Canada and Experiencing Niagara Falls

Here it is Tuesday, August 20th, and I’m going to write a bit about the Niagara Falls experience from last week. You know, what can you say beside all the appropriate adjectives and adverbs, such as “beautiful”, “powerful”, “majestic”, “a lot of water”, etc.?

But there are a few things to mention about the experience.

We will start with the first night, Wednesday, August 14th. After surrendering my self-protection equipment to the Queen at the Canadian border (she really doesn’t need it, she has plenty of personal guards), I cycled onto Center Street, to Bertie Street, and then to the Niagara Parkway. I pulled over and consulted the iPhone but didn’t dare make a phone call with the cost of international rates, etc. But I found that there were motels nearby so I went to the Howard Johnson motel in Fort Erie, near the border. Now this was not your typical HJ but more of the cheap kind of motel I have been utilizing. In fact, there was no hot water in the shower! I was so dirty after camping and then traveling in the city and my hair needed a desperate washing. So, while I took that cold shower, I cussed and laughed and laughed and cussed. After all, it was at least summertime. I wouldn’t have been able to bear the cold water if it had been January!

The single serving coffee pot power button was broken, but if I kept pressure on it, the little stinker would spit out the hot water to make the single 6-8 oz serving of rather awful coffee. But, aha! There was a Tim Horton’s next door, so I went over and purchased a very large serving of it, which would provide a good 3-4 cups of coffee. I thought I would reheat it in the microwave. 

Oops! Silly me, no microwave. 

The next morning, the manager mentioned that there was no hot water because the plumbers had not fixed the line the day before. It was a little late. When I checked out an hour later, he asked if the hot water was working. I answered, “Yes” and he cheered. I bet it had been a stress to him, as well as to his customers!

But, hey, I was in Canada! So it’s good!

But wait a minute. Down the street was a Wendy’s, Tim Hortons, and WalMart, in addition to all the other stores you know. Was I really still in the USA? What’s the difference? I have had Canadian friends tease me about American materialism.

Hmmmm...

But, I will admit. I loved the Horton’s coffee and I bought a small salad and a baked potato from Wendy’s. All is well.

The next morning, I slept in a bit because the Niagara River really isn’t that long and I would be at the falls within 15 miles. 

So, began a lovely, leisurely day. I cycled along the river on Niagara Parkway, stopping at a little marina coffee shop for an oatmeal cookie and fresh coffee. I took bike paths that meandered next to the Parkway, in front of gorgeous lake homes with perfectly manicured lawns and gardens.

Many are for sale, by the way. While at Niagara Falls, I saw a tv clip that said that the housing market is going well and it’s a great time to buy. That’s for all you materialistic Americans (and Canadians!!) who want to own a home. My son wanted me to buy as soon as I texted him this information. But, hey, I don’t even have a job right now!! So house shopping is not on my list. Grapes, bananas, muffins, and a cheap place for the night, however, are definitely on my mind. 

Anyway, back to the day of amazing views. I pulled HD over several times to look at the river as it began to pick up speed toward the falls. Very cool indeed. Eventually, I arrived at the Niagara Falls themselves, parking HD so I could walk, gawk, and take photographs. There are two main falls--the Horseshoe Falls, or Canadian Falls, which are shaped in a U, and the American Falls, which are more straight across and land in jagged rocks below, creating quite an uproar of churning water and mist. 

I returned that evening to see the falls again, because they are lighted at night in hues of green, pink, lavender, and blue. Really quite lovely. My camera locked up but only after several shots.

However, that meant I could not take the night time photos of the tourist section of Niagara Falls. This area is neon and bright and a tourist family’s dream, as many of the businesses are like arcades and miniature amusement parks for kids. I walked through the area in the afternoon and again at night. It was definitely summertime fun for the vacationer. 

But also comes with a price tag. I went way over budget with a salad and a soda at Ruby Tuesday. I was a bit shocked. OK--so back to grocery stores!! Pass the raisins, please!

I purchased a few postcards and a small hoodie as I knew I would be heading into cooler weather soon. It is nearing the end of August and I haven’t started to head south yet. In Pennsylvania, I had seen signs of approaching autumn with some orange and crimson leaves on some of the underbrush. And through New York, I was beginning to see that duller green that suggests color changes are on the way. So, a hoodie that says Niagara Falls seemed to make sense.

On Friday, August 18th, I reluctantly packed up my gear and HD and I left the Fallsview Lodge, a cheap little motel within an easy walk of the falls. We cycled back to the Niagara Parkway and viewed the Niagara Whirlpool, which didn’t look as scary as the name. This is where the Niagara River, well away from the falls, but definitely fast moving white water, flows into an open area at a sharp turn, thus causing a churning of the water. Hydroelectric plants take advantage of the power of the water. Not only here, but near the falls as well. 

I found it a challenge to find my way to the bridge that crosses back to the USA--the 405 in Canada and the 265 in the USA. It was bumper to bumper traffic and no lanes for cyclists or walkers here on this bridge. You were instructed to get behind a lane of cars and to just follow the traffic. More on the bridge experience in the next blog!

My brief sojourn in Canada had been delightful. I had not delved into any deep conversations with other folks as this was a tourist area, with people from all over the world visiting to see those majestic falls. I always enjoy hearing all the different languages of my brothers and sisters. We humans do so enjoy beauty and the Niagara Falls are one of the Natural Wonders of the world.  I am so glad I came here. 

Skirting The Southeastern Shore of Lake Erie

Monday, August 12, 2013, Henry David and I left the Evergreen Lake Campground in Conneaut, Ohio, cycling into town to get coffee at the McDonalds on the edge of town. A few McDonald’s customers came by for the usual questions and well wishes. One gent said that he also loved to travel and he was in town to pick up his son-in-law to drive him to an appointment out of town. Shortly after I crossed the border into Pennsylvania, a few miles out of town, he passed by, son and buddy in the truck, and called out, asking if I needed a push. He noted I hadn’t cycled very far. 

Not very encouraging to mention my slow pace.

Well, he was right. I kept getting off the trike to take photos. AND I took a wrong turn--but only lost about 10-15 minutes on that one. The scenery changed markedly in Pennsylvania. Corn and beans gave way to vineyards and small farms and gardens. The trees are so thick that they run to the edges of everyone’s lawn or garden. If the human residents didn’t continue to manage their property, the trees would take over. Mother Nature in her vigor. I am reminded of the shows that suggest how a city would look in 10, 25, 50, 100, and 500 years if humans became extinct. 

I saw Amish men building a home: a vision of brown pants, suspenders, shade providing hats, beards--healthy and strong and hardworking men--and using electric saws. 

I stopped at a roadside stand and bought peaches. I would have filled my car if I had been driving. This little stand was fantastic. Most of the fruits and veggies were grown by the owner, some of the produce was grown by neighbors, and a small section of produce came from farther away, with the final result being every color and taste you could imagine in a fruit or vegetable was there for sale. I took more photos of the unbelievable colors. Little did I know, then, that roadside stands would become a common sight this time of year throughout the east. Short growing season but when things grow, they GROW!!

The big excitement today was the storm that hit when I reached the east edge of Erie, Pennsylvania. It had been drizzling for at least 30-45 minutes and I had stopped cycling to don my raingear. The rain increased a bit and I reached the edge of Erie and a Country Faire convenience center just as the rain really let loose.  I drank a cup of coffee outside, under the eaves with HD, and watched the rain. Then contacted my resources to see what the weather was going to do for the rest of the day so I could refigure where I was going to go. After some research, I called the Colonial Inn in North East, PN (Yes, the town is called North East, and I bet you can’t guess what part of Pennsylvania this creatively named town is located...).  We discussed a tentative hold on a room.

After a bit, the rain dissipated and I set out again. There were no more downpours, just a drizzle here and a sprinkle there. It took awhile to get through the center of Erie, which appears to be an old industrial and shipping town. In fact, many towns along the great lakes started as port towns which thrived on the shipping industry. Due to the plentiful supply of water, industries and factories also sprouted. So it is odd to go into some of these large, old cities by the lakes and see the crumbling remains of old factories just a few miles from some of the prime property in the states. 

I stayed on hwy 5, or Lake Rd, which is primarily quite rural, with few to no gas stations or grocery stores or coffee shops, and just dotted with homes and an occasional farming or trucking equipment business. I really enjoyed seeing the honor system stands of homegrown produce through the eastern part of Illinois and extending through Pennsylvania and New York. These are small, wood-constructed, shaded stands of 3-5 shelves of produce with a can, box, or jar in which to deposit your money should you take any of the veggies or fruits. 

I pulled into the Colonial Inn around 5 pm and the kind owner gave me a good price as well as a bottle of water and a bottle of Sprite to cheer my evening. The closest store was about 2 miles uphill into town and I had some granola bars, the peaches from the roadside stand, and a chocolate bar, so I stayed in the room and contacted family members, talking way into the night and crawling under the covers about 2:30 am.

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This morning, Tuesday, August 13th, I was so tired. I awakened at 6:30 a.m. and it took til 9 a.m. to get it all together and get out the door of the Colonial Inn. I kept lying back down to nurse a headache borne of lack of sleep. It had stormed during the night and the air was cool and the sky cloudy. I felt a bit grumpy as I took to the road, but soon my spirits lifted with the pleasantly cool air, a mild tailwind, and the trees. The trees and their underbrush in Pennsylvania and New York remind you that Mother Nature is ready to reclaim the land at any time.

Within an hour of departure from North East, I passed into New York. I wasn’t sure if it was really the terrain or the road building practices between the two states, but the roads were not as steep along the lake as they had been in Pennsylvania. Just as in Ohio and Pennsylvania, the lake view was hindered by homes and small farms. However, in New York, there seemed to be more state and county parks, allowing the “regular guy” to get up close and personal with the lake. I like that. I got coffee and water in Barcelona and again in Dunkirk. Then, I stopped in Silver Creek at a grocery store and replenished my groceries. It was going to be party time: grapes, bananas, new york sharp white cheddar cheese, carrots, Doritos, and jalapeno dip. For the special treat: Seagram’s wine coolers: one pina colada and one strawberry daquiri flavored. They are pretty light weight; it was light drinking flavored mineral water!

The road was great along hwy 5 with a nice shoulder and smooth surfaces. HD and I pulled into the Evangola State Park around 5 pm after a pleasant, uneventful day. I had spent the day cycling, singing, thinking of my children and loved ones, and how wonderful it is to be out on the road amidst all this beauty. 

