern office skyscrapers and buildings. Busy narrow streets were populated by the competition of the expected number of Starbucks and a surprising number of Dunkin’ Donuts -- separated by lots of local bagel outlets and a few haberdasheries. We stumbled across several open air markets offering fruit and flower bargains that we would have loved to take full advantage of, but obviously couldn’t.
Speaking of open air, we took the opportunity to get back on the water for a couple of cruises: a delightful dinner cruise around Boston Harbor where we caught a beautiful sunset behind the city’s skyline; and a whale watching adventure that provided an astounding amount of whale sightings/activity once the crew found their feeding area (about 90 minutes on a fast catamaran from our hotel).
Another of Boston’s nicknames is “The Hub City” which supposedly morphed from a Oliver Wendell Holmes statement that Boston was ”the Hub of the Solar System”-- later toned down to the humble “Hub of the Universe” [and they think Texans exaggerate?!]. But it is definitely the liberal land of Kennedy, Kerry and Barney Frank all of whom helped stimulate Boston with the “Big Dig,” originally a $2.8 billion project (in 1986 dollars) to reposition underground some of the downtown’s Interstate--which ended up costing $22 billion with a five year delay. But the resulting downtown city parks atop the buried road are beautiful and it’s our opinion that every taxpayer should experience them (otherwise it would have been a waste of money). Comforting to know that we still have this kind of expertise in Congress.
A few other memories we took away:
· There are 294 steps up the inside of the Bunker Hill Monument. And there is a much easier route to get panoramic views which is riding the elevator to the 50th floor of the Prudential Building;
· A Sir Speedy Print Shop resides at the Birthplace of Benjamin Franklin, who was a printer (among many other things) himself;
· Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe has the best breakfast/lunch, but no restrooms;
· Norm is still at Cheers! (as a cardboard cutout character);
· The pews at Paul Revere’s Old North Church are in “boxes” that were rented annually to families and designed to keep them warm(er) in Winter;
· The many parks and statutes—particularly Boston Marathon’s “The Tortoise and the Hare” and the Public Garden’s “Make Way For Ducklings” (which was always mobbed by kids);
· One Italian restaurant after another in the North End;
· My BBL’s first encounter with a Lobster Roll (that will be $25 please!);
· Lunch with a friend who was a colleague of mine when we started our careers a lifetime ago.
If you get the chance, do go experience the city yourself. You won’t regret it.
Boston welcomes tourists with a “Freedom Trail” that winds all through the city and neighboring Charlestown. The Trail is (usually) clearly marked by either a broad red line painted on the pavement--or by a much classier double width red brick line embedded in the sidewalk. We followed this "line" everywhere and it took us past more historic sites than we’ve ever seen. And it's amazing how you want to keep your feet in contact with that line (which shrinks the width of the sidewalk considerably when encountering tourists going the opposite direction)!
The Freedom Trail line took us a few days to complete. It led us by Faneuil Hall/Quincy Market where you are free to indulge in 50x50 different ways to snack/eat/shop. It took us by the Boston Massacre that apparently occurred on a small traffic island in a street intersection (hard to miss . . . there was usually a tour group standing on it). Of course, any intersection in this city has the potential to continue the massacre of pedestrians with automobiles in the constant daily struggle for right-of-way.
We saw lots of churches with their attendant steeples and cemeteries, most squeezed by modern office skyscrapers and buildings. Busy narrow streets were populated by the competition of the expected number of Starbucks and a surprising number of Dunkin’ Donuts -- separated by lots of local bagel outlets and a few haberdasheries. We stumbled across several open air markets offering fruit and flower bargains that we would have loved to take full advantage of, but obviously couldn’t.
Speaking of open air, we took the opportunity to get back on the water for a couple of cruises: a delightful dinner cruise around Boston Harbor where we caught a beautiful sunset behind the city’s skyline; and a whale watching adventure that provided an astounding amount of whale sightings/activity once the crew found their feeding area (about 90 minutes on a fast catamaran from our hotel).
Another of Boston’s nicknames is “The Hub City” which supposedly morphed from a Oliver Wendell Holmes statement that Boston was ”the Hub of the Solar System”-- later toned down to the humble “Hub of the Universe” [and they think Texans exaggerate?!]. But it is definitely the liberal land of Kennedy, Kerry and Barney Frank all of whom helped stimulate Boston with the “Big Dig,” originally a $2.8 billion project (in 1986 dollars) to reposition underground some of the downtown’s Interstate--which ended up costing $22 billion with a five year delay. But the resulting downtown city parks atop the buried road are beautiful and it’s our opinion that every taxpayer should experience them (otherwise it would have been a waste of money). Comforting to know that we still have this kind of expertise in Congress.
