Monday, June 24, departure day, we decided to go to Amarillo by way of Corona, NM to see Susie's brother, Charlie, and his wife Sue. We'd been there earlier this spring to celebrate Charlie's 80th birthday. Here's Charlie and his baby sister on that glorious day.
Told you that to tell you this. When their son, David, was at UNM he was taking a statistics class. He asked me for some help so I helped him work through some of the junk-statistics his instructor had inflicted on him (I still use a nonsense homework problem he had been assigned as an example of statistics instruction gone wrong.) I got a call from Sue about a week before we left home, thanking me for helping David long ago. She was giving me some partial credit. David works in a Houston hospital. He had done a study on the source of infections in the OR and this study had won a prize that includes a trip to Australia. Sue and Roy are going, too!
We were discussing our next day's drive to OKC. That's an easy day's drive, Sue said. Roy had gone there for eye surgery. She added, That's the road with bridges (or something to this effect). At the time I was a bit puzzled about this comment, but the next day as I thought about it, I think I understand. There are bridges in OK. That's unusual only when compared to I-40 in the Texas Panhandle. There are miles and miles there where the land is so flat creeks can't form. There's no run-off, so no creeks, or even washes or arroyos, and no bridges. Not so in those Oklahoma hills where I was raised.
However, the bridges in OK troubled me - the winter warning, Bridge Freezes Before Roadway signs were still flipped down! Should have been flipped up with a warm-weather greeting on display: Have a Nice Day, Please Mess With Texas, Watch for Tornados, or some such pleasantry.
At one time I wanted the job of sign-flipping in TX. (This is the sort of thing one thinks about while driving long distances.) Start in north TX in late fall, working your way south flipping the sign down to show the freeze warning. Then, when you got to where it don't freeze no more, you could relax in the winter warmth for a while. Then when spring comes, follow the retreating freeze line back north, flipping the signs so the freeze warnings don't show. Spend the summer in cool north Texas. Or, continue on to the Canadian border, state by state. Repeat each year. Either OK doesn't have anyone doing that job (not enough N-S separation to make it interesting, or not enough money to hire someone) or their guy is way late. I mean, if you're going to have hinged signs, which most states don't, use them!
Got to OKC in early Tuesday afternoon and went over to sister, Connie’s, to visit and sup with her, her husband Tom, and our sister, Verla. Connie had had cataract surgery that morning, but was recovering quickly.
Tuesday morning nephew Sterling (Verla’s son) came to our
campground to do a little statistical work.
I’ve been inflicting some statistics on him by Skype the last several months
and he is working on a term project to compare men’s and women’s college
basketball through various statistics.
It will be interesting, possibly leading to an interview on ESPN.
Next stop, Tulsa. En
route we had lunch at Pop’s. This is a
restaurant and pop shop (meaning a shop that sells all sorts of soda pop) on
Historic Route 66, just east of Edmond and just west of the Famous Round Barn
in Arcadia, OK. The walls of Pop’s are
lined with glass shelves of pops of many colors. They look like they could be easily
dislodged, but are glued down. But,
the many coolers in the shop have an awesome collection to choose
from. I had the Route 66 Root Beer. Susie had a Coke. Gotta take advantage of not being in a Pepsi-only shop, as is the case of far too many dining establishments. Pop's Shots:
That large pop bottle is lit up at night with constantly changing colors. People come from miles around, even Europe, to see Pop's on Historic Route 66.
Our Tulsa destination was actually the adjacent town of
Broken Arrow where our friend, Connie – previously Lacy in Albuquerque, now Davis – lives
with her husband and our friend, too, Jim. Their driveway
was more than ample for parking Tuzigoot, so we pulled in for a two-night
stay. Very hot in Broken Arrow, but
fortunately they let us sleep in the house.
Wednesday evening Jim and Connie gave us a tour of some of the poshest
residential areas, the older areas built with oil money, the newer areas with
new oil money and its friends. Here are Jim, Connie, and Willie
Thursday we embarked on a quest. Fifty years ago Susie taught school in Roswell, NM with a teacher named Mary Etta Beaver. They became great friends. The two have exchanged Christmas letters all these years, but had not seen each other since Roswell days. Unless something had changed since Christmas, Susie knew that Mary lived in Adair, OK, about 40 miles NE of Tulsa. Susie called Directory Assistance, and gave the address: 208 Main. No, sorry, nobody by that name at that address. Cannot connect you. DA did tell Susie that the resident was named Eby. We decided to drive to Adair anyhow and find the address and see if we could find Mary, or someone who could tell us where Mary might be. (Maybe she died, we thought but didn't dare say. We wouldn't know until Christmas. Mary and her mother have great sense of humor, so I don't think they would object to a little black humor - can you still say that?)
