tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-200699127886614412024-03-05T21:28:11.783-06:00Growing up "Gramma"Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.comBlogger315125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-20037139591295620222019-07-31T03:00:00.000-05:002019-07-31T03:00:18.427-05:00Vacation Wednesday Wednesday looked like rain. Staying in a tent all day in the rain wasn't our first choice. I did however, have a plan. This would be the day we drove to Ely and explore the <a href="https://www.wolf.org/" target="_blank">International Wolf Center</a> and the <a href="https://bear.org/" target="_blank">North American Bear Center</a>. The plan got extended a bit the day before. While we were at lunch the waitress talked to us about some other fun touristy things to do in Ely. She also told me the correct way to say Ely. I was pronouncing it E-lI, like the name, apparently, it is pronounced E-lEE. Beyond that though she also told us about the <a href="https://www.rootbeerlady.com/" target="_blank">The Root Beer Lady</a>. She lived on the Knife River and owned a resort there years ago. There is a museum in Ely about her life and how and why she started making root beer for her resort. It sounded interesting and come on, root beer.<br />
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Kahlen seemed excited about all three places. The drive was going to be about two hours both ways. It was about 98 miles away, but it was a long winding 98 mile long road away. That's why it took two hours.<br />
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Kahlen sat in back playing games and watching movies, on a long winding road. Do you see where I'm going with this. About 3/4 of the way there I looked back at her and she was laying against the arm rest crying. She was carsick. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, I felt awful for her. We found a little pullover. We got her out of the car, gave her some Tylenol and an applesauce out of the cooler. She walked around a bit and started to feel better. As it turns out, this little pullover, it may have been there as part of an actual plan. Carsickness and this road must be a well known phenomenon. As we were letting Kahlen get her land legs back an older couple drove in and stopped at the pullover. They stopped and the man got out and started walking around in the fresh air. The lady looked over at Kahlen and said, "that road is awful, isn't it!" Not as bad as the Needles Highway in South Dakota, but very nausea inducing none the less.<br />
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After Kahlen started to feel better we took off again and told her to let us know if she needed to stop again. She didn't, and soon we were at the Wolf center. We got there just in time to see a presentation about how they are trying to repopulate and balance the moose and wolf populations in the National Park on Isle Royal in Lake Superior. Some of the challenges being the wolves and moose themselves. When an animal is relocated into the park they are tagged and monitored. When the lake freezes, those tagged and monitored animals may decide to leave the island in favor of returning to the mainland. If an animal decides to do this, they don't try to find them and return them again, they let the animals decide their own migration patterns. Some stay forever and some prefer to roam. They are allowed to do as nature prods them.<br />
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The wolves were out and roaming about in their habitat. They call them their ambassador wolves. There are four <a href="https://www.wolf.org/meet-our-wolves/wolfcams/" target="_blank">ambassador wolves.</a> They seem to be able to live as they would in the wild, as much as they can in a confined area. While they have daily contact with caretakers, they are well protected from the visitors and not domesticated. They honestly seemed to not be at all impressed with the crowd of people on the other side of the glass enthralled with their every move.<br />
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Kahlen sat and watched and took pictures of the wolves. I think she could have sat there all day.<br />
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As beautiful and intriguing as the wolves were we finally had to leave them behind to get to our other destinations of the day. Kahlen seemed sad to leave them, but was excited for root beer at our next stop. But first we needed to stop for some lunch. For some strange reason, knowing we would be going to the Root Beer Lady museum, I ordered a root beer at Dairy Queen. Yeah, I don't know why. I rarely drink pop anymore. I haven't for years. Dairy Queen for whatever reason, didn't have ice tea, I didn't want water, so I stood and stared at this strange pop dispenser. I know they've been around for a while but I've never used one. You've probably seen and used them. You pick your pop and then can add a flavored syrup to it. Well, if I was going to drink pop I was going to do it right! I got root beer with cherry syrup. It was good, but not as good as I had hoped, which of course set the root beer lady's root beer up for unreasonable expectations on my part. Would it stand up? That question would soon be answered.</div>
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The museum was a short distance from the wolf center. The root beer lady's real name was Dorothy Molter. She had gone to a resort on the Knife River as a summer job as a young woman. She fell in love with the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness area and returned to work there permanently, and eventually came to own the resort. At some point, the government decided to make the BWCAW a national park. Dorothy did not want to give up her land and resort. As a compromise, she offered to leave the land to the park after her death as long as she could stay there until then. With the new park came new rules, and all of her supplies needed to portaged into the resort, by canoe. With the new rules came decisions. Previously, she had provided pop to her guests. Portaging meant that pop, which at that time was bottled in heavy glass bottles, was just not seen as a necessity. Portaging by canoe means at times the canoe carrying the supplies had to be picked up and carried across land for up to several miles until it can be put back into water for the next leg of the journey. She just couldn't bring herself to make workers portage pop. As a child I had to carry my mom's eight packs of Dr. Pepper, those suckers were heavy! </div>
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Eventually, Ms. Molter was looking at the collection of old pop bottles she had stored up over the years. That was when the idea of making and bottling her own root beer for her customers came about. She made her root beer from the water in the Knife River, bottled it in all of those old bottles and sold and shared it with her guests and canoers. What started out as a simple replacement for pop that had to be portaged, turned into a business. The people making it now don't use water from the river, but say they try to stay as close to Ms. Molter's recipe as possible. </div>
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We walked around the area. Her personal cabin had been moved from the river to the town of Ely upon her death. You could walk around her cabin and read many facts and antidotes about her. It was interesting but we went through it a little quicker than I might have liked, because, you know, we had a nine year old with us. After we had toured through the area we went to the gift shop and got a six pack of the iconic root beer. It was good, very good. After we left I looked up their website to see if they sell it online, and they do. Same price as at the museum, however, shipping and handling fees, we won't be ordering it online. </div>
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Finally, it was time to go to the North American Bear Center. I think they and the wolf center are linked, we saved a dollar on our admission to the bear center with our wolf bands. I kind of expected the same type of displaying of the bears as at the wolf center. However, it was different. At the bear center they had a behind the scenes tour where you could see the bears a little more up close. Well, at least one. <a href="https://bear.org/visit-us/our-bears-and-their-habitat/" target="_blank">They have four bears at the center.</a> One in particular, Ted, was given to them from a family in Wisconsin who had kept him as a pet. This is legal in Wisconsin, but for whatever reason the family decided he would be better off with the center. Being a former pet, Ted is friendly and very happy to come and get treats from the caretakers. The bears know the pouches that the caretakers have for their treats. People are advised to stay behind a line out of reach of the bears, mostly because they are pick pockets looking for treats if you get too close. </div>
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The bears seem very content in their habitat at the center. The intern giving the tour told us at one point there was a strong storm that had actually destroyed a small portion of the fencing. The bears were found just outside the fencing, but they hadn't wandered off. They happily returned to their home when their caretakers came to check on them as soon as they could get there. </div>
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Back inside, they had a program about other animals indigenous to the area. Including snakes and turtles, both of which they had some that lived at the center. Not all of the interns are crazy about the snakes, and as a joke, the newest snake was named after one of those interns. The woman who did the program let the kids touch the snakes and let the turtle down to check out the kids. She was very good at keeping the more excited children controlled to not scare the animals, while still being friendly. And there were a couple of very bouncy, excited boys for her to deal with. </div>
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As we left it started to rain pretty hard. The drive back was a little dreary and a little less pretty. Kahlen fell asleep through the worst of the winding road. When we got back to the highway we stopped at one of the pull overs along the lake and took some pictures before it started to pore on us again. We even got to see a rainbow or two.</div>
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We decided to have dinner at a little cafe down the highway from the state park. It was good and filling and we didn't have to try to cook in the rain. They also had a breakfast menu, so we decided to stop there on the way to go kayaking the next morning. </div>
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When we got back to the campsite it was muddy and buggy. Rain was still drizzling so we decided to play Yatzee in the tent. </div>
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Kahlen got the only Yatzee, and basically kicked our butts. </div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-38891587247169014362019-07-19T14:44:00.001-05:002019-07-19T14:44:42.478-05:00The WeatherNo, this isn't about the cruddy, screaming hot weather of today. Although, what the HELL! 85 degrees at 2:00 AM! Seriously!<br />
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Anyway, after checking the weather while we were on vacation we decided to go to the <a href="https://www.lutsen.com/summer/summit-express-gondola/" target="_blank">Lutsen Mountain Summit Express Gondola</a> on Tuesday. When I was looking into it on the internet I was trying to buy advanced tickets. Every time I tried it the site would switch the date to the day I was ordering the tickets. Yet, it said I needed to order tickets at least 48 hours in advance. But.... I tried.... I was confused. The more I messed with it the more frustrated I became. Since I was doing this at 3:00 am, I couldn't just call them. Finally, I gave up, and decided to call them the next day. </div>
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After almost forgetting to call, I did finally call right before I had to go to work. The man on the other end said we didn't need to buy advanced tickets at all. He said we could just come to the resort and buy tickets on site. That made me feel better. Although, I was worried about long lines. Willie is not a fan of long lines, and an almost ten year old, (though she several times reminded me "I'm ONLY NINE!") I was just hoping for the best. However, that way we could just pick a good day to be outside. He also suggested coming around 11:00 am instead of at 10:00. The restaurant on top of the mountain would be open and it had great views of Lake Superior. </div>
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So, Tuesday we got up early. HAHAHAHA, anyone who knows me knows getting up early is not something I do and I was readjusting to real people time. Besides, the resort was only about a 20 minute drive from our campsite. Anyway, we got up had a light breakfast and headed out. </div>
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Going on a Tuesday was a great idea. There was only one family in line before us. I would guess there is probably quite a crowd on the weekend. We got our tickets and went right to the gondola. The man taking tickets had a little trouble getting the tickets to scan, that was the only wait we had the whole time. When the tickets finally scanned, we got on the still moving gondola. </div>
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The views from the gondola were spectacular. The only thing that was a little disappointing was that the windows on the gondola weren't as clean as they could be. Otherwise the ride was smooth and slow enough that you could enjoy the scenery. Willie, who has a fear of heights, felt secure and enjoyed the ride. </div>
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Kahlen was thrilled with the ride. "This is so cool!" She took in the sites and took photos with her camera. She smiled the whole ride. </div>
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At the top the view was as advertised. We could see for miles, except for over the lake. It was foggy over the lake that day. It looked like a cloud on the horizon. Kahlen looked through the tourist binoculars and peered over the rail. </div>
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After having our lunch on the deck of the restaurant we got back on the gondola for the return trip over the mountain. We went through the gift shop, where Kahlen found a necklace she really liked. It was silver with mountains and a moose. I figure it was a token that she wouldn't outgrow, like a t-shirt, so we got it for her. </div>
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On the way back to the state park we stopped at an overlook. From that overlook we found a trail to the falls. We had worn our hiking shoes just in case, and were glad we did. The hike was an easy one, some hills and steps but nothing overwhelming. The falls were beautiful, of course. Not in a grand showy way, but like a scrappy little artist looking for its first big showing. The strength of the falls couldn't be denied, its thunderous sound echoed along the path even before we could see it. The root beer colored pools glistening and foaming with each splash of water that entered. </div>
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Other than the fog the weather was perfect. The temperature was 70. The whole week was perfect. Yes, it rained a day or two, but we found things to do inside. The natural air-conditioning provided by the lake was glorious. </div>
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When we got back home, and stepped out of the car into the hot humid Iowa air. As I started sweating for the first time in a week, all I could think was, why do I live in a place where my face melts.</div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-75894761927711742052019-07-16T20:05:00.000-05:002019-07-16T20:05:29.912-05:00The Long, Long DriveWe decided to leave the house at about 4:30 am on a Monday morning to go pick up Kahlen. I had worked but got off early at midnight. I decided not to take a nap or sleep at all, I know how hard it is to get my butt going after even a little sleep. It just didn't make any sense. I drank some ice tea and did some laundry. I didn't want to leave my glaze splattered clothes where they might attract ants into the house.<br />
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Willie got up around 3:30 am, which really is only a half hour before he usually gets up. We finished packing up the last few things and got Bazinga ready to go to our son Josh's house. Bazinga would get to spend the week with his best girl Talula. Mia would be looked in on by a neighbor. We were out of the house on time and on our way.<br />
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We dropped off Bazinga and got to Kahlen's house at around 6:30. She was up and ready to go. Paxton was up too, trying very hard to be a good sport about being left behind, this time. His turn will come in three years. Lots of hugs good bye, and we were on our way.<br />
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The drive up to Minnesota was long. Once we got past St. Paul the scenery started to change a little which made it go faster. We thought about stopping in Duluth to ride the train, but were too late for the 1:00 ride and didn't want to wait until 3:00 for the next one.<br />
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After stopping at Subway for lunch, we stopped at <a href="https://bettyspies.com/" target="_blank">Betty's Pies</a>. When Willie and I had visited Duluth before I wanted to go there but we didn't make it. Valerie and Joel went up to Duluth for <a href="https://grandmasmarathon.com/" target="_blank">Grandma's Marathon</a> which Valerie ran her first full marathon. (She amazes me so much!) They went to Betty's Pies one day for lunch, and of course pie. They said how good it was, so this time we would not miss it!<br />
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Kahlen ordered cheesecake. She saw cheesecake on the menu and knew right away that was what she wanted. Willie got strawberry rhubarb, and it took me a bit to decide on the Great Lakes Crunch pie. A fruit pie with apple, blueberry, rhubarb, strawberry and raspberry, all in one pie. One bite and I knew we were going to have to stop again on the way home. It was the best pie I had ever had. Kahlen decided she needed to torment her mother a wee bit by sending her this photo of her cheesecake.<br />
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Back in the car again we stopped a couple of times to enjoy the scenery of the lake. Each new curve brought more beautiful sites.<br />
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We got to Cascade River State Park about 5:30. We drove around trying to find our reserved spot, but couldn't find our site number. We stopped at the ranger station, bought our park pass and firewood, and got directions. Once at the site we set up the tent and started a fire to cook hot dogs for dinner. We played some Uno Attack and then got ready for bed. </div>