A few other memories we took away:
· There are 294 steps up the inside of the Bunker Hill Monument. And there is a much easier route to get panoramic views which is riding the elevator to the 50th floor of the Prudential Building;
· A Sir Speedy Print Shop resides at the Birthplace of Benjamin Franklin, who was a printer (among many other things) himself;
· Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe has the best breakfast/lunch, but no restrooms;
· Norm is still at Cheers! (as a cardboard cutout character);
· The pews at Paul Revere’s Old North Church are in “boxes” that were rented annually to families and designed to keep them warm(er) in Winter;
· The many parks and statutes—particularly Boston Marathon’s “The Tortoise and the Hare” and the Public Garden’s “Make Way For Ducklings” (which was always mobbed by kids);
· One Italian restaurant after another in the North End;
· My BBL’s first encounter with a Lobster Roll (that will be $25 please!);
· Lunch with a friend who was a colleague of mine when we started our careers a lifetime ago.
If you get the chance, do go experience the city yourself. You won’t regret it.
This link takes you to a video slideshow (with music). I prefer watching it in “full screen” mode, even though it makes the pictures a bit “fuzzier”. Or this link will take you to a silent site where the individual pictures are posted, although not in the same sequence as the video.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
From Snowmass to Boston Mass
My BBL has been chiding me about my lack of blogging lately. But things have been pleasantly busy this summer. Since the last entry there have been personal (and ambassadorial) excursions to Chicagoland, both major cities in Oklahoma (and the 101 miles that separate them), N’awleans, The Magic City, The Alamo City, Amarillo & Denver.
All of these destinations (and the folks seen there) have a couple of things in common: 1) if the weather is nice, I always enjoy going there, and 2) I’ve been there more than once—in fact, collectively, I’ve been there scores (if not hundreds) of times! While it’s a “rut” I’m comfortable to stay in, we did recently add some diversity – five days each in Snowmass (CO) and Boston (MA)—made all the more interesting by doing it within two consecutive weeks!
Denver is now the hometown of our son, a Chartered Financial Analyst, who is doing his best to save the economy in spite of government programs. But truthfully, Colorado has always been a favorite destination (in the summer) despite the added attraction of his presence. This circumstance has developed into an excuse for planning an annual family vacation to the mountains. Breckenridge and Steamboat Springs have turned into newly-formed “traditional” favorites – enough so to whet our collective appetite to try someplace different. Internet searches helped us to select a 3-bedroom condo in Top of the Village Resort at Snowmass Village.
This turned out to be a good “bet” (maybe we should have gone to Vegas?). Our only hiccup was #1 daughter’s cancelled Frontier flight from Big D that, oh darn, “made us” extend our stay another day. This created the opportunity to experence a FREE Ryan Shaw concert (one of her favorite artists, but previously unknown by my BBL or me). Nothing like good music performed with a mountainous backdrop to add delight to your vacation. Experiencing it with your kids – priceless!
We did some relatively easy hikes which our son saw the need to improve by repeatedly running them back and forth until he caught up to our progress (and this is a highly educated person!). Perhaps the most difficult “hike” was the trek from the Snowmass Village shops/restaurants back to our condo . Only about ¼ mile, but 500’ in elevation gain. This provided us incentive to prepare more meals in the condo. . . .
Our location afforded a day visit to Aspen, another new experience for us. Aspen, as our son informed us, has the distinction as the place where the billionaires forced the millionaires to go to Vail! But all the money in the world couldn’t buy us a day without rain at the top of Maroon Bells. At least there’s a reason to go back. :)
11 minute video of our pictures (music by Shaw--I prefer Full Screen mode even though it’s a bit fuzzier)
Next stop: Boston
All of these destinations (and the folks seen there) have a couple of things in common: 1) if the weather is nice, I always enjoy going there, and 2) I’ve been there more than once—in fact, collectively, I’ve been there scores (if not hundreds) of times! While it’s a “rut” I’m comfortable to stay in, we did recently add some diversity – five days each in Snowmass (CO) and Boston (MA)—made all the more interesting by doing it within two consecutive weeks!