This was also my first night to actually be “next” to Lake Erie. Even now, after a beautiful sunset, I hear the surf. It was a breezy evening, with whitecaps on the water. This is the way to sleep well---with the sound of water, a LOT of water! Not the drip drip of a faucet or the tinkle of a fountain, but the constant, steady sound of moving water as it hits the shore. It’s not the ocean and it is not stormy tonight, so I can’t exactly say that the “surf is pounding”, but it is certainly giving the shore “what for” as the wind picks up.

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Wednesday, August 14th. The big day. Leaving the USA. I admit I was anxious about crossing the border bridge on my trike. I had the cycling maps but they proved to be more confusing than helpful. I had to revert to my iPhone map and the street signs.

I packed up HD and was on the road by 8:30. Nothing extraordinary on the way to Buffalo. Once I hit Buffalo, I followed the cycling maps along the shoreline and then followed street signs and the iPhone to get to the bridge. Cyclists and walkers have a special walkway/path across the bridge. I was loving it! The Peace Bridge crosses the Niagara River close to the mouth of the river where it opens to Lake Erie. It spans the river from Buffalo, New York to Fort Erie, Ontario. It is actually not a huge bridge in length, but it does well in width, sending traffic to and from Canada at a reasonable pace. 

It took most of the day just to get there, after losing myself in Buffalo a few times. When I crossed into Canada, I walked over to the Customs/Border agent and answered the typical questions. Where was I going? How much money did I have? How was I going to pay for things? Where was I staying? How long was I going to be here? 

Then the killer.

“Do you have any personal protection equipment? Gun? Pepper spray?”

Damn! I did. I sadly surrendered my pepper sprays. They had given me a sense of protection, more from wild animals or aggressive dogs than from human perpetrators. People had been kind and generous and helpful, but it had still been nice to have the sprays next to my sleeping bag at night in campgrounds. Especially in those county park primitive sites. 

It made me nervous to see the agent take out the neurotoxin spray and examine the bottle. I was so afraid he would inadvertently spray himself and go limp for 30 minutes. I warned him that it was strong stuff and also had a paint in it, so be very careful. That brought on his first grin. Up to then, he was all business. Well, he stayed business like and gave me a receipt that “acknowledged that I had surrendered my sprays to the Queen for due destruction”. 

Damn. 

Introduction to Canada. The Peace Bridge---with special provisions for the cyclist and the walker. Fantastic!!! The border agent was helpful and kind, though business like and quite serious. He wasn’t hard to look at, either. And it wasn’t the uniform. Or maybe it was. 

Welcome to Canada!

Ohio Travels

On Monday, August 4th, 2013, HD and I crossed into Ohio on hwy 24, the beloved hwy that took us through Indiana with such delight. The goal for the day was Independence Dam State Park, just east of Defiance, Ohio. The highway traffic was picking up and the road was not as nice as in Indiana. Sorry, Ohio. But, I understood: the further east we traveled, the heavier the traffic was bound to become. So, I got off the highway and traveled next to the river on county road 424, which became Baltimore Rd as it approached Defiance. The southwest end of Defiance was “old industrial”, giving the impression that the town would be rather unattractive. But, lo, and behold, as you get into the city itself, you see old brick homes, parks, joggers, people walking their dogs and a quaint downtown area. I continued east until I reached the newer shopping and restaurant district, with all the names you know: Walmart, Walgreens, CVS, McDonalds, Wendys, etc. We had left the old midwestern feel and now we could be in any city in the USA. I stopped at a McDonalds for a drink and to make phone calls. Good thing. The campground had closed and there wasn’t anywhere to camp in 20 miles. So, I settled for a Super 8, which meant I had to backtrack through town and cross the junction of hwys 24 and 15. It was an uneventful night, but I had my Subway salad, so I was a happy camper. Well, I guess I wasn’t camping. But that’s just mincing words.

As I traveled through Ohio, I regularly sent iPhone photos of the sky to my daughter Heather. We had lived here when the kids were little and the sky was usually colored white to a very pale blue. Deep blue skies in Ohio were reserved for the 2 weeks of Indian summer in late September. When we lived in the Columbus area, I found myself waiting for those 2 weeks every year. I thought, “Hey, this is CRAZY!! I’m waiting all year just to have 2 weeks of weather I actually LIKE!”  This said from a southern California girl. 

That is one of many reasons we moved to New Mexico when I graduated from OSU: for the deep blue skies. Heather said she didn’t know what I meant when I had described  “deep blue skies”, until we moved to New Mexico. Now, she and her husband and daughter live in Rio Rancho, in central New Mexico. This area is at a higher elevation, with clear seasons, including plenty of snow in the winter. But the skies, oh, the skies. The clouds roll in, shedding rain or snow, and then they blow away, exposing those sapphire skies once again. So, while in Ohio, Heather and I shared sky photos. I sent her Ohio photos and she sent me New Mexico pics. I must admit, it made me homesick for New Mexico. And for Heather.

On Tuesday, August 6th, HD and I pointed ourselves toward the KOA near Genoa. It was a bit out of the way, taking me farther north than I intended, and there were no stores nearby. But, we made it and I needed to skip a big meal anyway!

On Wednesday, August 7th, I was sent on detours due to road construction and eventually made it to Elmore. From there, I cycled the North Coast Inland Trail to Fremont.  While on that trail, the skies opened and lightning and thunder accompanied the deluge of rain. I was thoroughly soaked but hid under trees as best I could until at least the lightning stopped. I donned my Frogtog jacket but my cycling skorts were so doggone wet I just couldn’t stand the idea of putting on the rain pants on top of them!  When I cycled into Fremont, the rain was dissipating and I went into a McDonalds to get a coffee to warm up. Everyone was staring and I must’ve been a sight, leaving a puddle wherever I stood. LOL!

So, I grabbed the coffee, went into the bathroom and into a stall and removed panties and skorts, wringing them out and then putting them back on. Then, I went to the rather weak hand driers and partially dried my skorts, while wearing them, for about 3 minutes, rotating, lifting skirt to get the bottoms, etc. If anyone had walked in, they probably would have been embarassed. Or I guess that would have been me.  At least I wasn’t dripping anymore and no one stared, much, when I went back into the restaurant to drink my coffee!

Then, it was on to Sandusky via county roads. HD and I rolled into Jean Nyman’s neighborhood about 6:15 pm. She was outside, camera in hand, with her bichon frise dog Lacey leaping at her feet. Jean took welcome photos of HD and I coming down her street and onto her driveway. This gracious, generous woman rolled out the red carpet. She put a welcome basket of goodies on the guest room bed in a big bowl: green grapes, dark red cherries (my favorite!!), granola bars, an apple, and a container of oatmeal. Jean has followed this blog from the beginning and has sent encouraging words on a regular basis. People like Jean are one in a million.

We talked for awhile and then she took me on a driving trip around Sandusky, including to the Erie shore, and then treated me to dinner. This was an interesting day, full of surprises along the way.

I spent the next day in Sandusky, writing in the afternoon in a nearby Starbucks. Jean picked me up in the late afternoon and we went to her son and daughter-in-law’s home in the early evening for a vegan dinner. There I met Timothy, her son, and Josiah, her grandson. Annessia had to work that night, but Josiah showed me photos of his gorgeous mother. The next best thing to meeting her.

Jean’ story. You know, you can’t do justice to someone’s life in a few paragraphs. By necessity, you leave out many little stories and vignette’s that are precious and memorable. But, each of these blogs is already like a small book. I ask forgiveness and tolerance from those of whom I write. 

So, Jean was married once, for about 8 years. It was a rocky marriage and she never wanted to repeat it. The marriage thing. Well, almost never. She was engaged briefly until she “regained her senses” and changed her mind. It has to be the right one, you know. Not just marriage for marriage’s sake. 

Jean has had her share of traumas and tragedies. I guess we all have. She gave her first daughter up for adoption. Her daughter is now grown and looked up her biological mother, Jean, and now they are great friends. Happy ending there. In fact, her daughter is true sister to Jean’s other 2 children--Michelle and Timothy. Triple happy ending. 

A few years ago, Jean’s father passed away. Her mother had died some time before then. Her dad had worked for the railroad all his life, so Jean grew up near trains. She travels by train to Minnesota to see her daughter Michelle every Christmas. In fact, for almost all of her long distance traveling, she goes by train. 

She told a story about one of her Christmas trips on the train. She was walking through the “Observation” car, where you can sit and hang out and watch the world go by. She saw a young man playing the guitar with a lady friend singing some folk songs. She asked if he could play some Christmas carols. He agreed and pretty soon, the car filled with people who wanted to join in singing beloved Christmas favorites. There were some fellow Amish train customers who passed out hymnal sheets of old gospel favorites and soon everyone switched gears and sang gospel tunes. Jean laughs when telling the story as the guitarrist didn’t know all of the tunes but tried to follow the singing crowd as best he could. When he couldn’t follow, the group just sang acapella. It was a good time.

Jean says her passion is helping others. When her died died, she inherited a good sum of money. She bought her home in Sandusky, moving from New Mexico, so she could be near her grandson Josiah. Jean helped her children with their bills with most of the rest of the money and lost the remainder when the market crashed and her investments went under. She has some physical ailments, making work a bit difficult, but she is considering getting some part time work to help ends meet. 

Jean loves to connect with people and make friends. She gets on Facebook a lot and keeps track of her circle of friends. She is a friendly neighbor and said it took a few years to get to know the people on her block. She had a pickup truck and offered it to all the neighbors should they need to use it for hauling, etc. They were very surprised by the offer. Jean said that the locals go out in the summer but in the winter months, no one is seen outside in their neighborhoods---they go into hiding, snow or no snow. This was a change for Jean, who loves to talk to people and make friends. It took 6 months of steady patience to develop a friendship with her neighbor, Kathy, who is now her best friend in Sandusky. But Jean wouldn’t give up. She offers herself and her resources to friend and stranger alike. 

I can attest to that. I “met” Jean through this cycling trip as she is a friend of a former patient who lives in Carlsbad. Jean heard about me and starting following my blog and then sending me some emails. What a precious person. 