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Oh, and guess who forgot to bring her camera with her? Yeah, me, thank goodness for iPhones. </div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-90156658200146937652019-07-16T19:06:00.000-05:002019-07-16T19:06:03.896-05:00Kahlen Turns 10My original inspiration for starting this blog was my first grandchild, Kahlen. Watching her grow from an infant to a little person. From that little person with her very distinct opinions and personality to an almost preteen. Ten, she's going to be TEN! It seems impossible but there it is, just the same.<br />
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For her tenth birthday I wanted to do something special. I mean, sure, she probably has a list of things she wants. Things that she might enjoy for a while, or clothes she would like. Let's face it though, kids out grow clothes and get bored with things.<br />
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Last September I started a new job, and started brewing up an idea for Kahlen's tenth (TENTH!) birthday present. I was working a lot of overtime, so that OT money went into savings. I talked to Willie and got a tentative OK. I thought about it for another month or two, and in December made my move. I knew if I waited much longer I might not be able to do it.<br />
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I talked to her mom, and got her and Dad's permission. I made the final decision, and decided for each of the grandchildren, the year they turn ten, Willie and I will take them on a special vacation, just them and us. The way I see it, they are old enough to remember it, and young enough to still want to hang out with Gramma and Papa for a week. Not necessarily on their birthday, but the summer or spring break of that year. Memories last a lifetime. Everything else time takes away.<br />
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I got on the computer and started looking at places to go without a crazy amount of driving. I wanted to go somewhere Willie and I hadn't been so we could all experience the new together. I thought seriously about Yellowstone. With just the three of us we could do that fairly easily, with maybe one overnight stop in South Dakota. The more I thought about it, I decided that someplace a little closer would be better. Plus, I have been to Yellowstone, many, many moons ago, but it wouldn't be all new for me.<br />
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Willie and I had gone up to the southern tip of Lake Superior a few years ago and really enjoyed that. I started looking at state parks further up the North Shore. By December, most of the camping sites in most of the state parks along the shore of Lake Superior in Minnesota had already been booked. There were three sites left in Cascade River State Park, so I reserved one. Willie and I hadn't been that far north, and my hope was that it would be cooler the further north we went. Mid July is not one of my favorite times of the year, I hate hot weather. The idea of going north, or up in altitude to escape the heat is very appealing to me.<br />
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With the reservation at the park set, this was going to happen. The next few months I spent a lot of time on Pinterest and Google looking for fun things to do while we would be there. And, of course, saving money. I wanted this to be a lot of fun for Kahlen, and for Willie and I as well. I wanted to do new things and see new places. I wanted it to be memorable for all of us.<br />
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I looked into horseback riding, but that would have cost over $300 for a 45 minute ride. I couldn't bring myself to do that. That just seemed ridiculous. I told Kahlen way ahead of time that horseback riding was out. She was fine with it, her response being, "we can just go to Dawn's on the way back!" Dawn has horses, but Dawn lives south, we were going north, so no.<br />
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I kept looking for things to do, and thought I had found some that we all would enjoy. I found a gondola at <a href="https://www.lutsen.com/summer/summit-express-gondola/" target="_blank">Lutsen Mountain</a> that went up to the top of Moose Mountain, and boasted of fabulous views of the Sawtooth Mountains and Lake Superior. (After our trip to the Rocky Mountains last year I thought I should prepare Kahlen for the fact that Minnesota mountains are not like the Rockies. It reminded me of the movie "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Englishman_who_Went_up_a_Hill_but_Came_down_a_Mountain" target="_blank">The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down A Mountain</a>.")<br />
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I found <a href="https://www.wolf.org/" target="_blank">The International Wolf Center</a> and <a href="https://bear.org/" target="_blank">The North American Bear Center</a> both in Ely, MN. I thought those would be good rainy day activities. They would be a drive, but they were close to each other and could be done in one trip.<br />
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Finally, I booked a <a href="https://sawtoothoutfitters.com/" target="_blank">kayak trip</a>. Just a short one, most kayaking trips have age limits, this was the only one I found that a child under 14 could go on. Plus, I didn't know how my old arms would do with a very long trip. I had been looking at canoe trips. I figured we could all be in the same canoe that way. Then I decided, this was about new experiences. Neither Willie nor I had ever been kayaking. It was a guided tour, for beginners, so, perfect.<br />
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Either on the way up, or the way home we would try to ride on the <a href="https://duluthtrains.com/" target="_blank">North Shore Scenic Railroad</a>. I decided to leave the last two days open for hiking or whatever we might find to do. Adventure awaited us.<br />
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Well, it WAS still an eight hour drive.Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-74301792707487147302019-06-16T05:04:00.000-05:002019-06-16T05:04:50.410-05:00Not My Proudest Moments<br />
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See this box of ice cream bars. Unfortunately, so did I. Normally, when I'm leaving work, I can walk by the ice creams with no problem. I may stop and scan them, usually looking to see if I see something Willie might like. He enjoys ice cream much more than I do, not that I don't like it, but he loves it.<br />
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Tonight as I walked out of the break room where the time clock is and I stopped and scanned the ice cream, not intending to buy anything. I really wasn't. Then, suddenly, these jumped out and started screaming at me. Apparently, I was the only one who could here the screaming, as the person walking past me just kept on going. I looked again, I was hungry. We have ice cream at home I told myself. I went to take a step. The screaming got louder.<br />
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Maybe this might be a good time to explain something. My job is to stand over a vat of molten lava, okay, hot oil, and fry donuts for eight hours. I was supposed to get off at 2:00 am, but because we had extra donuts to fry due to Father's Day, it was 3:00 am and I hadn't taken a break, except to run to the bathroom, all night. My little corner of the bakery gets up to 85-87 degrees and I was hungry, hot and sweaty.<br />
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The ice cream won. I opened the freezer, and after a moment of considering crawling in the freezer, I grabbed the box of ice cream bars. I walked up to the registers and paid for them. I had the cashier put them in a bag, because I didn't know how hot it was outside, and I have a half hour drive home.<br />
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Yeah, I didn't need the dumb bag. Once I got to the car, and sat down for the first time in nine hours, except for one bathroom break, I decided I would have one of the ice cream bars as a snack while I drove home.<br />
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I finished the delicious, creamy, sweet, and most importantly, cold confection before I got to the interstate. So... yeah I ate another one. Okay, so what, I ate all three of the darn things before I got home. That's right all three of them. And it was WONDERFUL!!! I'd do it again, too, and you can't stop me!<br />
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While I was driving home, enjoying the precious miracle that were those ice cream bars, some idiot behind me had his brights on. Of course, the light was bouncing off of every mirror on my car and blinding me. He would turn them down when someone was coming toward us on the other side of the interstate, but then turn them right back on blinding me again. Well, that was starting to annoy.<br />
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I'd already been annoyed while I was trying to get my work area cleaned up. The guys that come in to clean the floor had come in just as I was trying to finish up. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate them mightily. The bakery floor has a texture to it that makes it very hard to mop and I'm glad I don't have to. They do a great job and fast. However, they're also unpredictable. Yesterday, they were there at 9:00 pm. That actually works pretty well because I'm the only one there and I can run to the bathroom or do some dishes while they mop the donut area. At 2:00 am, there are three of us there, a baker, the donut finisher, and me, and thats when they showed up tonight. It is a lot more chaotic for them to try to mop then, and since I was already behind and just wanted to go home, I decided to just keep cleaning. I didn't get out of their way when they wanted to mop the donut area. The rest of the bakery needed mopped, too, it wasn't like they couldn't finish that first. They waited for me to give in for a few minutes, but I was stubborn. Finally, they moved on to another part of the bakery. HA! I won! I finished up and then I happily got out of their way while I finished washing dishes.<br />
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Anyway, back to the jerkwad with his brights on on the interstate. I was done being annoyed for the night. I slowed down a little. Just enough so that he could pass me. As he passed, aw, I'm sure you know where I'm going with this, BRIGHTS! Turning on my brights was almost as satisfying as the ice cream bars! Blind me with your brights while I'm on a sugar buzz, will you? He stayed in the passing lane, I wasn't done with him. I got in the passing lane behind him. There were no other cars around, it was 3:20 in the morning. He changed lanes, I changed, too. When vehicles would come from the other direction I would be considerate and turn off my brights. It wasn't their fault the guy in front of me had stirred the demon from deep within my soul. Here's the craziest part, the idiot still kept his brights on. The cars and trucks on the other side of the interstate kept flashing the fool. So, I kept it up until I finally got to my exit.<br />
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Was I proud of my actions tonight? Not so much. Did I still find some insane delight in each of my less then stellar moments tonight? Why yes, yes I did.<br />
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I have a tummy ache.Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-48069442516615856692018-06-20T16:08:00.000-05:002018-06-20T16:08:38.740-05:00But What About...?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am angry, I am very, very angry. I am heart broken to the point of sobbing. I am determined, determined to find a way to make a change. This situation is so much bigger than me, but it is not bigger than US. WE can make a stand and make a change. We can stop the atrocities on our southern border. </div>
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And I can hear it now, "what about when Obama...." Ok, lets talk about the immigrant crisis Obama dealt with. First, the immigrant children he was responsible for caring for were unaccompanied. They came to the border, without parents. Why did they come without parents? Some didn't have parents anymore because they were killed or taken prisoner in a country run by immoral leaders who care only about enriching themselves. Some children may have been sent by desperate parents who saw no future for their children in such a country. Their only hope for the child's survival being to send them alone. The parent may have been hurt, sick and unable to go. May have been arrested and forced to go God knows where. Can you imagine being so afraid for your child's life you are forced to send them on a journey of thousands of miles, alone. I can't. </div>
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Obama's administration may or may not have separated some children from families. They may have had to for the child's safety. They may have had to be separated because the parent committed a criminal offense, like drug running, assault or other FELONY crimes. Crossing the border illegally is a MISDEMEANOR. I cannot emphasize this enough, it is a misdemeanor. As I have said before, like jaywalking, speeding or running a red light. Certainly not a crime that deserves having children taken away. Certainly not a crime that that means a child should be tortured by taking her from her parents. Seeking asylum, not a crime, at all. A high schooler running in the hallways at school, has broken a bigger rule than an asylum seeker. </div>
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"Where was the outrage then" some ask. I remember distinctly where the outrage was. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was from the same people who are supporting kidnapping now. Not, NOT because they were heartbroken about the children, like so many are now. Not because the unaccompanied children were held in detention centers. Not because children were being kidnapped from their parents, because, well, back then they weren't. No, NOT because of the things people are outraged about now. They were outraged because they were saying <a href="https://www.thenewamerican.com/usnews/immigration/item/19091-barack-obama-is-bringing-disease-to-america" target="_blank">"those dirty children are bringing diseases to America."</a> Yup, not care about the children being detained, but selfish worry about themselves. They were yelling and screaming at Obama to turn the children away. "They aren't our problem." It was all over the news and especially right wing radio and Fox News. It was all over Facebook, and I'm sure Twitter as well. That is where the outrage was. It was appalling. "What abouts" being spewed by these same people, like <a href="https://www.mediamatters.org/research/2014/06/24/conservative-media-stoke-fears-about-humanitari/199864" target="_blank">Hannity and Ingraham on Fox</a>, are 100% selfish, hypocritical and do not hold water. Just stop it. STOP IT!</div>
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Another "what about." Those supporting this administration and its horrendous policy sneer, "why are liberals so worried about "those" people? 'What about' the homeless here, where is the outrage about that?" EXCUSE ME!!! Liberals are the ones that fight everyday for a livable minimum wage. Liberals fight everyday for fair housing, affordable housing, medicaid and medicare, CHIP, mental health coverage, food stamps, WIC and good jobs. Liberals fight for all of these things while conservatives sit back and say to the homeless, "why should I have to pay for these things, get a job." Never mind a LOT of the homeless have full-time jobs, some have two. This "what about" is full of shit. The hypocrisy is glaring. Just stop it. </div>
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Back to Ingraham, <a href="https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/fox-news-host-laura-ingraham-124009214.html" target="_blank">she is comparing the child detention centers to summer camps.</a> I don't know what kind of a fucking summer camp she went to, or worse yet, where she sends her kids to, but those warehouses and tent cities are not summer camps. I went to summer camp every summer from second grade to twelfth. My summer camp days were led by women called Patches, Owl, Quincy and Tassle. The days were filled with swimming, hiking, campfires and songs. They were days to learn independence and grow emotionally. They were fun, VOLUNTARY and most importantly, I knew exactly when I would go home and see my folks. I think back to those times of my life with fondness and joy. </div>
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I never went as a baby, nor as a toddler. I would have been terrified. Lets say, just for a moment, that the children ripped from their parents are having "fun." <a href="https://www.propublica.org/article/children-separated-from-parents-border-patrol-cbp-trump-immigration-policy" target="_blank">They aren't, listen to their cries.</a> But lets pretend they might be. They still are not there voluntarily, they still do not know when or IF they will ever see their parents again. It is still not a summer camp. They will not look back at this time in their lives with either fondness or joy.<br />
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Now we have word of detention centers for "tender age" children. Children under the age of ten, all the way down to babies and toddlers. "<a href="https://apnews.com/dc0c9a5134d14862ba7c7ad9a811160e" target="_blank">Doctors and lawyers who have visited the shelters in South Texas’ Rio Grande Valley said the facilities were fine, clean and safe, but the children — who have no idea where their parents are — were hysterical, crying and acting out . Many of them are under age 5, and some are so young they’ve not yet learned to talk"</a> We are imprisoning, torturing (yes, emotionally torturing) and abusing toddlers in state sanctioned kidnapping and terrorism, and some people are ok with it. Not just ok with it, but giddy about it. That is frightening, ghastly and tragic. We are on the precipice of becoming a country that will be reviled by all of civilized humanity. A time in history that will be more shameful than the internment of Japanese citizens in World War II. As shameful as the forced separation of Native American children sent to "boarding schools." Almost as shameful as slavery.<br />
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Call or write your representatives. Now, today. Let them know this is not the America we should be, nor the America we want to be.<br />
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We will all be judged by history. Our future generations will look back on this like we look back at slavery. They will be shamefaced by this. Will you be an enabler or a dissenter. Will your family be mortified or proud of your actions. What side of history will you be on.<br />
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In honor of my dad, who had his leg ripped from his body in World War II, fighting fascism overseas, I write this. I write this because slowly but surely we are letting fascism overtake our Constitution. We are letting a proven liar, repeat his proven lies to take our country in a very bad direction.<br />
