Category Archives: The Journey

Finding Family

Garden1WebDuring our stay at Jones Pond Campground in western New York, the Fabulous Fifth Wheel sat at the edge of a meadow where we could look out at a garden a short walk away. It was the most beautiful spot in the campground.

A long path lined with cheerful Black-eyed Susans leads to a gazebo. Inside resting on a wicker table there’s a binder. Inside the binder is page after page, filled with poems, pictures and remembrances dedicated to a loved one who has passed.

This is the campground’s memorial garden.Garden3WEB

And particularly today, as we celebrate our 22nd anniversary together, it is a vivid reminder of how fortunate Dave and I are. We have a life filled with family and friends who love and support us just as we are. Not everyone is so lucky.

Each of the campgrounds we’ve visited so far is very much a community. Each has a large contingent of seasonal campers who spend every weekend at the campground, sometimes the entire summer, and camping neighbors become fast friends.

Garden2WebThe difference for some gay campers, is that in many cases those friends also become a “chosen” family to replace one that has turned away from them.

For us this campground was a beautiful, welcoming stop along our journey. For others it’s a beautiful, welcoming refuge from a world that isn’t always.

A Fond Look Back at Galveston

Longhorn

Just down the road from Galveston is the Butler Longhorn Museum that tells the story of these remarkable creatures. Dave hanging here for a second with The Duke.

Galvez-BeachViewWEB

A flawlessly framed beach view from the elegant lobby of historic Hotel Galvez.

Pleasure_PierWEB

I’m not an amusement park guy, but Pleasure Pier was a delight just to look at from the seawall at night. This photo is courtesy of the Galveston tourism folks.

BomberWEB

And at the Lone Star Flight Museum, this is the bomber referenced in the story.

BishopsPalaceWEB

There are more than 20,000 historic structures in Galveston that have survived the hurricanes that pummeled the island over the years. A bit about why in the story.

 

It was spring when we were in Galveston and the cemetery hadn't yet been mowed.  From a little neglect..something beautiful.

It was spring when we were in Galveston and the cemetery hadn’t yet been mowed. From a little neglect..something beautiful.

This month I had the chance to share one of the early adventures in our trek with the readers of Country Roads Magazine. I made the case for why one would choose Galveston as a beach destination over the prettier beaches on the Florida panhandle.  Here’s one of the arguments from my story:

“…while lots of beach resorts offer aerial views of the waters below from parasails, but how many offer you a birds-eye view from a vintage WWII bomber?”

You can read the others HERE.

And here are some of my favorite pix from that visit that didn’t make the online edition.

In Praise of Pachyderms

BigElephant“You have an elephant for sale?” interjected the bewildered couple sitting next to us. They’d overheard our conversation at lunch a few days before we were set to close on the sale of our B&B and begin our new nomadic life.

“We do,” Dave answered with a grin. The elephant in question had quietly stood guard in the corner of our parlor for the last eight years. But sadly, even though he was made of wicker, he was too bulky to come along on our adventure.Elephant

So off he went to guard a neighbor’s house. And off we went to explore the world.

But we missed him. Life just isn’t the same without a guardian with big floppy ears and a flexible nose.

So you can imagine how excited we were when we spotted this little fella at the Saugatuck flea market yesterday. The perfect petit pachyderm to pack along. (Sorry I couldn’t help myself.)

Beyond American Gothic

Sultry Night

Sultry Night

I did a double-take. Yep, that was indeed a naked man right there on the wall in the middle of the Tipton library. Remarkably progressive for this small farming town near our campground in Iowa. And a remarkable example of how Grant Wood’s artistic genius has been given short shrift by the pop culture focus on his famous pinched-faced farmers.

Wood spent most of his life just down the road from where I grew up. He taught at my alma mater, the University of Iowa from 1934 to 1941. And yet, like most folks, I knew little about him other than that he painted American Gothic.

This gigantic homage to Wood's best known farmers is touring Iowa at the moment.

This gigantic homage to Wood’s best known farmers is touring Iowa at the moment.

And what a far cry from those farmers the one in this lithograph of Sultry Night was. American Gothic always seemed like a caricature to me, something this farmer clearly is not.

Grant Wood's self portrait.

Grant Wood’s self portrait.

The library has one of a very limited edition of these prints because when it was produced in 1939, the postal service banned it from being mailed to customers as obscene, so only 100 were ever sold.

Spring Turning

Spring Turning

Much of Wood’s work depicted the land that surrounded him, like this painting that so perfectly illustrates the serene beauty of the farmland in the part of Iowa where I’m from—something I tried in vain to capture with my camera while we were there.

