City driving isn’t
my thing. I don’t like all the stopping, the traffic and the idiots
who don’t know where they’re going, speed past, or tailgate me
because they think doing so will push me to go faster. It won’t.
Highway driving, on the other hand, isn’t so bad. Oh, sure. Those
idiots are still out there. But the open road is freedom, where the
spirit can soar so high that it inhabits the grandeur of the skies,
which reign over mammoth mountains, open prairie, lush forests. Or
above whatever surrounds you, wherever you may be. Unless driving in
South Texas, which is flat as a table, and dull.
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On the Lisa Marie Plane
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Elvis mural on hotel
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Hamming it up
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In the early
nineties, I took an epic road trip all the way to Toronto. I was
going to a friend’s family wedding in Cleveland. The cost of flying
was so high, I commented that we might as well drive. It was that
nudge that altered the course of our trip.
We lived in Dallas.
I planned the route and realized that we would pass through amazing
cities. We started adding overnight stops, turning the original 4 day
trip into an 11 day road adventure. In Memphis we stopped at a corny
motel, across from Graceland, where Elvis was king. Elvis was on a
mural out front, and every room had his picture. He was even playing
on the TV. It was so delightfully tacky. It tied in well for our tour
of Graceland the next day, where a woman swore that Elvis is still
alive and living upstairs.
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Base of the CNN Tower
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We stopped for
photos at Dollywood, and a huge Johnny Cash sign. We saw Loretta
Lynn’s Kitchen and something about Conway Twitty, but I’ve
forgotten. There were so many tourist traps that we had to skip. We had to
get on up to Ohio for the wedding. It was so cheesy, how could I not
name it the Cheese Tour?
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Enjoying the view
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Went to the upper observation deck
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While in Cleveland,
we realized how close we were to Niagara Falls—an easy day trip.
And that’s so close to Toronto. So, we got up super early to hit
the road for what I called, the Cheese Tour annex
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View from the top
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Just after sunset
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Going to Toronto
left very little time in Niagara Falls. And it took eternity to reach
Toronto. I blamed it on Canada using the metric system: kilometers
are longer than miles. She almost bought it. Downtown was strangely
deserted and its buildings were impressive. Going to the top of the
CN Tower was perfect for my love of heights and architecture. We were
so high, we could see Florida. Or so it seemed... New York was visible across the
lake.
The sun was sinking,
and we had to make it back to Cleveland that night. Slowed by
construction and congestion, I was forced to take out a traffic cone to get around
a slow dumbass. We barely got back by midnight. It was a large time.
A Road Trip is
Born
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Leslie and Penguin
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My cousin Leslie and
I were close growing up. We often traveled to Corpus Christi, TX, to see
our grandparents. Summers were the best, when we fished on the
downtown T-heads or played in the surf at Mustang Island. We still
recall a Christmas where she and I shared a mattress on the floor of
our grandparent’s room. The adults spoke in whispers and hushed
laughter like guilty school children as they set up for Christmas
morning. We lamented how we couldn’t sleep. Would morning EVER
come?
After marriage, her family moved to Athens, Georgia, and opened a restaurant, which
is funny. She and I used to play restaurant in Corpus. We even named
it, using our family’s initials: B and G’s kitchen. What’s
more, we created a theme song. “There’s a bird up on the peak,
and we’re just down the street...at B and G’s Kitchen.
Yukka-ta-kah!”
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Madi and Bo getting married
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In spring, I
mentioned to Leslie that I could possibly visit in July.
Her mom, my aunt, recently moved there from Dallas, and I really missed seeing
her. It just so happened that her eldest daughter was getting married
July 2
nd. And I was invited.
Then I realized that
the other side of my family was having a reunion on the Florida
shores a week later. If I drove, I could see both sides of my family.
I could also stop to visit my father’s former wife in Mississippi.
But what to do in between? I had friends in Atlanta. Before I knew
it, I was planning the Family and Friends Tour of 2022.
Departing Houston on
the last Wednesday of June at 9AM, I drove west. The last time I
drove this route was 30 years prior, for summer family reunions in
Gulf Shores, AL. There are quite a few historical places I wanted to stop,
but I had a hotel reservation in Mobile, AL. Knowing my limits as I
recover from long-haul covid, I didn’t want to push it. Seeing
where Texas history was made could wait.
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My cousin Kyle and his wife Cathy
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Sitting in traffic in Baton Rouge
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In Baton Rouge, I
crossed the bridge over the Mississippi River. I enjoyed the views of
downtown while traffic crawled. On the downward side, things sped up. A
sign indicated a split: Interstate 12 to the left, curving out of
view, and Interstate 10, going forward. Where did I-12 lead? I felt
like I should know. I couldn’t understand why I-12 had 2 lanes of
traffic, and I-10 had one. My mind processed that Mobile, and my
hotel, was on I-10, so surely I stay on 10. Odd that most cars were
going to I-12. It wasn’t until I choose I-10 and saw a sign for New
Orleans when my brain registered the information. I remembered past
trips not going through the Big Easy on the I-12 bypass. I messed up.
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Apex of the bridge
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The idea of exiting
to go back to I-12 crept in. But how long of a detour was New
Orleans? I have GPS. Let’s pull it up. On the map, taking 10 didn’t
seem like much of a detour—maybe half an hour. Exiting and finding
my way back to 12 would most likely take as long. I could live with a
delay of half an hour. I was expecting to get to my hotel around 6PM.
I decided against turning around.
You can see it coming, can’t you?
Silly little mind
didn’t take into consideration big city traffic. And fate had a
knee-slapping laugh by throwing in one of the more torrential storms
I had ever driven through. I began beating myself up, something my
therapist is helping me overcome. I’ve always had an impeccable
sense of direction. Now, with post covid brain fog, I felt like I need directions to get out of
a paper bag. And each time traffic slowed to a stop, or I had to
speed up the windshield wipers for a downpour, my audible moans of
frustration intensified. Feeling left out of creating havoc for me to
overcome, my bladder began demanding to be emptied.
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Heavy downpour in New Orleans
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Still west of
downtown, the exits were numerous, but there was no feeder road. From
the car’s navigation screen, it appeared taking an exit would be more
of an adventure than I wanted to get back on the freeway.
Maybe the next exit would be simpler. Surely there will be a feeder road, so I can just
exit, find a place for relief, and jump right back onto 10. I
remembered New Orleans having feeder roads like Texas.Didn't I?
Another thing I now
struggle with is prioritization. In my mind, finding a feeder road
with quick off and on was more important than finding a rest stop.