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He wants "his people" to sit up at attention when he speaks. I don't care if he meant "his people" as his cabinet or if he meant "his people" as us, the citizens, that is the wish of a dictator. He looks up to dictators and admires them. He excuses murderous regimes and calls their leaders "tough", as in strong and heroic, not as in cruel and vicious. He wants to emulate them. He wants to declare himself president for life, as another one recently has. He attacks our allies as he strokes the egos of regimes who are hostile to us. He wants to build a new Berlin Wall on the boarder of our country, like the one President Reagan told the USSR to tear down.<br />
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There has been one catch about that wall. He promised Mexico would pay for it. Still says that now and again. They won't. The president of Mexico has stated clearly, that will never happen. Tariffs won't make that happen, those increased costs will be passed on to US the consumers. Which means we will be paying for that wall out of our own pockets, and the tariffs will hurt people of the US, especially farmers, even those that voted for the madman. He tried to get congress to pay for the wall, with OUR taxes. The have not, yet. He is fanatic about that wall being built. I dare say he dreams of his face and name being plastered all over it. It is vanity that makes him crave the wall, not national security.<br />
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Since he can't get congress to approve his wall, he twists facts. He manipulates minds. He blames democrats. Democrats are keeping him from building his vanity wall, with OUR money. He is fixated on his wall. He thought it would be easy to manipulate congress and us into just pouring the money into the wall. He got a wall alright, it was called the budget. There is no room in the government budget for his tax relief for the rich, he got that though, (and now wants to take services away from, well, everybody, to pay off those poor innocent multimillionaires.) The wall though, he hasn't gotten that yet. It, like the redistribution of our wealth to the rich will send our budget deficit through the roof. If there isn't money out there to pay for Grandma's insulin, there certainly isn't money out there to pay for a multi billion dollar wall. He doesn't care though, he wants his precious.<br />
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He, his attorney general and one of his jack boot advisers came up with a plan. A way to extort the blood money he needs to build his wall. A way to get the blood money and convince people it is the democrats fault. A diabolical plan, in the truest sense of the word. All while punishing brown people for wanting a better life.<br />
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Yeah, you know exactly where I am going with this. He is holding children of asylum seekers hostage as bargaining chips to try and force democrats to pay for his wall. He is blaming democrats for a "law" that supposedly requires the separation of children from asylum seeking parents. There is no law of any kind. Let me repeat that, for you in the back, THERE IS NO LAW OF ANY KIND! It is a policy of THIS administration. Yes, there were times when children were in detention centers in past administrations. Most of those crossed the boarder unaccompanied. That means, their parents were NOT with them when they crossed. They could not be separated from parents that were not there to begin with, and we needed to protect, shelter and feed them. The centers most likely weren't the best option, but many of the children were placed with family or sponsors. The ones that weren't of the 1500 that were lost by the system, but I digress. Past administrations have not been perfect, but at least they weren't blazingly cruel and inhumane. This administration got to that line, gleefully passed it and went straight to evil.<br />
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Yes, it is evil to take a hysterical child from the loving arms of a parent. Every time I think of it, I think of my grandchildren. What if my children, out of desperation for a better life, fleeing from a war torn country, with genocide and sadistic leaders, crossed a line seeking asylum, only to have their children ripped from them? Taken to be "bathed", sounds a lot like "delousing" to me. I can't, I can't imagine in a million lifetimes what the parents feel. That is horrific enough. But the children, the CHILDREN! They know nothing of his POLICY, not law, policy. They have no capacity to understand what the HELL is happening to them. They just know they are living in a HELL of this administration's doing. They just know that they can't find mommy or daddy and there is no one to comfort them in the their time of greatest need.<br />
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Some fool on Twitter, on the day that Paul Manafort was sent to prison for breaking the terms of his bail, tweeted something like<i>, are democrats upset now that Paul Manafort won't get to see his girls?</i> Ok, let's, let's just forget for a moment, that his "girls" are grown women. Let us pretend they are toddlers, which they aren't. This man has been arrested and evidence put before a grand jury and INDICTED. (The asylum seekers have had none of these judicial procedures, before having their children stolen from them.) Yet, he still got bail, (again not given to asylum seekers). He was allowed to live with his family, which, if they were toddlers, would have included his girls. He would have been able to comfort them, read them stories, kiss them goodnight. Instead, he chose to break the generous terms of his bail, which ripped him away from his girls, who are again, grown women. Had he not broken the terms of his bail, he would still tonight be able to kiss his girls goodnight. Even now, as he rots in jail, if his girls were still toddlers, THEY would not be in a detention center. They would still be with a mother that could comfort them. They could still go out and play, go to the park, go to a movie, do what toddlers like to do, WITH THEIR MOMMY. Do we see the difference here? Oh, and guess what? Seeking asylum, NOT AGAINST THE LAW!!! These families are being torn apart for doing something LEGAL! Manafort? The evidence is there.<br />
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Republicans can never again say they are the party of Christian values, as Jesus would let the little children come to him, not rip them from their parents. They can never again say they are the family values party, as ripping family apart in the name of a nonexistent law, is NOT a family value. Hell, they can no longer even say they are the anti-terrorism party, as ripping children away from their families is STATE SPONSORED TERRORISM AGAINST CHILDREN. It is not "the rule of law" because, again, THERE IS NO LAAAAAAAW!!!!!!!! It is a choice made by the fascist wanna be in the White House.<br />
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If you don't think this is about that man's vanity wall, look at the pictures that were taken at one of the detention centers holding boys (Oh, make no mistake, brothers and sisters are being separated from each other. They can't even comfort each other. And reporters have only been allowed in boys' detention centers, where are the girls, where are the babies?) <a href="http://thehill.com/latino/392200-msnbc-reporter-detained-immigrant-children-are-effectively-incarcerated" target="_blank">There are murals of HIM painted on the walls, like he thinks they will all love and admire him.</a> It is HIS VANITY, not national security at stake. Make no mistake, he is creating the next generation of terrorism, these kids will grow to despise and hate him and by extension, us.<br />
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We used to be the country that tried to stop atrocities in other countries. Now we are committing them. We used to be the country that tried to stop human rights abuses of other regimes, now we carry out human rights abuses. We are now a country that the United Nations is pointing to as human rights abuser. This is shameful. It needs to stop.<br />
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Please, call, email, heck snail mail your government officials. Tell them to put a stop to this, and again I will say it, state sponsored terrorism against children. The children do not deserve this, the parents do not deserve this. As a Father's Day gift to my dad, and all the Dads who fought fascism in WWII I beg you, tell your representatives that this administration has crossed an evil ugly line.<br />
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Do it for him, do it for your dad, or grandpa, or great grandpa and anyone else who has fought for freedom.Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-19066711253960208692017-03-28T17:36:00.001-05:002017-03-28T17:36:20.963-05:00Bus Tour Through New OrleansWe got up early (again) Wednesday morning. We didn't have quite as long a drive, but would be getting into some morning rush hour traffic. We left right when I had hoped. We were going into downtown New Orleans for a bus tour at Adventures in New Orleans Bus Tours. We got there in plenty of time, even had enough time to search for the elusive parking spots. That did take quite a while.<br />
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We got checked in and soon were on our bus. It was comfortable, with enough leg room to keep from feeling squished. We were greeted by our driver and guide, a feisty older woman with bright blond hair that flashed at us as she drove.<br />
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We started down the road and she started telling us facts and tidbits with each turn of the wheels. The bus meandered quickly and efficiently through the narrow streets of The Big Easy. Her accent again made it a little difficult for me to catch everything, but she was funny, knowledgeable, and opinionated.<br />
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She told us how true people of New Orleans didn't do well giving directions. "We don't know north from south," she explained. "You will come to corners of streets where a street named South Elm will intersect with a street named South Walnut," she laughed in a boisterous laugh. "If you need to ask for directions," she went on in a thick southern drawl, "your best bet is to ask one person, walk down to the first turn and then ask another person. Keep doing that until you find where you want to go."<br />
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She told us stories of each building of significance along the way. She laughed about odd laws in Louisiana. How "gambling" is illegal, but "gaming" is not as we went passed Harrah's casino. The fact that they have places that will sell you a daiquiri through a drive thru window. You read that right, not virgin daiquiris either. On Grand Isle we saw a couple of drive thru daiquiri establishments. They were all closed for the season, so we weren't able to investigate, so I had been very curious how that worked. Did Louisiana not have open container laws? This would now be explained to me. She laughed in her now familiar way, "we do have open container laws, so how do you think they get around that?" I listened intently as I was baffled. "They use a lid and a straw. The straw is already in the cup, with part of the straw paper still on it. As long as that piece of straw paper is still on the straw, it is considered a closed container." She laughed again and went on, "now, believe me," she said, "once those straw papers are off, you can't get them back on, I've tried." The bus laughed with her.<br />
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I didn't try taking photos out the tinted windows. There were two stops though, where we were allowed to leave the bus and look around. The first was at St. Louis Cemetery. Before we got there, our guide taught us about how burial was done in southern Louisiana. "We can't bury our dead like you do up north. They tried, and the coffins kept coming back up to the surface and bobbing along. That wasn't something people enjoyed seeing or dealing with," she explained. "So, we put our dead in vaults. They are first put in a holding area for a year," she peaked back at us in her mirror looking for reaction. "Back in the day, people might be accidentally buried alive. They looked dead, but then as the family was getting ready for the funeral, they'd open the casket and find scratch marks on the inside. That was when the tradition of holding a body before placement in the vaults became practiced. The law is still on the books today, and is still done."<br />
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She went on, "Now, the vaults are owned by families. The family has their loved one's casket put into the vault after the waiting period. Here in New Orleans, we get pretty hot summers. These vaults are made of concrete. The insides of the vaults get very hot. A body in a wooden casket goes through what we call 'natural cremation.' The casket and the body eventually disintegrate. Then when the next family member dies, they are put into the vault, they disintegrate, and so on. You can be in the same vault with your great great grand daddy."<br />
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That was creepy enough for me, then it got creepier. "Now, when all of your family has died off, if no one has ever paid for the vault in perpetuity, the grave yard can sell your vault and new people can be added. You could end up in eternity with a complete stranger." She looked back at us again studying us for response. I know she was gratified with my response. I must have looked in horror. "It's not weird to us, it's just how it's done." With that she let us off the bus to look at the history within the gates. </div>
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Some of the vaults are meticulously kept up, and some left to dirt and decay, much like cemeteries I know. Some are grandly adorned with angle statues, others with simple crosses. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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New Orleans was, and probably still is a very Catholic town. There was also a statue of Mother Teresa with flowers that had been left by admirers. </div>
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The next stop on the bus tour was City Park. We were told that episodes of NCIS- New Orleans were filmed there. I didn't see Scott Bakula though, whats up with that? </div>
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We didn't have much time to explore City Park. Bathroom breaks were necessary and a snack of a freshly cooked beignet. </div>
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Then it was back on the bus for the rest of the tour. The driver took us by some houses that had waterlines from the flooding during Katrina. We were not taken into areas still damaged, all these years later, to gawk at the misfortunes of others. I don't know if this was a matter of respect or a way to hide how many are still waiting for help. Judging by the way the driver spoke of Katrina, I believe it was out of respect. She held nothing back when expressing her feelings of how it was dealt with. She reminded us that it wasn't the storm itself that caused the damage. I remember that, I watched Shepard Smith in the middle of downtown relieved and happy that the worst didn't happen. The city has let out a sigh of relief. Then the levies started to fail. It was the disintegration of the levy system that destroyed so much and killed so many, not the storm. She showed us the repairs made and doubted they would help much in the next storm. </div>
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Down the last road on our way back we went down the parade route for Mardi Gras. The trees were heavy with colorful, shiny beads dancing in the breeze. The driver told us that the city stopped trying to remove the beads. "By the time they'd get them all down, it would be time for Mardi Gras again. They are leaving them for the tourists, hoping they take them all." </div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-16195535546738360592017-03-28T01:15:00.000-05:002017-03-29T13:22:51.760-05:00Oak Alley Plantation HouseAfter wandering the grounds and walking through the slave cabins of Oak Alley, we got in line to tour the house. It wasn't a short line. We probably waited 30 minutes to get in. The grandkids did great with it though. They found places to play while we held our spots in line. Lorelei snoozed away in her mommy's arms, cuddled in with her wrap. I honestly think I became more frustrated with the wait than they did.<br />
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When finally we entered the house we were greeted by a woman in period dress. She took us in to a room and started to tell us the stories of the two most prominent families that lived in the house. A house made possible by the hard work and slavery of other human beings. She made no excuses for slavery. She told us the facts and did not try to sugar coat any part of how the slaves were treated. She seemed proud to, as she put it, "finally tell the story," of those that suffered. </div>
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The beauty of the house was obscured, to me at least, by the pictures in my mind. A slave boy working a huge fan. A slave woman serving tea to those who looked at her as an object with no depth. It was hard for me to let go and separate the house from the slave shacks. I wondered what it took for one person to believe they had the right to own another. It was foreign to me. How do you look a man or woman in the eyes and believe you are allowed to buy and sell them? Split up their families on your whim. Sell their children like a piece of furniture. Then go into an extravagant house to let one of their other children cool you with a giant fan. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fan used to cool the family during dinner, operated by a young slave.</td></tr>
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The house was beautiful. It had many things to make the families that owned it happy and comfortable. Gorgeous dinnerware, large silverware. We were told that large dinnerware was a status symbol. Since silverware was truly made of silver, the larger your forks and spoons were, the more wealthy you must be. Apparently, status was more important than actually eating when guests were over.<br />
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Along with the large silverware and gold rimmed dinner plates sat cloth napkins draped over something. Underneath, was explained, were fly catchers. Windows didn't have screens, so an apparatus with sugar water was on the table. It was made in a way that a fly could get in, but not get out. The napkin, well, would you want to eat with a jarful of dead flies staring at you? </div>
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The rest of the house was full of beautiful furniture and craftsmanship. Yet, I found myself feeling suffocated and wanted the tour to end. Our guide, was doing a very good job telling the stories. Yet I was in another place. Thinking of people playing games in the parlor, or giggling with their young children, all the while planning to rip someone else's child away to be sold. Teaching their young children that it was perfectly normal and acceptable to buy and sell people. To let people be beaten and whipped to make their own lives easier. To enrich themselves on the backs of other's hard work. </div>
