Last leg - San Francisco Bay Area

I spent the last two weeks of my almost 9-week trip right where I started life - with my family in the Bay Area. It was, of course, wonderful, culminating in Thanksgiving at my cousin Loretta's house. While staying overnight with Loretta's sister, Pattie, I almost killed Pattie's dog, Mojito. Mojito is an inquisitive 15-pound Havanese dog, getting on in years. I helped move him toward death by leaving my bag of pills within his reach - and reach he did. He downed most of my remaining 8-days of pills. Thankfully they were supplements but many were NOT good for a dog, and even if one of the supplements may not have been harmful eating 8 multivitamins, 8 vit C, 16 calcium, 16 fish oil, 8 iron and 8 vit D is NOT desirable in any way. Pattie and I took him to the 24 hour ER for animals and, many dollars later, Mojito will see more years of life. And, incredibly, I THINK I can still come stay with Pattie in the future. She is good-hearted and forgiving.

I was able to fit in visits with friends but most time was spent with family. I saw cousins-by-the-dozens, my three siblings (and spouses) and all 4 of my precious nephews. There was not enough time with Lee and Michelle (or Leanne and Marlena) but hopefully in the future.

Stephanie and Dan and the two boys flew down for Thanksgiving. The best sight was Wesley running toward me from the car, shouting, "Gramma, Gramma." It had been so long since I had seen him and held him in my arms and we had so much to catch up on. And then, almost 2-year old Finn, came tumbling toward me. When I left in October, he couldn't say "Gramma" but now he can - and did.  I was thrilled.

Then it was time to head back to Portland.  I flew this time - made this trip by train many years ago. When I arrived I went to the curb to meet the Blue Star shuttle to be told they no longer take fares to where I live. They did that route 2 months ago but apparently not any longer. I stood there, flummoxed, pondering how to get home. Here I had traveled through 21 states, in 4 planes, 7 trains and many car rides - and suddenly I wasn't sure how to get home! I ended up catching a private shuttle and, 30 minutes later, I was home in my sweet unit.

It was a GREAT trip, a celebration that I am, once again, mobile after a tricky year. The first thing I did was donate my cane for someone else to use. I no longer need it. I am home, walking, with a heart and mind full of the most delightful memories of my journey around the country.

I was right to do much of it by train - it IS a fascinating and beautiful country that we live in. And I didn't have to drive; I just let the engineers take me over hill and dale. As I look out the window of my unit down to the Willamette River below, it is definitely winter. The leaves are gone from the trees, the river is still but my head remains full of Autumn - not only in breathtaking New England but in the south as well. The Carolinas were stunning in Autumn as were the woods behind Gina and Jay's house in northern Alabama. And then, surprise, although it is more subtle, autumn in California has its own beauty. October and November are good months to travel.

The folks here at the OFH (Old Folks Home) welcomed me home. A few whispered to me that I had stayed away too long; they missed me. They also suggested that I may be the "slut of the century" for mentioning that I slept in 16 different beds over the past 9 weeks! My thanks to all the hosts and hostesses who allowed me to sleep in those 16 guest beds. You were all so gracious and thoughtful.

And I recognize that I have become an Oregonian - I welcome the gray skies and misty rain of Oregon. Who knew? And so now I am happily ensconced back with the grandchildren and my activities here in Oregon looking ahead to the most wonderful of holiday seasons.

Leg 10 - Pacific Grove

Oh it was great to be "home!"  Of course I love my new life in Portland but PG will always tug at my heart. I split my time between two houses - with across-the-street neighbors Robin (who did all the work to sell my house in May) and Greg and kitty-corner neighbors, Sharon and Warren. I was a bit nervous as we drove up to Robin's house, passing the home I recently sold. Would it be painted shocking pink with all the trees chopped down? No, not at all. It looked exactly the same. Phew.

I have had almost perfect weather on this trip - one day of rain, the rest sun. What I wanted now was the typical PG thing - a nice damp, drizzly morning with wisps of fog caught in the trees. And, sure enough, when I looked out the window of Robin's guest room Monday morning, there it was in all its glory. It soon wore away but, while it lasted, I took a lovely stroll around my old neighborhood.

In earlier segments of this trip I visited with just one couple per stop. Not this time. I saw as many friends as time would allow. Members of all three of my bookclubs (I do love to read), colleagues from Carmel High School, neighbors, dog-walking friends (and their dogs), shop and gallery owners, MSQLP clients - if I knew 'em, I saw 'em. And loved each conversation. Ah, that is something shared with earlier portions of this trip - we talked and talked and talked. Oh it was good to catch up.

