Tremen State Park, NYS

I just returned from a fairly short visit to the Finger Lakes region of New York State.  Ithaca to be exact.  I wasn't there long enough to see everyone I love, which is always hard.  One day we went to Upper Tremen, a spectacular section of Tremen State Park.  It's one of three amazing State Parks in Tompkins County, NY.  Here are some photos you may enjoy.

 

A formative trip, 1961

My parents took the following pictures in 1961. The family was on the road, moving from South Bend, Indiana to Seattle, Washington where my father had taken a job as a tool and die maker at Boeing. The trip was 2,225 miles by station wagon. What an adventure it was for my parents and the five children jammed into that car! We stopped along the way at Yellowstone National Park, a memorable event.

I'm not sure where this was taken, but it might have been Wyoming.  

When we stayed at Yellowstone, the bears were pretty bold about eating from the cabin garbage cans.

On the road, we often stopped to take pictures of wildlife, like these Elk Moose calves drinking from a creek.  

And this one below showing a road that had been tunneled through a mountain.  

I was 10 years old when this trip was taken, but it remains vivid in my mind. In some ways that trip formed me. Coming from the corn belt, the flatlands, this was my introduction to the magnificence and natural beauty of the United States.  

This was the first time I saw my parents take pictures of landscapes and animals, and they were so excited about everything we saw. That made a strong impression on me. My childhood was transformed by this trip and this move. Although we ended up moving back to Northern Indiana only 3 years later, some changes were permanent.

Travel, how I hate it.

Tomorrow we fly north to see our extended family. I have a million things to do. 

Tom threw his back out overnight!  He's getting cold, heat, ibuprofen, rest - whatever it takes to get him back in fighting form. I haven't been "home" in 3 years. There are 4 toddlers I have never met, and a grand niece and nephew I've only seen once. I miss my family like crazy. 

I went online to check us in (24 hours in advance) and also changed our baggage choices from carry-on to checked so he doesn't feel compelled to lift heavy bags up high when we board the plane.  

I accidentally knocked a full glass of water off the kitchen counter.  It shattered all over the floor.   

I did laundry, and packed our bags on and off all day. It's so hard to make decisions. I'm making lists so I don't forget anything.  

I drove to the bank to get cash. There was only one bank clerk. The man in front of me was trying to do something shady. The bank clerk wouldn't let him. He was argumentative. It took forever.  Grrrr!

I went to the store to buy magazines and snacks. Then I stopped at a gas station to fill up the car's tank. The outside card reader wouldn't take my credit card. I had to go inside to pay (horrors). My card worked fine inside.  

But while I was driving home a red light on the dashboard started flashing at me. Apparently there's something wrong with the brakes. I guess we'll take Tom's car instead of mine.  I wonder if his car has a reasonably full gas tank?

When I got home I accidentally knocked another glass full of water off the exact same place on the kitchen counter. It shattered, too.  

As I was writing this, I got a call from my doctor's office telling me my lab results. Apparently I'm pre-diabetic, for crying out loud.  

I did a little housecleaning. The house is still a mess. Who cares?

In My Mother's Day

This is my second Mother’s Day without my Mom.  She had her weaknesses, as we all do; but now I only remember her strength. She was often resourceful and independent.

In March 1964, when I was 12, we moved back to Northern Indiana after a 3-year interlude in the Pacific Northwest. My Mom wanted to go "home" where she had family. There were 6 kids in 1964, and none of us wanted to leave. However, we had to go. My Dad flew back ahead of us to begin work at his new job and get things settled for our arrival. Mom single-handedly packed and shipped our belongings, and we set out in an old 1958 Ford station wagon for the Promised Land.  My oldest sister was a senior in high school with only 3 more months to finish. She stayed with a friend’s family until after graduation.

