Vacation 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 International Wolf Center and the North American Bear Center. 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 The Root Beer Lady. 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.

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.

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.

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.

The wolves were out and roaming about in their habitat. They call them their ambassador wolves. There are four ambassador wolves. 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.

Kahlen sat and watched and took pictures of the wolves. I think she could have sat there all day.

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.

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! 

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. 

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. 

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. They have four bears at the center. 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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

Kahlen got the only Yatzee, and basically kicked our butts. 

The Weather

No, this isn't about the cruddy, screaming hot weather of today. Although, what the HELL! 85 degrees at 2:00 AM! Seriously!

Anyway, after checking the weather while we were on vacation we decided to go to the Lutsen Mountain Summit Express Gondola 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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

The Long, Long Drive

We 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.

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.

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.

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.

After stopping at Subway for lunch, we stopped at Betty's Pies. 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 Grandma's Marathon 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!

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.



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.

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. 

Oh, and guess who forgot to bring her camera with her? Yeah, me, thank goodness for iPhones. 

Kahlen Turns 10

My 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I kept looking for things to do, and thought I had found some that we all would enjoy. I found a gondola at Lutsen Mountain 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 "The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down A Mountain.")

I found The International Wolf Center and The North American Bear Center 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.

Finally, I booked a kayak trip. 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.

Either on the way up, or the way home we would try to ride on the North Shore Scenic Railroad. I decided to leave the last two days open for hiking or whatever we might find to do. Adventure awaited us.

Well, it WAS still an eight hour drive.

Not My Proudest Moments

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.

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.




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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

I have a tummy ache.

But What About...?

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. 

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. 

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. 

"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 "those dirty children are bringing diseases to America." 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 Hannity and Ingraham on Fox, are 100% selfish, hypocritical and do not hold water. Just stop it. STOP IT!

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. 

 Back to Ingraham, she is comparing the child detention centers to summer camps. 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. 

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." They aren't, listen to their cries. 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.

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. "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" 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.

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.

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.
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For My Father Who Fought Fascism Overseas

Today is Father's Day. A day to celebrate and honor fathers, dads and daddies, whatever you call the man who gave you life. A day to cherish who they were and the love we feel for them.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Some fool on Twitter, on the day that Paul Manafort was sent to prison for breaking the terms of his bail, tweeted something like, are democrats upset now that Paul Manafort won't get to see his girls? 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.

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.

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?)  There are murals of HIM painted on the walls, like he thinks they will all love and admire him. 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.

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.

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.

Do it for him, do it for your dad, or grandpa, or great grandpa and anyone else who has fought for freedom.

Bus Tour Through New Orleans

We 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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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."

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."

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. 

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. 

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. 

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? 

We didn't have much time to explore City Park. Bathroom breaks were necessary and a snack of a freshly cooked beignet. 

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. 

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." 

Oak Alley Plantation House

After 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.

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. 

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. 

A fan used to cool the family during dinner, operated by a young slave.

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.

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? 

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. 

I couldn't breathe. 

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. 

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.