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I couldn't breathe. </div>
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On the second floor was a set of large double doors leading to a balcony. Our tour guide built up the opening of the doors in anticipation of the view. Once opened, I felt the fresh air hit my face. I started to feel better. I took a large breath and looked out the doors. </div>
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There, the trees took over. The oak trees that gave the plantation its name. They estimate the trees at 300 years old. They have no record of who planted the trees. The way they are planted seem to suggest perhaps a Spanish arborist. They honestly don't know though. It doesn't matter. The trees were beautiful. Tunneling fresh air from the river. Each tortured turn of a limb a memory in the past. They were there before the house. They were possibly there before slavery began on the land. They have seen the best and worst of the people who have passed through. They know where the people came from, and where they ended up. The trees know the beauty and the ugliness that happened around them. They grew tall through strength, and with each twisted limb they honor those forgotten. </div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-22435882532369249732017-03-27T23:30:00.000-05:002017-03-27T23:30:04.899-05:00Oak Alley PlantationWhen the idea of going to the gulf started turning into a plan, I started researching things we could do besides sitting on the beach. Not that sitting on the beach was a bad thing. I just thought as long as we were near New Orleans we should take advantage.<br />
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As I researched, I found a lot of plantation tours. I wasn't sure how the grandkids would do with one of those. Would they get bored? Would they whine or cry during a tour? I decided to send out a general text asking what everyone thought about a plantation tour. Everyone, including parents seemed to think it was a good idea.<br />
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Next was finding one that wasn't ridiculously expensive. Once I found the power pass site, that became easier. There were two that we could see with that pass. After looking at websites, and asking for input, I decided to go to Oak Alley Plantation. Its site described a tour that, besides the manor house and grounds, there was also the history of the lives of the slaves that made the plantation what it was.<br />
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I was struck by the extremes in the difference in life between slave and owner. I mean, I knew, I knew that the difference was horrifying. The clash between the harsh reality of the slave, and the ridiculous, pampered extravagance of the plantation house was stomach turning. On display were shackles used on children. On children. I have never lived in a delusion believing that children were not treated horribly as slaves. Still, seeing an actual set of shackles, that were used on precious children, was heartbreaking. I looked at my grandchildren, and looked back at the shackles. I tried to imagine the feelings of parents and grandparents seeing their beloved children wearing these evil contraptions. There is no imagining such things. No way to ever know how these parents felt. I had to hug my granddaughter.<br />
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The houses for the slaves were very simple and very meager. The "house slaves" ranked a little better. Their clothes were in better repair and made of better fabric. Not because the plantation owner felt they deserved something a little better. No, it was because having slaves, that neighbors would see in the house, dressed in nicer clothes, was a status symbol. It meant that the plantation was doing well, and the owners were very rich. If they dressed their slaves nicely, they obviously were superior to everyone. </div>
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The house slaves were also provided with a few more sticks of furniture. Perhaps a small, simple table as well as a chair and bed. The field slaves had even less. The look of their clothes did not matter to the status of the owner. Their comfort was not a priority. </div>
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When not working in the field, some slaves were allowed to raise chickens, and gardens. The produce and eggs could be sold back to the plantation owner. This was about the only way a slave could earn a little money of their own. Most slaves were not allowed this opportunity. The ones that were, at least had a small sliver of hope to one day buy their freedom. </div>
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The life and work on the Oak Alley Plantation was filled with blistering and dangerous work. It was a sugar plantation, as was common in the area surrounding New Orleans. The work in the field was only part of the misery of the hard work of a sugar plantation. The sugar also had to be boiled, in large cauldrons in the heat of the summer. Heat exhaustion must have been rampant. You can imagine the fires that must have been needed to boil sugar in a cauldron that big. With fires like that, clothes were likely caught on fire causing life threatening burns. Today the cauldrons are filled with water lilies.</div>
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The cauldrons were also used for laundry. Trying to wash clothing in these must have been back breaking work on the best days. In the heat of the summer, truly grueling. Typically, different cauldrons were used for laundry than sugar boiling. The photo below, next to the house and fence gives you a better idea of how incredibly large these cauldrons were. </div>
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The thing that angered me the most was a sign that showed examples of how one race of people dehumanized and belittled another by putting a monetary value them. It had copies of ledgers of the price people were bought and sold for. People. As if they were cattle. People. Treated as lesser beings based solely on the amount of melamine in their skin. People. Who's histories and futures were stolen from them because someone saw them as property. People. Kidnapped and ripped from their African homelands and families. People. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uY3TtZuDnGqSShzP7BmuBtBJoVWzTt-ulo-Ix6tflIS7-FquxFsvkE_k5MkO7kLjv8qJHbH7K1xBwGrL7yvRME1VWP-S5P6qhjjAzSBmu22KqL8JyyOfdJHJUBNQYKngUaUXfAHa-Sc/s1600/DSC_0769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uY3TtZuDnGqSShzP7BmuBtBJoVWzTt-ulo-Ix6tflIS7-FquxFsvkE_k5MkO7kLjv8qJHbH7K1xBwGrL7yvRME1VWP-S5P6qhjjAzSBmu22KqL8JyyOfdJHJUBNQYKngUaUXfAHa-Sc/s320/DSC_0769.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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People whose lives were important. People who loved, laughed and danced. People who's children were ripped away and sold off while they cried out. People who's identities were lost to history, but whose legacy runs deep in the south. A legacy that built the south. A legacy, without which the south would never have become what it did. The south owes much more than an apology to the people it enslaved. It owes a deep debt, one that cannot be repaid with mere money. It is a debt that should never be forgotten. We need to always remember the people that were affected by the greed and hate of the old south. A greed and hate that enabled slave owners to think of an entire group of people as "the other." The "other" was not as smart, not as clever, not as bright. The "other" didn't deserve basic human rights. The "other" was not human. The "other" needed to be controlled by their superior. Sound at all familiar? </div>
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The slaves of Oak Alley were not completely lost to history. Their names adorn one wall of one of the slave shacks. 200+ names. Their personal stories may be lost, but their spirit lives on in the trees and the land of Oak Alley. You can feel them there. Making sure their story is told. Making sure we never forget what one group of people can do to another. </div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-42941534617132504542017-03-21T19:24:00.001-05:002017-03-21T20:46:54.428-05:00Alligators!!Tuesday morning we got up early and were in the car just after sunrise. We were headed into New Orleans for a swamp tour at Cajun Pride Swamp Tours, in La Place north of New Orleans. I had looked at different swamp tours and several didn't take kids under five. That just wouldn't do for us. As I was scouring the Internet looking for appropriate swamp tours, this was the one thing I really wanted to do, I stumbled across the New Orleans Power Pass.<br />
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The Power Pass lets you pay one price for ten different activities available in and around the New Orleans area. Two different swamp tours were listed, as well as the aquarium, zoo, two plantation tours, a bus tour of the city and others. I could buy for one, two, three or five days. I decided on a two day pass. Luckily, the day I went to purchase them they were 10% off for a two day pass. They aren't inexpensive, but do save you money in the long run. We could have saved even more, but the grandkids could only take so much in one day. Plus, at some places you can go to the members' check in instead of standing in line.<br />
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Our swamp tour started at 9:30. I had misread the times and thought it started at 10:00. I had given us an extra half hour travel time for getting lost, and was hoping that would get us there in time. It did, thank goodness. I think I would have been the most upset if we had missed that.<br />
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The tour was on a large pontoon type boat. The guide was very Cajun and I had a hard time understanding everything he said. That didn't matter to me all that much. I was there to see, not so much listen. I was worried that since it was such a chilly morning that we wouldn't see many gators. At first it looked like we would only see the tops of heads as the water was warmer than the air above. Since we were in their home, and not a zoo situation, if they didn't want to be seen, they weren't going to be seen.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOswkdQRzytoBBqt5jZDCvp5rU-5hushwWf_J0yVX_3pl70I9fVzEyfdw7nz_RmZIy9pYI2InHspHSCtrb7af_71Lxdd8g4SSfH4NpnTh3yVDfkDghGChmksaY1pavcJqij4nKB0KTg0/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1308.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOswkdQRzytoBBqt5jZDCvp5rU-5hushwWf_J0yVX_3pl70I9fVzEyfdw7nz_RmZIy9pYI2InHspHSCtrb7af_71Lxdd8g4SSfH4NpnTh3yVDfkDghGChmksaY1pavcJqij4nKB0KTg0/s320/fullsizeoutput_1308.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As we floated slowly through the swamp other critters made their presence known. There were birds everywhere. All of different sizes and colors. The swamp itself was beautiful, even if we didn't get to see a gator in full. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUOJNx4lR8es7JWPmbarXleGeNd2Qduqt_0gp9Biz71vFxYalJ4bUikDGLnMeBqYb1tntRC8Gl3r2F4pyFvhMY9ucXmiR9Enhw8BfwYaKPKjaVgsevFDCeQj5ePfFzH7VL7vvTLUdVCc/s1600/DSC_0427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUOJNx4lR8es7JWPmbarXleGeNd2Qduqt_0gp9Biz71vFxYalJ4bUikDGLnMeBqYb1tntRC8Gl3r2F4pyFvhMY9ucXmiR9Enhw8BfwYaKPKjaVgsevFDCeQj5ePfFzH7VL7vvTLUdVCc/s320/DSC_0427.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is an Osprey, pretty cool huh?</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsN-FUEiq6gp52SUOc_DHNuX95T22Si3bXx1JUydrIttUfKmOJ4bxxN8EQ7eWo9eCEux4hVjkfdSeeAwMRzzVxuv4wCcBiB28KmGcNEI7gwxqOF7OW2aKmZSNkHtv4tXqyQ56eA5FgZXM/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1234.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsN-FUEiq6gp52SUOc_DHNuX95T22Si3bXx1JUydrIttUfKmOJ4bxxN8EQ7eWo9eCEux4hVjkfdSeeAwMRzzVxuv4wCcBiB28KmGcNEI7gwxqOF7OW2aKmZSNkHtv4tXqyQ56eA5FgZXM/s320/fullsizeoutput_1234.jpeg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have no idea what was up with him, <br />
but he held that position for several minutes<br />
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We even saw a raccoon. OK, so, we can see those in Iowa. Ours are a lot fatter, too. And the fact that they were out and about in the daytime was a bit creepy, but they knew they'd get fed marshmallows, they aren't stupid.<br />
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The air started to warm a bit in the mid morning sun, and suddenly alligators appeared, as if from nowhere, on logs throughout the swamp. (Hopefully, they didn't know where those raccoons are fed marshmallows, or lunch may have been raccoon tartare.) I was excited to see a full alligator head to tail. They blended in with the swamp so well, even when on a log, they were still hard to see. </div>
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The grandkids were fascinated with the leathery lumpy critters of the swamp. Noah and Paxton helped each other find gator after gator. Kahlen spent almost the entire two hours hanging over the edge of the boat looking for the next surprise. Lorelei just loved being outside and not in her carseat. </div>
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At the end of the tour, the guide came around with a baby alligator, that he had been raising, for us all to hold. I was surprised that Kahlen and Paxton had no intention of holding that baby. Noah, on the other hand, was all about it. Lorelei even got in on the action a bit. While she was sitting on Willie's lap, he held him. </div>
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As the tour ended and the boat docked, the kids were ready to run around a bit. There was a giant turtle to look at, which somehow I missed, and a few things to climb on. And of course a gift shop to check out. It was also about time for lunch. We left the gators behind and went on our way. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBbuHzVddlT_8nDWmL5JrRZEnn_4o0k9h_a78ELzPx6Hzp5MDoVUJTD7Uau8ALrB5zsrP8cFbR-HG5iTqKhhdF5ZDqVoeTWZiY7GLeSVuQ3t_mBw6T769u6_mp3xuKAMJ4ZS5gtGH_En0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBbuHzVddlT_8nDWmL5JrRZEnn_4o0k9h_a78ELzPx6Hzp5MDoVUJTD7Uau8ALrB5zsrP8cFbR-HG5iTqKhhdF5ZDqVoeTWZiY7GLeSVuQ3t_mBw6T769u6_mp3xuKAMJ4ZS5gtGH_En0/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is NOT a real gator, I promise. </td></tr>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-4034109437526919362017-03-21T16:54:00.000-05:002017-03-21T20:31:08.013-05:00Time to ReenergizeOn our first full day on Grand Isle, I had nothing planned. I figured after being in the car for 30,000 hours the day before, we could use a break from it. We would be driving into New Orleans the next two days, so a day out of the car was just what we needed.<br />
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The weather decided to rain on us, but that didn't keep us inside. The house has both a covered upper deck and a patio area underneath. Soccer balls were dribbled, footballs thrown around. The boys got soaking wet in the warm rain.<br />
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There were porch swings a plenty on both upper and lower decks. The grandkids swung on the swings to their hearts content. The view from the upper deck and the sounds of the sea beckoned as we waited for the rain to break.<br />
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Lunch time came and we got all the grandkids fed and had them rest for a while saying the rain might be done when they woke up from nap. Well, naps didn't happen, too much excitement being in a new place. Yatzee was brought out and it occupied the kids for sometime.<br />
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The game got over and about 2:00 pm the rain finally stopped. We wandered down to the beach. The wind off the water was chilly, and after taking a few photos I went back up to the house to get a warmer jacket. It was amazing to me how much colder the air was on the sea side of the berm. I went in the house and somehow, a big comfy chair distracted me and I fell asleep. A while later Willie came in and said they could see dolphins in the gulf. I tried to wake up, but failed miserably. When I finally did get my eyes to stay open our visitors had left and I worried I had missed my only chance to see a dolphin. </div>
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As the kids made dinner I made it back down to the beach to take some photos. The solitude of the beach was inspiring. It was just as Belle had said. We pretty much had the beach all to ourselves. The rentals all around us were empty. We would be able to run and play as we wished.</div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-80953619302695499942017-03-21T15:48:00.000-05:002017-03-21T20:02:36.228-05:00Decisions, DecisionsWillie and I decided, that since we had a little extra money that I inherited from my dad, since we had only been on one real family vacation when the kids were little, now was the time for a real family vacation. We talked to our kids and offered to pay for a big family vacation for their combined birthday, Christmas and whatever else we would normally get them gifts for, this year. Basically I had Christmas all done by May of last year. Score!<br />
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I had already figured out where. I was Googling vacation ideas and found a vacation rental on Grand Isle Louisiana. Grand Isle is a barrier island about 100 miles south of New Orleans in Jefferson Parrish. The house, called the Milky Way, was owned by a couple named Lou and Belle (could you get a more southern name) Toups. I found them on a site called VRBO.com, which is associated with Homeaway.com. </div>
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The house looked perfect for all of us. It had four bedrooms and four full baths. Each family could have their own room and bath room. Each room had a queen bed and a set of bunk beds. We could bring the pack and play for Lorelei since she's not quite ready for a real bed only being one. </div>
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My original idea was to go somewhere to camp. With Lorelei being so little, I thought maybe not. Then I thought of renting an RV and bringing tents. This vacation was going to be in March on spring break. Tents might be a little cool to sleep in still. That left hotels. I looked at different travel sites, hotels were just not going to be a financial option. Four rooms a night at a decent hotel, way out of my league. </div>
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It was just by happenstance that I stumbled on the VRBO site. I can't remember how I got there. I found the rental house. I looked through the reviews and the photos. Then I closed out of it. A few days later I looked at it again, thinking how perfect it would be, closed out of the site again. I repeated this process many times for several weeks. Then I talked to Willie about the idea of doing this vacation for Christmas presents. He liked it, so with him on board, I looked at the site again, and again, and again. Finally, I texted the kids, asked them how they would feel about a family vacation for Christmas presents, and birthday and so on. They all loved it. I asked Alyssa when Kahlen's Spring break was, when she found out I texted the rest of the kids and told them to ask for the time off from work. It still took me a few more times looking at the site before I was brave enough to pull the trigger. Finally, I did. From that moment, until we reached the house and went inside, I was terrified it would be a dump and our money would be lost. </div>