Denver is now the hometown of our son, a Chartered Financial Analyst, who is doing his best to save the economy in spite of government programs. But truthfully, Colorado has always been a favorite destination (in the summer) despite the added attraction of his presence. This circumstance has developed into an excuse for planning an annual family vacation to the mountains. Breckenridge and Steamboat Springs have turned into newly-formed “traditional” favorites – enough so to whet our collective appetite to try someplace different. Internet searches helped us to select a 3-bedroom condo in Top of the Village Resort at Snowmass Village.
This turned out to be a good “bet” (maybe we should have gone to Vegas?). Our only hiccup was #1 daughter’s cancelled Frontier flight from Big D that, oh darn, “made us” extend our stay another day. This created the opportunity to experence a FREE Ryan Shaw concert (one of her favorite artists, but previously unknown by my BBL or me). Nothing like good music performed with a mountainous backdrop to add delight to your vacation. Experiencing it with your kids – priceless!
We did some relatively easy hikes which our son saw the need to improve by repeatedly running them back and forth until he caught up to our progress (and this is a highly educated person!). Perhaps the most difficult “hike” was the trek from the Snowmass Village shops/restaurants back to our condo . Only about ¼ mile, but 500’ in elevation gain. This provided us incentive to prepare more meals in the condo. . . .
Our location afforded a day visit to Aspen, another new experience for us. Aspen, as our son informed us, has the distinction as the place where the billionaires forced the millionaires to go to Vail! But all the money in the world couldn’t buy us a day without rain at the top of Maroon Bells. At least there’s a reason to go back. :)
11 minute video of our pictures (music by Shaw--I prefer Full Screen mode even though it’s a bit fuzzier)
Next stop: Boston
Sunday, May 31, 2009
We Interrupt This Story . . .
. . . to announce Monday is my BBL’s birthday! I have now known her for 2/3rds of her life! And I’m happy to still be able to say our seemingly not-so-long ago meeting remains the most fortuitous event in my life.
During the year my BBL made her entrance, the world also experinced the births of NBC’s The Today Show, Bob Costas, George Strait, Dan Aykroyd, Patrick Swayze, Jimmy Connors, Christopher Reeve -- even John Goodman AND (shiver) Roseann Barr!
But to me, she was the true talent born that year and has continued to play the leading role in my show ever since the day I met her. Here’s wishing many, many more candles in y(our) future, my Beautiful Bodacious Lady!
During the year my BBL made her entrance, the world also experinced the births of NBC’s The Today Show, Bob Costas, George Strait, Dan Aykroyd, Patrick Swayze, Jimmy Connors, Christopher Reeve -- even John Goodman AND (shiver) Roseann Barr!
But to me, she was the true talent born that year and has continued to play the leading role in my show ever since the day I met her. Here’s wishing many, many more candles in y(our) future, my Beautiful Bodacious Lady!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
2 Towns & the Tale of a Trail of Hope 'Tween Them
Last St Patrick’s Day I found myself with a little extra time during a drive from Lubbock to Amarillo. Jumped off the I-State to wander to and through the town of Tulia, Texas. Why? No idea, other than I had never been there before -- and the name sounded vaguely familiar.
I went through the center of town almost before I knew it. Turned around at the Senior Center. Tulia had already given me the feeling it might have a lot of seniors among its citizens; however, the lack of any sign of life surrounding this very nice facility was, in retrospect, a little disturbing.
Returned to what I perceived to be the city’s main intersection (marked by the stop-and-go light at one corner of the Swisher County Courthouse) and parked the Hertz rental. Got out and read the County was established in 1890 (as inscribed on a huge granite boulder sitting on the corner of the courthouse property – along with its proclamation of Faith and Courage – Endurance and Success (sounds a lot like HOPE to me) and that “Law, Order, Education and Christian Principles have sustained Swisher County people.” I walked clockwise around the courthouse square, past the building that said it was the Tulia Pharmacy (but it was actually a print shop) with a poster in the window advertising the two upcoming (?) March 30th performances (5 and 7:30pm) of the Culpepper and Merriweather Circus. Not sure, in retrospect, the ad was for the this year (since the circus hasn't updated it's website since 2008).