My Mom drove 2,225 miles from Seattle, Washington to Northern Indiana with 5 kids between the ages of 2 and 14, and a cat, in that car. The two youngest were still in diapers. We drove down Washington State to Oregon, eastward to Idaho and Wyoming, through the Rocky Mountains. After that we traveled through the flatlands of Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois. Northern Indiana was home. My mother had always been fearless, but never more than on that epic journey when she took us home.

We didn’t stop at restaurants - too expensive. Back then, people didn't really eat at restaurants as casually as we do now. We stopped at small groceries and ate sandwiches at rest stops. Once, when we stopped to eat, the cat got out of the car and ran away into the farmer’s fields that were ubiquitous along the highway. We loved that cat, and looked long and hard. Eventually, Mom said we had to go. We were shattered as we silently drove away. However, a couple miles down the road Mom inexplicably turned the car around and went back for the cat. It was a heroic decision, and this time the darn cat had the good sense to come when called. We were more careful about keeping her safe after that.

Large chain motels didn't exist in the early 60’s to my recollection. Instead, motels were small and unique, “Mom and Pop” businesses. I remember staying overnight at one motel with a series of small, one-room cabins lined up next to each other. We all stayed in that one room. It took us 7 days to get to Indiana. The car broke down in Plainview, Nebraska. We stayed at a motel for two days while it got fixed. It was fun. We were not in school and it was mid-March. That felt strange in the middle of the semester, knowing that kids all over the country were in school leading normal lives. I felt like an outlaw on the run. It was a bit disconcerting, but exciting.

Towards the end of the trip, we started running out of money. There were no ATM’s or credit cards. Mom had a certain amount of cash, and that’s all we had to get where we were going. One night she decided to save money by not renting a motel room. Instead we all slept in the car: toddlers, tween, teenagers, mother, and cat. She parked late at night in a gas station parking lot, intending on gassing up the car when we woke the next morning. It was a cold night and, dontcha know, the car engine froze up. Early the next morning the car would not start. The owner lived above the gas station’s garage. We banged hard and long on his door to wake him up so he could come out and help us, which he did. At first he was angry, but when he saw the sorry lot who woke him up he softened. He helped us, and he didn’t charge a dime. People can be so kind. It is important to remember that.

I remember feeling like a vagabond. At that moment, we did not belong anywhere except in that old station wagon, traveling with our brave mother. She was our home. Eventually, we arrived at our destination and went directly to my paternal grandparent’s house where we were loved and celebrated.

My Mom was amazingly strong during that trip. She was confident, determined and never complained despite the many hardships. I guess one might say she persisted. I believed she could solve any problem that came our way, because she did. I trusted her in a way I have never trusted another human being since. It was a grand adventure that provided experiences and memories I would not trade for love or money. For many years, she was everything to me. I hope I told her that. 

Traveling on fire

Not only am I NOT a good traveler, I am a red hot anxiety-ridden mess. Sure, I love being other places and I always have a great time. I just don't like traveling to get there and back, especially by air. As I was reminded during my recent trip, air travel consists of a series of hurdles one must silently endure without losing one's mind:

Will my alarm go off? Did I remember my pills, my phone charger? How early does one get to the airport, and what is the traffic pattern on the way? What if I get in an accident?  Aaaack!

Do I check my bag or try to stuff that sucker in an overhead bin? How heavy is it anyway, 'cause I'm no spring chicken. How long are the security check lines? Why did that alarm go off? Oh no, did I forget to take my cute little Swiss Army Knife out of my jeans pocket? Damn! I LOVE that knife.

Will the plane actually leave on time, or at all? Will we make our connection? Should I buy a Bloody Mary to calm myself down? Is the lounge even open at 8 a.m.? Do I have time to go to the bathroom? Why are bathroom lines so long?

What zone am I in and does that mean I'll board last? Will there be overhead space left by the time I board? Why am I the only one who can't figure out the in-flight wifi? Should I buy snacks from the flight attendant even though I'm not hungry? Will the proper lady sitting next to me judge me harshly if I order that Bloody Mary NOW?