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I had never seen an ocean before, and while the gulf isn't technically an ocean, it was within the driving distance at which I was looking. Remember, we are talking about transporting four children, ages 7, 4, 3, and 1, by car. I knew there would be a tolerance zone that I couldn't exceed. I also wanted to go someplace warm, but not full of crazy college spring breakers. I had texted the owners of the house a few times asking if they got a lot of college spring breakers on the island. She told me they really didn't, and the local schools weren't out at that time so we should have most of the beach to ourselves. That helped calm some of my nerves, but she could have just been saying what I wanted to hear to get me to rent. </div>
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I won't lie, for the 10 months between when I rented the house and we walked in the door, I was petrified what we would find. We had spent the night at my friends Dawn's in the St. Louis area to break up the trip a little. The Grandkids all got to help her pick out some new baby chickens. They helped her set up an area in the garage to keep them warm. I thought Kahlen just might sleep out there with them. It was a wonderful distraction from the stress of the unknown.<br />
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We got up early and left Sunday morning. As we drove down to Grand Isle, I could feel the nausea rising and the stress factor increasing. I had never planned anything on this kind of scale before. Especially not for 8 adults who all had their own ideas of what they wanted to do. </div>
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We stopped in Memphis for lunch and ate at B.B. Kings. That was a very welcome diversion. The grandkids danced around to the live music. Except for the fact that Willie decided he needed to stay with the cars, most of our stuff was in the back of his pick up with no way to lock it up, we had a lot of fun. I felt really bad that he wasn't in there, but when he said a few guys came around and were looking in all of the cars, I was glad he stayed. </div>
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The rest of the drive was uneventful and full of bathroom stops, and chances for buying snacks. We all decided to wait for supper until we got to the house so we wouldn't have the same issue with the stuff in the truck. As we FINALLY entered Louisiana, I could feel my excitement increase along with a sense of dread for what we would find. We skirted around New Orleans, and came to the bridge that would take us across the wetlands onto Grand Isle. It was dark and we couldn't see much. The bridge was long and had a crazy sharp turn that looks like a lot of people were not ready for, probably because there were no signs warning of it. The scrapes and gashes in the bridge barrier gave testament to that. </div>
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We finally got to the island and started looking for the house. Alyssa and Shane, in one car, and Willie, Josh and Caitlin in the truck, were waiting at a corner for Valerie and Joel and I. Apparently, I gave Alyssa the wrong address, and the house she pulled up to was truly a broken down shack. I'm so glad I wasn't with her to see that! I think my heart would have given out. </div>
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Joel took the lead, Josh and Shane followed, and we drove down LA 1 looking for the correct house. We reached the Milky Way, from the outside it looked like the photos. That helped ease my fears a bit. I walked up the steps to the upper deck, found the lock box, put in the code and retrieved the key. With everyone at my side, I unlocked the door and entered. I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders as I looked around and saw that it looked just like the photos. </div>
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There was a musty smell, probably due to it not being used most of the winter. We all walked around the house checking everything out and picking out bedrooms. Once that was done, I snuck out, walked over the berm to the beach, and took in my first look at a body of water bigger than I had ever seen. </div>
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I stood there watching the waves sparkle as they came in under the light of the full moon. I listened to the waves and the wind as they rumbled and sang their separate songs. I felt the wind blow my hair and smelled the aroma of the sand. Even though it was dark, It was magical. A place I never thought I'd ever be. I'd always dreamed about seeing an ocean, which, again, I know technically the Gulf isn't, but it may be the closest I ever get and it was amazing. </div>
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Soon the kids and grandkids joined me on the beach. The grandkids ran around in giddy excitement. Both excited to be free from the cars and struck with wonder at a site they had never seen. The week ahead seemed like a great adventure just waiting to be had. </div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-76418953577288126502017-03-20T19:29:00.001-05:002017-03-20T19:32:35.614-05:00Last DayThe rest of our vacation involved more exploration Letchworth State Park. We had seen the falls on the south side, but there was a damm on the north end that needed our attention.<br />
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We drove to the other side of the gorge to get to the damm. The damm spans across the gorge from east to west, but the east side is where you can take a tour. The Army Corps of Engineers built and control the damm. Being a part of the military, Homeland Security does not allow pictures to be taken inside the damm. The tour was fascinating. The best part was the views from the damm.<br />
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After we were done at the damm, we went back down to the south end of the park to see a the house of William Pryor Letchworth. He was the man who bought and granted the land of the state park to New York state. His personal mission was to keep this beautiful area from being developed, ruining forever the mystic of the land. in a dedication to the park in 1910 he wrote,</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"God wrought for us this scene beyond compare</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">But one man's loving hand protected it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And gave to his fellow man to share."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">His house is now a museum dedicated to him and the development of the park. Called the Glen Iris Inn, it is also adapted for the use of a hotel.</span></div>
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The museum has many artifacts collected by Letchworth over his life time. He was very interested in Native Americans, and many of the artifacts are from their history. There is also a very large mammoth skull that takes up much of one room. </div>
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Up the hill from Glen Iris is the grave site of Mary Jemison a pioneer of Scots-Irish decent. At 12 years old she was captured by a French and Shawnee raiding party during the French and Indian war. Later she was adopted by a family of the Seneca People. She made the Seneca her family and lived with them the rest of her life. Her remains rest on the grounds of the Seneca Council house.</div>
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After another happily busy day, we returned to our campsite for our last night of our vacation. One last campfire before the long drive awaiting us the next day.</div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-20343989889998699062017-03-20T15:25:00.000-05:002017-03-20T15:25:02.607-05:00Niagara FallsI had seen Niagara Falls as a Girl Scout when I was in high school. Is that snickering I hear? "Still a Girl Scout in <i>high school?" </i>You may be thinking. Heck YES I was! I got to see and do things as a Senior Girl Scout that I may never get to do again. I saw the sunset in the Rocky Mountains. I rafted down the Colorado River. I went on a four day canoe trip on the Upper Iowa River. I hiked in Yellowstone National Park. I built a snowman in Colorado. And yes, saw Niagara Falls. All because I was <i>still </i>a Girl Scout in high school. Stick THAT in your pipe and smoke it.<br />
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Anyway, Willie had never seen Niagara. He loves fish tanks and fish ponds. He has built more water feature ponds in our yards over the years than I care to count. I decided it was time for him to see the premier water feature in North America.<br />
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The original idea was to park on the New York side and then walk over the Rainbow Bridge to the Canadian side. Well, ideas are just that, ideas. Sometimes life throws curve balls.<br />
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We set the GPS in Willie's phone for Niagara Falls, NY. We drove along and as we got closer to the falls I noticed the GPS took us off the interstate and into town. I saw these huge Niagara Falls signs and it was taking us away from them. I thought to myself, maybe there was a wreck down that way and the GPS was taking us around it. We kept following its directions, becoming ever more confused. Until finally it squawked at us, "You have reached your destination." I could see the mist from the falls, but that was about it. Otherwise we were in the middle of town. Then it dawned on me, it had taken us to the middle of Niagara Falls, NY, the TOWN!<br />
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So... what to do now. I said, "I see mist! Go that way!" Willie turned the car and we found a sign with a waterfall on it. That was good! We would follow the signs! How could that fail us? We took a turn, and ended up in a line of cars heading into Canada. There was no way to turn off the road or get out of the line. An officer with a drug or bomb sniffing dog was going back and forth between vehicles. Willie, not one to like unexpected turns in events, started to panic. At first I thought he was kidding around, but then realized he was truly scared.<br />
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I got out our passports and joked that the worst thing that could happen is if they found the tomato in the back that we got for tacos. This joke backfired, he was now certain that we were going to be pulled over and jailed for a tomato.<br />
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The dog came and sniffed out our car. The officer and dog went on their way. Willie seemed to calm a bit. We got up to the boarder and the lady took our passports, asked why we were going into Canada and how long we were going to stay. She gave us our papers back and we were on our way. Willie calmed back down and we followed the signs to Niagara Falls, even though it was right next to us. We finally found a parking place, and ran to find a bathroom. Sweet relief!<br />
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We walked to the falls, Willie was in awe. We looked at the Rainbow Bridge and decided someone was looking out for us. I wouldn't have been able to carry my camera bag and walk across that bridge without dying. It wasn't hot, but it was warm enough I was working up a sweat just walking where we did.<br />
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We stood and just watched the falls from above. The grandness and the roar holding us in one spot for the longest time. I don't know if I truly appreciated its power as a kid in high school. Now, it just held </div>
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me in place. Feet firmly attached to the ground as it rumbled its rhythmic quakes under my feet. Its sound the song of strength. It was like we dare not move until it gave us permission to do so. </div>
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Apparently, the falls and our bellies were having a talk. Suddenly, we were hungry and the falls let us go. We walked up the street and turned a corner. We saw DQ, a Burger King, I think, and other fast food. I was determined. I didn't want to eat the same old crap we could get at home. Willie kept trying to get me to just go for the fast food, but I was relentless and on a mission. We walked up a steep hill and found an odd little restaurant. I don't remember its name, but we went in. This is what we found. It was like a Chuckie Cheeses on steroids, growth hormone, and what ever Lance Armstrong used all rolled into one. Except there were no games and no disgusting pizza. </div>
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We were shown to our seat. We looked up to find this fellow. </div>
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While he was animated, he didn't sing to us or anything annoying. The food was good. Nothing to write home about, but the atmosphere, it was its own. I was glad we went there. It definitely was like nowhere I'd ever been. </div>
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After lunch we walked back down by the falls to go on one of the boat rides. It wasn't the Maid Of The Mist, as that is on the US side, but the same idea. You don a cheap red poncho, you get on the boat, and you get to feel the absolute power of Mother Nature. I wouldn't get my camera out in the mist, but was brave enough to pop my phone out here and there. </div>
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While we were in Canada, we had turned our phones off, so as not to get any international charges. This meant we had no GPS. We started following signs that said USA. I was driving, and realized I needed to adjust to using kilometers per our instead of miles. Once I had that down I realized we were not on the same road to get out of Canada as we took in. We got a nice tour of a bit of Canadian country side, but still were seeing signs for the US. I wasn't going to panic, because I didn't want to get Willie worked up again. We finally got to the boarder. The agent was not nearly as nice as the one we saw going into Canada. He asked us why we went into Canada, and if we had bought anything. I told him we went to see the falls and bought a few souvenirs for our grand kids. </div>
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"What kind of souvenirs," he grumbled. </div>
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"Just a little ball and three boat whistles," I told him. As I pulled out the bag, I pondered on how we had all sorts of camping equipment in totes in the back and he's worried about a bag of toys.</div>
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"Let me see them," he growled. I showed him the bag, he took it and looked at it and shoved it back at me. Good thing he doesn't know about the tomato, I thought to myself. </div>
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Back in the US, we turned on our GPS again. It took us a completely different way. This was probably because we came out at a different area, I figured. It was a very nice drive. All back roads in the country. No frustrating rush hour traffic. The leaves were starting to turn. It was a much more enjoyable drive than the drive to Niagara. </div>
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We got back to our campsite and settled in for the night. </div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-16961745865662678932017-03-20T13:59:00.000-05:002017-03-20T19:35:59.439-05:00Water Falls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next morning the sun woke us up gently and we got our day started. It had rained a bit more in the night, so the air was damp and the ground soft and wet. We dug out some sweet rolls from the car and had breakfast. </div>
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The dampness in the air left a slight haze that the sun was fighting to burn off. There was still a chill, but the warm sun would soon fix that. We decided to check out more of the park, and go down to see the water falls. </div>
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The gorge has three waterfalls. Simply named the upper, middle and lower falls. Not a lot of creativity went into the names, but made them easier to find. </div>
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I can't tell you which falls is which. Except to say, these two lower photos are of the same one. I was fascinated by the railroad bridge that went over it. We even saw a train pass over.<br />
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There isn't a lot I can say to add to the beauty of this park, so I'll just let the photos take over from here.<br />
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<br />Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-10786724128644933452017-03-20T13:23:00.000-05:002017-03-20T19:35:43.567-05:00Letchworth State Park<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I love camping. There is just this feeling I get when I sleep outside in a tent that I don't get anywhere else. I'm not a backwoods camper, I like at least a pit toilet to do my business in. Squatting is just not my thing. With this in mind I tend to look for state parks for camping. I knew absolutely nothing about state parks in western New York when I started planning this trip. I went to the book store and picked out two National Geographic books, one about national parks and one on state parks. I knew I wanted to be within a two hour drive of Niagara Falls, but that was all I knew. </div>
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Finding Letchworth State Park was a fluke. It was in the National Geographic book about state parks. It was within the distance to Niagara Falls that I wanted, so I booked us a site.<br />
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The day after the rainball game in Pittsburgh, we started out for Letchworth. It was about a four hour drive, almost due north. The sun seemed to be thinking about peeking out. I hoped it would be kind and grace us with its warmth at least part of the next four days.<br />
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It was still cloudy, but not raining when we reached the park. It looked as though it had recently rained, but sunshine started poking its way through. We got the tent set up and still had a few hours before dark. We started to wander about.<br />
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The park was even better than I had hoped. It apparently had been voted as the number one state park in the US according to a readers poll in USA Today. We were starting to see why.<br />
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Letchworth has the largest gorge east of the Mississippi. It has even been called the Grand Canyon of the East. I have never seen the Grand Canyon personally, but judging by photos I've seen, that may be stretching it a bit.<br />
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The gorge has been cut out by the Genesee River. We were there when the area was in a drought, so the river seemed quite calm and unassuming. There have been floods that filled the canyon area. It was a almost impossible to believe that entire canyon could become filled with water, but it has, many times. Happily, for us, that wouldn't be an issue over the next 4 days.<br />