The next thing I saw was a Washington monument-looking oblesisk standing smack-dab in the middle of the intersection. If that wasn’t unusual enough, the marker/monument/obelisk heralded the official route of the Ozark Trail. Some verbage (I think on a nearby historical marker) said something about the Trail being a promotion of a Northwest Arkansas resort. What the . . . .?
I have never laid claim to being a geographical genius, but I had always associated anything “Ozark” to be at least two states east of where I was standing. I took a more careful look at the intersection and its streets. One street was “Broadway”-- very aptly named because it was a VERY WIDE brick paved street—actually more like a boulevard. It had obviously been conceived and built during more prosperous (or, at least, more hopeful) times. It was all curious enough for me to “file away” to investigate later.
Which I did—albeit haphazardly and without any sense of haste. Eventually I learned [God bless Al Gore for inventing the Internet] that the Ozark Trail Association’s efforts predated the legendary Route 66 (which actually followed a good part of the Ozark Trail--just not through Tulia). Found out communities lobbied to have the OTA and similar endeavors routed through their towns. Local merchants, anticipating the lucrative commerce opportunities of all those folks passing by their businesses, funded the upkeep and marker placements. [As you might imagine, this practice did not always serve to create the most direct route to anywhere.] And it also definitely helped to have an ultimate destination to aim the increasing population of automobiles – which an entrepreneur by the name of William Hope Harvey was happy to provide.
Seems around the turn of the century, he started building a resort just outside of Rogers. Arkansas. He saw fit to name it Monte Ne (a moniker supposedly contracted from Spanish and Omaha (Indian) words meaning “mountain waters”). He also “unselfishly” served as the president of the OTA. One can only imagine how strong the attraction of a destination with lush green, hilly terrain, an abundance of trees and water might be to anyone who found themself with an automobile in dry, flat, dusty Northwest Texas.
And, as coincidence would have it, I would find myself there at the other end of the trail a couple of months later! [To be continued]
I went through the center of town almost before I knew it. Turned around at the Senior Center. Tulia had already given me the feeling it might have a lot of seniors among its citizens; however, the lack of any sign of life surrounding this very nice facility was, in retrospect, a little disturbing.
Returned to what I perceived to be the city’s main intersection (marked by the stop-and-go light at one corner of the Swisher County Courthouse) and parked the Hertz rental. Got out and read the County was established in 1890 (as inscribed on a huge granite boulder sitting on the corner of the courthouse property – along with its proclamation of Faith and Courage – Endurance and Success (sounds a lot like HOPE to me) and that “Law, Order, Education and Christian Principles have sustained Swisher County people.” I walked clockwise around the courthouse square, past the building that said it was the Tulia Pharmacy (but it was actually a print shop) with a poster in the window advertising the two upcoming (?) March 30th performances (5 and 7:30pm) of the Culpepper and Merriweather Circus. Not sure, in retrospect, the ad was for the this year (since the circus hasn't updated it's website since 2008).
The next thing I saw was a Washington monument-looking oblesisk standing smack-dab in the middle of the intersection. If that wasn’t unusual enough, the marker/monument/obelisk heralded the official route of the Ozark Trail. Some verbage (I think on a nearby historical marker) said something about the Trail being a promotion of a Northwest Arkansas resort. What the . . . .?
I have never laid claim to being a geographical genius, but I had always associated anything “Ozark” to be at least two states east of where I was standing. I took a more careful look at the intersection and its streets. One street was “Broadway”-- very aptly named because it was a VERY WIDE brick paved street—actually more like a boulevard. It had obviously been conceived and built during more prosperous (or, at least, more hopeful) times. It was all curious enough for me to “file away” to investigate later.
Which I did—albeit haphazardly and without any sense of haste. Eventually I learned [God bless Al Gore for inventing the Internet] that the Ozark Trail Association’s efforts predated the legendary Route 66 (which actually followed a good part of the Ozark Trail--just not through Tulia). Found out communities lobbied to have the OTA and similar endeavors routed through their towns. Local merchants, anticipating the lucrative commerce opportunities of all those folks passing by their businesses, funded the upkeep and marker placements. [As you might imagine, this practice did not always serve to create the most direct route to anywhere.] And it also definitely helped to have an ultimate destination to aim the increasing population of automobiles – which an entrepreneur by the name of William Hope Harvey was happy to provide.