With each exit I passed, my bladder pressed harder, but my mind was
set and wearing blinders. It reached a point where it finally became clear: no matter
what, I must take the next exit or stop to dry off my seat.
Oh, can I ever pick
them? The exit wound itself under the freeway, with no sign of an intersection. Where
did this go? Would there be a place to turn or was I now on an
expressway? There were no gas stations, restaurants or hotels in
sight. I reached a traffic light and the chance to turn...but which
way? Right seemed to have a greater chance of a good stop. There was
a cemetery. There were homes. There were more homes. Where the hell
was I? Finally, after a few miles, I found a few small stores and one
gas station.
I parked and was
nearly dancing as I entered the convenience store. The cashier was
behind glass. The doors leading to the back of the store were barred.
It didn’t seem like a bad part of town. It was obvious that I would
not find relief inside. Maybe the restroom is outside. It wasn’t. I wouldn’t make it
to another stop without bursting the dam. This was now a
code-red emergency situation...redder than red.
That’s when I saw
a trash can in front of my car. Peering inside, I spotted a huge plastic cup with
about an inch of blue liquid. Without hesitation or concern, I
snatched the cup out, dumped the liquid, and jumped into my seat. I
sure was happy I chose dark window tint. And I could have used a larger
cup.
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| Mississippi rest stop |
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Half an hour later,
I was back on I-10 passing at the Superdome. I asked my navigation
for directions to the hotel. My car, Wendy, is so smart. She told me
that my arrival time was 8PM. It would have been 6PM had I not messed
up. Damn my fogged brain for not taking 12, or exiting and going
back. Thirty minutes more my ass.
You may recall that
I mentioned a stop to visit my father’s ex-wife, Patty. We texted
about a visit. She was excited to have me, stating that her schedule required
stopping on the way home. Thank goodness for my Aunt Elaine in
Dallas, who asked if Patty hadn’t moved back to Arkansas. It dawned
on me that I didn’t ask where she lived. I just assumed she was
still in Pass Christian, MS. She had indeed moved back to Arkansas. I
was still welcome to visit, but not prepared to make that much of a
detour.
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North of Mobile day 2
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Wendy pulled into
the hotel around 7:30, ahead of schedule. Room number 1 was nice, but the
safe was sitting loose on the floor. I brought showy jewelry for the
wedding, and planned to use it. Room 2 had a safe bolted to the floor,
but it was locked from the previous occupant. The chemical odor in
room 3 was more than I could stand. Room 4 didn’t have a safe. I
wasn’t going to ask for room 5. I have a career that involves staying in hotels, but I've never been this extra. There are many ways to hide jewelry in a hotel room.
The weather was
wonderful, and a gorgeous pool, was winking at me. I changed into
swim trunks, hid my jewelry, and went for a swim. The only way to
improve the experience would be a hot tub in which to soak. And maybe
a glass of Riesling. OK. Two things.
The plan was to
leave the hotel by 8AM to spend a few hours in Montgomery for
lunch. There might be time to visit the state capitol, and get tot
Leslie’s before too late in the evening. The week before leaving, I watched the move,
“Selma.” I highly recommend it. Selma is southwest of Montgomery,
and not too far out of the way. Passing up the chance to visit is
something I would later regret. The plan was amended for a 7AM
departure for a Selma annex. On the drive to Florida, I would pass
Montgomery, and could stop then.
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Driving to Selma
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Selma: Southern
History part 1
I was on a 2 lane
road meandering up and down and around hills, through thick, green
forest land. There was no traffic or signs of civilization. The
bladder was crying again, but there was nothing in sight. I could
pull off and use nature, but there wasn’t a shoulder—only a large
drop-off into grass and mud. The only places safe enough to exit were
a few driveways with locked gates, leading into the thick forest. But
if there’s a house in view, I’d be exposing myself to the risk of
being seen. So I passed each driveway with this fear. None had
any homes in sight, yet I continued to press on at each driveway I
approached, thinking: this one might be different. I was
about to scream when I entered a valley and spotted a small pull-out
area ahead. This would become my privy.
I parked at an
angle, opened the passenger door, and was reminded of the Colorado
River flowing away. A semi-truck approached. I didn’t care. Then a car. Still
not finished. When the stream finally stopped is when no more cars
passed. Really? Now that I’m done is when traffic ceases?
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Welcome to Selma
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Selma, the Queen
City of the Black Belt, played a huge role in US voting rights. I was
honored to be stopping to pay my respect to the lives lost for American civil rights. I wanted to walk across the
bridge to see for myself what it was like for the attempted march to
Montgomery.What did it look like, cresting the bridge and catching sight of the thugs who wound up beating them back into town?
On the eastern shore
of the Alabama River is a park dedicated to various leaders of that
struggle. I pulled in to find a woman leaning on her car, watching
me. What fresh hell is this? If you’re car won’t start, you’d
find better help in that scruffy dog running loose nearby. She told me a
story of how, for 2 weeks, she and others tried to capture that dirty pup. The local vet provided a sleeping pill and she was unsure. She needed advice, but
didn’t ask for my help, which was a relief. I’d rather help with
her car than catch that dog.
I turned my
attention to the monument stones in the park. They were etched with
the faces of men and women vital to the voting rights act of 1965.
One was for John Lewis, and another for Dr. King, Jr. I couldn’t
wait any longer. I had to walk the bridge.
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Eastern side
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Only the north side of the bridge
had a walkway. Traffic sped by inches away, making me nervous, which surprised me. Why
was I feeling this degree of trepidation over traffic? I’ve
experienced traffic like this before. Was this another effect of
covid? To distract myself, I admired the art deco guard rails. At the
apex is the arching metal cage that gives strength to the bridge—with
that horrid name: Edmond Pettus. He was a grand dragon for the ku
klux klan. There are many names better suited to welcome visitors to
Selma. I’m thinking John Lewis would be better suited.
.jpg) |
The thugs waited at the bottom in this view
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After reaching the
other side, I turned around, and walked across just as they had in
1965. I could better understand how scary it was for them, walking up the bridge,
unable to see the other side at all—the fear they must have felt.
At the crest, I imagined the sight of the bigoted white men, some on
horses, with sticks, clubs, and weapons, intent on keeping the
marchers from reaching Montgomery. What I found hard to imagine was
the courage and strength of the marchers—more than I’ve ever had
to muster.
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Old part of Selma
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Along the Alabama River
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I drove across the
bridge into town and turned north. I wanted a shot of the rarely seen
side view of the bridge. I was taken, seeing building after building,
empty and boarded up, with windows either broken or missing. An
historic plaque documented this was once a stronghold of the
confederate army, where munitions were stored. The buildings were
later razed by the Union Army. This part of Selma never rejuvenated,
but for a few restaurants and businesses overlooking the river.