Jean misses New Mexico, especially Ruidoso. Her “bestest friend” in the world lives there---Michelle(?). When Jean lived in Ruidoso, she worked 3 jobs. She says she speaks up if she sees unfairness in the work place and this has cost her a few jobs. I guess you could say she is a whistleblower of sorts.

I slept for about 9 hours that first night at Jean’s house, as I had been feeling a bit “off” for a few days. It was a healing rest and I awakened refreshed---good enough to do my regular exercises. In the early afternoon, Jean dropped me off at Starbucks to drink coffee, write, and take care of “stuff”. That night, we went to her son Timothy’s house for a home cooked vegan meal. It was so doggone good, I ate two servings of taco salad and then could barely move. 

Timothy and his wife Annessia teach ballroom dance at The Black Tie Dance Studio. After dinner, Timothy showed us photos and a few dance videos of competition dances with students. So fascinating. He moves with the grace of a cat---light on his feet and with such agility! Tim’s passion is dance.  He did not take lessons as a child but came to this profession as an adult. He was trying to figure out what to do with his life when someone invited him to a dance class. After that first class, he was hooked. He said he did nothing but dance for 5 weeks straight and became a certified instructor! I didn’t think it was possible to accomplish something like that so fast, but he was passionate about it. And still is. Jean used to dance several times a week, so perhaps dancing is in the blood. Timothy has been teaching for several years and he and his students have won several competition awards. He met his lovely wife on the dance floor. And they are still dancing, years later. 

And Josiah! Their son. What a handsome boy. At 13, he has delicate features and big hazel eyes. He is friendly, articulate, enthusiastic, and well-adjusted. He loves to dance (go figure!), and I was treated to a video of one of his first dances at about age 4. Josiah loves dance, art, swimming, and his dad’s cooking. Like most kids his age, he also likes movies and video games. 

Josiah is the apple of Jean’s eye.  He has his own room at her house and Jean says that she usually has the joy of his company every other weekend. They watch movies and play games and laugh together. 

On Friday, August 8th, HD and I bade Jean a fond farewell and we headed toward Cleveland. At Huron, I was able to reconnect with the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier maps. The majority of the day’s ride was on hwy 6 along the Ohio Coastal Route, next to Lake Erie. Private homes occupy most of the shoreline, but occasional parks as well as breaks between the houses provided glimpses of this great lake. It is so cool to see any of the Great Lakes and see no shoreline on the opposite side---it feels like you are standing at the seaside, with only ripple waves at the shore. I kept wanting to see dolphins and whales, but no go. Fresh water lakes. Astounding size.

At a park in Avon Lake, I met 4 lady cyclists, all about my age or a few years younger. They cycle regularly together and have done a few “century rides” together. A century ride is an organized 100 mile ride. It is often for a fundraiser and gives passionate riders a safe and fun venue to push themselves for a long, serious ride, usually done in one day.  Some of these ladies were inspired to perhaps do some longer distance rides over several days and they talked about cycling around the entire lake next year. This is close to 600 miles! Wahooo! 

The passions of these accomplished, bright ladies?

1. Travel and teaching. This little blonde woman used to take folks on European trips. The economy and the internet cut into that business. Now she teaches. She loves both directions---teaching others and traveling. Nice when you can combine them.
2.   Writing. One talented woman has written several published essays that she wrote about the journey she took with her adopted daughter to meet her birth mother. She is now working on a blog which is really another series of essays chronicling her life and thoughts. This is her passion.
3. Sara: Cycling, travel, and being a lawyer. This tiny woman was a little dynamo and a force to be reckoned with! 

           (Sorry, Dad, about the preposition rule. It just sounds better!)

1. Life and everything about it. Cycling. Adventure. This effervescent petite woman was credited with being the heart of the group. When things are tough, she finds the good things. If it’s raining and the road is hard, she says, “Wow! Look at the beautiful red barn! Isn’t that something?”

After sharing high 5’s for ladies on bikes, we parted. They took off at a great speed while I mosied out of the parking lot, adjusting my packs as they occasionally shift just enough to rub a back tire.

As I approached Cleveland, I saw no nearby campground offerings so looked up nearby motels on the ole iPhone and found a Super 8. So, here I write.

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Well, I left the Super 8 this morning at 9:15, a later start than I had planned. I didn’t get through Cleveland til about 1 pm. But what a city. Cleveland was extablished in 1796---that’s pretty old, for US city standards! The roads I followed, via the Adventure Cycling maps, meandered through old sections of town with those gorgeous ornate brick buildings, which are now in the historic district. I think that they might be quite reasonably priced, as the area around looked in need of some funding. There is a bikeway skirting the lake for several miles, although the roads, including the bikeway, definitely need repair. The parks at the lake in Cleveland were phenomenal---museums, art, music, the whole shebang. The people were friendly---waving, making fun comments, and wishing me well. 

I stopped at a small farmers’ market near a quaint, old section of town and met Victoria Carter. This vibrant woman practically scooped me up in a big hug. She was selling fair trade items from all over the world and I purchased a small woven scarf which was similar to a doo-rag but used elastic under the hair, like a headband. Victoria is disabled but she does own a bike that she tries to use from time to time. She invites cyclists to her own home for a meal and a bed, and she offered that to me as well. She has been to several countries and speaks English, Spanish, and Dutch. The farmers’ market was held in the Presbyterian Church parking lot---services are in Spanish.  Victoria’s passions are God first, then people. She adores traveling, singing, meeting people, and helping others. She gave me a tiny “worry doll”, but I told her it will be my “gratitude doll” and I named it Victoria. Whenever I see my little Victoria doll, I will be grateful for all the blessings in my life and I will think of her. 

The cycling has now become quite urban and I only made about 40-45 miles today through stop and go traffic, potholed roads, and frequent map checks. I cycled next to Lake Erie but there are homes all along the lake, so you only get glimpses of the lake from time to time. I did not make it as far as Geneva, where the campground was located, but checked into a Studio 6 in Mentor, Ohio. I had so hoped to be camping tonight! I thought it was a Motel 6 offshoot because the “6” is the same shape and design as for the Motel “6”. The first room I was given was devoid of sheets, pillows, and linen of any kind. While I stood in the room, a flea jumped on my arm. I decided to sit on the floor to see if there might be a bug problem---it smelled like the floor had just been shampooed and I had my suspicions as to why it not only smelled like shampoo covering smells of other sorts but also why there were absolutely no linen anywhere. Within a few minutes, I had another jumpy visitor on my leg, so I called the front desk and I got a different room. I think this one is ok. 

I think it must be terribly hard to run a motel or a restaurant. You can make more money with a motel I bet, but each room offers its own disaster potential. And making money in a restaurant would be very hard, unless it is cheap “fast food”. 

What a night. I also deleted iCloud from my iPhone and with it went my contacts! Yikes! The iCloud had been using up all my storage so I had spent the last several days deleting text messages and iPhone apps. Tonight I said to myself, “This is ridiculous!” So, I deleted the iCloud so I could have some of my apps back and so the phone camera would work again. (Yes, I moved photos to my computer). Now, it feels like I have an empty phone. 

But it is all ok! I have friends and family whom I love and adore. I meet the most wonderful people on the road and I ride along the road with some of the silliest grins on my face as I look in awe at some of the crazy beautiful things out there. What’s a few fleas and the mechanics of adding phone numbers and addresses back to my electronics? And wet clothes from rainshowers? It is nothing but a speck. Tinier than a speck. Humans get aggravated too easily. Imagine being a dog and having a hundred little fleas running through your fur. Getting itchy yet? Hahaha!

On Sunday, August 11th, I headed out from Studio 6, on highway 20. It was no longer a big, country highway, but more like a city road with stop lights, traffic, etc. I was definitely moving east into a more populated part of the country. Still, the road between actual towns was front street to home after home. Along the highway, the homes are sprawling and the yards are much larger than in town. The lure of the stores in the towns called to me and I stopped and picked up groceries and another tank top in the Painesville, Ohio Target.

Stopping at a McDonalds along the way to Conneaut, I met Jay, a retired gent who was filled with questions about HD. He loves to travel and read and spends a good amount of time doing just that. 

That day, I also met a lady at a CVS in Mentor. She was a very thin woman with big eyes and a welcoming smile. She showed me how to use the CVS card for savings and deals, going out of her way to take me to an electronic machine to pull out coupons by scanning my card. I wish I knew this woman’s name. She had a cancerous tumor in her vocal chords one year ago. It was surgically removed, successfully. But the surgeon did not think she would be able to speak with enough volume to really be understood. This is a shame, because this lady’s passion is singing and she is a member in a folk country band. 

Not only did she determine to speak again, but also to sing. She is an active part of the band again. 

During the time of her recovery from surgery, she took care of her mother, who died later of cancer.  She used to work in a medical facility in management but had to quit to take care of her mother as well as recover from her own surgery. Now, after only 6 months at CVS, she is a supervisor. She is indomitable. And an inspiration.

When I get tired on the road and my legs are aching and I get shooting pain in my kneecaps and I am uncertain of where I will spend the night, I start to feel a bit “whiney”. Then, I remember the people whom I have met: their stories of courage and hope and how they have overcome some of the most difficult obstacles and even tragedies. It reminds me to be grateful and that my little complaints are nothing. It is so much more glorious to even be alive. 

I had a wonderful moment on hwy 20 not far from Ashtabula, Ohio. I was singing along with my iPod, passing homes with lovely manicured lawns, when I saw a man kneeling on the ground, hovering over something near his front door. What is that? I wondered. I slowed down and I saw that he was kneeling over a person, who was lying on the ground. I yelled to him, “Are you ok? Do you need help?”  He looked up and worriedly answered, “She fell down!”

So HD did a quick turn and I leapt off the cycle and ran up to them. His wife (?) was lying face-up on the ground, quite alert and awake. She and her husband had been moving a piece of furniture out of the house and she tripped down the step and went sailing, landing on her right side and hurting the shoulder. I told her I was a physical therapist and asked if she minded if I took a look. I checked out the shoulder---no open wounds or open fracture. Active movement was sharply painful but the shoulder was intact in the socket and she did not have pain with tapping the humeral head. She refused to call an ambulance, stating she just wanted to get up and go in their car. Steady, strong heart rate and her temperature normal to the touch. I asked the man to bring me a towel and I fashioned a sling while we tied it tight over the shoulder with a ribbon. I helped her to stand with the assistance of a kitchen chair. She was smiling, though quite sore from the fall, and agreed to go to the hospital for x-rays. That made me a happy camper. 