Seems around the turn of the century, he started building a resort just outside of Rogers. Arkansas. He saw fit to name it Monte Ne (a moniker supposedly contracted from Spanish and Omaha (Indian) words meaning “mountain waters”). He also “unselfishly” served as the president of the OTA. One can only imagine how strong the attraction of a destination with lush green, hilly terrain, an abundance of trees and water might be to anyone who found themself with an automobile in dry, flat, dusty Northwest Texas.
And, as coincidence would have it, I would find myself there at the other end of the trail a couple of months later! [To be continued]
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Geronimo's Farewell
I was having breakfast Tuesday morning after a short walk to the little Donut Café not too far from our abode. Feeling good that I had chosen mild exercise and a cheese and mushroom omelette over the deathly (but much tastier) chocolate frosted concoction with sprinkes on the top, I opened a left-over section of the Big D Mourning News that was lying on the table. It was the section that contained the obits – which is the section I usually do my best to avoid reading.
There, among the other poor departed souls (most of whom were pictured at least 20 years ago in their suits/uniforms/formal attire, etc.) was a photo of a 58 year old guy in a T-shirt that proclaimed “My Batteries Are DEAD!” At least I think that’s what it said ‘cause the resolution of the photo wasn’t all that great. But the letters D E A D were extremely legible.
I would like to think he selected this photo on purpose – kind of a farewell gag by a guy with the first name of Geronimo (really!). If he indeed had a sense of humor like that, I would have liked to have known him. Regardless, it made me smile and feel a bit more alive than I had a few minutes earlier. R.I.P.
There, among the other poor departed souls (most of whom were pictured at least 20 years ago in their suits/uniforms/formal attire, etc.) was a photo of a 58 year old guy in a T-shirt that proclaimed “My Batteries Are DEAD!” At least I think that’s what it said ‘cause the resolution of the photo wasn’t all that great. But the letters D E A D were extremely legible.
I would like to think he selected this photo on purpose – kind of a farewell gag by a guy with the first name of Geronimo (really!). If he indeed had a sense of humor like that, I would have liked to have known him. Regardless, it made me smile and feel a bit more alive than I had a few minutes earlier. R.I.P.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Thanks Again For Our Freedom
A heartfelt "thanks" goes out to family members, friends and associates - and their family members - and ALL who have served and sacrificed to perserve our freedom.
I don't even want to contemplate what our way of life might be like today without having had the benefit of their contributions.
"Those who deny freedom to others, deserve it not for themselves; and, under a just God, can not long retain it." - Abraham Lincoln - April 6, 1859
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Life Is Never Boring . . .
. . . when you know a Norwegian who is celebrating a birthday (it's like having Halloween in April)!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Natchez to Natchitoches
Last week we saddled up the Mustang for a business drive through East Texas and Northern Louisiana with the objective to reach Jackson, Mississippi. We were able to plan the trip far enough in advance that my BBL could arrange a week off from her nursing duties at Medical Metropolis so she could ride shotgun for the almost 1000 mile round trip.
After my soul was salved with customer visits along the I-20 corridor, we headed SW down “The Trace Parkway” jumping on it just outside of Jackson for its last 88 miles to the Mississippi River at Natchez. The “Trace Parkway” is an immaculate two lane Federal road with a 50 mph speed limit and zero commercial traffic. Combined with 80 degrees and a weather high pressure system, it was the perfect environment to drop the top, sit back and soak up the beautiful sunny Mississippi countryside.
We made one sidetrip into Port Gibson for some gas and to view the city (according to our guidebook) that was spared destruction during the War of Northern Aggression (i.e. the Civil War for you Yankees) because Grant said “it was too beautiful to burn.” Well we got the gas, but we must have made a wrong turn and missed the beautiful part of the city. We did see the old abandoned Trace movie theater and a most unique church steeple before escaping back to the Parkway.
A couple of observations about the Trace Parkway: it is 444 miles long which leaves approximately 80% of it as a future experience for us. The 20% we did experience was 99% downhill (a point I will remember if ever looking for a place to ride a bicycle); didn’t see one pothole or piece of litter; all in all, seems to us to be a fine use of our tax dollars.
The Parkway terminated in the splendid port city of Natchez as did we for the evening. It is said to be one of the oldest cities in the state which has seemingly allowed it to collect the highest number of mansions (antebellum or otherwise), historical sites, and B&B’s per capita. Because it sits high above the Eastern side of the very wide Mississippi River, it is uniquely suited to observe stunning sunsets. Almost as impressive was the experience and fare at Fat Mama’s Tamales (although it costs slightly more than watching the sunsets)—both are highly recommended, but the location of Fat Mama’s makes it difficult to do both at the same time!