.jpg) |
Brown Chapel AME Church
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Then I drove to the
church where Dr. King gave several speeches—where the marches were
born. The church was undergoing renovations. A chain link fence
surrounded it, while scaffolding encircled one of the brick towers. A
crane stood sentry as a few workers toiled in the morning sun. Unable
to enter the church, I settled for only seeing the prominent memorial to
Dr. King out front.
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Dr. Martin Luther King preached here
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The man. Dr. King
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The church sits in
an area that was obviously a poor part of town. It was ghetto-like,
with small, drab apartment buildings and duplexes. Beyond this were
homes resting on brick foundations. Most didn’t appear to have been
maintained since the day they were built. Many were falling down,
while weeds overtook the yards and earthen driveways. Many of the
homes not falling down appeared to be vacant. The
porches were full of trash and junk, the windows were boarded up, and
more weeds grew tall. There were, however, a few homes that were fixed up rather
nice.
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Downtown art
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I crossed into a
section of town with small homes in slightly better condition, and not as
old. Waist-high chain link fences surrounded the properties, and
driveways hosted more old cars than they should. The locals kept to
themselves, paying me no attention as I drove by. I nearly ran a
traffic light because it was small, suspended in the middle of the
intersection, and difficult to see. And when red, they lasted an eon.
For lunch, I had
scrutinized a few possibilities prior to departure, and favored a little BBQ place
called Lannies. It was still too early and I was out of planned
sights to see. Before leaving Houston, I tried to refill a
prescription, but was too early. I planned to get it done when I got
to Athens. Why not stop at the CVS in Selma, and get it over with?
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Old Dallas County Courthouse
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The short story is
that my prescription can’t be transferred across state lines,
because it’s a controlled Medication. Thus, my doctor must send the
script directly to the store. This was all arranged with my doctor. I
asked to speak with the pharmacist; an older white man wearing a
white coat approached. His face told me he was being interrupted.
After greeting him, I began to explain how I was on a 2 week road
trip, but would run out of a prescription before I got home. I
couldn’t fill it before I left because it was too early...
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New Dallas Co Courthouse
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He interrupted, and
everything he said, I already knew. He spoke to me as if I was a
child. Maybe because of “Selma,” the movie, but I thought he spoke the way people in movies spoke to blacks in the 50s. This must be
what it felt like for so many blacks in segregated America. The way
he spoke down to me felt terrible and belittling. I couldn’t
imagine having to deal with that all my life.
When he finally fell
silent, I continued. His tone improved once he understood, so I
called my doctor for the script to be faxed. It was just past 11AM. I
decided to go to lunch and return later to pick it up. Before I could
leave, I was called to the window and informed that CVS policy won’t
allow a refill until July 4th. It was June 30. The wedding
was on the 2nd. I guess I’d now be in Athens for the
4th, even though I hadn’t planned on it. Because of the
holiday, I had to place another call to my doctor with a CVS in
Athens to send the script.
The dining room at
Lannies BBQ was still closed for covid. Instead of dining in, a lady
came out to take my order, and later returned with my food in plastic
bags. I read that they are renowned for their pulled pork. I ordered
this with sides of fried okra and potato salad.
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| Lannies |
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Pulled pork
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While waiting on my
food, I noticed picnic tables on the side of the building. I asked if
I could eat there. She said yes, but her body language was negative.
It didn’t take long to understand why. There were flies the likes
of which I had never seen. Super fast and over confident, they zoomed
straight for the food, unafraid of the hand shooing them away. Two
turned into 20. I gave up and retreated to the safety of my car.
Downtown was half a mile away. Having lunch in my car next to the
river sounded good.
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edmond pettus bridge over the Alabama River
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The plastic bag had
fallen to the floor and out of reach. I placed the container atop
my tote bag in the passenger seat, and drove downtown. After finding a
nice, shady spot, I got a hard lesson on why pulled pork with BBQ
sauce comes in a plastic bag...doubled, in fact. Sauce got everywhere,
including into the file folder of trip notes and wedding invitations
with addresses. I thought I got it all cleaned up, but was finding sauce for
days.
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View from downtown
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Empty building with art deco
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Selma was a
depressing stop. I did not leave feeling the same as when I entered. I
departed driving over the pettus bridge again, and past more tenement
buildings. I don’t think I’d return; once is enough. Aside from
the history, there is little to do in Selma. Wendy was aimed towards
Montgomery, following the same route as the 1965 march. There was
hardly any traffic. And then I reached the interstate...along with
everyone else.
The congestion was
heavy in Montgomery. After confusing a few turns with those that were
correct, especially after the now infamous 10/12 split, I learned my
lesson. Going forward, each destination is to be entered into Wendy’s
navigation computer, regardless of how easy the route appears. And
when Wendy changed the route due to traffic patterns, as in Atlanta,
I did precisely as I was told. Being so easily distracted and
fatigued requires paying close attention to the route and Wendy’s
help. There were times I questioned if I really was safe to travel
the country by myself.
East of Montgomery,
I encountered another episode of priority impairment involving my
bladder. The trees were thick and I couldn’t see any business signs
high in the air. There were signs on the interstate indicating what
restaurants, gas stations and hotels were at the next exit, but I
couldn’t see anything when I got to the exit. All I wanted an easy
off and easy on, and so ignored the more pressing need to evacuate my
bladder. I don’t know why I do this. Like throwing the baby out
with the bathwater: if my mind is set on getting rid of the
bathwater, the baby be damned.
I finally chose an
exit, but when I reached the intersection, there was nothing there.
The amenities were down the road a stretch. Instead of turning, I
chose to get back on the highway. The road I had to cross was 2 lanes
and separated without enough space to stop in between. As a
white van approached from my left, I saw a red car coming from the
right. I saw this... yet I decided to go. I stopped for the red car
to pass, but was now blocking the van. I pressed forward, nearly causing
an accident. Luckily, no one as much as honked. What the hell was I
thinking? Or why wasn’t I? I apologized to them from inside my car
for at least a mile, freaking out over what I had done. At least I
wasn’t apologizing in person.
Only after I sped
down the interstate entrance ramp did it occur to me how much easier
it would have been to drive to wherever the businesses were. Now I
had another five miles before the next exit. And then I noticed that Wendy was showing a range of 80 miles, I guess I would make it a petrol stop,
as well; better now than to stop in Atlanta.