In addition I was driven all over the place. Besides thoroughly enjoying the Peninsula, ocean and Monterey Bay views, I also loved noting the progress of local crops. I have missed watching artichokes, strawberries, lettuce and brussel sprouts grow - and they are all doing quite well. This reminds me of a wish I have - based on many glimpses from train windows - wouldn't it be nice if farmers put up signs that identify crops? I figured out most of them but some stumped me. I know - totally impractical - but it would be nice.

And that reminds me of another wish. If anyone reading this has not travelled on the Coast Starlight between Los Angeles and Salinas I urge you to find time to do it. It was the most spectacular of my six train rides and that is saying a lot because I really enjoyed each one. It was the diversity of the California environments that was so amazing. Soon after we left urban LA, we entered "cowboy territory" - they must have filmed those old Westerns here. I expected Dale and Roy to come galloping around rocky hilltops. I could see Sky King searching for landing space.

We veered out to the coast as we neared Santa Barbara and then hugged the coast north of it. I watched surfers and kayakers in the water. South of San Luis Obio we travelled through farmlands, cattle ranches and vineyards. But what I thought was most stunning was the first twenty minutes north of the town. We moved to the east, away from the roads, to travel through gorgeous oak studded hillsides. The long 180 degree horseshoe turn was the icing on the cake. Utterly spectacular. My only regret was that the sun set 90 minutes before we pulled into Salinas. Although I have driven this stretch many times, I wanted to see it from the train's elevation. All those crops and hillsides. Next time.

But now onwards to the San Francisco Bay Area.

Leg 9 - LA (or Whittier to be exact)

I have been staying with my cousin Bonnie and her wonderful husband Joe for almost a week. First I cannot believe how much I have slept. You would think I have had an exhausting month traveling along the Eastern seaboard instead of sleeping really well at each stop along the way. But, sleep I did and it was rejuvenating.

Joe and Bonnie live in a house perched at the edge of a canyon that lets out onto the football field of Whittier College (where Joe is a professor). When you stand by their swimming pool you can look across at the hills that line the canyon or turn to the right and look down at the football field (where the players look like ants) and then beyond to the LA basin stretched out as far as you can see. The view is breathtaking and, although I have visited many times, I never tire of it.

The view of the hills that line the canyon

Incredibly bad sunset photo of the field and the view beyond.
I KNOW, it is an absolutely horrible shot,
but try to imagine it as it is - the view goes forever.

The weather has been spectacular - in the 80s. Last night, as I looked up at the almost full moon, I thought about the last full moon I saw - looking out from my upstairs window at the  woods around Stu and Jayne's cabin in the Berkshires.  So very much has happened since then.

It is wonderful, as always, to be back in my home state and LA has sparkled. We have had so much fun. As usual, we indulged in long talks over lovely slow meals. It has been several years since I have visited so I had to catch up on changes in their lives, in their home and in their hillside garden. Is there anything more lovely than slowly walking through a garden whose evolution you have witnessed?

Just like at the start of my trip, when I sat in on Lynne's writing class at Wellseley, Joe invited me to sit in on the Freshman writing class he teaches. The students discussed a play they had seen the night before, Angels in America, (performed at the College). And again, just as at Wellesley, the students discussed an era as historical that I had lived through. These students were equally delightful and, I must admit, I experienced the tiniest twinge of regret that I am no longer teaching. Then I reminded myself that, if I were still teaching, I would be in the classroom instead of out seeing the nation. No, I am glad I am right where I am.

As far as touring LA - I have been here so many times that there isn't a lot I haven't already seen - with one exception. Those of you who are architecture fans may know of the work of Greene and Greene, associated with the Arts and Crafts movement of early 1900s California. The Gamble House in Pasadena is a classic example of that style and I have wanted to tour it for probably 30 years. I have driven by it and even visited the gift shop - but each time the actual home was closed.  Not so yesterday.

The exterior of the Gamble House

It was perfection. The weather was gorgeous, we had a perfect guide and we were the only two who showed up for the 2:00 tour. It surpassed my expectations - and they were sky-high. The architectural details were stunning, the furniture was beautiful - I especially loved the lighting fixtures. By the time
we left,  I was so overwhelmed by it all that I begged off going to the next museum on our list - I just had to process what I had seen.

I can't believe the week is almost over. As always I hate to leave. I have loved every minute with Bonnie and Joe, enjoyed meeting their friends, luxuriated in their hospitality (as has been the case with each visit on this trip) but I also can't wait for my next stop - Pacific Grove. I will be staying with next door neighbors (from the house I sold in early June) and look forward to seeing friends. I take the train up the coast tomorrow morning, the last of my 6 train rides. What fun they have each been.

So, farewell Southern California, hello Central Coast.