The next day we traded The Parkway for the El Camino East-West Corridor or as known in Texas, the Old San Antonio Road (also known to everyone else as US Route 84)]. We kept the top down because the good weather was still with us. Speed limit was mostly 55 mph, but all manner of commercial traffic uses this road. Had to hang on to our hats everytime an 18 wheeler passed us going in the opposite direction. We missed the tranquility of the Trace.
Late afternoon, we rolled into the most difficult pronounciation for an American city we’ve ever encountered: Natchitoches - which we finally got around to identifying as “Knack-a-tish”. Evidently this was close enough to acceptable that it didn’t generate any giggles when we said it around a local person.
Natchitoches has several claims to fame. Supposedly the oldest city in Louisiana, it has its share of mansions/plantations/B&B’s too (due to its heritage of being a port city on the Red River and thereby a gateway to the mighty Mississippi). It’s also home to Northwestern State U with a very pretty campus. But perhaps it’s best known (according to the tourist literature we saw) as being the site where chick flick Steel Magnolias was filmed only 20 years ago.
Our lodging for the night took us to the outskirts of town where we found the Starlight Plantation B&B where owner/hostess Susan provided some rustic luxury alongside the peaceful Cane River Lake. Seems that the fickle Red River changed course along the way eventually leaving Natchitoches without a viable connection to the Red or Mississippi Rivers. But the “oxbow” type lake that was left was renamed Cane River. Although it is officially a lake, it looks more like a wide stream – and it is a real treasure. Now my BBL wants to read Cane River by Lalita Tadamy.
Bottom line on Natchez and Natchitoches: We would return in a heartbeat! In fact, I could live in Natchitoches (subsequently have learned that a 2007 US News and World Report included it in their top 10 places to retire.) But I would settle for another meat pie appetizer, salad dinner and a glass of wine with my BBL on Antonne’s patio overlooking the river/lake/water/whatever.
Click this link for a 7:45 minute “movie” of our trip.
After my soul was salved with customer visits along the I-20 corridor, we headed SW down “The Trace Parkway” jumping on it just outside of Jackson for its last 88 miles to the Mississippi River at Natchez. The “Trace Parkway” is an immaculate two lane Federal road with a 50 mph speed limit and zero commercial traffic. Combined with 80 degrees and a weather high pressure system, it was the perfect environment to drop the top, sit back and soak up the beautiful sunny Mississippi countryside.
We made one sidetrip into Port Gibson for some gas and to view the city (according to our guidebook) that was spared destruction during the War of Northern Aggression (i.e. the Civil War for you Yankees) because Grant said “it was too beautiful to burn.” Well we got the gas, but we must have made a wrong turn and missed the beautiful part of the city. We did see the old abandoned Trace movie theater and a most unique church steeple before escaping back to the Parkway.
A couple of observations about the Trace Parkway: it is 444 miles long which leaves approximately 80% of it as a future experience for us. The 20% we did experience was 99% downhill (a point I will remember if ever looking for a place to ride a bicycle); didn’t see one pothole or piece of litter; all in all, seems to us to be a fine use of our tax dollars.
The Parkway terminated in the splendid port city of Natchez as did we for the evening. It is said to be one of the oldest cities in the state which has seemingly allowed it to collect the highest number of mansions (antebellum or otherwise), historical sites, and B&B’s per capita. Because it sits high above the Eastern side of the very wide Mississippi River, it is uniquely suited to observe stunning sunsets. Almost as impressive was the experience and fare at Fat Mama’s Tamales (although it costs slightly more than watching the sunsets)—both are highly recommended, but the location of Fat Mama’s makes it difficult to do both at the same time!
The next day we traded The Parkway for the El Camino East-West Corridor or as known in Texas, the Old San Antonio Road (also known to everyone else as US Route 84)]. We kept the top down because the good weather was still with us. Speed limit was mostly 55 mph, but all manner of commercial traffic uses this road. Had to hang on to our hats everytime an 18 wheeler passed us going in the opposite direction. We missed the tranquility of the Trace.