After some flailing around we found 218 (East) Main. A friendly man, Leon, who was working on the fence between 218 and the adjacent house, came over and offered to help us. Where is 208? It’s that house on the other side of this vacant lot where I’m working. I don’t know who lives there, but I know who does know – Mary __, who works down the road a little ways at the County Road Office. She knows everybody in town. We found Mary (not Beaver) who told us that Mary Beaver lives in that adjacent house, no. 208, with her mother, Mrs.Eby. Back at the house, we knocked at front and back doors. No response. Our new best friend, Leon, came hurrying over. He told us Mrs. Eby’s son was just here and I think they’ve all gone out for lunch. They probably went to the new (and maybe only) restaurant in town. He told us how to get there. Success! We found them. Here are the two Roswell teacher-friends. They had a great visit.
One story: Mary Etta was driving somewhere with Susie's son Jeff, then a little boy. Jeff, standing in the seat next to her, back in the day, knocked her glasses off, out the car window.
Jim and I were entertained by Mrs. Eby. She hailed from nearby Big Cabin, which was where Jim’s late wife grew up, so they exchanged Big Cabin names and families. Small world, chapter 557. We had lunch there – an excellent chicken-fried steak sandwich for me. Chicken-fried steak must be Oklahoma’s State Meat. In Tonkawa, Mary’s Café (no relation to the other Marys we've met today) served an artery-clogging College Special: chicken-fried steak and French fries, covered with white gravy.
Jim and I were entertained by Mrs. Eby. She hailed from nearby Big Cabin, which was where Jim’s late wife grew up, so they exchanged Big Cabin names and families. Small world, chapter 557. We had lunch there – an excellent chicken-fried steak sandwich for me. Chicken-fried steak must be Oklahoma’s State Meat. In Tonkawa, Mary’s Café (no relation to the other Marys we've met today) served an artery-clogging College Special: chicken-fried steak and French fries, covered with white gravy.
Friday we drove on to Springfield in SW Missouri. We stayed in a KOA there for three
nights. The weather cooled off and was quite pleasant. Our Saturday agenda was Branson,
about 50 miles south, where we saw two shows: the first, a morning show, was a tribute to John
Denver. The performer, James Garrett,
had known Denver and had lots of inside stories about songs Denver wrote. Mostly, they just seemed to appear fully formed as he
gazed out his windows at the Colorado Rockies.
Denver just reached out and grabbed the songs as they floated by.
There was an opportunity to make requests. I hollered, Montana Skies. (There were only about 20 of us in an intimate theater.) Garrett said he hadn’t sung that one for a long time, but on the second try he really nailed it, though he said he made up a few words. There are a lot of words in that song – it deals with family love and love of land. Here they are; it's sung at a brisk pace:
He was born in the Bitterroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin' a warm wind from the south, bringin' the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast, softly she did sing
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
And he never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mother's brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
On the eve of his twenty first birthday, he set out on his own
He was thirty years and runnin' when he found his way back home
Ridin' a storm across the mountains and an achin' in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a John
There was something in the city that he said he couldn't breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldn't leave.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
Now some say he was crazy, some are glad he's gone
Some of us will miss him, we'll try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
There was an opportunity to make requests. I hollered, Montana Skies. (There were only about 20 of us in an intimate theater.) Garrett said he hadn’t sung that one for a long time, but on the second try he really nailed it, though he said he made up a few words. There are a lot of words in that song – it deals with family love and love of land. Here they are; it's sung at a brisk pace:
He was born in the Bitterroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin' a warm wind from the south, bringin' the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast, softly she did sing
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
And he never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mother's brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
On the eve of his twenty first birthday, he set out on his own
He was thirty years and runnin' when he found his way back home
Ridin' a storm across the mountains and an achin' in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a John
There was something in the city that he said he couldn't breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldn't leave.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
Now some say he was crazy, some are glad he's gone
Some of us will miss him, we'll try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
Oh, oh, oh, oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him a love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
At the risk of breaking the mood, when I hear the line, "give this child a home," for some reason the line, "give this dog a bone," comes to mind. A mind is a terrible thing to waste.
Here are a couple of John Denver youtube links. Wild Montana Skies Annie's Song
Here are a couple of John Denver youtube links. Wild Montana Skies Annie's Song
We have one firm first objective: Fredericksburg, VA, on
Sunday, July 7. Before we left Tulsa I had counted up days and
miles and decided to stay a third night in Springfield. Sunday morning we drove north, headed for my
late wife, Judy’s, sister’s home in Lake Lotawana, near Kansas City, MO, where
she, Jan, and her husband, Aubrey, live.
Two of our favorite people. We
had invited them to meet us in Springfield/Branson, but Aubrey has had severe back
pain, surgery may be pending, so driving or riding that distance was not for
him.
I was looking forward to driving some of the back country roads we used to drive when we visited Judy’s parents and her grandmother. The first half of the drive went fine – lots of handsome farms and green hay fields with golden saran-wrapped rolls of hay. Then, as we turned on to county road H (MO has alphabetical country roads) connecting Eldorado Springs and Appleton City there was a sign: Bridge Out Ahead. Seek Alternate Route. Not knowing our alternate routes, we back-tracked and sought known alternate route. By this time we were running late – getting to Jan’s for lunch was a high priority – so we took the main highway north, even bypassing Judy’s home town of Butler.