You never know what surprises lie around the next corner.

HD and I pulled in to the Evergreen Lake Park Campground and RV sales in the evening. I camped in my tent in the primitive tent area, which is a huge grassy aread surrounded on 3 sides by trees. I showered with warm water, partially charged the phone, did my exercises, and ate some of the groceries I had picked up at the Target store. 

This was my last night in Ohio. The next morning, I cycled back into Conneaut and stopped at the McDonalds for coffee, checked the maps, and headed out of town and out of Ohio.

Something I think is funny about Americans. We try to make everything “our own”. This includes land, resources, and language. I guess that is no different than any other people in any other country. Ohioans have a very interesting way to make language their own. They do this by giving names of towns their very own pronunciation. This tends to be by shortening the word and putting the emphasis on the first syllable. 

In Texas, they talk slower and draw out the words, making a one syllable word into two. Like "back" becomes "Bay-ack". Or get lazy and take 3 words to make one. "Jeet?" means "Did you eat?" That's an old redneck joke popularized by comedians like Jeff Foxworthy. 

So, in Ohio:

“Lancaster” is pronounced “Lankster”.  

“Newark” is pronounced “Nerk”. In fact, when I lived near Newark, Ohio, I met a young man wearing a t-shirt poking fun at this very fact--the t-shirt was emblazoned with, “Hi! I’m from Nerk, Ahia”.   Now, if you say the long “i” in “Hi” and “I” as a melding of the long “i” sound with the short “a” sound (remember phonics?), then you will say it like an Ohioan.

“Conneaut” should be pronounced “Kono” but, in Ohio, it is pronounced “Connie-ott”. That one kills me! LOL!

“Huron” is “Hyearn” when said fast--one syllable. It is “Hurine” when pronounced slower, like “Urine” with an h in front. 

And if you live in Ohio, you really live in “Ahia”.

Just so you know. 

Everywhere I went, I asked people how to pronounce the name of their their town, if it was not Cleveland or Sandusky, that is. 

But, it is a beautiful green state with Lake Erie as a border. It has the rich heritage of Cleveland, Cedar Point Amusement Park, woods, hills, agriculture, and a rich heritage. Hey, I went to college in Columbus! I was even highly employable after that! You gotta love it! And Indian Summer really is spectacular.

Indiana Hospitality

For me, Indiana was all about the people. Well, wait a minute. The scenery was lovely too----more trees than Iowa for sure, and certainly on par with Illinois. There were plenty of corn and bean fields, of course. The roads? FANTASTIC!  My entire route was on hwy 24. Granted, part of that was on the old hwy 24, which was quiet and peaceful, but at least half of the trip was on the new hwy, with its large luxurious expansive shoulders! Lovely. 

HD and I entered Indiana on August 2nd, 2013. The weather suggested storms and I was tired anyway, so instead of adding another 10 miles to get to Indiana Beach, a huge amusement park with a campground next to it, I stopped in Monticello and booked a room at the Monticello Inn, on the west end of town. I spent the evening with Maggie and Vince O’Neal and their two youngest children, Kathleen and Carolyn. Maggie is Peter’s sister and it was a golden opportunity to meet them, as they live only 15 miles or so from Monticello.

I think I mentioned Peter before.

Anyway, Kathleen, an exuberant teenager, was quite thrilled with HD and she asked to take a spin around the parking lot. So, Vince and I brought HD back outside from the motel room and Kathleen cycled around and around---I think she liked him! Then, she insisted that the rest of the family take a turn. So, HD got to share his special skills and received ample compliments. 

We went to The Scoreboard for pizza and man, oh, man, was it good! Being teenagers, Kathleen and Carolyn had their particular “flavahs”---Kathleen wanted pepperoni and Carolyn wanted only cheese. So, 20 minutes later, 2 steaming hot pizzas were served and I must admit I ate my share of pizza smothered in gooey, hot cheese. Yum!

A little about the romance of Maggie and Vince. Maggie was married once before and she had 3 children. She had been a single mom for awhile and her friends were bugging her to date. A girlfriend set her up on a blind date with Vince. They went to dinner and, Voila!-- the romance began. 

He was an avid cyclist, so, instead of an engagement ring, he gave her a bicycle! The kids call it “the engagement bike”. He is from a big family, so the fact that she had 3 children was not a problem. In fact, after they got married, they started the enjoyable task of adding to the family and Vince and Maggie had 3 more children. Vince is “Dad” to all six of them. 

Maggie is a home health nurse and I enjoyed talking shop with her for a few minutes. She appears to be a woman in charge. I like that. She enjoys her works, enjoys her patients, loves her children, and loves to read. She has a sweet, bright smile and that reminds me of Peter. Perfect.

Vince says he loves “to run”. He used to cycle quite a bit but, once the babies came, he became a bit busy to go on long cycling treks. Now he coaches cross country at Carolyn’s middle school. So, he really does love running.

Kathleen loves music and plays the piano and guitar.  She says she can spend hours at a time just listening to her favorite music. 

Carolyn says she loves music, friends, going to summer camp, and giving to others. She showed me her necklace: it has a key pendant with the word “Faith” engraved in the center. When she meets a person who needs faith, she will give him or her that necklace. Carolyn is bright and energetic and is comfortable with adults and kids alike.

Kathleen says that her grandmother gave her some colorful scarves and she has also given them away when someone expressed appreciation for them. In fact, Kathleen gave me a “good luck penny” to help keep me safe. Whatever these parents are doing, they are doing a good job to raise such generous and conscientious daughters. 

I met Johnny and Rob at a little convenience store on the first day. They were on their way to Sturgis for the annual bike gathering. These 2 buddies were riding their motorcycles and had reserved 3 weeks for the trip. Their girlfriends were flying into Rapid City (memories!) and were going to join them for the festivities. Johnny and Rob have enjoyed the Sturgis event numerous times but they don’t do it every year. They both work in construction and they were very interested in Henry David and how he is designed. They both have a passion for the open road and travel. 

On the 2nd day, I rode old hwy 24 to Wabash, Indiana. The road was quiet, winding, and lined with trees. It was a long but relaxing day of cycling. I believe it was in Logansport (maybe in Peru?) that I pulled over to check out the local Farmer’s Market. There, I met Al and Sue Buttice of “Buttice Vegetables”. They were very excited about the cycling trip and plied me with fresh baked zuccini bread for the road. 

Al’s passion is growing things. He started gardening when he was a little boy. He said that, at age 6, he was given the job of harvesting the peas from the garden. Dad was not pleased, telling him he had picked them incorrectly. I didn’t ask him, then, how to pick peas correctly, so I looked it up online and watched a short video. The gardener uses a small knife to cut the pea stem, saying you must leave the calyx intact. Anyway, little Al probably pulled the pea pod off the calyx. That’s my guess. Or picked some at the wrong stage of ripening? Don’t know for sure. Regardless, Al was taught a lesson he has never forgotten. Dad sent him to the shed where he had to eat the whole bucketful of peas. So, he has never forgotten how to harvest correctly. The gardening has been his passion. And he still likes peas!

For those of you who hate peas (sister Shannon!), recognize that if you eat the peas within a few hours of harvest, they will be sweet and tasty. After only 4 hours, they turn starchy.  So, you might consider trying peas that you grow yourself and eat them right there in the garden! When I was a young woman, I had a big garden and I was showing my sister around the veggies. I pulled off some peas from the vine and opened the pod, popping out the sweetest, most succulent peas imaginable. I tried to talk her into tasting them, but she refused. 

Shannon hates peas. Point blank. It’s not negotiable. 

Sue Buttice works in the garden as well. She also bakes some mighty fine zuccini bread---I can attest to that! Her personal passion is traveling and meeting people. She enjoys the farmers’ market as she certainly gets to meet people. But, and here she elbows her husband, she doesn’t do much travel because they can’t leave the garden! 

I understand the dilemma, Sue. Sometimes I yearn for an agrarian life. I want a big old farmhouse, 2 paint horses, chickens, goats, dogs, cats, orchards, a small lake, and a huge garden. But then, I couldn’t leave because the animals can’t be left alone---who would feed them? Who would take care of the garden? And, since I love to travel, I guess that I can’t have it all. 

But, I want it all!

HD and I arrived in Wabash in the early evenining. I checked into the Knights Inn and then walked a few blocks to Point Penguin. This is a fast food joint I have seen in various spots along the way in Indiana. At the Wabash Point Penguin, I met Carla, the manager, and Hayden, her protege.

Carla has worked for Point Penguin for about 17 years. She has been sent to 2 or 3 different spots to get the joints working efficiently as she is a knowledgeable, hard working, tireless woman with an attention to detail. She lives in Wabash and now has the pleasure of working close to home. She knows most of the locals and, while I was visiting with her, folks popped in through the drive-thru, calling out her name to say hello. Carla has taught many young people the Point Penguin trade. In fact, her first son married the girl whose job Carla replaced so they could get married. Her 2nd son worked at the popular restaurant as well.  

Carla is a single woman, divorced after her 2 sons were born. She had a serious romance some years ago, but her boyfriend wanted marriage and kids and she had had her tubes tied by then. So Carla says they had an amicable split. Her former boyfriend then fell in love and married and had 3 kids. Now she has been working with his youngest, Hayden, for the last 2 1/2 years at the restaurant!  He wants to follow in her shoes. Isn’t life so funny?  She couldn’t have more children, but the son of her former boyfriend is like her own! We are all connected!

Carla is a vey slim, energetic ball of fire who loves people. Passions: people, giving good service, organized work flow, seeing things move smoothly. She likes to train the new ones coming in. 

Hayden is a handsome young man with an open, friendly, and talkative manner. He is heading for college and wants to major in restaurant and food management. He would like to work again for Carla during one of his internships. 

On Sunday morning, August 4th, I cycled to the McDonalds to meet some old friends, who live in Michigan. Elina Simonen is a former colleague---I worked with her at Alamogordo Physical Therapy in the 1990’s. Later, when I moved to Carlsbad, after a 2 year period in Santa Barbara, California. Lo and behold, Elina and her family were my virtual neighbors, as they had moved to Artesia, 35 miles from Carlsbad. We both worked for sister companies, with the mother ship in Alamogordo. So, Elina and I go back a ways.