Athens: The
Wedding
The Selma field trip
had me in Atlanta at rush hour, and everyone was there. Knowing this
ahead of time allowed me to sit back and enjoy the view with my Pandora tunes. I
emerged on the east side of town unscathed, following Wendy’s
directions to the T—even past the sign that said detour, road
closed. Of course brain didn’t register those words until I had
committed to the route. Sure enough, about a mile down was a
roadblock, stating that the bridge was out. Why didn’t Wendy know
this?
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Brett's Casual American
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My cousin and her
husband, Brett, moved to Athens, GA and opened a successful
restaurant: Brett’s Casual American, or BCA. I’ve been keen to
see it and sample their cuisine for ages. Leslie texted, informing me
that the family was going there for dinner, and thought I should meet
them. I asked Wendy to alter our destination, and she obliged.
Leslie’s brother
and his wife arrived that day from Dallas. They, Aunt Glenda, Leslie and
Brett were at the restaurant, along with 4 family friends. I arrived
just as they finished a variety of appetizers, but there was plenty
for me to graze on. This filled me up enough that I passed on
ordering an entree. What a shame, too.
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Texas proud
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Their onion rings
were about the best I’ve had. Honestly. They make a dip for them
that is far superior to ketchup. They fry their own tortilla chips,
served with house-made salsa that is out of this world. The entrees
arrived, showcasing huge burgers with thick steak fries, the way
fries should be. Salmon with veggies, large salads, a mouth watering
quesadilla, and even a great kid’s menu—no wonder it was packed
on a Thursday. And I’m pleased to see them sharing some TexMex
staples with the unfamiliar.
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Watkinsville church
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Leslie and her family actually
reside in a rural area of Watkinsville, GA, with rolling hills and
areas of dense forest. Peppered here and there are pastures to graze
horses, sheep and goats. They live in a quaint home surrounded by
trees. I climbed the front steps to a spacious covered porch with
rocking chairs and a couch. When my Aunt Glenda moved from Dallas,
they built an attached apartment in back, with a large open area that
opens into the kitchen area of main house. The apartment has a full
kitchen and a dinette connected to an open living room. Her closet is
the size of a small bedroom. In the rear is the master suite, with
cozy sitting area and a TV. She has views overlooking the back yard.
And in the yard is a play fort, which I’m sure the boys loved when
they were younger. Now that her youngest is a high school senior, it
sits lonely, wishing someone would play in its elevated lair. And at
night...fireflies. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen
fireflies.
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Happy I finally made it to BCA
|
It’s been 6 years
since I saw this part of the family. The kids are no longer kids. The
younger of the two girls got married a month earlier. The eldest boy
is off to college in the fall, and in a year, the youngest boy will
follow suit. Poor Leslie. Between owning a restaurant, raising 4
kids, and having both daughters married a month apart...she was beat.
But honestly, she looks fantastic, always so beautiful.
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Leslie, Cathy, Kyle, Aunt Glenda and Penguin
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Leslie's boys
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Maddi and Bo
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Friday night was the
rehearsal dinner for Maddi and Bo, held at a popular brewery in this thriving college
town. They don’t serve food, but BCA catered it, of course. We were
treated to BBQ beef, which Brett says is mostly unknown in Georgia.
BBQ in Texas means beef. Out there, ask for BBQ and you'll get pork. We also feasted on shredded TexMex chicken, with all the fixings,
to stuff into flour tortillas for soft tacos. Or, for nachos with
BCA’s freshly fried chips. I was in shock and awe when I found
myself in line for seconds—something I rarely do any more.
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The Chapel
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Saturday, the
wedding ceremony was at the Georgia State Botanical Gardens. Imagine
a majestic wooden chapel with large windows, that bathe the interior
with light, filtered through a thick canopy of trees. The chapel
features an eclectic blend of architectural styles, including art
deco, a passion of mine. This sparked a fascinating discussion of the
various branches of art deco with Cousin Kyle’s wife, Cathy, a renowned interior decorator. We were abruptly interrupted by a wedding.
The nerve.
As at every wedding, I got a
lump in my throat as Leslie’s eldest, Maddi, walked down the aisle
on her father’s arm. The wedding party was large. The women wore
dresses which matched in color, but each had a different style. The
men wore matching suits with white Nike sneakers. Maddi’s husband is
an eclectic sort of guy. He’s a lot like me: caring little of what
others think in regards to his approach to life. I found in him a
simpatico new family member.
Following the
ceremony was a reception downstairs, once again hosted by BCA.
Pimento cheese is a favorite of mine, and there was a large bowl of it, with
crackers. There were also tasty hot meatballs. Later that night was a
less formal after party. Showing off my new svelte look in tux coat
and bow tie was capital, but it sure felt nice returning to shorts in
the heat of Georgia’s summer.
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Leslie and her bro, Kyle
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Bo and Maddi's entrance
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The after party was
at a bustling Mexican restaurant, in a private garden area in back.
They provided chicken and beef tortas. Some called them quesadillas,
but they were definitely sandwiches. What do they know of tortas in
Athens? The guacamole with chips were good, but not as much as BCA’s
chips.
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Polaroids for guests use
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Leslie and I never
discussed my departure plans. I wanted to spend the 4th
with friends in Atlanta. Now that I had to be in Athens on Monday to
pick up my prescription, I asked if I could stay until at least then.
She seemed fine with that until the following day. BCA is closed on
Mondays, and they just survived 2 weddings one month apart. I can
certainly understand how tired they were, and needed to relax...but.
I was stunned when
she asked that I leave Sunday morning. She knew I had a tight budget,
being on a medical leave. I conveyed to her that I didn’t expect to
be entertained. I was fine ignoring them while I, too, relaxed. I
even offered to help with some chores.
Running out of these
meds once before left me with terrible withdrawals. I would exhaust
my supply on the 4th, so leaving for Atlanta, unable to get more until mid week, wasn’t an
option. I would have to find a hotel in town. What else could I do? I
went upstairs to hide in the guest room with my laptop, to find a
hotel for 2 nights in my budget.
Sunday, I was packed
and ready to go by 10AM. Aunt Glenda felt bad, and offered her place
until the afternoon. Kyle and Cathy were coming over to help decorate
her new apartment before leaving for the airport. We wrapped things
up around 2PM, so I took my leave. It felt very strange, being in
town, but not with family I hadn't seen in ages. For the rest of the day, I made sure
not to step out of the apartment and into the house.
 |
Botanical Gardens
|
I found an Air BnB
less expensive than a hotel, but couldn’t check in prior to 6PM.
This left a lot of time to kill. So I went back to explore more of
the botanical gardens.