I was looking forward to driving some of the back country roads we used to drive when we visited Judy’s parents and her grandmother. The first half of the drive went fine – lots of handsome farms and green hay fields with golden saran-wrapped rolls of hay. Then, as we turned on to county road H (MO has alphabetical country roads) connecting Eldorado Springs and Appleton City there was a sign: Bridge Out Ahead. Seek Alternate Route. Not knowing our alternate routes, we back-tracked and sought known alternate route. By this time we were running late – getting to Jan’s for lunch was a high priority – so we took the main highway north, even bypassing Judy’s home town of Butler.
Incidentally, in rural MO, along I-44 and what is now I-49 (formerly US 71), the government has now installed mileage markers every .2 miles!! That's every two-tenths of a mile! Why? You may recall my dander being raised on this topic when we drove through rural PA last fall. This can't be for the public's safety or convenience. Corruption. That's the only explanation. Aubrey shared my indignation I'll get to the bottom of this - maybe tomorrow, or some day.
After a good ole country lunch, we took a turn around Lake
Lotawana in Aubrey’s new boat. I turned
down the opportunity to see if I could still water ski, but I’m sure I could
have. It's like riding a bicycle - underwater. The lake is ringed by houses, docks, and boats. It is gradually getting more upscale as old
cottages are replaced by new mansions.
Aubrey and Jan pointed out several good examples. A former KC Chief quarterback had a home here. Wish I could show you some pictures. Check out this real estate link. When we got back to the house, I got my phone/camera for this shot of the cove where Jan and Aubrey have house and dock.
Monday, just one week after we left NM, we drove from Springfield, MO to Benton, IL. Missed one crucial turn where the road divided three ways as we approached the Mississippi River and the signs only indicated two options: Chicago or Memphis,, and so we trundled along on a freeway through the center of St. Louis, but fortunately, not too much traffic and friendly drivers gave me a break on making lane changes.
Monday, just one week after we left NM, we drove from Springfield, MO to Benton, IL. Missed one crucial turn where the road divided three ways as we approached the Mississippi River and the signs only indicated two options: Chicago or Memphis,, and so we trundled along on a freeway through the center of St. Louis, but fortunately, not too much traffic and friendly drivers gave me a break on making lane changes.
Those of you who followed our Fall 2012 Tuzi-trip to the NE may remember Benton. This is where we discovered that Tuzi’s coolant and transmission fluid had gotten mixed and turned into something like French dressing. That led to being towed to nearby Marion and a week in a motel while Tuzi was repaired. Incidentally, transmission is shifting very smoothly now so the repair and repeated flushings of the transmission fluid has adequately restored the transmission. At first, after the repair, Tuzi shifted very roughly, particularly when decelerating.
Susie thought maybe Benton would be a jinx, but all is still OK with Tuzigoot as this is written a week later.
Next day was a drive to Lexington, KY, where we stayed in a very nice campground at the Kentucky Horse Park. Beautiful scenery driving through the horse farm countryside of Kentucky.
Sorry, can't expand it.
Next night we were at a campground near Summersville, WV. I should note that ever since our Corona, NM side trip on day one we've been traveling on interstate highways - 40, 44, 64 - somewhat contrary to our usual practice. Somewhere, soon after we left, Susie had remarked that it would be nice to spend the holiday weekend in one place, rather than traveling. So, attentive, responsive spouse that I am, we planned ahead and decided Staunton, VA would be a nice locale for that weekend. Would make for an easy drive on to Fredericksburg on Sunday. But to get to Staunton from Springfield, MO, would not permit any lollygagging around. Cruise-control on down the interstate. Thank you, Dwight Eisenhower. (Some accounts don't give him much credit for the interstate highway system, but I do. Don't think he would have allowed mileage markers every two-tenths of a mile, that's for sure.)
My campground/RV park guidebooks didn't show much in the way of RV parks along I-64 in WV, so I picked a WV mountain campground near Summersville. Which meant leaving I-64. Moreover, returning to I-64 would provide an opportunity to drive a piece of US-60. Many years ago, in Tuzigoot 1, we followed US 60 westward from its eastern terminus on the Atlantic Ocean in Virginia Beach, VA. For reasons I can't recall, we skipped a large part of the WV portion of US-60. Well, we added about 30 miles of US-60 to our ledger on this trip. Very interesting miles - twisting, turning, climbing, descending, narrow, no shoulders to speak of. Couldn't see the scenery for the trees. (Actually pulled off the road once because a sign said Scenic Overlook, but you couldn't see nothin' except the trees and underbrush right in front of you. Where is Sen. Byrd when you need him?) Luckily not much traffic. When cars stack up, even just two or three of them, behind me I look for places to pull over and let them pass. Not much opportunity on this road, though.
Well, that's enough for now. Next report - our Glorious Fourth, and fifth, ....
Susie and Rob
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