Daughters of Revolution

Daughters of Revolution

But there were a few other notable departures from the expected. Like this piece Wood called Daughters of Revolution, where he depicts the founding fathers as cross-dressing members of the DAR standing in front of a recreation of Washington Crossing the Delaware.  Imagine how that went over in 1932.

There is wide speculation that Grant Wood was gay. I can only wonder what his body of work would have been like had he been let out of the closet.

Gay campgrounds really are a bit more fabulous.

Cute before...

Cute before…Fabulous after.Fabulous after.

This vintage beauty has been even more accessorized since I took this picture.

This vintage beauty has been even more accessorized since I took this picture.Nothing complements a classic vintage camper, like a classic vintage car. Nothing complements a classic vintage camper, like a classic vintage car.

If this guy didn't win the annual Christmas in July decorating contest, there is no justice.

If this guy didn’t win the annual Christmas in July decorating contest, there is no justice.

 

Waterfall

Nothing makes the old campsite feel like home like a waterfall out back.

The hydrangeas up this was are stunning this time of year.  But the birdhouses add that extra dash of panache opposite this campsite.

The hydrangeas up this was are stunning this time of year. But the birdhouses add that extra dash of panache opposite this campsite.

Here at Campit, our home for the month near the charming (albeit touristy) Lake Michigan resort community of Saugatuck, the seasonal campers put a measure of panache into their weekend getaway campsites that we just haven’t seen anywhere else.  Here are a few of my favorite examples.

Kitsch Transcended

 

GrottoI was expecting a full-on kitschfest as Dave and I made a right turn off one cornfield-lined county road onto another headed for West Bend, Iowa. We’d been on a trek to northwest Iowa to see family, and were perusing the Iowa visitor’s guide for things to see nearby—when we stumbled upon an entry for “the world’s largest manmade grotto.” Pretty enticing right there, but when Dave piped up that as a teenager he’d met the priest that built it —we were headed to the car.

Dave awaits our entry into the grotto.

Dave awaits our entry into the grotto.

The Grotto of the Redemption was not what I expected. It covers an entire city block. It is kitschy. But it’s also extraordinarily beautiful. “Priest, spelunker, and grotto builder extraordinaire,” is how the grotto’s website describes Father Dobberstein who was born in Germany in 1872. I’m thinking you could count on one hand the list of “priest spelunkers” throughout history.Father Father Dobberstein immigrated to America when he was twenty and entered a seminary near Milwaukee, but soon became critically ill with pneumonia. As he fought for his life he prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary to intercede for him and promised to build a shrine in her honor of he lived. The illness passed, and he came to West Bend as Pastor of the local Catholic church in 1898. He began stockpiling rocks and precious stones and commenced keeping his promise in 1912. He worked on the grotto for the rest of his life—after which the next pastor (the one Dave met) Father Greving took over. CrystalsHundreds and hundreds of thousands of stones cover the massive construction, many donated to the project from all over the world. During the depression when there wasn’t money to have stones shipped in, Father Dobberstein would melt glass in his kiln and mix it with crayons to create gems.Circle And on the brilliantly sunny day we visited, those “Dobberstein stones” as they call them, along with the thousands of others, Serpent

While the angel announces the arrival of the Christ child, sirens behind stand ready to announce the arrival of a tornado.

While the angel announces the arrival of the Christ child, sirens behind stand ready to announce the arrival of a tornado.

 

Proof that a tornado shelter can be both esthetically pleasing and built from very sturdy materials.

Proof that a tornado shelter can be both esthetically pleasing and built from very sturdy materials.

 

The Way of the Cross.

The Way of the Cross.

were putting on a stunning show. It is indeed a very inspiring creation. And as we learned later from a local, a great place for the town’s teens to go drink beer at night.

We Have Seen the Future

These are voyages (albeit short ones) of the Starship Enterprise.

These are voyages (albeit short ones) of the Starship Enterprise.

At yesterday’s Trek Fest, we discovered a place where parade-goers applaud the advancements achieved by the technology behind interstellar aircraft…and

No warp drive, but advanced technology for its time nonetheless.

No warp drive, but advanced technology for its time nonetheless.

vintage tractors with equal vigor. A place where corn farmers and

Klingons come in peace.

Klingons come in peace.

 

Smart Car...err make that shuttlecraft, with photon torpedo in tow.

Smart Car…err make that shuttlecraft, with photon torpedo in tow.

Klingon warriors mingle in peaceful harmony.  Riverside, Iowa is indeed indeed worthy to be the future birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk.