Monday was the 4th
of July, so nothing was open. I stopped by the Georgia State
University campus, which was empty due to the holiday. I walked around, and
then admired some of the tony homes, driving through the older part
of town. I was slowly making my way west to fetch my controlled
medication at CVS. To think, I kicked myself when Leslie said there
was a CVS closer to them in Watkinsville that I could have used. Turns out,- that
would have been inconvenient. At least now there wasn’t a risk of
running into the family. Awkward.
 |
Georgia State University
|
 |
Double barrel canon
|
I was staying near
the campus. The drive and weekend events left me tuckered, so I found
myself in bed before the sun set. From under the covers, I listened
to the pops, booms and crackles of nearby fireworks. I’ve had worse
4
th of July celebrations. Even had I been with friends,
I’d be a bump on a log with my low energy.
In the morning, I
chose to tour the Museum of Art, located on the campus. I didn’t
want to leave too early and inconvenience my friend, who was working. Plus I love art
museums. This one was an enjoyable experience, particularly viewing 3
window panes designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, himself. And it was
free.
 |
Across from campus
|
 |
Abandoned retro in Athens
|
Atlanta is
Hotlanta
 |
Me with Rob in Atlanta
|
Upon leaving Athens,
I passed a gas station charging $3.82 a gallon. I hadn’t seen
anything under $4 since leaving home. This was only the 3
rd stop for petrol on this trip. Wendy is the best. With a
full tank of gas, my next destination was Atlanta. I would stay the
night with a very dear friend, Rob. He worked from home, and I didn’t
want to be in his way, so I planned to arrive in the late afternoon.
For some reason, I had it in my head that Athens was 4 hours from
Atlanta; or it felt like 4 hours on the way in. I was at Rob’s
house in 90 minutes—just after lunch.
 |
Art deco in Atlanta
|
Rob helped bring my
things inside and I offered to go sightseeing until he “clocked
out.” The only reason I showed up early was because I had some food
that needed to be in the fridge. He convinced me that I wouldn’t
bother him if I stayed. The quiet time in his living room, and the
chance to get caught up on a few things, was welcomed. After quitting
time, Rob drove me around for a nice tour of Atlanta. We ate at a
quaint Japanese restaurant, then stopped at a grocery store for
Boston cream pie ice cream on the way home. We spent hours rehashing
the days we worked at the same insurance company. He’s kept in
touch with more of our old team than I have, and it was nice to hear
what they were now doing.
 |
The Carter Airplane
|
On Thursday, I was
invited to stay with my Bay Area friends, Mark and Tara. But first, I
wanted to see the Jimmy Carter presidential library and museum. I
have been to the LBJ library in Austin, and I fancy seeing all of the
presidential libraries one day. Unassuming from the outside, the
building is surrounded by beautiful trees. Everything in Georgia is
surrounded by beautiful trees. I enjoyed the museum so much that I
spent twice as long as expected.
 |
Carter's Oval Office
|
Mark and Tara live
in a wonderful 3 story home with their daughter in a nice area off
I-85. Like much of Georgia, it’s hilly, and lush with vegetation. A
creek runs along the back of their property, creating an oasis. Edie gave me a tour of
the home while her parents finished work. Edie is more like a young
adult than a 10-year old. She’s smart, confident, artistic, and
engaging. When the work day ended, the adults spent time getting
caught up.
That night, they
made rice bowls with all sorts of TexMex toppings: beans, grilled
veg, cheese, salsa, and sour cream. I’d never seen anything of the
sort. It was so good, I plan to make it at home. They seemed
surprised at how little I eat, thus making my loss of 90 pounds
understandable.
 |
Briarlake Forest Park
|
The following day,
while they both worked, I got in a workout. I wanted to visit a park
Tara told me about. Walking uphill, half a mile away, is a small,
wooded park. From inside, I felt miles from civilization. There were
numerous trails, and I actually got lost. I thought I was going to
end up where I entered, but seemed to be at the opposite end. This
gave me a panic attack; being so lost and turned around is not something I’m
used to. The park wasn’t THAT big. I think what frustrated me more
was seeing another example of what covid has done to me. Feeling
fatigued, once I found their street, I walked back much sooner than
expected.
In the evening, I
was treated to sushi. I ate an entire shrimp tempura roll and 6,
albeit somewhat small, pieces of pork gyoza. Man, was it good. This
made the 2nd time on this trip that I ate more than I
should have, but this meal would not have have made good leftovers.
Waste not want not is what my grandmother used to say. I can’t
throw out tasty food.
 |
I'm with Tara, Edie & Mark
|
We binge watched Ru
Paul’s Drag Race both evenings. I’d never seen a whole episode,
and many times found myself laughing out loud. Rarely could I
understand the on-screen drama. When things move quickly, I struggle
to follow along. Especially being so unfamiliar with the world of
cross dressers. It took forever to learn that the boys prefer to be
called she, or her. “Now wait. Who is he? I mean she? Why did he
take his wig? I mean, why did she take her wig?” It was a
laugh-riot.
As things wound down
that night, I proclaimed my intention of leaving at 9AM. Up to this
point, sleeping more than 6 hours was rare. There was a time you
could set a clock to my getting 8 hours of sleep. This wound up being
one of those nights that I slept 8, pushing my departure back a bit.
They weren’t in a hurry to get rid of me, and Montgomery was only a
3 hour drive, so no worries. It was nice having another short drive
ahead of me. The expectation was that it would be an easy day. But I
hadn’t left Atlanta yet.
 |
Enjoying the urban forest
|
Still in the city
limits, my covid brain fog stuck again. The signs on the freeway
confused me. They didn’t seem to match what Wendy was showing. At a
fork, I went the wrong way, even though Wendy told me the right way.
It’s not a perfect system, but the timing was actually right. My
coffee-filled bladder was ready to stop. I found a McDonalds. It was
the first time since covid that I've been in one. I must admit that the
McD’s aroma still delights the senses, but not enough to make me
buy anything.
Montgomery:
Southern History part 2
 |
Capitol Inn and Suites
|
Opting to visit
Selma instead of Montgomery on day 2 allowed me to budget 27 hours in
Alabama’s capitol. Two half days, really, for a place with many
more points of interest and things to do than Selma. My first visit
warranted more than a few hours. I booked a motel a few blocks from
the capitol.
 |
Montgomery, Alabama
|
The drive from
Atlanta went quickly, and I was able to check into the motel prior to
lunch. In this motel, I got what I paid for: a meager, run-down room
that smelled of cheap cleaning chemicals. The walls had tacky artwork
that might have been printed on their home printer. The bedspread was
from the dark side of the 70s. A huge, suspicious stain lived on the
seat at an old, mismatched desk, with the scratches and burn marks
one expects from such a cheap motel. But it had a working air
conditioner and pluming, a small fridge, and the bed wasn’t
horrible. It was only one night.
 |
Shucked oysters
|
On the
recommendation of Rob, I went to Wentzell’s Oyster House for a
fried shrimp basket. It was served with excellent boardwalk-style
fries, and hush puppies that won my prestigious award for most dense
ever. No worries. I wanted to eat all 6 pieces of shrimp, and I
filled up on fries. I was too full to worry myself over dense balls
of fried cornbread. I ate at the oyster bar to avoid waiting for a
table. I watched 2 men shuck oysters as if they were slicing butter.