So...Elina, Heikki, and Riikka Simonen met me at the Wabash McDonald’s at 9 am. Elina hasn’t changed a bit. She is now about 51 but looks like she did 20 years ago: very pretty woman who is whipcord slender and with well defined muscles, Elina still has the figure of a young athlete. I can’t believe her children are in their 20’s. How does time pass by so fast? Riikka, Elina and Heikki’s daughter, is a gorgeous young blonde with a peaches and cream complexion and eyes that turn up at the ends, like a mysterious feline. Riikka is a delightful young lady, effervescent, talkative, and open. Heikki is Elina’s wonderful husband. He has been a trucker for decades and knows the USA roads as if he has a photographic memory. He may have just that! He gave us advice on the roads to consider on the trip to Fort Wayne. We decided on following the primary highway 24, with an occasional detour onto the business routes if we should want to go into a town. 

Suffice it to say that I thoroughly enjoyed having Elina and Riikka cycle with me.  It was fun catching up on news with Elina and getting to know Riikka for the first time. I had met Riikka as a child, but she is now an accomplished young woman. She was always friendly, but now she has the grace and intelligence of a world traveler. She really has been all over---did she say 18 countries so far? 

Riikka enjoys travel and art. She was born in Finland but went to school in the USA, primarily in New Mexico and Michigan, with a few years back in Finland. She has done a number of exchange programs all over Europe. She has a degree in fine arts and teaches art to both children and adults in Michigan, where she lives. She does not plan to stay there; this little woman wants to go, go, go. She has a passion for visiting other countries and makes friends in 2 seconds flat. Riikka is fascinated with studying cultures and how they express their art. She is a good teacher and I really enjoyed our time together, talking about art, culture, history, language, and travel.

Riikka gets some of her artisitic talent from her mom, although Elina credits aunts, uncles, and grandparents more than she credits herself.  One of Elina’s passions is scrapbooking. Part of this is due to her utter devotion to family and friends and her attention to recording the memorable and precious moments of life. The other part is due to her natural eye for balance and theme. Elina says she does not sit and carefully think out the patterning and positioning of the photos and design, as if this means she is not “artistic”. Seeing her work in the past, I think this means that she is naturally gifted. She doesn’t have to struggle and stress over it, but immediately sees the potential patterns and the complementary colors and brings them together for an attractive, cohesive theme. I am personally impressed by gifted scrapbookers. It is now a true art form.

Elina is open and direct and has a fantastic sense of humor. She is quite brilliant and is one of the most balanced people I know. She loves her work as a physical therapist, but recognizes the need for family time and she has always been able to draw the line between career needs and the more important family needs. She is not only a devoted mother, but she is a true friend. She keeps track of coworkers and draws us together. She is like the glue, holding friends together. She cares enough to maintain contact and to reach out to others. 

Heikki, Elina’s husband, is also open and friendly. He maintains his close friendships but also relishes his solitary time in the truck, traveling across the country.  He misses home and enjoys the local runs most, so he can be with his family. He and Elina hope that, some day, if Elina should “retire”, she could join him in the truck and they could travel together. Eventually, they may move back to Finland, but it will depend on where their children live. Riikka will likely continue to travel. But their son, Iirro, appears to prefer the USA---so far. 

On our cycling day to Fort Wayne, Heikki kept an eye on us in the car, traveling ahead and sending messages to Elina about the road, Fort Wayne, and the campground where we were headed. At the end of our trip, Heikki was there to greet us with a big smile and words of congratulations. He then treated us to dinner at Olive Garden where I stuffed myself with salad and bread. Then he painstakingly loaded up the bicycles of the two women in his life and cheerfully took the driver’s seat for the 3 hour drive home. He is a very special man. He is consistently friendly and helpful and supportive and I really like that man.

As they drove off, I settled into my tent at the Johnny Appleseed Campground in Fort Wayne. It had been a wonderful day and the company of these friends made this one of my favorite cycling days. It does get a little lonely out there, but not this day. No, not this day. It meant so much to have their loving company.

On the morning of August 5th, I packed up HD and we headed first for the Starbucks in a little shopping center on the corner of State and Coliseum. I ordered blonde roast and settled in to pull up maps on the internet on my MacBook Air. Over the next 2 1/2 hours, I talked to several of the delightful staff members, other customers, and the Little Caesar’s manager from the store next door who had come in for coffee. You want to know about Indiana hospitality? The staff at Starbucks are always the most friendly---that is a hallmark quality of Starbucks. But these young folks were exceptional. They saw Henry David as I cycled up to the store and pretty soon the questions were flying. Staff came by to offer pieces of pumpkin bread, white mocha coffee, and smiles. I took the bread samples but declined the sweet coffee, although “TJ”, one of the barristas, covered my blonde roast refill. Here are a few of the conversations that were shared this special morning.

Lisa is a petite brunette with the biggest, bluest eyes you ever saw. She has a quiet manner but she is friendly and her eyes whisper “hope”. She has an inner strength and courage that could be overlooked by the unobservant, but you see it and hear it as soon as she speaks. She came up to my table and offered me her yard to camp. As I was heading out of town, I didn’t need a place for that night in Fort Wayne, but the offer was touching and generous. She told me about a book called The Last American Man by Elizabeth Gilbert. It is a true story about a man who left the city and went out to the Appalachian wilderness to live “naturally”.  One of the things in the book that meant a lot to Lisa was that this young man said we live in a box, work in a box, think in a box, and are stuck in that box. Perhaps as a way to break free from the “boxed life” herself, Lisa and her husband are taking a driving vacation to California. They don’t have an exact plan in mind, they just want to GO. She is a passionate artist and believes that art is perceived differently by everyone, but the important thing is that the artist puts a bit of his or her soul into it. This makes art worthwhile to view and experience.  

Methinks that Lisa is jumping onto, over, and around the box but is not stuck inside it. She has vision. Some people think that having “vision” means having a life planned out and then working diligently for it to come true. That may be the case for some visions. But a person can be a visionary who wakes up in the morning and sees the beauty in the sunrise; feels the crisp air filling the lungs; savours the taste of the butter stuck in the holes in a bagel; relishes the burst of flavor from a bite of a sweet, vine ripened strawberry; luxuriates in the soft feel of an old t-shirt, and dances through the day to the music in her head---whether she be working at a computer in an office, concocting delights in a Starbucks, teaching children how to read or paint, building roads, and even working in a factory or an assembly line. It is really all about ATTITUDE. It is lovely to travel and to be out in nature. I think every one would benefit from a regular sojourn to the trees or the ocean or the mountains or the desert or to another country. But, in the day to day meandering of our lives, we can step out of the box by simply looking IN and seeing the miracle of just being alive. We let our daily concerns consume us. Being consumed---that, to me, is being stuck in a box. 

Getting out of the box is a vision or goal that each individual can only discover on a deeply personal level. And we need to do it every day. Climb out of the box every day, just like you get out of bed. 

Barbara Nord is a pretty grandma who sat next to me. I say “grandma” but she is actually “mom” to several grandchildren. She had her own set of children and now has actually adopted several of her grandchildren. A few of the children are considered “special needs” kids, whether the diagnosis be Down’s Syndrome or some other medical label. Barb’s passion is the children. She has spent her entire adult life raising kids and said that she did not think she would still be doing it now that she is retirement age, but that is ok and she loves it. She goes to Starbucks for a brief break from time to time, and then befriends the people she meets. She is one of those who DOES relish the quiet moment, the taste of coffee on her tongue, the fresh air. She has become a master gardener and this is something else she does for herself. This is another of her passions. Digging in the dirt and bringing forth color. Sounds like another artist!

I met Lisa when I went outside to pack up and make my Fort Wayne exodus. She is a an effervescent blonde with bright hazel eyes, about my age, who learned to ride a bike only 3 years ago. Well, this lady has taken on cycling with a passion. She rode about 7000 miles last year!! And she doesn’t toodle around town. She cycles FAST! She said she must have an angel on her shoulder because she is amazed she is still alive. A few weeks ago, she was speeding, and I mean SPEEDING, down the highway on her cycle. She came up on a dump truck near a corner and said she did not slow down and look to make sure there wasn’t anyone at the corner. She zipped around the blind side of the truck at 25 mph, which is pretty darn fast on a bicycle, and right in front of her there was a car--stopped at the highway intersection. Lisa pulled on the brakes, leaned over to the right to turn out of the way, and the right pedal hit the ground. The momentum caused her to flip completely over, tail over head, and she landed on the ground behind the car on both wheels, still pedaling. Like Evil Knievel! She didn’t stop to think but rode like the devil herself the last 6 miles to get home. Her heart didn’t stop pounding for the rest of the day. But, about an hour after she got home, the fear turned into euphoria and she said, “WOW! I wanna do that again!”  

So, her passion? Cycling. And anything that can bring the adrenaline rush like a great adventure, pushing herself, and succeeding. 

Then, there was Ken. He is the Little Caesar’s manager, I believe. He brought me a bag of fresh, hot, right-out-of-the-oven bread sticks, smothered in butter and that garlic parmesan stuff they use. I held the bag up to my face and sniffed deeply. Repeatedly. Sometimes the smell is enough!

After talking to Lisa (?), I went into the Little Caesar’s to tell Ken thank you and to take his photo. I asked him about his passions. He said his passion was helping teens to get through those tough years. He then told me the story. 

Ken was an active, dedicated youth pastor for over a decade. He worked extensively with teenagers, both through the religious setting but also in secular settings as well. He said that his first message to young people is just that he cares about them and wants to listen to their own stories. He says he offers counsel, but not always religious counsel. First and foremost, he wants them to know that he just cares about them personally. If they want spiritual guidance, he is very happy and willing to do that. But that is not his push. 

He had 4 children and thought things were going well in life, but his wife had an affair and wanted a divorce. It took a few years to go through, because he wanted to work it out, but she did not. They have joint custody and he adores the kids. 

Now, after a few years divorced, he has met someone from his home town, Grand Rapids. “She thinks I’m the greatest!” he says, in amazement. “I am so in love with her!” He plans to make his way to Grand Rapids and begin a new life with the gal of his dreams. They want to do some sort of missions work. He took a phone photo of himself and I, and then texted it right away to his lady love. What a nice team.

This is an amazing thing: People from all walks of life, reaching out to touch one another. We are Connected.