Mountain Musings

Best_of_the_lovin_spoonfulAwhile back I posted a note to Facebook about how delighted I was that Jerry Yester, formerly with 1960s rock band The Lovin’ Spoonful, was playing the piano at a restaurant where we were dining in Eureka Springs…which is near where Jerry now lives.

“Wow what a has-been,” responded one of my Facebook buddies. A cruel remark from someone who really isn’t.  It made me realize how easy it is to buy in to assumptions embedded everywhere in our culture.

The band you once played in isn’t at the top of the charts anymore. And now you play piano for a small, but equally delighted audience near your home in the beautiful Ozark Mountains. Is this life any less deserving of admiration?  I think not.

The noted blues legend Henry Gray is in his eighties now and still tours. But when he’s not, he’s happy to play piano at the Piccadilly Cafeteria in Baton Rouge, where I often had lunch.  He does so because it gives him a much pleasure as it did the patrons.

The audience was very much in on the joke and applauded riotously when Jeerk performed their encore dance routine using walkers.

The audience was very much in on the joke and applauded riotously when Jeerk performed their encore dance routine using walkers.

When we made not one, but two visits to Branson during our stay here in southern Missouri, there were several comments about the place that all “the old people go to,” where the shows were “schmaltzy.”

And yes we did attend a magic show, where the final illusion had as its big reveal a giant mock-up of the stone tablets with the ten commandments (and where the magician invited the audience back on Sunday morning to hear him preach.)

But we also saw a very talented young Swedish rock band, (who happened to be astonishingly good tap-dancers as well.)

Dave pauses for a photo-op before heading in for his chicken fried steak dinner.

Dave pauses for a photo-op before heading in for his chicken fried steak dinner.

And yes, we did eat chicken-fried steak at the restaurant with the giant rooster out front. But we also dined at a mountaintop restaurant on the stunningly beautiful campus of College of the Ozarks, on campus-raised pork medallions served over polenta made from cornmeal ground in the campus gristmill, and garnished with vegetables grown in the campus greenhouses.

Student operated gristmill on the campus of College of the Ozarks.

Student operated gristmill on the campus of College of the Ozarks.

And yes, there were a lot of old people there. Old people who despite the need to use a cane, or a walker or a wheelchair—were out having the time of their lives.

As we slowly evolve into a society that embraces equality for all, and as important as I believe the current struggle for marriage equality to be, I’m reminded that ageism remains deeply imbedded deep in our culture, and that we must be ever vigilant in our quest to end it as well.

Marlene’s Mexico

Pastries pretty in pastel.

Pastries pretty in pastel.

Armed with a pair of tongs, a large tin tray, and Marlene’s expertise, we plunged in to the gluten equivalent of Willie Wonka’s wonderland: El Bolillo. Towers of pastel-colored shell-shaped pastries to the left, a cooler of of tres leches cake slices to the right, yeasty loaves ahead. The tongs flew. Our tray filled.

Marlene

Marlene offers a tong tutorial.

We approached the cash register in fear of the economic havoc we had wrought on our fixed income. “Five dollars,” said the lovely senorita. Dave and I exchanged quizzical, then furtive looks. “Let’s get out of here before they figure out the register is broken,” we whispered to each other. Marlene smiles, and assures us no mistake was made.

Life is especially good this day when two of the prime directives of our journey have been met (and yes, I just saw the new Star Trek movie). We’ve discovered an amazing place new to us. And we’ve been guided there by an old friend with whom we’ve been reconnected. Marlene and I worked together and became close friends during the decades she lived in south Louisiana, but she returned to Houston, the place she was born, a few years ago. She lives in The Heights, an old neighborhood filled with charm, shade, and craftsman bungalows.

Every heat and hue.

Every heat and hue.

On the day of our visit though, she has brought us to the adjacent neighborhood she’s adopted as a favorite haunt-Marlene’s Mexico. It is there that we found El Bollilo, after working up an appetite wandering the stalls at the farmer’s market across the street that caters to the needs of Houston’s Hispanic folk. As with most farmer’s markets there are stalls piled with fruits and vegetables. But here there is a special emphasis on one particular vegetable genus—the pepper. Thousands and thousands of peppers in a full spectrum of hues denoting the full spectrum of culinary heat. The other offering distinct to this market was burlap bags filled with homeopathic herbs purported to offer relief for everything from to impotence to hepatitis.

Need your blood purified? Have we got an herb for you.

Need your blood purified? Have we got an herb for you.

We should perhaps have stopped by after our visit to El Bolillo for a pound of the herb marked to treat diabetes.