They easily shucked in 10 minutes, more oysters than I ever shucked
in my life. And I spent a year working at a restaurant with oysters
to shuck.
I make it a point to
visit every state capitol I come across. Over the years, I’ve visted quite a few capitol buildings. Alabama’s closed at 5PM,
making this my first tourist stop. It took half an hour to reach,
even though it was a mile away. There were numerous stops of interest
on nearly every block. I’d stop along the street to gander at some
very interesting things: a statue of Rosa Parks, the city’s tallest
building with art deco accents, the church where Dr. King, Jr. was
pastor, and a beautiful Victorian-looking water fountain that I later
learned was built on the spot where slaves were sold.
 |
Rosa Parks
|
Considering it was
Friday afternoon, there was hardly any traffic. I got rock star
parking in front of the capitol building. Then a huge storm cloud
dumped its liquid greeting as I pulled in. Waiting in the car for it to
pass, seemed the sensible thing to do. It didn’t last more than 10
minutes.
 |
Capitol steps
|
 |
Spiral staircase
|
 |
| Rotunda |
Alabama’s capitol
appeared to be more for tourists, than actual state business. Both
empty chambers are a step back in time. There is a large room north
of the rotunda devoted to nothing but empty space. There were only a few
historical items placed around the perimeter. In the back of the room
was an ornate clerk’s desk, with numerous drawers for storing
papers of various importance—what Mom called, “cully-mully.” As if she were there, I
could hear her saying how this desk was perfect for all sorts of
cully-mully.
The rotunda was gallant. The lower walls depicted scenes from Alabama’s history.
At the entrance were impressive circular stairs that spiraled up
three levels. After posing for photos on the capitol steps, I saw the
plaque marking where Jefferson Davis stood to take the oath of office
as the first president of the confederacy. I may or may not have given it the bird.
With a multitude of
options, it was difficult choosing my next stop. Maybe the National
Memorial for Peace and Justice would be a free park to observe a public
memorial. A quick stop might allow me to see more afterwards. It was neither
free nor quick, but would leave a lasting impression on me. And it
included entry to the Legacy Museum nearby. All for only $5.
The woman at the
ticket desk said there was a free a shuttle to the museum and back.
When I walked out of the building, the bus was about to leave. I
hadn’t a clue what the Legacy Museum was, but I decided to start
there. It was quite a hot afternoon. Maybe I could escape the heat
for a while, inside an air conditioned museum.
This would be the
last stop on my tour for the day. Had I known, I would have arrived
sooner. I could tell from the money spent on the Peace and Justice
building that this was going to be good. Outside is a courtyard using bricks from slave labor. In the center s is a
waist-high water feature. It may have been 50 feet long, with water
spilling over the sides. In the water are the carved names of people
who were lynched between 1865 and 1876. In the fountain’s center
are 3 bronze heads of a black a man, woman, and child. At the far end
is a wall of stark concrete lacking ornamentation. On this is quoted,
“May we never forget all those who suffered and died because they
asserted their basic human right to be free.” I hadn’t expected
this to be so emotional. It was the 1st tear of many shed
that day.
 |
The courtyard fountain
|
The Legacy Museum isn’t a comforting place. It exposes the path
from slavery to racial oppression, including terror lynchings and
mass incarceration. It plays out the progress from subjugation to
civil rights reform. It includes the evolving ways of controlling
black people, all the way to present day.
 |
Over 2 million kidnapped from Africa died on the ocean
|
Much technology is used to dramatize the horror of enslavement,
lynchings, and legalized racial segregation. I was thrust in close
proximity to replicas depicting imprisoned slaves awaiting sale at
the auction block. One room housed a series of small jail cells with
holograms of black people telling their story—including a young
girl recounting how she was torn from her family as they were sold to
masters far away. She would never see them again. How could I not
cry?
The museum was immense and I was taking my time to see it all.
When I realized I had been there for 3 hours it was 4:28. I asked
when the last shuttle departed to the other site, where I parked. I
had 2 minutes. She led me running through the rest of the museum; I
had only seen half.
 |
Homage to the 1965 March from Selma
|
It is amazing how thorough the museum is. Much time and effort was
involved in creating this. Remembering and documenting racial
injustice is a painful but necessary lesson of American history. One
day, I’ll see the rest of it.
The following morning I returned to the National Memorial to Peace
and Justice—the outdoor part I missed the day before. It’s
dedicated specifically to the victims of lynching. In an open-air
pavilion are 805 steel rectangles, that looked like coffins. Each
represents a US county with a documented lynching. Eight hundred and
five US counties...with a documented lynching. And some had lists as
long as the day.
 |
National Memorial to Peace and Justice
|
Moving through the memorial, the floor descends but the ceiling
remains level. Eventually, the rectangles seem to hang from above—as
if from a lynching. Throughout the park are sculptures depicting
scenes of racial violence. Not exactly a pick me up experience.
As emotionally draining as they were, I wish there were more
museums like this, as there are with Holocaust museums. This museum
should be required for everyone—much like German citizens were
taken to local concentration camps after WWII. It's painful, but necessary.
 |
Homes of Montgomery
|
Before leaving for Florida, I stopped
briefly at a few more historical sites. I saw the house where Dr.
Marin Luther King Jr. lived. I may or may not have given another bird
as I drove past the White House of the confederacy.
 |
Abandoned
|
Then
I drove
to
a nearby antique shop—the largest I’ve ever seen—housed
in what was once a department store.
I meandered all
3 levels, and found
half a dozen treasures
to take home. I was
happy to have Wendy with plenty of space. And
finally,
I couldn’t leave town without a
suitable
send off. A
plate of pulled pork BBQ
with
a side of fried okra at the
famous Dreamland BBQ hit
the spot.
 |
Old downtown
|
 |
Montgomery art deco
|
 |
Dreamland BBQ
|
A Florida Beach
Family Reunion
 |
Heavy congestion & bad weather
|
South of Montgomery
was one heck of a traffic jam. It had to be an accident.