Meeting the friendly folks at the Starbucks in Fort Wayne was a wonderful way to end my last day in Indiana. The roads had been wonderful and the people welcoming in every way. I have only good memories of this state. Good job, Indiana!

Illinois Homecoming

On Tuesday, July 23rd, 2013, Henry David and I crossed the Mississippi River from Iowa and into Illinois. I wanted to get off the cycle and kiss the ground. Why? Because, for the first several miles on Hwy 20, in the grand state of Illinois, there was an ample shoulder. Yay! Room for HD and I!

This was also my second homecoming on the trip. I was born in Champaign, Illinois and, at the age of 3 1/2, moved to Chicago until the summer before 1st grade. Our family then moved to southern California. I have always felt I have two home states: Illinois--land of my birth. And California---land of my upbringing and passion. On this trek, I entered California as my first homecoming. On July 23rd, I felt a 2nd homecoming as I entered Illinois. My third homecoming will be in New Mexico, as I return to my current “home”.   In reality, “Home” tends to be wherever I park for the night...

That is, unless I absolutely fall in love with a state such as North or South Carolina. I am an ocean lover and looking forward to the Atlantic coast experience. Maybe a future home by the ocean will be calling.

Northern Illinois is breathtakingly beautiful. I saw road signs in the northern Illinois country warning that it was a punishable crime to cut down any trees without legal permission. The “Heart of Illinois” road signs are everywhere. The northern part of the state is hilly--as note-worthy as Montana. HD and I cycled into the quaint town of Galena in the mid afternoon. Well, actually, we didn’t go far into the town, but the western edge, where we happily encountered The Palace Campground, the oldest campground in Illinois, est 1848. I found myself bemusedly wondering why anyone needed to go camping in the 1800’s!! But, I imagine that the need to find established campgrounds was very importantant to the ladies crossing on horse or in wagons. Not everyone could afford a motel room, if one was even available. And the security of a campground has quite an allure. As well I know. 

So, I camped on a patch of grass, walked next door to the WalMart (NOT built in 1848!) and picked up a paperback book. I did my exercises, charged my phone in the bathroom, and read myself to sleep that night. Great day! I felt like I was home.

On Wednesday, July 24th, I really was unsure how to get to the next place to camp---Mount Carroll. I got a very late start, after consulting my internet maps while drinking coffee at McDonalds. I also called the IDOT--Illinois Department of Transportation. They have a department that deals specifically with cycling. The maps advised cycling on a lonely county road, but it looked like there was no chance of a shoulder, once again, plus blind hills. So, I took the long way around, adding about 10 miles to the day, and stayed on hwy 20. Part of hwy 20 was fantastic, but the other half, or more, was, again, sans shoulder. The traffic was light enough that the trip was fine: I had to pull into the gravel numerous times and then had to lift HD’s front end back onto the road, or walk him up a hill or around a corner. But I was happy to be in Illinois. So who cares about the extra work?

After Iowa, this was a piece of red velvet cake.

I meandered through the hills on hwy 20, and reached the town of Elizabeth for Casey’s famous coffee. In the parking lot---this seems to be where I meet the most fascinating people!!--I met Rich Pardue. He had passed me earlier in the day, when he was heading west. He called his administrative assistant and told her he saw an “incumbent trike” and asked her to look them up and see where he could get one. She responded that she found one on the ‘net for $249. He said that he didn’t “want a granny trike” and $250 sounded way too cheap for the cycle he had envisioned. So, while heading back east on the 20, he saw me again, pulled over and we began a delightful conversation. Rich is experiencing some arthritic pain in his knees and he is interested in cycling for exercise.

What a fascinating man. Rich is a successful businessman and a true people person. Friendly and larger than life in his personality, Rich has business operations all over the world. I found it heartwarming and encouraging that he has started numerous operations in tiny towns where he would befriend someone who was down on their luck, jobless, or even “destitute”, and gave them a partnership opportunity. I wonder how many lives this man has affected? He is a Catholic convert and considers that God has no prejudice, so why should he? And, if ANYONE should earn it, God could sport a superior attitude. But if God loves everyone equally, so should he. So, this successful businessman has made a success of his ventures, even when taking risks on people that no one else would even consider.

He has lost a few---both dollars and friends--but has gained more than he has lost. He takes a risk on life. 

Most excellent!

His passion: Horses! Especially racehorses. He owns many thoroughbreds and has come within a hair’s breadth of winning the Kentucky Derby--his personal goal. I asked him about therapy for his horses, as I have often dabbled with the thought of learning equine physical therapy. I love the beauty of the horse. This incredible animal has changed the face of human evolution. 

Rich said he does his own “equine chiropractics” and said he went to school for  certification. He adjusts his horses’ necks and backs and keeps them in healthy condition. He is cautious with their condition and will hold a horse back from running a race if he thinks it may have a strain or any condition that could hurt the horse. Forget the win. While winning is fantastic, his horses are even more important than the trophy. I would love to visit his thoroughbred farms and learn from the masters.

Rich and I talked extensively about the trike and how it is designed. He plans on contacting Lightfoot Cycles for more information. I received an email from him, saying he is seriously looking at recumbent trikes. He wants to travel across Kentucky and Virginia on a trike and has even been thinking about his physical training schedule. 

If he buys one, he will name is “Jo”. My lord, what an honor that would be. I am totally humbled by this generous man. He is a ball of fire, that one!

When HD and I reached Stockton, Illinois, we turned south on hwy 78. This appeared to be a bit more rural and shoulders were a luxury. But the traffic remained light and the day was incredible with blue skies and lovely scenery. Around 5:30 pm, we rolled into Mount Carroll and checked the single old hotel in town, which was fully booked. I could not get a cell signal, so couldn’t look up the campground. There was a coffee shop downtown just about ready to close. I bought a cuppa joe and a home baked treat and asked for advice of the owner. He gave me directions to the campground, about 4 miles away, and even called them to let them know I was on my way. 

I headed south from Mt Carroll and then turned east on hwy 40, then south on Black Oak Rd, reaching The Timber Lake Resort and Campground about 6:15 pm. I talked to Marlene at the camp office for about 30 minutes. She was a delight.

Marlene looks like she is in her 30’s, but she just had a son graduate from the university with a doctoral degree in physical therapy. Marlene works summers at the campground, with a degree in environmental science or conservation or some such nature degree. During the school year, she works with special needs kids to help them adjust and cope with the “regular” classroom. We talked about “Greg” extensively, a young man with Asberger’s Syndrome, of whom Marlene is particularly fond. She has worked with him for 2 years and her stories were heartwarming. As with most forms of autism, people with Asberger’s syndrome have difficulty with social constructs, understanding appropriate social behaviors, interpreting nonverbal communications, expressing emotion appropriately, and understanding others. They often have amazing memories and think in patterns, often in highly visual, mathematical patterns. Marlene’s “job” is to help Greg cope in the school setting and to help him gain the social skills necessary to be able to flourish in society. One of the most touching moments in her life, she said, occurred when Greg saw her in a Walmart, called out her name, and actually ran to her, smiling broadly with excitement.  Marlene and I both choked up at the story. That genuine smile, Marlene says, was one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen, as it is so rare in this young man. He is learning to smile and communicate---two skills essential in flourishing in a social human society. 

And can get you ahead faster and farther than a 130 IQ. 

So, what does Marlene love? That was easy---God, her children, and nature. 

I also met Ron, the owner of the Timber Lake Campground. He rides around in his electric cart during the summer months, meeting every one of the campers who come to his little lake resort. He continually is working on the grounds, improving each site. And succeeding. 

There were so many families---children and teenagers running all over the place, splashing in the pool, playing games, and experiencing the ultimate enjoyment of youth. I really enjoy being around young people. They make me feel alive. I remember being a teenager with hope and excitement and hormones. Yet I was also quite introspective as a young person and enjoyed hours of solitude taking walks in the country or hikes in the hills. Not so different from now, I guess!!

I was hungry and was just about out of food, but the concession stand at the pool was still open. No grocery store or even convenient store for miles. So, after pitching the tent, I hopped over to the stand to peruse the menu. I could have candy, ice cream, or fried anything. So, deciding to throw caution to the wind, I ordered 2 fried dishes: poppers (fried hot peppers stuffed with cheese) and fried green beans. I took my prize midwestern meal back to my campsite, sat on the top of the picnic bench, ate fried grease (yummmmm!!!), and read my paperback. Afterward, I wondered why I ordered two fried dishes when just one fried fat meal would have been plenty. Bleah. Did I earn that tummy ache or what?????

Add it up to another learning experience. So. Now I know. While cycling, no veggie burgers, no Chinese buffet, no gorging on sour cream dip with chips, and no fried meals. 

I need to keep these lessons even when I’m NOT cycling!  Lol!

I better stick with fresh fruit, trail mix, salad, and fresh veggies without excessive fat dressings. Yoghurt seems to go down well too. And chocolate. And coffee. The last two are for my happy quotient. Emotional health is very important!

The Timber Lake Campground was fun. I heard bullfrogs flirting with each other all night and had the pleasure of watching the fireflies for awhile before I retired to the tent to read yet a little more. I do love camping in my little tent.

The next morning, I cycled the 4 miles or so back to highway 52 and then cycled to Dixon, Illinois. When I reached Polo, Illinois, I texted my stepdad Russ. I knew it was going to be a few more days before I could get to Normal, thus reducing the amount of time I could stay and visit. I was heading south instead of east; in a way, this was “off course”. I suggested that, if he knew anyone who would be willing to pick me up, that could save me a few days and I would just head northeast from his house. So, in the evening, Russ, his daughter Cheryl, and her husband Dick, who was driving, came to Dixon and loaded up HD and we headed south to Normal.

Now. Dixon. What an absolute delight. It is a perfect midwestern town. Located near the tail end of Illinois hill country and surrounded by farms, Dixon has the charm of an quaint town with beautiful old buildings and a lot of town pride. I parked at a McDonalds, checked maps, then cycled to the river, crossing the bridge, and parking by the bronze life-sized statue of a young Ronald Reagan, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and jauntily perched on a horse. Dixon is home town for the that prez, and the residents wear it with pride. While parked by the young Reagan, I called my friend Mike Cleary and asked for his mother’s phone number. I then called Nancy Cleary and she came right on down to the park and we spent the afternoon together. While we chatted, Nancy called her daughter Patty and Coco (Colleen) and cousin Bobby. Soon, we had a little family reunion with my newly adopted family. Coco brought her adorable daughter Vanessa and we all enjoyed swapping stories of Dixon, Mike’s childhood, and Nancy’s life. 