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We got back to camp and built a fire to start dinner. We don't own a camp stove. I probably should have one for days when it is raining and we can't get a fire started, but I don't. In all my times camping as an adult, we have never gone hungry from not being able to build a fire. Ok, I always have back up lunch meat for sandwiches, just in case, but rarely have to use it. The lunch meat is usually for lunches, and pop tarts and cereal for breakfast. I don't want to spend a lot of time starting and putting out fires when I could be exploring. I suppose a camp stove would come in handy for those. Pop tarts are still easier.<br />
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Honestly, I love cooking on a campfire. The food gets a flavor that you just can't get any other way. To me, it is a lot more relaxing, too. Although, the food can get away from you and start burning before you realize it. Or the fire will never get hot enough and never cook the food at all. Yeah, I find that relaxing. Don't ask me why, but I do. </div>
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After dinner we sat by the fire. The best thing about camping in October is the campfire. The sun goes down earlier, and the air is crisper. The campfire's warmth and beauty kept me mesmerized. I wouldn't have traded it for the best TV in the world. </div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-35841099920720872412017-03-19T13:51:00.000-05:002017-03-19T13:51:18.795-05:00Steelers!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After our day in Pittsburgh Willie and I got in line to wait to enter the stadium. That's when it started, just a drizzle at first. Our new sweatshirts seemed to be protecting us from the dampness and cool air. Our hats keeping the rain off our faces. </div>
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Yes, I am wearing Steelers gear, I'm still a little mad at the Rams for moving to Los Angeles after trying to blackmail St. Louis to keep them there. I don't really care where the Rams set up shop, but I am sick to death of pro teams blackmailing cities and threatening to move to get the cities to give them corporate welfare money that could much better be used elsewhere. That being said, I felt no disloyalty donning Steelers gear for one night. </div>
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We found our seats, your typical nosebleed seats. I could tell Willie was disappointed at first, but tickets were ridiculously expensive, we were lucky to have those. We could, however see the whole field and there were jumbotrons everywhere to see replays. All was good.<br />
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<br />The rain gave us a break as we found our seats. We used napkins to dry the bleachers off and sat down. We had a little hope the rain was done as we waited for the game to begin. Willie looked around and seemed happy to be there.<br />
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Neither of us thought to go down to the concession stands to look for rain ponchos. That would come back to bight us in the butt. As the sun finished setting and game time approached, so did more rain clouds. These clouds had serious business in mind. These were clouds that were not to be trifled with. These clouds had a grudge and were going to have their way. We were doomed.<br />
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We got soaked, clear through to the bone. We tried to make the best of it and cheer the Steelers on as they beat the Chiefs. The pouring rain was relentless. Willie's sweatshirt didn't seem to have the water resistance mine did and I was soaked. He was freezing and the Steelers were way ahead, so we left with around five minutes left on the clock. He listened to the play by play as we worked our way down the ramp at full speed. The Steelers stayed ahead and won the game. It would have been miserable to sit there in that weather only to have them lose.<br />
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I think he had a good time despite being cold, and I got to check one thing off mu bucket list. I was starting to really about the weather for the rest of the week. Tent camping in cold rain? No, please.Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-82664433632529508892017-02-05T15:32:00.000-06:002017-02-05T15:32:11.545-06:00The Day in PittsburghWillie woke up early as usual for him. His back was feeling a little better, but was still not good. He hoped maybe getting up and moving around would help. The Steelers game wasn't until 8:30, but we wanted to spend part of the day site seeing. We had breakfast, Willie took some more ibuprofen, and then headed out. We honestly had no clue where to go. The Steelers website suggested parking in the golden circle and riding public transportation to the stadium. I set the Google maps to The Golden Circle and we decided to see where that would lead us.<br />
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We did get downtown, but we were on the wrong side of the river and Willie wasn't comfortable with leaving the car so far away. We reset the GPS for the stadium and drove. We made some wrong turns, but made it down to the stadium area. We tried to park in a public lot, but were told we had to be out by four. That wasn't going to work. The lady suggested we park at the casino. It would be expensive, but it was within walking distance. It sounded like our best bet.<br />
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We crossed through the casino, and started walking around the downtown area. Across from the stadium was Carnegie Science Center. We decided that was a good place to spend a few hours before the game. It was only 10:00 am, we had the whole day to kill.<br />
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The day was gray and drizzly, being inside for a few hours sounded like a good idea. As gray as it was, it was supposed to clear off by game time, I wasn't going to dwell. The museum was interesting. It was geared a little more toward families, then middle aged couples. We saw some fun things though. </div>
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I'm a bit of a science fiction fan. I'm not obsessed, I've never been to a comic con. I do love Star Trek and Star Wars though. Yes both, it is possible, lots of people do. Growing up in the '60s I also remember watching Lost in Space. Never a favorite, but I still liked the robot, so got a kick out of getting to see it. </div>
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Then around the next corner, in the robotics wing of the museum, there they were. I couldn't believe my eyes. I had never met real celebrities before. Shut up, they are too celebrities, they just weren't active that day. CP3O and R2D2! Right there! In front of me! It was awesome! My vacation had been made. I don't know if they were just replicas, or original to the movies, but they were still fabulous! A little boy stood next to me as I looked at them. I knew I had to touch R2D2. I just had to! I looked at the boy, I waited for him to leave. I didn't want to set a bad example. He kept looking, too. Finally I looked at the boy and said, "Shhhhh, you don't see this," as I reached out and put my hand on R2's head. I couldn't resist. Besides, if they didn't want me touching them, they should have put them in a more secure display. It's their own fault you know. </div>
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I caught back up with Willie. He wasn't nearly as impressed with R2 and 3PO as I was. We had bought tickets to see an Imax movie and it was about time for it. I looked back at my favorite robots once more before we left the room. </div>
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The movie was fun, I always like a good Imax movie. Though, we went to see The Matrix on Imax, many many years ago. As much as I like Lawrence Fishburne, he just shouldn't be on that big a screen. He had some pox scars on his face you could drive a truck through on such a medium. It was all I could concentrate on. The movie about the ocean was much more enjoyable and beautiful. </div>
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On the river next to the science center was the USS Requin Submarine. We still had plenty of time after the movie and decided to tour the sub. When watching movies involving subs, you really don't get the true idea how small and compact everything is. As we walked through corridors, ducking through door, I kept thinking of my 6'4" son. It's lucky he had never had aspirations of being a naval submarine officer. He wouldn't fit. </div>
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Even the officers' quarters were tiny. Josh would have to sleep with his knees in his ears. Luckily, he should never have to find out. </div>
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The rest of our afternoon consisted of checking out everything around the stadium. One of my favorite things was the statue of Mister Rogers. He was born and grew up in Pennsylvania. The statue of him changing his shoes sits overlooking the Ohio River. I always loved Mister Rogers. His kindness and compassion for others are lessons this world could really use right now. </div>
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Willie enjoyed the walk around the stadium. The sky seemed to be clearing, slowly, and gave hope for the game. There was a statue of Art Rooney, the founder of the Steelers, which interested Willie more than Mister Rogers. Mr. Rooney's statue gave you the impression he was a thoughtful man, who loved life and his cigars. I won't pretend to know anything else about him. </div>
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After walking the circumference of the stadium, we headed back for the front. We bought sweatshirts. I talked Willie into buying a hat. He was't going to, he rarely wears a hat anymore. He used to, he has many, many baseball style hats. He just grew up and grew out of his desire to wear hats all the time. I told him he needed to get one anyway. I convinced him by telling him if it started raining again he would be glad he did. It would help keep the rain off his glasses. He relented and bought a baseball style hat. I kept hoping he wouldn't need it because of rain, the sun was peaking out more. They also had a floppy fishing hat. I joked he should get that one. He just shook his head and walked away. A little while later, it started to sprinkle a bit. I went back and bought the silly fishing hat to keep my glasses dry, maybe if I had it, I wouldn't need it...</div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-74866730025076460332017-02-05T13:53:00.001-06:002017-02-05T14:02:18.036-06:00Inexperienced TravelersWay back in October, when the winds were still warm and the sun still made appearances on at least a weekly basis, Willie and I took a vacation. It had been in the planning for months and was finally to come to fruition. I had been looking forward to it, and yet anxious that things would happen that would make it miserable. I don't know why, but you know, "the best laid plans of mice and men" and all. I just kept myself on alert for possible last minute snafus.<br />
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I kept checking the weather. First for Pittsburgh, Pa, since we were going to a Steelers game at Heinz Field. Then for Letchworth State Park in western New York state. We would be camping there, in a tent, at the beginning of October. I kept worrying we were going to freeze. I really wanted this vacation to be fun, for both of us. The weather kept looking good for the game, which made me happy. The state park was looking iffy though. It looked like we could have rain most every day. That was disheartening. I really didn't want us both to end up sick.<br />
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Finally, the day came to leave. We packed up our car, that was a challenge. We barely got all of the camping equipment and suitcases in the car. At one point it looked like we could get all of the stuff in, as long as I ran alongside. We rearranged again, and fit me in, too. We made sure to put the suitcase for the weekend in Pittsburgh on top of the rest of the stuff. I decided that instead of dividing suitcases by my stuff and his stuff, we would divide them by Pittsburgh and state park. That way we only needed to take one suitcase out that first weekend. everything else could just stay put. It worked better than I had hoped, decreased stress exponentially.<br />
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We left about 4:00 pm on Friday, September 30. Our plan, non specific. Our goal, just to make the drive to Pittsburgh on Saturday a little shorter. Even if we just took a few hours off the drive that would be helpful. We hopped in the car, and headed out of town.<br />
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As we drove we hit some rain. I kept an eye on the weather app on my phone. Since we had no specific goal in mind. driving in the rain in the dark, just wasn't necessary. We crossed the Mississippi into Illinois, and the rain slowed down. We kept driving down the interstate. As the sun set and darkness set in we started talking about where we might stop. I checked the weather app again and it looked like there was a pretty heavy storm brewing around Chicago and east. We stopped in a town west of Chicago, called Manooka. It was dark, so I have no idea what the town was like. We found a hotel and settled in for the night. As we were settling down to bed, at about 9:30 pm, (yes, we are getting old), I kept hearing what sounded like someone bowling in a room above us. Willie had already passed out, but I laid there trying to figure out what the people above us were doing. A few minutes later, it dawned on me, we were on the TOP floor. So, what the poop was going on?<br />
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I got up and went to the window. I didn't know what I would see, because the sounds definitely sounded like they were coming from above. I peaked out the curtains, like if the world were coming to an end in a nuclear strike, the curtains would protect me. As I looked out I say a bright light. "A storm?" I thought. I opened up the curtains a bit more, and saw, FIREWORKS! I love fireworks! I decided this was a sign that our vacation was going to go well. I sat down on the footstool and watched the show out the window of our room. I tried to wake Willie, but he was down for the count.<br />
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The next morning we got up early, ok, early for me and headed out. The rain was still around making our drive gray and dull. Of course when we got to Chicago proper, it started to storm. It was hard to see, and Willie was stressed due to the traffic. Maybe the fireworks were an omen, rather than a sign of good luck. </div>
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We powered through, following the GPS on my phone. Being rather inexperienced travelers we had much to learn about toll roads. The tolls going out of Illinois and into Indiana were manned by people, and they were very kind and let us know what to do. As we drove through Indiana the GPS took us off the interstate. We didn't know why for sure, but followed it anyway. We stopped at a rundown gas station in a rundown town to use the restroom. Being as shabby a place as it was, it was quite busy, with a line to the bathroom. A lady waiting while I was, asked me if we had been detoured off the interstate? I said we had just been following our GPS and it led us there. She said there was a big wreck on the interstate and they were directing everyone off, which explained why our GPS did the same and the number of people in line for the bathroom. We chatted a bit more, about a shared love of camping, as we all danced a bit waiting for our turn to finally pee. Willie and I left and headed back on the road, impressed that Google Maps was able to direct us off the interstate, without delays due to the wreck. </div>
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We finally got back on the interstate, and came to the Indiana-Ohio boarder. Another toll greeted us as we entered Ohio. This one did not have a human to help us along. We stopped and looked at the toll machine trying to figure it out. Willie pushed buttons trying to figure out what to do. The turnpike stayed down. People behind us started to get angry and a truck driver blew his horn, because, you know, that helps. I bent way over to try and see the the whole machine. It had two buttons and Willie kept pushing them. No ticket was coming out that we could see. I leaned farther over and spied it. Way up at the top of the machine, there was our ticket. Apparently, and this did make sense, the lower button was for cars, the upper button for semis. There it was, way up high. Willie climbed out the window and reached way up high for the ticket. As he stretched as far as he could his muscles spasmed right as he grabbed it out. The turnpike finally went up and we moved forward, but by then the damage had been done and Willie was in a lot of pain. Ok, so the fireworks were officially and omen. We stopped for some ibuprofen and food and finished the drive to Pittsburgh. </div>
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The rest of the drive was uneventful, but Willie was miserable. We had tried to make plans with a friend's daughter to see her while we were there, but Willie really just wanted to just have supper and go to bed. We made our apologies, but took her recommendation for a nearby restaurant. We went to bed early and I hoped Sunday would be better. I really wanted Willie to enjoy his football game. Luckily, it looked like the weather still looked hopeful for a nice game night. </div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-36784064614507126602016-11-08T18:35:00.000-06:002016-11-08T18:35:14.897-06:00M-O-N-KEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!!!With the long, horrible, tortuous and torturous election season we have all been suffering through, little glimmers of light have been welcome relief. Things like the vacation Willie and I took, (I'll write about that in another post.) The Cubs in the World Series was a second glimmer. I'm not going to pretend I'm a huge Cubs fan, I'm not even a baseball, or sports fan in general. The Cubs in the series though, that was a great distraction from the 584 days of political commercials and campaign horridness. You read that right, here in Iowa, the commercials started April 4, 2015. FIVE HUNDRED EIGHTY FOUR DAYS!!<br />
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Watching Cubs fans post their happy, excited posts made me happy for them. Seeing Bob Newhart posing on Facebook with a W flag after every win, that's what got me the most excited for the Cubs. Not him in particular, but the idea that people his age have been waiting their entire life to see the Cubs as world champions, through thick and thin. This made me happy they won. I figure, I wasn't the only "not really a Cub fan" very happy when they pulled it out in the tenth of game seven. What a great relief from the campaign insanity.<br />