When the plane lands and the seat belt sign goes off, do I jump up and try to wrestle my carry-on bag out of the bin, hoping against hope that I still have enough upper body strength to guide it smoothly to the aisle floor? Or should I sit patiently like the proper lady next to me, trusting people on the other side of the aisle to let me out?

I could go on and on, but I'll stop here to give you a break. Nope, I don't trust the world. Some people assume everything will go right. I assume the opposite. If I travel with others, I often get on their nerves. Surprised? Oh well, at this point I probably won't change. I am more likely to roll with the punches than go with the flow. Taking a deep breathe now and letting it all go. Ha! As if.

I am happy to be home where chaos can be a good thing.

New York City with my girls

What a great time, 3 generations of women together in NYC. Sure, there was squabbling and snark; however, those inevitable moments sparked by lack of privacy were overshadowed by the love we felt and the fun we had.

We flew from Orlando to Newark, NJ, then took a hotel shuttle to Manhattan via the Lincoln Tunnel. The 3-day musical theatre workshop (acting, singing, dancing) was staged by Broadway Artist Alliance, housed in the heart of the Theatre District. The hotel was conveniently a block away.

E's workshop started each morning at 9:30. M&E sleep until the last minute (trusting the world again). I wake up at the crack of dawn. I did NOT want to be around when they woke up late and crashed around the hotel room. I slipped out and went down to the lobby to drink lots of coffee and read an actual newspaper. Oh yeah, there were BAGELS. The real deal. I was in heaven.

The workshop didn't end until 7:00 p.m., leaving M and me free to roam, shop, eat, and talk each day. I loved spending time alone with her. It was also a long school holiday weekend, so crowds on the street were fierce. I walked fast, weaving and bobbing like a prizefighter. Or maybe more like a drunken sailor on leave, desperate to keep up?

Space is a prime commodity on an island. Stores in the City are narrow and multi-floored with people everywhere, even grocery and drug stores. It seemed odd to take an elevator to get to the sinus meds in Walgreens. Buildings are unique and details a joy, especially on the oldest, funkiest buildings. I had a good time just looking at things.

We went to a NY style pizzeria and devoured a fabulously greasy pepperoni and black olive pizza! The crust was perfect. I'm happy to report Florida pizza will never satisfy my granddaughter again.

Homeless people begging on the streets are heartbreaking. I imagine native New Yorkers become desensitized, but it hurt my heart. One young man was lying next to a building covered with a dirty blanket. He was clearly sick or high, his eyes glazed. He never looked up, even when I put money in his cardboard box and he muttered a weak "Thank you." He is someone's child. I wanted to hold him in my arms and call him honey. I wanted to tell him everything will be okay, even though I know it won't. I wonder if his parents know where he is? I hope not.

Me, capturing something "important" while M screamed at me to get out of the street

Going Back

We made a whirlwind trip to Upstate NY in mid-May. It was the first time we went back since moving to Florida in March 2014. We arrived late Friday and left after lunch on Monday. Absurdly short visit, I know; but T is not a good traveler. I apologize from the heart to those dear friends I was unable to see this time. The guilt and regret I feel is palpable. But this trip had a specific purpose.

Our friend, ShS, died in January and we were unable to go back for her funeral. We specifically planned this May weekend with the old gang to honor her and help her husband process the loss.

Saying goodbye to her was one of the last things we did before leaving NYS over two years ago. She was not sick yet. Still, when I hugged her goodbye at her doorway that cold March day I was overcome with sorrow and didn't want to let go of her. I fought tears as we drove away. It would be an understatement to say I don't usually cry. I am usually steely calm with goodbyes, so Tom asked if I was okay. I told him I had a strong feeling I was never going to see ShS again. It was one of those moments when the future reaches back with fully extended claws to rend your heart with foresight. Spooky.