Here are some of the stories.

Nancy’s mother was one of those incredible marathon dancers during the Depression. The marathon dances would last for days and prize money would go to the last couple still standing. This might involve DAYS of dancing, without sleep. Nancy’s mother won enough of these events that she was sent to Washington DC for a national competition. While in DC, she met the man who was later to become her husband. When wedded, they moved back to Dixon to help take care of Nancy’s grandparents.  And this is where they lived for the rest of their lives.

Nancy and her hubby had 11 children and, apparently, everyone knows the Cleary family and it is known that everyone knows someone who knows and loves a Cleary!  

In the 1980‘s, Nancy and her husband bought and opened the Shamrock Inn. They ran it for several years and then daughter Patty bought it and ran it for several more years. After Patty sold it, she continued to work there on weekends. And still does. 

If I had more time in Dixon, I would want to go there and order a Baileys on ice and celebrate my Irish.  I have had the pleasant discovery of seeing Irish pubs and shops all through Illinois. Sigh...So great to be home. I may just do a little jig!

When the children were little, and before the purchase of the Shamrock Inn, Nancy worked as a waitress at night and her husband worked during the day. When he came home from work, dinner was ready, and Nancy was ready to go to work outside the home for a few hours. The work ethic was very strong in this family. It remains strong and you can see it in their children. Mike is quite devoted to his work at New Mexico State University as VP of student services at the Carlsbad, NM branch. Every one of his siblings whom I have met are equally hardworking. But they have a sense of camaraderie and play as well. I love this family! I swear we are related---it may have been 150-200 years ago, but I swear we are cousins!

I asked the family about my friend Mike and what kind of child he was. No one told any secrets--what a close family!!! Nancy suggested he was wild, but then, when comparing him to the other young men in town, she admitted that he was actually a “pretty good kid”. Patty said he had to babysit his siblings quite often when he was a teenager but she felt he was a light touch so perhaps they cut loose a bit when he was in charge. I could plainly see that she feels deeply for him. 

While we sat at the river park gazebo, eating more fried foods (you would think I learned but, hey, I was being sociable! Really!!), Nancy called the local newspaper, The Sauk Valley Gazette, and a reporter came down and interviewed me on the spot. Then the photographer arrived and took photos. Both men were well suited to their jobs. The reporter was thoughtful in his questions and loves to write. The photographer took the time to position himself in crazy configurations in order to get just the right photographic angles. He enjoys his photography and says he is happy to be employed doing what he wants to do all day anyway.

The Cleary family love “family”. I asked Nancy what she loves and while she was taken aback by the question and searched for an answer, her daughters chimed in “she loves her family” and then they broke up laughing. Vanessa then shouted “Kitties! I love kitties!” 

While we stood there laughing, Russ and family arrived to whisk me and HD to Normal. First, a trip to the local family restaurant and then the 2 hour drive home. 

A very, very pleasant day!

____________________________

My first full day in Normal was a full one: we took HD to the bike shop and discussed its repair needs with the owner and one of his employees; visited Cheryl and Dick---Cheryl had dental surgery that morning but all went better than expected, went to lunch with Russ’ sister-in-law Jan (from first wife Lynn), did a little shopping, and watched The Last Stand--Shwarzenegger’s most recent movie. Apparently, now that Arnold is no longer governor of California, he is back in the movies. He was looking strong but you could tell he was moving much slower and stiffer than when he was The Terminator or Conan The Barbarian! (We all get older, even movie stars and governors. Drat.) He will continue to do action movies but apparently now as the older, smarter leading man than the younger, stronger leading man from yesteryear. I think that is called Evolution. Of a sort.

On Saturday, July 27th, we had lunch with my “first cousin once removed”, Dan Kearney. Dan and I have shared emails and FB messages for several years now and he has kept fairly good track of Kearney geneology. We ate a fantastic lunch at Biaggi’s while Dan kept us entertained on telling us bits and pieces of his life as well as talking about various towns in Illinois and their special features. The night before, his girlfriend broke up with him, so he was working to keep his attitude light while his friends and family were working at that very moment on getting him fixed up with a few dates. 

“The best way for a man to heal a broken heart,” he said, “is to get back on the saddle and start dating immediately. The only way I can effectively recover is if I have another girlfriend.” Yet, we could tell he really loved his “former” girlfriend and it was a difficult blow.

Breaking up is a hard, hard thing. 

In the afternoon, I worked on completing the Iowa blog while sitting at Starbucks and then Russ and I watched another movie: Cloud Atlas.  Now this movie I loved. It won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but I absolutely loved it. Violent, tender, horrifying, and with subtle and strong messages threaded throughout, this sci-fi is worth seeing. Don’t see it if you don’t like piecing together the relations between multiple scenes and time frames. Like flashbacks and flashforwards and stories across time and space. It is not a story that takes you simply from point A to Z. Be prepared to think a little. If you don’t want to think, i.e., you just want entertainment, don’t watch this one. 

On Sunday, July 28th, Russ and I drove to Chatham, Illinois, to see my cousin Shelley, her husband Ken, and my Aunt Pat. Shelley and Ken live in a lovely home in a garden setting on the southern end of town. My aunt Pat was her lovely, friendly, talkative self and I so enjoyed hearing old stories of growing up in Bradford, Illinois. Shelley had fruit and tasty breads set out and Ken kept us supplied with coffee. After a tour around the garden, Zachary and his family arrived: wife Hana, son Nick, and daughter Alicia. We chatted through the late morning and into the early evening, during which time we ate a sumptous Sunday meal prepared by Shelley and Ken, with Ken commandeering the barbecue  outside and Shelley slicing and dicing the delectables inside. The conversation was lively and you could see the Cameys are not shy about talking, asking questions, and sharing opinions. With a Camey mother and a Kearney father, my siblings and I have all the Irish and European mix we need to be talkative, opinionated, and curious about every one and every thing. It felt like conversation around the dinner table in my childhood home again!!

We discussed local and world issues, cultures, foods, health, what everyone is doing, and then, what we love.  My cousin Shelley loves her family most of all. She enjoys her gardening but more enjoys sitting outside to absorb the sights and sounds than the physical labour of the gardening. She loves to travel and see the country---be it city or country. She loves a view and thus enjoys the open fields of the Midwest and the expanse of the desert more than she does a deep forest. She is an avid reader and is involved in a local reading group. 

Ken answered quickly that he loves his wife. (I always did think that Ken was top drawer). He loves to work in the family business and Shelley says he enjoys making breakfast for the family. He loves to take care of his family and is quite the host. The coffee was flowing that day, due to his close attention. He has a big heart for loved one and he personally went to pick up his mother-in-law, my Aunt Pat, to bring her to the gathering. 

My Aunt says she loves “everything”: just being alive and getting up in the morning. “I have had a good life and I get along with everyone” she says. My Aunt has a great sense of humour, almost a wicked sense of humour, which I really enjoy. I always loved going to visit her when I was little. I found her relaxing to my spirit---she could sit quietly, make me feel loved, and take me for walks around her house and yard. She showed me how to pick blueberries. She even baked pies! This was a skill I admired---still do. A well turned pie crust takes a delicate hand. Memories...

Zachary works with his dad, Ken, in the family office furniture business. Passions? He enjoys studying the news and world economics. He has an MBA and we discussed how money works and I could have talked to him all day. He mostly loves his family. He enjoys running but really likes to travel. He enjoys travel for a number of reasons: sometimes just for the fun of it, sometimes to learn the history of a place, the culture, taste the foods, see the sights. The whole experience.

Hana is Zach’s wife. She is a lively, beautiful woman and a devoted mother. She loves colors and interior decorating. She enjoys travel and learning and, most of all, her family--both in Korea and in the States. She is bright and articulate and whisked around her mother-in-law’s kitchen with familiar expertise. 

Nick is a quiet young man of 14 but hung out with the adults the entire afternoon. He play-punched his dad on several occasions and wore a shirt advertising a triathlon in which he participated. He enjoys martial arts, cross country running, and “stuff”. The family said he really loves learning on the internet. Zach said his son sends him news articles on the net throughout the day. He is a bright, thoughtful young man. 

Alicia was a little shy around me, but I could see that she had a certain confidence that suggests she will be quite a force! She is a very pretty young lady and said she loves to play pokemon, swimming, and hanging out with her friends. She likes to have her friends spend the night. She is a modern young lady. She stood often by her mom and teased her dad during the afternoon. I think she likes her parents!

How wonderful to spend the day with my cousin and her family.

Monday, July 29. Dad and I headed north to Starved Rock. This is an historical site along the Illinois River where the Ottawa and Pottawatomie tribes besieged the Illini (Illinois Confederation) on a butte near Fort St. Louis, trapping them on the hill, until the entire Illini tribe starved to death. Hence the name. This park area is an archeaological site and a US National Historical Landmark. We took a boat ride along the Illinois River and viewed Starved Rock, Lover’s Leap Rock, and one of the 16 locks that bring boats and barges on the Illinois River to the Missippi River. We ate a fruit filled lunch and took a brief hike. Then, on to Peru, Illinois for a pleasant, restful evening at La Quinta Inn, where I spent the evening uploading photos, checking some emails, and perusing maps. I had a veggie omelette at iHop next to the motel for dinner, while Russ had fried chicken. What a pleasant day.

The next day, Russ and I partook of the continental hotel breakfast and then drove to Kewanee, Illinois to visit my Aunt Phyllis. A word about this lovely lady. She was the 2nd, and final wife, of my Uncle Bob. Bob was my mother’s brother. Since I grew up in southern California and my uncle lived in Illinois, I never really knew his 2nd wife, Phyllis. I had met her on some family reunions back in Illinois, but had not really ever spent any personal time with her. My Uncle Bob was a talkative, knowledgeable man who led the conversations and this sweet lady stood by his side and took care of him when he became ill in his later years and died of that big bad beast called cancer. I hate cancer.