Twenty minutes later I thought, this better be a good one. It wasn’t
a good one. It wasn’t one at all. Suddenly I was going 70MPH. Those
drive me crazy. At least I wasn’t going north. A line of bumper to
bumper cars stretched for miles going north. I mean 100 or more miles. For the
remainder of my time on 65, I saw a pattern of snarled northbound
traffic, that would let up, and then came to another crawl. Those
poor people.
As usual, my bladder
could sense the approaching rest area, which was great timing. The
rest area was packed. Everyone was there. The only place to park was
along the curb at the edge of the property. Eventually, cars were
parking in the grass. A line of women stretched 30 deep out of the
ladies room. Luckily, in the men’s room, I was 4th in
line. When I returned to my car, I noticed the northbound rest stop
across the interstate. It was more packed than this one—going
southbound. I passed a couple who were equally in wonder at the
masses. I asked, “What’s going on? Are we evacuating? What’s
with this traffic?.” All they could do was shrug.
Mercifully, there
wasn’t a terrible gridlock going south. What I did have was bad
weather. Numerous rain storms moved in from the west, slowing me down
to 30 MPH at times. At least it wasn’t constantly raining. And when
I exited I-65 for Pensacola, a storm was rolling up behind me. Any
time I reached a town with slower speed limits, it caught up to me. Then
I’d outrun it again after resuming the higher speed.
 |
Chased by a storm
|
Each time I crossed
a state line on this trip, I stopped for a selfie with the welcome sign. I stopped
for this reason in Century, FL. A family was just wrapping up their
selfies as I parked. That damned storm was catching up again. I was
afraid the storm was going to follow me all the way to Pensacola. It
would dump on me while unloading my car at the Air BnB. But I was
wrong. Eventually, the storm shifted and was no longer in my rear
view mirror.
Family time is
always special. This was my Mom’s side of the family. It was only a
year ago that we were last together for the funeral of my grandmother,
Itsy. This was a much happier reunion that was all surf, pools,
drinks, and sand in the swimwear. Mom was the eldest child, but
cancer stole her from us in March of 2020. Now there are 3 siblings.
 |
Driving over Dolphin Pass
|
Mom’s youngest
sister, Donna, and her husband rented a nice house across the street
from the beach. There were joined by their 3 kids. Garret would
arrive the following day. Paige and Colie each had a husband, with
3, and soon to be 4, children between them. Mom’s middle sister,
Patty, stayed with them, as well. It was quite a full house, and the
reason I wasn’t staying there.
 |
Sunset from the house
|
It was an amazing
house. In the master suite was a closet large enough for a bunk bed.
Upstairs was a bedroom with a set of queen-sized bunk beds. I had no
idea there was such a thing. In a 3rd bedroom was a
queen bed with yet more bunk beds. You could easily sleep an army of
16, not to mention the 2 living room couches. The downside would have
to be the 2 and half baths. Several balconies overlooked the pool.
Next to the pool was a sand volleyball court, and then was the
waterway. There were paddle boats for use. You could paddle to Old
River, which connects to the bay just off the Gulf of Mexico. From there, the world is your oyster.
 |
Family time by the pool
|
Uncle Mike and his
clan rented 2 condos a quarter mile away, at the Eden. It’s a local
landmark built in 1980, supposedly by Barbara Eden of “I Dream of
Jeanie,” but I can find nothing to corroborate this. Their end unit
had a huge patio, which was a perfect place for us all to gather.
 |
Sam, Simon, Paige & Hunt, Colie, Aunt P
|
 |
Pool, vollyball, waterway
|
There was no room at
either inn, so I splurged for an AirBnB 18 miles away, in Pensicola.
Anything closer was out of my budget. It was a nice house in a
working-class neighborhood. The owner’s mom, Terri, lives in and cares
for the house. She was warm and very accommodating. After unloading
and supping on BBQ left overs, I drove to the beach house for family
time. I gave Wendy the address, and she said that, due to traffic, the
drive would take an additional 21 minutes than normal. It must be another
accident, I thought. I never did see one. Thankfully, that would be
the last time I encountered a logjam on this road trip.
 |
Traffic jam going to Perdido Beach
|
Not all were there when I arrived. Everyone was tired from the drive, so I helped
unload as best I could. Their drive from Texas on I-10 was insane.
What should have taken 8 hours took 12. They had it much worse than I
did. It was postulated that the terrible traffic was related to the
beach rentals along the shore. Almost all rent from Saturday to
Saturday. Inbound families drive in for the week, while outbound
families take to the road at the same time. While that made sense, it
was still mind-numbing how bad it was. Just how many people were
here? Of course, the previous weekend was
Independence Day.
 |
Uncle Mark
|
Donna and her
husband, Mark, went to the condos to say hi. When the returned, they
had pizzas for dinner, compliments of the other clan. I ate before
arriving and passed on wine. I was already tired. I didn’t need to
make things worse with an adult bevvy.
 |
Evening storms from the west
|
Since my place was
20 minutes away, I asked Aunt Donna if the house could be my base of
operations during the day. She was agreeable to this, and also
invited me to join them for lunch and dinner for each of the 2 days
I’d be there. In the morning, I stopped at Aldi’s on the way over to buy snacks for evening happy hours. I contributed some nice
cheese and crackers, chips and dip, as well as olives and other items
for a charcuterie style repast.
On Sunday, I arrived
at the house around 10AM. Everyone was already at the beach, so I
joined them. It was partly sunny, quite warm, but breezy, so I wasn’t
entirely miserable. They set up a shade structure in the sand, which
is where I parked myself. I turned anti-sun after my bout with
melanoma 13 years ago. Even under canopy, I could still feel ultraviolet radiation
bouncing all around, so I lathered up with sun screen.
 |
My legs parked in the shade
|
 |
Simon and the row of shark catchers
|
Paige and Simon
played with their twins in the sand. I helped build a sand castle with the kids.
Simon set up a line of 7 fishing rods for catching shark. I wished
him luck with a laugh, but he assured me that he has caught at least
one shark each year. He didn’t catch one that day, but he did catch
a baby sting ray. I love sting rays, so when he pulled out his knife,
saying how great they are for shark bait, I couldn’t watch. A small
crowd of strangers drew around to marvel at the unfortunate young
creature getting hacked up for bait.
Paige prepared
dinner that evening, making chili, among other things. Simon grilled
hot dogs on the grill by the pool. We all had a toddy and snacked on
my contributions. The day’s sun, wind, and heat made us hungry.
Dinner was wolfed down, while we chatted and laughed.