Late afternoon, we rolled into the most difficult pronounciation for an American city we’ve ever encountered: Natchitoches - which we finally got around to identifying as “Knack-a-tish”. Evidently this was close enough to acceptable that it didn’t generate any giggles when we said it around a local person.
Natchitoches has several claims to fame. Supposedly the oldest city in Louisiana, it has its share of mansions/plantations/B&B’s too (due to its heritage of being a port city on the Red River and thereby a gateway to the mighty Mississippi). It’s also home to Northwestern State U with a very pretty campus. But perhaps it’s best known (according to the tourist literature we saw) as being the site where chick flick Steel Magnolias was filmed only 20 years ago.
Our lodging for the night took us to the outskirts of town where we found the Starlight Plantation B&B where owner/hostess Susan provided some rustic luxury alongside the peaceful Cane River Lake. Seems that the fickle Red River changed course along the way eventually leaving Natchitoches without a viable connection to the Red or Mississippi Rivers. But the “oxbow” type lake that was left was renamed Cane River. Although it is officially a lake, it looks more like a wide stream – and it is a real treasure. Now my BBL wants to read Cane River by Lalita Tadamy.
Bottom line on Natchez and Natchitoches: We would return in a heartbeat! In fact, I could live in Natchitoches (subsequently have learned that a 2007 US News and World Report included it in their top 10 places to retire.) But I would settle for another meat pie appetizer, salad dinner and a glass of wine with my BBL on Antonne’s patio overlooking the river/lake/water/whatever.
Click this link for a 7:45 minute “movie” of our trip.
Friday, February 6, 2009
The End -
of a significant chapter of my life, but thankfully not the end of my life story.
This past Wednesday, 449 days after two of my associates and I were hit by a car while attempting to walk across the street in front of our company's headquarters, the driver received his plea sentence in Wisconsin's Outagamie County courthouse. I'm told the judge's decree included:
1. Alcohol and other drug testing - He is required to complete testing and any necessary follow up treatment as ordered by his probation agent.
2. Absolute sobriety - for the length of his sentence, He is not to have any drugs or alcohol. Additionally, he's not to be in any establishment where there is a provision for alcohol. He cannot have alcohol or drugs in his residence (even if belong to others).
3. $200/month for the entire sentence in restitution. (not to me, but to reimburse the company's Workman's Comp expenses)
4. 500 hours of community service to be provided at either of the two hospitals in the city; at a minimum, 2 hours per week for 5 years.
5. 2 full days per year for 5 years, he has to give talks to students about the impact drug use has had on his life and the lives of others.
6. A letter of apology to me.
7. As an alternative to a year in the county jail, he will serve 16 days in jail (on the weekends for the next 8 weeks). If he fails a random drug test during the next five years, he will immediately be taken to jail to serve a 12 month sentence.
8. He is required to maintain full time employment for the duration of his sentence.
My immediate thought, given the state of the economy and my own employment situation, is that the last condition may be the most difficult to accomplish! But the bottom line is that I'm positive we both wish we did not have to face any of the consequences from a brief unfortunate moment on that cold late afternoon winter day.
My BBL is most happy I've decided to signal the end of this event with the decision to shave off my beard. I had started it after the second crainiotomy when I felt that growing it was one of the few things I could do all by myself! But I'm truly relieved that this event has come to a conclusion -- and without having to relive it in detail via a court trial that was scheduled for next month.
This past Wednesday, 449 days after two of my associates and I were hit by a car while attempting to walk across the street in front of our company's headquarters, the driver received his plea sentence in Wisconsin's Outagamie County courthouse. I'm told the judge's decree included:
1. Alcohol and other drug testing - He is required to complete testing and any necessary follow up treatment as ordered by his probation agent.
2. Absolute sobriety - for the length of his sentence, He is not to have any drugs or alcohol. Additionally, he's not to be in any establishment where there is a provision for alcohol. He cannot have alcohol or drugs in his residence (even if belong to others).
3. $200/month for the entire sentence in restitution. (not to me, but to reimburse the company's Workman's Comp expenses)
4. 500 hours of community service to be provided at either of the two hospitals in the city; at a minimum, 2 hours per week for 5 years.
5. 2 full days per year for 5 years, he has to give talks to students about the impact drug use has had on his life and the lives of others.
6. A letter of apology to me.
7. As an alternative to a year in the county jail, he will serve 16 days in jail (on the weekends for the next 8 weeks). If he fails a random drug test during the next five years, he will immediately be taken to jail to serve a 12 month sentence.