On a lighter note, while there we went to our favorite Vietnamese restaurant. When I walked in, the waiter immediately remembered me! He also remembered my standard lunch order after all these years. Whatta guy!

His kindness reminded me how we impact everyone we meet. A kind and gracious waiter can make a customer's day. We might remember him/her for the rest of our lives. Relationships take many forms. Make no mistake, we all play a role crafting goodness and light in this world.

Yes, we went to Wegmans. I had a hilarious "moment" with an elderly stranger who was sitting down in the dining area eating an entire Mini Ultimate Chocolate Cake all by her sweet self. As I walked by, I saw the cake and exclaimed "Look, it's one of those cakes!" She heard me and said, "I am just trying to make sure I stay fat." Ha! I'll probably never forget her, either.

Just so you know, we brought a small, empty carry-on suitcase on the plane. Before leaving NYS we filled it up with 3 dozen bagels for our return. The security bag scanner at the airport got a big kick out of it. Six of the bagels were garlic. Now the suitcase will forever smell of garlic. I don't care.

Bagels, ripe for the picking

Heaven on Earth: the produce section at Wegmans

FYI - We are going to be preoccupied with a family wedding this weekend, so I probably won't be checking my or other people's blogs for a few days.  If you send comments I will publish them and respond Monday or Tuesday.  Have a good weekend!

An Adventure in Time and Space

I am back home.  I spent a night stranded in the Detroit airport.  I never made it to Indiana because of multi-day, weather-related flight cancellations.  My Mom is doing better and has started eating.  She has left the hospital and returned to the nursing home.  You can stop reading right now if you do not want to hear the gory details. 

The Gory Details:

I flew to Detroit at 3:32 pm Monday afternoon, totally expecting to connect with my 8:05 pm flight to see my Mom.  Before I left, my sister called to tell me 1. There was a blizzard there with extreme, record breaking cold, and 2. My mom was eating, talking, and generally bouncing back well enough that they were moving her out of the hospital and back to the nursing home.  In retrospect, I should have cancelled then; but nonrefundable tickets being what they are, I figured I would take my chances and at worst spend a night in the hotel.  I am currently trying to change my life for the better by being more positive and trying to look on the bright side.   Plus, I really, really wanted to see my mother and my extended family.  

My destination is in Northern Indiana near Chicago.  When I checked in to start my trip on Monday afternoon I was told I had two options once I arrived in Detroit; I could either get a 5:45 pm flight out (for which I was on standby) or an 8:05 pm flight (the flight I originally booked).  I was thrilled to have two options – it gave me false hope that the weather in the Midwest was getting better, and as a control freak I like options a lot.  I was happy.  Once I boarded the plane, the stewardess came to tell me that the 8:05 pm flight was cancelled, so I should try to get on the 5:45 pm flight.  I was immediately less happy.  I was also little worried about making it because there was so little time between the landing of my plane and the boarding of the 5:45 plane. Endless games of solitaire on my iPad and a strong family tradition of denial helped me achieve a state of perfect calm.  Once we arrived in Detroit I ran to the nearest Delta information desk only to discover that all flights that day (Monday) were now cancelled.  I was not happy at all.  She sent me to “Gate 43” where all rescheduling was done.   I scurried to Gate 43, dragging my luggage with me.  It was quite the classic airport scene as people at the gate were told they were now stuck in Detroit overnight.   After waiting in line, a very sweet Delta airlines representative (I will call her Delta Lady #1) told me she could put me on a flight at 8:05 p.m. on Tuesday night.  I snapped at her and immediately apologized, saying I was sorry, but I was just angry.  She looked me in the eye with the liquid promise of loving salvation and said “Oh, don’t get angry!  Everything happens for a reason.”   In my mind my eyes were rolling towards the back of my head.   Ok, maybe they were in reality, too.   But at that very moment, I knew that Delta Lady #1 was on to something and that I needed to relax and try to enjoy the experience, because truthfully the only alternative was trauma and fear.  I had a choice to make.  I needed to believe.  Then I told her that my mother was sick and I really had to get there sooner.  Yes, I actually used the sick mother card!  I have no shame.  ‘Cause, well, I really do have a sick mother and I really have no shame.  Delta Lady #1 was super kind and caring.  She was able to put me on an earlier flight to Indiana leaving at 8:46 am on Tuesday morning.  I was thrilled.   I was also ready to find that reason and experience the bright side.   Who knew, it was so crazy it might even work.   Perhaps this awful experience was going to change my life?   Yes, I was alone in the Detroit airport and I was stark raving mad.    