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My third great light in the tunnel happened this last weekend. I got in my car Friday, a beautiful sunny warm day. The weather was what you'd expect at the end of September, not on November 4. I left from my son's house and hit the road for a weekend of fun and music with my great friend Dawn. On my way down <a href="http://growingupgramma.blogspot.com/2011/03/white-and-blue-box.html" target="_blank">I stopped in Pella to buy a box of wonderful.</a> A box of the most delicious pastry ever to be created on earth. A box of a dozen Dutch letters. The idea was to bring them down to Dawn. She loves them, too. Most of them did make it, but it is a long drive to St. Charles.<br />
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I got there around 9:30 and Dawn and I talked until the wee hours of the morning, as we usually do. I went down stairs to go to bed about 2:30 am, and slept until I think 11:00 am. The guest room at Dawn's is beautiful, but has no windows, so is devoid of natural light. It gets very, very dark. That makes it very easy to sleep and sleep and sleep without realizing how late it is. I hadn't set an alarm, so there was nothing to wake me up. It was wonderful!<br />
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Dawn and I waned away the afternoon chatting some more. Until it was time! We were going to the <a href="http://growingupgramma.blogspot.com/2011/06/listen-to-band.html" target="_blank">Monkees concert!!!</a> I had missed their last several <a href="http://growingupgramma.blogspot.com/2011/06/monkee-brain.html" target="_blank">concert tours.</a> Most sadly, I missed the tour in <a href="http://growingupgramma.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-heart-is-little-broken.html" target="_blank">2011 while Davy Jones was still alive.</a> It was his last time performing with his Monkee brothers, I wish I had gone. When the Monkees went on their tribute tour for David, with Mike Nesmith, they didn't come to eastern Iowa, and at that time I was very busy taking care of my ailing father to be able to go anywhere very far away. Now, Mike has decided his Monkees days have come to an end as well. I never ever got to see him live with the band, and now I never will.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaqjItN-nnKeWnn31iiB0tHBm1A3PVdkEB3h2wXCcye-5glWT6l5VsBBwWilJLpBGFF1_H3_uIkni56_8W9XguHMFFOFT_Qhn3Sk5QfzRe1cYpsETKe6RIbAY8des2OUBwho2ptvo5Vk/s640/blogger-image-1987610025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaqjItN-nnKeWnn31iiB0tHBm1A3PVdkEB3h2wXCcye-5glWT6l5VsBBwWilJLpBGFF1_H3_uIkni56_8W9XguHMFFOFT_Qhn3Sk5QfzRe1cYpsETKe6RIbAY8des2OUBwho2ptvo5Vk/s640/blogger-image-1987610025.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Magdalena<br />(please excuse the quality of the photos. All I had was my phone to take pictures. )</td></tr>
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The three surviving Monkees, including Mike, made a new album for the 50th anniversary of the beginning of the Monkees. For 50 years these men having been entertaining people, since 1966, can you imagine? The album, entitled Good Times, is wonderful. Each of the guys wrote some songs, they had some songs written by others, and yes, they played their own instruments and yes they had a back up band as well. It also has a song they found in archives with David singing lead, and included that. All of the Monkees were represented.<br />
<br />
Other groups, over the years, have replaced missing members, whether they quit or passed, they were replaced. Some groups have done this so often, there may not be an original member in the group anymore. The group may have the same name, but a true fan would not even recognize the group any more. Not the Monkees. In the 1980's the group had a resurgence thanks to MTV airing the reruns of their show, (for you young's, that may not know any better, MTV used to be about <b><i>music</i></b>. That's what the M stands for.) Mike had no desire to go on tour as a Monkee. When he didn't join the tour, the others did not try to replace him, nor try to deny his existence. His songs were sung, his face on jumbotrons romping around in clips from the show. When Davy passed suddenly in 2012, again, the guys never even thought of trying to replace him, and thus he was included on the new album. Like brothers, the quartet had their squabbles, but like brothers they had an unbreakable bond.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgouSpdGRQL8xF-6xR5AtuU2BXgon0vuDVHRYLSYG5pBt5CqAcIHUa2ZpUbKf4Jiq9r1V90_jozfKI7QYbFrnL1yc4oBBh7w7xWCiVVcUhwBfdsQMQ4IwBJIi04qF_ahDizNsRMTpm2Nh8/s640/blogger-image-954323970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgouSpdGRQL8xF-6xR5AtuU2BXgon0vuDVHRYLSYG5pBt5CqAcIHUa2ZpUbKf4Jiq9r1V90_jozfKI7QYbFrnL1yc4oBBh7w7xWCiVVcUhwBfdsQMQ4IwBJIi04qF_ahDizNsRMTpm2Nh8/s640/blogger-image-954323970.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For Pete's Sake</td></tr>
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The new album is fresh, it is fun and it is the best of the Monkees. It is what you expect when you buy a Monkees album. It has a mix of styles, something that has always been true of the group. They have always played a wide range of music. From rock and roll of Randy Scouse Git, to country sounding Papa Gene's Blues, to the vaudevillian Cuddly Toy, this group has always been eclectic. Good Times continues this tradition. The ballad sung by Mike and harmonized by Micky, Me and Magdalena, is as beautiful a ballad as I have ever heard. The title song, Good Times is fun, bouncy, sixties sounding yet contemporary at the same time. Micky pokes fun at himself in I Was There (and I'm Told I Had a Good Time) and Peter brings his own twist to Little Girl and Wasn't Born to Follow. I couldn't wait to hear some of the songs in concert.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwL3jfId0-Bin61dL9UDkH5J0CK84l45IC71gY6vBjr9l4PPA98soj6gzVTntHTJuR-qThPoY5nhonzdiwv2U0r-tDj9Tc_EcCWVRNeAehtOzX1aJ3TI2G3nLwrx-W2EJ90emhqjKIJks/s640/blogger-image-257548174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwL3jfId0-Bin61dL9UDkH5J0CK84l45IC71gY6vBjr9l4PPA98soj6gzVTntHTJuR-qThPoY5nhonzdiwv2U0r-tDj9Tc_EcCWVRNeAehtOzX1aJ3TI2G3nLwrx-W2EJ90emhqjKIJks/s640/blogger-image-257548174.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daydream Believer </td></tr>
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Dawn and I decided to go out to dinner before the concert. She told me what restaurants were close to the concert venue, one place had Brazilian food. I'd never had Brazilian food, (or at least that I know of) and thought that sounded like fun. We got to the restaurant, were seated and went up to the huge salad bar. I glance over at the bar, and there sitting alone was a man in a hat. I looked closer, it was Micky Dolenz!! Poked Dawn, "I think that's Micky Dolenz," I gestured toward the bar.<br />
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"It is," she said, "If you want an autograph, now's the time." I was the real Monkeemaniac of the two of us.<br />
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I'm not really an autograph seeker, and being "Iowa Nice" and having aversions to being rude, I said, "I don't want to bother him while he's eating." I looked back over, and he didn't have food in front of him.<br />
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"Don't you think he'd be thrilled someone recognized him?" Dawn asked.<br />
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"I don't know, he probably has people bug him all the time," more 'Iowa Nice.'<br />
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I saw that the bar tender hand him his bill, and he started to sign it. "I'm just going to go thank him for his music." I said, and with empty salad plate in hand, for some reason I brought it with me, I approached Micky Dolenz. "Excuse me," I uttered.<br />
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"Yes," he said as he turned toward me.<br />
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"I just want to say thank you for your music," I smiled, and was oddly not nervous at all. Usually, in any situation meeting someone new, I am nervous and shaking like a leaf, I'm rather introverted and uncomfortable in new situations.<br />
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He held out his hand to shake mine, "Well, thank you he said."<br />
<br />
I shook his hand and thanked him. "Are you going to the show tonight?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"Yes, I am," I said proudly.<br />
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"Great!" He said and was on his way.<br />
<br />
I turned around to Dawn, and it hit me, I just shook hands with MICKY DOLENZ! I don't think I stopped smiling the rest of the night. Yet, when I went over to Dawn, the first thing out of my mouth was, "I thought he'd be taller." I'm pretty tall and he was a bit shorter than me, but not much. Now, <i>WHY</i> that was the first thing to come out of my mouth I had no idea. Then I thought, wow, Davy must have been TINY! I just meant one of my favorite singers EVER... and my first words about it was, "I thought he's be taller?" REALLY?!? At least I didn't say it to him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-AI-gu3hvIJduMdA0V_U4KZyBmqu3GiI_8hwTrMdWeXUYt3PMTXI2T7LOUWe5-Fvokn0CAcU1lbNL9PGvqGBrVLoDjTsya8jPy8ivLzHNLxcuiCj9MMvPoksKAe8nwA4_sWSTBdPYUg/s640/blogger-image--1976963849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-AI-gu3hvIJduMdA0V_U4KZyBmqu3GiI_8hwTrMdWeXUYt3PMTXI2T7LOUWe5-Fvokn0CAcU1lbNL9PGvqGBrVLoDjTsya8jPy8ivLzHNLxcuiCj9MMvPoksKAe8nwA4_sWSTBdPYUg/s640/blogger-image--1976963849.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Micky on drums</td></tr>
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We got to the concert and it was everything I had hoped for. These guys were around way before autotune so what you hear is what you get. The voice on the album is the voice at the concert. There is no disappointing, "what the hell is that voice coming out of my favorite singer?" They are just as good in person as on albums.<br />
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Peter's voice has changed a bit since his bout with throat cancer, but his ability to carry a tune has not. His performance is still energetic, bouncy and quirky. he has a bit of a lisp, probably from dentures, but it works perfectly with his style and personality. His voice may be a bit higher, from the cancer, but it was just as awesome! Peter Tork was my first love as a little kid watching Monkees reruns on Saturday morning, and that will never change. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgZT6mFJizJUYCs7kYbKDeYX2yDqzB716Nph_vvqbGoWjTFoNorrgTvVhQIxsGyGeDVgkp2QsR_XBFMM-VMnzoW93u98poahOsqrV38RaGg8XNBpVglpNWTogvAtaIl59IGinpITiUr4/s640/blogger-image--1635700772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgZT6mFJizJUYCs7kYbKDeYX2yDqzB716Nph_vvqbGoWjTFoNorrgTvVhQIxsGyGeDVgkp2QsR_XBFMM-VMnzoW93u98poahOsqrV38RaGg8XNBpVglpNWTogvAtaIl59IGinpITiUr4/s640/blogger-image--1635700772.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Randy Scouse Git</td></tr>
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Micky's voice and performance, now I never got to see them in their younger years, has improved, if that is even possible. The maturity in his voice has made it fuller and even more versatile. He can go from a soft harmony to a full deep voice in a split second. His voice has always been unique, one of the very best in music, and now it is even better. Is it because as he gets older he isn't worried about impressing but just enjoying the music? Oh, how I wish I could have asked him that. (As well as, would he ever want to take on a 53 year old apprentice in his wood shop. He is a <a href="http://www.dolenzanddaughters.com/" target="_blank">master crafter</a> with wood and I would love to learn. I love working with wood, but have no idea what I'm doing.)<div>
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<div>
About half way though the concert, there was a short intermission. I was a little surprised by that, but not bothered because they kept us entertained with show clips and music. Then it occurred to me, these are men in their seventies, SEVENTIES! Something you completely forget while watching them. They probably needed to pee. As I looked around the venue, I realized, most of the people around me were also in that baby boomer generation. A generation Dawn and I were born at the very end of. Most of the audience probably needed to pee, too. The intermission was a darn good idea! </div>
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Davy was also well represented during the concert. They used TV clips of him singing Shades of Gray, with Peter, still so very relevant today, this election day. And of course, HIS song, Davy's song, Daydream Believer. Micky and Peter both knew that his song had to be a part of any concert, but that neither of them could every get through singing it. So, they gave it to us, the fans. They played the clip of him singing it in the show as they sang along and encourage the audience to join them. Which we did. There is truly no better way to include Davy in the show, and no other way to include Daydream Believer. As you may remember at the end of the song in the TV show, Davy is shown walking away from the camera during the last bit of the song. That, THAT was just so emotional to watch. It just seemed like a way to say one last goodbye and know he was in a better place.<br /><div>
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The show ended on the most upbeat of songs. Micky looked around the audience, found a few youngsters and told them something. "This next song, it didn't start with Shrek. We sang it FIRST!!" </div>
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Mike, Davy, Micky and Peter made believers out of us 50 years ago, and Peter and Micky, are keeping us believers today. </div>
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Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-29699884113692978702016-10-17T20:19:00.000-05:002016-10-17T20:28:02.526-05:00Vacation Planning Willie and I haven't had many "real" vacations in our married years, at least not with traveling involved. Heck, I've still never been on an airplane. If you don't count visiting my friend Dawn down in the St. Louis area, I think I can count two. One to South Dakota when the kids were pretty little. That was basically on an angry whim on Willie's part when he got passed over for a promotion. We took four days and saw Mt. Rushmore, The Badlands and camped at Custer State Park.<br />
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Last year, while my sister stayed with my dad for us, we went up to Minnesota. We camped at Jay Cooke State Park and also checked out a lot of other state parks along Lake Superior in Minnesota. We had very wonderful and relaxing time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbcFba7Ilk5Mck5-qsmBSe1MJuTWvjcdIVhWBtjzoxuF9mADYoJsfACffPHMwDpPm0KUdD-QrFz3c4Njfpk7Z6PzAoDx8dFjjDtWrRZ1CYTsJ8s04tphOYIPJ3CvKRgpp9A2Th8EjIgI/s1600/11942256_10207764162847890_3142871309618341684_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbcFba7Ilk5Mck5-qsmBSe1MJuTWvjcdIVhWBtjzoxuF9mADYoJsfACffPHMwDpPm0KUdD-QrFz3c4Njfpk7Z6PzAoDx8dFjjDtWrRZ1CYTsJ8s04tphOYIPJ3CvKRgpp9A2Th8EjIgI/s320/11942256_10207764162847890_3142871309618341684_o.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay Cooke State Park<br />
Duluth, Minnesota</td></tr>
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<br />
I decided that we were going to go on a "real" vacation again this year. I looked at the calendar and tried to find a time when we wouldn't be gone during any special occasions, like a birthday or such. I decided on the week of October 1-9. I had Willie ask for it off, and then started to figure out where to go.<br />
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I didn't want to have to spend the entire vacation in the car getting to and from wherever we went. I started looking at places. I looked at areas between a 12 to 16 hour drive away. First place I checked, the Grand Canyon. Neither of us had ever been there. It was just too far to be able to drive to and get back in a week.<br />
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I then looked at Colorado, but many of the campgrounds in the mountains close on October 1. That made that a bit more difficult, but not impossible. The same was true with Yellowstone, and most of the National Parks in the mountains. Next I looked south. We could get down to the Gulf Coast, and I'd never seen that, nor an ocean for that matter. I looked east. Niagara Falls would be awesome. I've always wanted to go to Washington DC, and Philadelphia to walk in the footsteps of our nations founders. I asked Willie what he would like to do. Never really got any kind of a real answer. I kept looking. I bought two National Geographic books, one about national parks, the other about state parks. I looked and looked. I kept prodding Willie for what he would like to do to no avail. So, one day when he was at work I decided.<br />
<br />
"We are going to Niagara Falls for our vacation." I told Willie. He looked at me like I should have asked him first. I looked back at him and I think he realized he'd better not say that.<br />
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"Ok," he said, "what made you decide on that?" Willie loves digging and creating water features. He loves trying to incorporate waterfalls. He liked the waterfalls we had seen last year in Minnesota. I had been to Niagara before with Girl Scouts when I was in high school. That was a long time ago. I figured it was time to get him there and for me to see it again.<br />
<br />
I looked in the National Geographic books to see if there was some place near by where we could camp. I googled New York State Parks. There were plenty, and October is not exactly peak season for vacationers. I decided I was going to reserve a campsite anyway because it would be close to peak fall colors, so the weekends might be full.<br />
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I started looking at google maps to see how far Niagara was from this campground and that. What route to take to and from our house. Would we need to stop along the way for a night, and where would be good. Then I noticed one of the longer routes to the falls was through Pittsburgh.<br />
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My husband is the biggest Pittsburgh Steelers fan ever to be put on this earth. And he lives in <i>Iowa. </i>Living in Iowa does not make it easy to go to a Steeler's game. He had been to one. A pre-season game against the Vikings in Minneapolis. He loved it. He never really expected to get to see them live again.<br />
<br />
I looked up the Steelers' schedule. Now, when I do things on a whim like that, it rarely works out. I knew I had a 50-50 shot, but maybe, just maybe, they would be playing at home that first Sunday of our vacation, or even Monday night. Lo and behold! The Steelers were playing Kansas City that Sunday night AT HOME! One thing on my bucket list had been to get Willie to a home Steelers game. It'd been on the list for years. I never thought we'd ever be able to make it happen, but there it was, a home game while we would be in the area. BUT would there be tickets?<br />
<br />
I pulled up the Steelers' website. I knew they sold out often. Maybe there was still a chance, it was only May. I clicked on "Tickets." There were some available. I was floored! Was this really going to work out? I clicked on best available, and about pooped my pants. I knew NFL tickets were expensive, but good grief. I backed down the price range and found some still ridiculously priced tickets, but ones I could bite my lip and manage. I bought the tickets!<br />