Later that evening
was yet another magical, orange sunset. As we admired it from the
balconies, the condo clan stopped by. The entire family was now
together, except for my brother’s family. They were spending 2
weeks driving around Iceland; plans that were made before finding out
about the reunion. Jason and I are close, so I felt his absence. I
especially missed my mother and grandparents. After all, it was Poppy
who introduced the family to these annual beach gatherings at Gulf
Shores.
 |
Golden sunset
|
 |
Uncle Mike, Hunt, Aunt Donna, Aunt Tambre
|
 |
Cousins enjoying a chat
|
A bit later, I hit a
wall and was ready to leave. But an army of cars were blocking me in.
OK, maybe just 2, but it felt like an army. I just wanted to get in
bed, but everyone was having such a great time. I knew if I asked
them to free my car, they’d simply say goodnight and head back to
the condo. I didn’t want to be the reason for the fun to end, so I
fell silent and sat on the sidelines to spectate. After an hour, my
batteries were recharged. Of course, just when I start feeling social
is when things began to wrap up. Goodbyes seemed to take an epoch,
and I could finally leave—ninety minutes later than I had hoped.
Inspired by the
nifty things I bought at the antique store in Montgomery, I began my
Monday visiting local antique shops. This proved fruitful, but I
stopped after only 2 stores. There were tons of others in the area,
but my budget started yelling at me. It was nearly noon, so I needed
to get going, anyway.
 |
Baby stingray
|
The heat was more
intense than the previous day. Rather than going to the beach to sit
under a shade structure, praying the breeze kicks in, I opted for
plan B. This involved less ultraviolet and more sitting in the air
conditioned living room with my computer. Since everyone was at the
beach, I had a quiet time. Sam, my cousin Colie’s husband, showed
up with their baby for nap time. It was nice chatting with him.
When everyone
returned from the beach a few hours later, they were worn, but not
out. There was a dog-themed birthday party at the condos that evening
for one of the grand kids. They had dog ears to wear, stuffed-dog
party gifts, and hot dogs for dinner. Again. Although, these weren’t
as good as the previous night. Grilling dogs is the only way to make
them.
 |
I'm dog eared at the party
|
After cake and
presents, the entire family invaded the beach for a family photo in
the sand. The sun was sinking, hidden by the storm clouds that
threatened to dump rain on us. These clouds made for a great
backdrop. They also helped control the brightness so our eyes
wouldn’t squint in the photos.
 |
On the beach for photos
|
 |
The condo patio
|
Next, the whole
fam-damily (a word my mother coined) gathered on the large patio to
engage in various conversations. It took no time to reach a decibel
level only my family can achieve. As I enjoyed a glass of wine, I saw
a rat scamper into the corner. Rodents don’t bother me, but I
suspect I was in the minority. Simon was sitting next to me, so I
nudged him, “Check out our little buddy down there.”
 |
The Eden Condo beach
|
He turned to look
just as the critter bolted for the bushes. Paige caught the movement
out of the corner of her eye, and asked what it was. Without
thinking, I said, “A cat.” But Simon said, “Crab.” I replied,
“Oh, that makes more sense. It was a crab.” This gave it away, of
course, so I had to tell the truth. Even if she had screamed, no one
could have heard it over the volume of my family in full conversation mode.
 |
The fam-damily
|
 |
Just us cousins (except my brother)
|
The Long Road
Home
There
was a downpour as we drove back to the house. I thought this was
perfect, as it matched how I was feeling about
my road trip being nearly over. It was sad to be leaving family,
and I wished I could stay at least one more day. But I was gone for 2
weeks and missed my gato kittes. I wasn’t looking forward to
another day on the road. But after one more day with Wendy, I’d be
back in my own bed. That thought sparked some needed motivation.
Along I-10 in
Louisiana is a stretch of road elevated above a swamp. For miles and
miles, there is no gas station in sight. This is where I thought I
was when Wendy warned that she would run out of gas in 24 miles. I
was so invested in listening to the January 6 commission that I
failed to monitor the fuel level. If I was in that no man’s zone,
I could be writing about an added adventure of running out of gas on
the way home. I took a deep breath. Stressing over it would change
nothing. What could I do but keep pressing ahead? A sigh of relief
came 5 miles later, with 19 miles of gas left, when I saw a gas
station just ahead.
 |
Dr. MLK's Church
|
 |
Memorial plaques in Montgomery
|
 |
Athens retro
|
The drive home gave
me time to think back on the past 2 weeks, out touring America’s
south. I cherished the time spent with my family, and was so happy to
be invited to the wedding in Athens. I treasure spending time with my
friends, and my time in Atlanta was such a delight. Everything worked
out so well, like it was all meant to be. And with no accidents, I
was grateful.
 |
The Carter Center
|
This excursion was
such an educational journey, too. I think I should get school credit
for it. I learned a lot about Carter’s life and presidency. There
were quite a few vague memories of many of the events covered- I was quite young when he was in office. The
field trips to both Selma and Montgomery, AL were amazing civics
lessons. I witnessed astonishing summertime traffic patterns in
Alabama and Florida. Who knew the popularity of baby sting rays among
sharks? I enhanced my treasure hunting skills at antique stores. And
one thing in particular that was distressing: realizing that my long
covid recovery needs a little more time in the oven. Hand me a
diploma and call me Dr. Penguin.
 |
My family wedding portrait
|
When I crossed into
Texas, I made my final stop for a state line selfie. There were no
major traffic snarls, wrong turns, or getting lost. The chance of
making wrong turns along I-10 were minimal. I certainly learned the
importance of I-12. Then again, I didn’t think I’d have trouble
locating potty stops or leaving Atlanta. Wendy made sure I stayed on course.
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Family combing for treasures
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Pulling into my
driveway, I felt equal parts happy and pooped out. Mary’s
tripometer indicated that I had driven 2,202 miles. Twenty more would
have been really neat, having all twos. Although, I just now realized that backwards, it would read 2022. There were a million things
to unload from the car, but most could be done later. Insider were 3
cats longing for attention, and my bed was calling my name. I shouted
back that it wasn’t even 8 o’clock yet, but that didn’t matter.
I couldn’t believe that eating so much tasty food and ignoring my
diet would have no effect, when I stepped on the scale, I weighed the same as the day I
left. I should have eaten more.
This was an epic
trip that I’ll not soon forget. Mary was such a gem to drive. Her
smart cruise control sure got a lot of use. Planning the trip was a
pleasure and being open to last minute changes was no sweat. I had a
super, large time that made me question why I don’t take road trips
more often. Maybe I should make this a thing. Yup. I definitely think
I should.
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Each state line
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To view more photos of this epic road trip, follow this link:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/ESoSTAHksU8cLXcb8
Thank you for reading
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You can reach me at authorpenguinscott@gmail.com
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