The flights were cancelled due to “an act of nature” which is airline code for “the airlines will not pay for hotel rooms.”  However, they passed out discount tickets to motels surrounding the airport.  That, of course meant that one had to compete with the poor, unfortunate rescheduled masses and call one motel after the other until reservations could be made, arrange for a shuttle to pick you up, figure out how to get outside the airport to the right spot, and wait in the extreme cold until a shuttle has room to pick up up along with everyone else. All this is required to spend one fitful night in a seedy motel in the outskirts of DETROIT, for crying out loud.  I have had this “discount motel” experience before when flying through and getting stuck in Philly, thank you very much.   Back then, T and I ended up waiting outside in the cold for hours with many angry strangers until a shuttle actually stopped to pick us up.  It was beyond unpleasant.  I was younger then and with my husband, who is much more level-headed than me.  On Monday’s trip I was 62 years old, alone, and stark raving mad!  And considering this particular flying experience was in the midst of the 2014 Polar Vortex, I opted to stay in the airport’s Westin Hotel.   It is a lovely hotel inside the airport.  Way more money, but you know…I’m worth it, and all that crap.  

LOVED the hotel.  Maybe this was the bright side?  I settled into my lovely room at the safe and convenient Westin.   I was thinking how sinfully relaxing it was to be in a great room with millions of pillows and a huge bed all to myself when I got THE call from Automated Delta Man#1 - I was informed that my 8:46 am flight out was now cancelled and I would have to call a certain number to get another flight.   I sighed deeply and called, only to discover from Automated Delta Man #2 that there was an hour to an hour and a half wait just to get a call-back.  So I dialed my place in “line” and then waited for my call back.  An hour later I got the call and was helped by sweet, kind, compassionate Delta Lady #2.   These ladies are dynamite, by the way.  In truth, I congratulate their trainers because they simply ooze kindness.  By then I was ready to explode, so their kindness was the only thing keeping my bad temper in check.  I surrendered to their compassionate professionalism.  Delta Lady #2 softly and sadly informed me that the only remaining option was a Wednesday afternoon flight.   That meant I would have to spend two and a half days in the Detroit airport.   I said no, just send me back to NYS tomorrow.   She reassured me that she would but wanted to check into a few things concerning a refund for which she would put me on hold.  I waited for a long time (playing solitaire like crazy) and I was eventually disconnected.   I waited a few minutes but she did not call me back.  I called the same number and Automated Delta Man #3 put on the waiting list again for a call back.  This time it only took 45 minutes to be called back.  Delta Lady #3 was another treasure of grace and composure.   She confirmed that I was on a flight from Detroit to NYS at 10:00 am the next morning.   Yay!!!!   Delta Lady #2 had pulled it off.  Delta Lady #3 was happy that I was happy.   Happy?  By God, I was positively giddy.  I was going home.  I almost cried.   I tried to watch Swamp People on the History channel, but I was so exhausted that I had to just turn off the light and go to sleep.  

The next morning I got up and caught the flight home.   I only had to wait on the tarmac for an hour while they fussed with some mysterious mechanical problem.   I had my iPad and played solitaire.   I am only $750 poorer.   Sheesh.   This looking on the bright side stuff is really hard work.