<br />
I was going to wait until Willie got home to tell him, but I couldn't. I sent him a text. "I did something, you can't get mad, because it's already done and there's nothing you can do about it. I got tickets for a Steelers home game for October 2!" I know he doesn't check his phone while he's working so I didn't know when I would get a response. I thought he'd be at least as excited as I was.<br />
<br />
He got home from work. I hadn't gotten a response. I asked him if he got my text. "Yeah." That's not exactly the response I had hoped for, but ok.<br />
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Next step, Hotel in Pittsburgh and campsite in New York. Hotel was easy, Google, Travelocity, done. I looked for parks around Niagara, Ontario in Canada. They don't have a park system like we do in our states. They have national parks, but I wasn't sure if I could get Willie to get a passport, so I looked again at the state parks in the NatGeo book. One was within 2 hours of the falls, Letchworth State Park. I looked it up and booked us a spot.<br />
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Never being completely sure about decisions, I kept googling Letchworth. The more I googled the more I was happy with the choice. Turns out, a USAToday readers poll voted Letchworth the number one state park in the US. It also had three waterfalls. A deep gorge went through the center of it. It was nick named the "Grand Canyon of the East." The deepest gorge east of the Mississippi. So, that would be good.<br />
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Next, waiting...<br />
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<br />Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-41636503736053829232016-10-17T17:13:00.000-05:002016-10-17T20:25:30.856-05:00She's Incredible!!My oldest daughter is, and always has been an incredible person. In junior high school she decided to join the track team. She did not get a love of running from me. Not even in the slightest. I didn't even like running as a little kid. I much preferred hide and seek to tag. Way too much running in tag. I was slow, so I ALWAYS ended up being "it," and then could never tag anyone else.<br />
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Valerie got her inspiration to run from her dad. He was in cross country and track in high school and continued running for years after. He was pretty good. He won a few medals in both sports, but was never what you would call a star. He ran because he liked it.<br />
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Valerie was dedicated when track season rolled around. She went to all practices, she always worked as hard as she humanly could, she went all out. However, like most teens, when it wasn't track season, she went about doing other things. In seventh grade she came home crying during the first week of track. "The other girls are all better than me, I feel like I don't belong," she said through tears. I reminded her that they had all been playing different sports all year. She was at a very small high school in rural Iowa. Most of the kids that liked sports were in sports practically all year round. She wasn't like that. She had other interests that didn't involve chasing a ball around a court or field, and her school didn't have cross country in the fall. She always had a lot of catching up to do every spring. The amazing thing was, no matter what, she kept at it.<br />
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She would never be a star. She would never win a race. In fact, she came in last, every single race. You know what though, every time, she sucked it up, she practiced harder, and determined to do better next time. Which, she did. I was always so proud of her. Never once did she give up. Never once did she not complete her race. Never once did she quit. She kept running track every single year until she graduated high school. She amazed me. As the other girls reveled in their medals, Valerie looked to run a little better time next time. The courage it took for her to go and sign up every year, and finish every single race. I was probably prouder of her than any of the mothers who's daughters <i>always</i> came in first or second. She was my rock star.<br />
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Valerie graduated high school, started her life as all young people do. She kept running on and off as casual enjoyment. Two years or so ago, she really started running again. She started getting serious about it. Her feet gave her problems. She has issues with the her joints, especially in her toes and ankles being overly flexible. She also has high arches. Finding running shoes became a horror for her. She saw a podiatrist who told her what to look for in a good shoe for her. All of this set her running back, but never stopped her.<br />
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She tried shoe, after shoe, after shoe. She wanted to try to run a 10k, but the shoe issue kept making that impossible. Finally, she found a shoe that worked for her. She found the best way to wrap her ankles, and tape her toes. Once she got the combination all down, she was off.<br />
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She started training. She trained relentlessly for months. She trained all on her own, I'm sure doing research all along the way to get the most of her training. She is an avid researcher. If she is interested in a topic, she will learn all she can about it. You see, she also happens to be, really, darn smart.<br />
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She set her sites on a half marathon. The IMT Des Moines Marathon, in well, Des Moines, Iowa. This marathon, the full marathon, is a qualifier for the major marathons and the Olympics in Olympic years. It aint no wimpy thing. Not that she was running the full marathon, or trying to qualify for anything down the road, but even the half marathon brings in very good athletes from all over. The full marathon brings in elite athletes from around the world. It may not be the Boston marathon, one day, it might come close.<br />
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Marathon day came. It was a very foggy day in Iowa. Willie and I had a rather harrowing drive to Des Moines. The fog was so thick, and it was dark. The full moon helped light our way the first twenty miles. The last sixty, even the super moon could no longer cut through the fog. By the time we reached downtown Des Moines, the fog had lifted, but only a bit.<br />
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We caught up with Valerie's husband at the back of the pack of runners. The full marathoners and the half marathoners were starting together. They were, of course, organized by their mile pace times. Elite at the front, novice at the back. There were about 8,000 runners running the race. Valerie was waiting, a bit impatiently, at the very back of the pack.<br />
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Anyone who knows Valerie knows this look. Her lips squished to the side as she bites the inside of her mouth look. Her very nervous, yet very determined look. She may be at the back of the pack, but it wouldn't deter her. She maybe one of the last now, but she would still run her hardest and best run ever. Because, that's just who she is. That was 8:00 am Sunday morning. The marathon started, the elite runners taking off, as the back of the pack slowly made their way to the start line for their chance to start. It took about five more minutes before Valerie got to the start line. Off into the fog she went.<br />
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Willie, Joel and I walked back to the car. We tried to get to Grays Lake to cheer her on as she did the two mile loop there. There was an app for the run that you could keep up with where the runners were on the corse. Once we got back to the car, it looked like Valerie was almost to the lake, with the road closures, we probably wouldn't get there in time. We found a place close to Principle Park, where the I-Cubs play, which was totally engulfed in fog, and waited. It was about halfway through the corse.<br />
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As we waited, we started to realize, perhaps the app, wasn't completely accurate. Joel had a cousin running the half marathon, too. He was tracking both her and Valerie. About the time that his cousin should have been passing us, he didn't see her. She was about a quarter mile ahead of Valerie, or that was what the app showed. Joel never saw her. Then the app showed that Valerie should be coming down the road soon. I lifted my camera to may face to use the long lens to scan the crowd. We couldn't see her anywhere. Joel kept checking the app. "She should be right in front of us," he said. We looked our hardest to find her, to no avail.<br />
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I was getting a little worried. Valerie also has asthma which flares with exertion. "The app still has her moving right?" I asked Joel.<br />
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"Yup, she's moving," He answered. We kept looking. Every woman we saw with a hat that remotely looked like her aqua colored hat we watched closely until we could verify that it wasn't her. Nope, too tall. Nope, she had black shorts on. Nope, hair too long. "Maybe she took her hat off."<br />
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Another ten minutes went by. Still no sight of Valerie though the app said she had come and went. "I don't know how we could have missed her," Joel said. "Unless she took her hat off." We waited another five minutes. "We must have missed her, the app says she is way past. I'm going to find a bathroom," Joel sighed. He walked away, and quickly returned. He pointed to the crowd of runners streaming past us, and there she was! Slowly, as she moved through the foggy air her features became clear. She was doing great. She was in the middle of the middle pack of runners, looking very good. Steady and smiling when she saw us.<br />
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We cheered her on, me particularly loudly. We watched her go by and disappear into the crowd again. The worst part of the corse was yet to come. Some very large hills (yes, Iowa has them) were in her future. She was keeping steady to her pace. She knew what she needed to do, but I still worried about those hills. I am MOM after all. It's in the job description. </div>
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We went and found a place about a block from the finish line to wait for her. We watched the elite marathoners, flanked by motorcycle police, run by at a pace that astounded us for the end of a 26 mile race. They ran by as if all they were doing was running across a busy street. The pace was quick and looked so easy. They looked like they'd been running after a bus for five minutes, not a marathon for two hours. </div>
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We kept watching as more full and half marathoners ran by for their last block of the race. Some looked exhausted, some looked fine. A few stopped, hunched over and the crowd cheered them on. They took a deep breath, straightened their backs and started on again to the finish. </div>
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I could see the large hills that the runners had to face from where we were waiting. Joel kept checking the app, and we tried to recalculate to guess where Valerie really was. He told me that she was probably on the hill at that point. I asked him if she had her inhaler with her, of course she did. "She hasn't needed to use it much though, lately," he told me. I looked at the hill, and said a little prayer under my breath. A little later he told me she should be on her way down, her line on the app still staying steady. </div>
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We watched as more athletes ran by. We saw the women's marathon winner run by. We saw a group who was helping a friend in a wheel chair finish the race. We saw another man in a wheel chair, arms as strong as a weightlifter's, cruise by on his own. We saw a man dressed up like Forrest Gump, so obviously, I had to yell, "Run, Forrest, Run!" We tried to guess how long before we would see her. The app already had her past the finish line. We recognized many runners that we saw when we were looking for her before. I again scanned the crowd with my camera. Pretty soon, there she was. </div>
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She smiled and giggled a bit when I screamed "GO VALERIE!" at the top of my lungs. Her pace was as strong as it was when we had seen her last. She was doing great. Not only that, but for the first time, she was not the last person to cross the finish line. Far from it. She was well in the middle of the pack with hundreds of runners behind her. The clock said 2 hours and 44 minutes, but it was set for when the first runner crossed the start line. Her real time was 2 hours and 37 minutes. She originally thought it might take her 3 hours. She said she'd be happy with 2:40, she beat that by 3 minutes! </div>
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She was, as always, amazing!!!</div>
Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-10518004134024065062015-12-04T02:30:00.000-06:002015-12-04T02:30:29.627-06:00ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGG!!!!! Sprint sucks!!!I am beyond angry. My father came to live with me 2 1/2 years ago because he suffered from vascular dementia and could no longer be left alone for any amount of time. He has, still, a Sprint plan. I do not know the stupid PIN number to get it turned off, and my dad, because of his disease could not remember. He went into hospice on November 10, at which time I tried to get help to turn his phone off. I did not know the answers to the security questions, so the person I was talking to sent a report to someone and that division was supposed to call me back within 48 hours. Never received a call back. Dad passed away on November 18. After dealing first with the funeral preparations and burying my dad, I called Sprint customer service again. Explained that my dad had passed away. The service rep was short with me, cut me off and told me I needed to take the death certificate into a store to have it turned off. Once I finally had the Death certificates, I went in to the store in Coralville, Iowa. I had all of the documentation I needed. This store is 20 miles away from my home. I was greeted by the assistant manager. I told him what I needed, and he told me to put my papers away because they couldn't turn my dad's phone off at that store. I would have to drive another 30 miles to Cedar Rapids to go to a "corporate store."<br />
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Needless to say, I was not happy. I shouldn't have to drive an extra 60 miles round trip to have a phone disconnected. This "assistant manager" wouldn't even pick up a phone to find out if there was any other way to deal with it. If a store can sell me a phone and start up a plan, they should have the ability to TURN ONE OFF!!! It is ridiculous that this store could not help me. Isn't losing my dad enough? Then, I admit, I got angry, but I did not become abusive in anyway, even admitted I was being a bitch and apologized, and begged him to help me get this done. As I was leaving he got very snarky with me. He had no sympathy for my situation, and laughed at me as I left. I am livid! I have been through hell watching my dad slip away over the last 2 1/2 years, and watching him die over a long sleepless week. Then the nightmare of the everything that comes after, and this punk rubbed salt in my very raw wounds.<br />
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I went out to my car, called customer service AGAIN, the rep was very kind and tried to help, but I don't have the PIN so again she had to refer it on to someone else, who, I'm not expecting to hear from.<br />
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Well played, Sprint, well played!Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20069912788661441.post-49903303859957457002015-11-16T08:57:00.001-06:002015-11-16T08:57:34.975-06:00That Stubborn Young Sea BeeDad was a Sea Bee in WWII. Sea Bees are a hardy, tough, devoted and stubborn type of folk. They work hard and they play hard. They are the builders of the American Navy. They are the construction crews of the battle field. They build roads and airstrips and anything else you can think of while under enemy fire. Nothing stops a Sea Bee. They don't give up until the job is done. <div><br></div><div>So, how do you convince the stubborn young Sea Bee inside a tired, disease ridden 88 year old body, it is time to rest? It is time to go on to his next great adventure? That the job here is done. </div><div><br></div><div>Dad hasn't had the easiest life. He lost his own dad while he was still only 12. He went to the Philippines as a young Sea Bee in WWII where he lost his leg in an altercation with an airplane propeller. Sea Bees are tough, and can win in any bar fight, but the airplane propeller won that one. </div><div><br></div><div>In surgery, the surgeons didn't think they'd get him off the table, he proved them wrong. In recovery, he had lost so much blood, they didn't expect him to live more than a few days, wrong again. This young Sea Bee wasn't going to let anyone tell him he wasn't going to finish the job. </div><div><br></div><div>Other instances over Dad's lifetime have have threatened his life and the stubborn young Sea Bee pulled him through every single time. In 1988 he had a quadruple bypass surgery and the Sea Bee was there to pull him through. </div><div><br></div><div>That stubborn young Sea Bee has served Dad very well over his long life. He is still 22 and loves proving people, especially doctors, wrong. </div><div><br></div><div>How do I convince the Sea Bee in Dad, the job is done. He raised his family, he doesn't need to take care of us anymore. He taught us well. He taught us to love, laugh and work hard. He taught us to tinker, create and build. He showed us how to live a good life and be a great human being. He lived by example and taught by example. He showed us, good guys do finish first. </div><div><br></div><div>How do I convince him it is time for him to take care of... well, him. He has always been the one to take care of someone. He took great care of us kids and my mom. He took great care of his mom as she advanced in years. He took care of his alcoholic brother after his mom died and he was unable to take care of himself. He let Willie and the kids and me move in for two years when we had tough times. He was there for my sister whenever she needed him. He took care of my brother until the day Dad moved in with us. He watched his son die in a hospice two years ago. </div><div><br></div><div>Dad's job is done. He deserves to rest. He deserves to be free of a body that is exhausted and a brain that keeps his thoughts and soul trapped. He deserves to be whole again sailing on the seven seas. He deserves his next great adventure.</div><div><br></div>Growing Up Grammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17556939593688560368noreply@blogger.com0