Anyway, my mother often talked about Phyllis when I was a young adult, saying she was more of a Camey than most Cameys!  Phylllis is one of those delightful ladies who keeps track of all family members and nieces and nephews and cousins and friends. She cares about family---that is her passion. When my mother became ill and was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my aunt Phyllis called several times to talk to me and even managed a few brief conversations with my poor mom--by which time by mother could not remember the conversations due to short term memory loss. But her longterm memory survived till death. Mom sure remembered Phyllis and would recall family games with Phyllis and the great friendship they shared. After Mom died, Phyllis called me a few times just to offer comfort and to check on me. Here was this relative that I really only knew from what my mother had told me----and yet she took the time to call often during mom’s illness.  

So, I decided that I must visit her when I reached Illinois. I needed to thank her for being who she is--a truly beautiful lady. 

I have many relatives in Illinois but visited only a few, concentrating on those with whom I had spoken in the last few years. This was primarily related to my mother.  She died in February 2012; her wake was held on March 10, 2012. I didn’t have time or transportation to visit all of my cousins and their families in Illinois. That part saddens me, as I believe many cousins on my dad’s side stayed in small Illinois towns and it would have been great to see them. But times and transportation issues prevented spending more time in Illinois and thus those potential visits. 

But, I did visit those whose presence I have felt in my life for these last several years---my cousin Shelley, my Aunt Pat, Aunt Phyllis, and my dad’s cousin Dan---who is close to my own age. And of course, Russ Dalton, who is more like a dad than any girl could ever wish to have. I loved my own father---he died at 69. But he was a lost soul and struggled with understanding himself, as well as reaching out to others. But Russ became my dad when he married my mom---they were both in their 60’s and I in my 30’s. No matter how old we get, we feel the need for a parent, don’t we? And Russ has treated me as his own. I feel I have a whole new family in Russ’ daughter Cheryl, her husband Dick, and all their wonderful children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. What a nice family.

So, back to the visit with Phyllis. She invited my aunt Vi to lunch so I had the added pleasure of seeing an unexpected relative--fantastic! The first hour was just with Aunt Phyllis, who shared photos of children and grandchildren. She moved to Kewanee to be near her son Donny, who visits her daily. Still, Phyllis misses the city life of Peoria and is torn. She wants to be near her son, but would like to live in a bigger, more active city. She spoke often of her granddaughter Lily who recently graduated from high school. I think she might even like to live closer to Lily. But we find we can’t always follow our children or grandchildren nowadays. The little rascals keep moving. I know that my own wanderlust used to frustrate my mom, as she would have liked to live closer to me throughout my adulthood. I admit that I missed her often. We move for jobs and opportunities and often that means a distant life.

My aunt Vi came when lunch was about ready. She had gotten involved in a movie about a young man who had been blessed, or cursed, with the gift of healing. The involvement in the movie, she said, kept her from coming earlier. This was just as well, giving me a chance to talk to Phyllis. It also gave Vi and I a conversation topic from which to springboard. We talked about the potential curse of being able to heal others with a simple touch, and one must think long and hard before they should wish for certain “gifts”. As the saying goes, “To he whom much is given, much is required”. 

Vi is an adoring grandma and great grandma. Her devoted passions are her progeny and her faith. She loves God deeply and is thoroughly involved in her church, prayer chains, etc. She has the joyous opportunity of babysiting great grandchildren often and this little senior maintains the zeal of youth.

Does loving children give you the gift of boundless energy longer than most? Or does the physical work of chasing the little whippersnappers around give you the exercise you need to stay young longer? Maybe both...

Russ and I headed back to Normal in the early afternoon. I was so full from the delicious lunch Aunt Phyllis had prepared! We made a detour to see Bradford, my mother’s childhood home town. We located the house in which she was raised and asked a resident about the location of the old town pool hall. My grandfather had been the town constable and he also ran the pool hall. It hasn’t been a pool hall for several years but I shot a few photos regardless. 

When we got “home” to Normal, we had about an hour before Cheryl and Dick came to pick us up and take us to grandson Rusty’s house. Mary, Rusty’s wife, had spent the late afternoon, after her workday, preparing a delightful spread for dinner. OMG! Another meal? Yikes!  But, I told myself I would watch calories later.  Or not.

Mary is colorful. Her home is filled with color, with each room a different hue---or several hues! Vibrant, energetic, just like her. We got a tour of their yard---really a garden with a cacophany of color around every corner and crevice. Simply lovely. The meal was a replication of the same: sliced fruits and vegetables of every color and flavor imaginable. Artisan breads and salads.  

My kind of meal! Wow!

Mary loves her husband and children; her grandchild; bright, deep colors; working outside; and fresh air. She also seemed to enjoy putting out that wonderful spread for us. I really like Mary.

Rusty and his dad, Dick, are very close. They talked about cars, Nascar, and how to work the advanced remote for modern television. Man talk! 

Cheryl, Russ’ daughter, loves her family first and foremost. She and Dick are very involved in all their grandchildren’s lives and used to play babysitter for the ones still in school. Now, their youngest 2 grandchildren, Dakota and Arianna, are in high school and very involved in sports. Most weekends and many weeknights during the school year are spent attending the myriad sports events of these 2 active, well-adjusted kids. This is Dick and Cheryl’s joy. 

Cheryl is also quite involved with their small church. She does the bookkeeping for the church and she and Dick are integral members of this church. They help with every activity and Russ and I don’t know what the church would do without them. Cheryl went in for dental surgery during my visit. Before her surgery, she prepared several Sundays’ worth of baked goods for the “after church coffee hour”, because she would not be able to cook for several days. This little dynamo cooked and packaged the church foods and also the meals for herself and Dick for several weeks. 

She is one organized, tireless lass.  

Cheryl is devoted to her family. She checks on her dad every day and, if she and Dick are going out of town, she assigns family members to check on him. She calls family members regularly to keep track of everyone and is the true matriarch of the family.

Dick is a car fan. He and his sons, Rusty and Jason, renovated an old ’32 Chevy coach, and, for years now, he and Cheryl have taken it to car shows. They have an awards room just for the trophies they have garnered. The Chevy is painted in a fascinating pearl gray and lavender. You know---the pearlesscent paint that changes color depending on the lighting?

(I change, too, in the lighting. I find that a self auto portrait from an iphone with a flash shows all my wrinkles and makes me look very old. How come I don’t look that old when I see myself in the mirror? Maybe because I am standing farther away from the mirror and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be! LOL! )

So, Dick loves his family and cars. He loves watching Nascar, going to car shows, and talking “shop”. He is a man’s man. And he is very generous with his time and energy. What a fine gent.

This is a wonderful example of a close midwestern family. Tight, loving, helpful, generous, and always involved with family and community. Beautiful.

And now for Russ---that sweet, loving man who has “adopted” me as his own. What does he love? Taking care of family. He has been taking care of family since he was 18. He took such good care of his first wife, Marilynn, or “Lynn”. He worked 3 jobs when the kids were little and he took the provider role very seriously. He stood by her through years of illness and then had to whisper goodbye when she died of cancer. Then, he married my mom and they enjoyed several years of dancing, some traveling, and fun with friends. Her last years of life were riddled with pain and she suffered from cancer for almost 2 years. Now, he keeps track of family and friends through Facebook. He worked for State Farm Insurance for over 40 years and still maintains contact with friends he made during that time. He knows everything going on with grandchildren and great grandchildren through Facebook. He is 85 but is certainly keeping up with the technology! 

His other passion is music. He and Lynn, and later, he and my mom Betty, danced extensively. He says he often doesn’t even hear the lyrics to most of the songs. He listens to music for the beat, rhythm, and pattern. He still often dances in his mind, figuring out the steps to take. He used to teach country western dance with my mother. He has tried to teach me as well, but I often forget the steps between these lessons. I tend to be more of a rock ‘n roller, moving as I feel inspired. I have to learn how to take cues with organized dance. But it is quite fun, even if I need regular “relearning”. Russ misses the dancing but needs a partner to get him out on the dance floor.

On Wednesday, I spent some time writing and uploading the Iowa blog and jotting down notes.  In the afternoon, I picked Henry David up from Wilson’s bike shop. The bill was high but I was assured that HD would go another 5000 miles without a problem. That certainly makes the cost of repair worthwhile. 

On the morning of Thursday, August 1st, 2012, HD and I headed north out of Normal, Illinois. At the north end of town, we hopped onto route 66. Back in 1964, when my family moved from Chicago to LA, we traveled the entire Route 66 when it was all the rage. Later, the interstate system was constructed, which put route 66 out of use. Hence the animated movie “Cars” was filmed. This movie is about a classic car and route 66---and how we neglect some of our heritage that perhaps should not be put to rest. I remember going through all the towns with drive-ins and carhops, rock n roll music, and passing all the tourist attractions. Dad was a “point A to point B” driver. Stop only when you absolutely have to. And kids, hold your pee!!

I remember wishing and wishing we could stop at one of those drive-ins and certainly I wanted to see the “Trading Posts” in the southwest. Later, when I took my own kids to the Grand Canyon, I made it a point to stop frequently at all these little stops. It was fun.

It was like attention deficit disorder---ooooh, look at that! Stop and see. Oooh! Look at that! Stop and see again!  

So, HD and and I rode on route 66 to Chenoa, about 22 miles of road. Part of that was on the preserved original highway (next to the new “old 66”), complete with weeds coming through the old asphalt. Chenoa and Lexingston keep about a 1 mile stretch nice and clean near each town. They put old route 66 signs up along the preserved portions and I felt like I was 6 again. 

But they definitely ought to locate some old fashioned diners near the highway. I would like to drive the old route completely some day, Chicago to Los Angeles, and I betcha there are some classic diners and tourist attractions along the way. Like poorly kept museums of mummies and dinosaur bones, local diners with strong coffee and sweet milkshakes and greasy french fries, trading posts with indian dolls made in china, gem shops with locally mined rocks, leather wallets and moccasins, and earrings sold in Arizona but made in Minnesota. Don’t forget the scorpions and tarantulas preserved in plastic resin paperweights! You know: AMERICA!!

At Chenoa, I turned east. I wanted to turn west and visit Gridley and El Paso, Illinois and look up cousins, but I needed to move forward. So, HD and I turned right onto highway 24. It was a pleasant ride all day to Gilman, Illinois.  Motel 6 gave me a good night’s rest, as there were no campgrounds in the nearby area.

My Illinois visit had been wonderful, beginning to end. Now to move east and see Lake Erie, Niagara Falls, and Lake Ontario. Woohoo!