8. He is required to maintain full time employment for the duration of his sentence.
My immediate thought, given the state of the economy and my own employment situation, is that the last condition may be the most difficult to accomplish! But the bottom line is that I'm positive we both wish we did not have to face any of the consequences from a brief unfortunate moment on that cold late afternoon winter day.
My BBL is most happy I've decided to signal the end of this event with the decision to shave off my beard. I had started it after the second crainiotomy when I felt that growing it was one of the few things I could do all by myself! But I'm truly relieved that this event has come to a conclusion -- and without having to relive it in detail via a court trial that was scheduled for next month.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I Do Solemnly Swear (or Affirm) . . . .
Seems like the thing to do this week is to take an oath. Everybody (at least on TV) seems to be doing it. O’Baby, Joe Bidy, and the Cabinet Gang of “Changers.” What I could really relate to, however, was the Chief Justice mangling his 35 word bit. If somebody that intelligent and accomplished can flub his line and mislead the most powerful man in the world, I will no longer feel all that bad about the unintended words/syntax/wrong names/etc. that comes out of my mouth when public speaking (or when I proverbially screw up the punch line to a joke).
Watching all the oathing going on reminded me I had yet to formulate a New Year Resolution (I do find some comfort in knowing I still have my finely honed skill of procrastination). A long time ago I vowed to only make New Year Resolutions in the year following presidential elections – unless the incumbent was re-elected. Just my way of trying to align with the nation’s periodic attempts at improvement, plus it provides less opportunities for feeling so badly when I break them.
Of course my and the entire the electorate’s #1 fallback resolution is to LOSE WEIGHT (I contend Jenny Craig, WW, 24-hour Fitness, Gold’s Gym and their ilk would die horrible deaths if a new year didn’t occur every twelve months). My BBL is committed to keeping this fate from happening to two of these organizations which, I must admit, yields tangible results in making our wallets lighter. I’ve accomplishing the same with much less effort just by being unemployed! Unfortunately, these traditional approaches to weight loss are prohibitively expensive; so here goes my approch to this challange:
WHEREAS my weight has multiplied 21 times since birth; and
WHEREAS my body is so incredibly efficient at taking any and all ingested items and transforming them to 1.999% of its original mass and then retaining 0.999% of same; and
WHEREAS two-thirds of my pants’ waistlines have shrunk about two terms; and
WHEREAS I have a dog anyway: I, LoneStarWizzz, with a bag of Twizzlers in my left hand and holding open the refrigerator door with my right, do solemnly swear (make that affirm) to this resolution’s intent to faithfully walk my age in miles every month throughout the term(s) of the 44th President of the United States. So help me God! [literally]
If this doesn’t guarantee him eight years, nothing will.
Watching all the oathing going on reminded me I had yet to formulate a New Year Resolution (I do find some comfort in knowing I still have my finely honed skill of procrastination). A long time ago I vowed to only make New Year Resolutions in the year following presidential elections – unless the incumbent was re-elected. Just my way of trying to align with the nation’s periodic attempts at improvement, plus it provides less opportunities for feeling so badly when I break them.
Of course my and the entire the electorate’s #1 fallback resolution is to LOSE WEIGHT (I contend Jenny Craig, WW, 24-hour Fitness, Gold’s Gym and their ilk would die horrible deaths if a new year didn’t occur every twelve months). My BBL is committed to keeping this fate from happening to two of these organizations which, I must admit, yields tangible results in making our wallets lighter. I’ve accomplishing the same with much less effort just by being unemployed! Unfortunately, these traditional approaches to weight loss are prohibitively expensive; so here goes my approch to this challange:
WHEREAS my weight has multiplied 21 times since birth; and
WHEREAS my body is so incredibly efficient at taking any and all ingested items and transforming them to 1.999% of its original mass and then retaining 0.999% of same; and
WHEREAS two-thirds of my pants’ waistlines have shrunk about two terms; and
WHEREAS I have a dog anyway: I, LoneStarWizzz, with a bag of Twizzlers in my left hand and holding open the refrigerator door with my right, do solemnly swear (make that affirm) to this resolution’s intent to faithfully walk my age in miles every month throughout the term(s) of the 44th President of the United States. So help me God! [literally]
If this doesn’t guarantee him eight years, nothing will.
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