Leg 8 - Crossing the Country By Train

I love train travel! All my other rides have been 5-7 hours; this one was 44. Yes, it is a bit odd to sleep while hurtling down the tracks and I awoke several times fearing sudden lunges would toss me onto the floor but, even with these interesting phenomena, I am a fan. Well, actually I had a little trouble falling back to sleep after one sudden lunge wondering how I would get up if I were to fly out of the bed. You see my "roomette" was itty bitty. When the two facing seats (up during the day) were pulled together to make a narrow twin bed it left a 9-inch gap between the door and the bed and that 9 inch space was only the width of the door opening. The rest of the  9-inch space was used for storage. If I had flown out of the bed I would have ended up wedged in a most interesting position into that narrow space. I pictured myself reaching up to release the door then spilling out into the passageway and THEN getting up and back into bed. Thankfully it never happened.

Okay, it's hard to "read" but the room is just so tiny that it is impossible to photograph.
My feet are at the end of the narrow twin bed. This will unfold to be 2 seats facing each other.
My red bag is stored in that 9-inch space and the doorway opening is immediately to the
left -  you can see a bit of the hallway outside.
Teeny-tiny.

What I loved was watching Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona fly by outside my window. Sometimes I went up to the observation car (my roomette was on the lower floor, the observation car on the upper - it had a broader view) but I liked relaxing in my own space. Also the train does bounce. I quickly learned my cane was a detriment - it was safer to pass down the jostling cars holding on to the backs of seats. It was safest to stay put.

The geography teacher in me loved watching the Spanish-moss draped oaks of Louisiana give way to the drier lands of Texas. Texas surprised me (I see this as my first visit in that I cannot count many landings in Dallas). Friends have complained about the monotony of driving through Texas - and that it never ends. True, it IS huge, but I didn't have to drive; I could just look out the window and I found the land stunningly beautiful. It took little imagination to see the cattle and cowboys (and those nefarious rustlers) of our past crossing these lands. I loved it.

I have one major regret - based on my absolute stupidity. When planning this trip I entered start and stop Amtrak stations for each leg. I never looked at the stops along each route; I only cared that it delivered me where I wanted to go. I learned how careless I had been when I looked at the list of our scheduled stops along this route. At 10 pm, on day #1, we would stop at San Antonio. San Antonio! I have always wanted to go to San Antonio. My friend Barbara lives there. I could have arranged to get off at San Antonio and re-board two days later, when the train next passed through on its way to LA. I was almost sick that here I was, at the cutest Amtrak station of the whole trip, stuck ON the train, while San Antonio stared back at me. Painful. And lesson learned. Barbara, I will return.

When we crossed into New Mexico I spotted my first tall mountains since leaving Oregon a month ago. Ah, there is something about the geography of where you grow up. I AM a Westerner. I like mountains in the distance. I was home.

New Mexico and Arizona (well I had to squint to see Arizona in the dark) were equally magnificent and then we were in Palm Springs and soon to LA. It was a great trip. I loved eating in the dining car. You fill up booths so you never know with whom you will be eating. We shared stories of our trips - and this being the age of smart phones - apps that were useful. My favorite new one was a speedometer app. I placed my phone on the arm of my chair and, while reading or enjoying the view, would note the speed we were presently going. The highest was 85 mph; it was usually around 70. No wonder we bounced.

It was a stupendous two days. The departure city was remarkable (my 14 hours in New Orleans on Halloween was delightful. When geisha girls and pirates asked me why I wasn't in costume, I replied that I was really 24 but dressed as an old woman with a cane. They laughed) and I found a place selling beignets so I could board the train with a bag of them in hand. And Palm Springs assured that my entry into California was golden. Such a gorgeous landscape. My cousin Bonnie and her husband Joe met me at the station and I now start the sceond half of my trip in my beloved California.

Leg 7 - Alabama and New Orleans

i really hate to leave the South. It took me 66 years to get here so it seems just down right wrong to leave after only two weeks moving among several states. I find myself trying out Southern sounds - not out loud, mind you. And I promise I will not start dropping Southern expressions or a poor attempt at a drawl. I leave that to the experts. But I have loved it.

This is actually from the piazza at the Palmer Home B&B but it
remains my favorite "Southernism" so added it here.

Alabama was wonderful. Gina met me outside my gate as soon as I stepped off the plane. Such a surprise. Here was my clue that Huntsville is not a huge airport. Gina was a college friend of my sister's. She brought Gina to Thanksgiving dinner way back when and she soon became part of the family. When you love someone, you hope you will love her spouse as well - and she chose well. Jay is equally charming, interesting and fun.

As always on this trip, we had many long conversations over scrumptious meals. I also added to my collection of Southern foods. I liked the contrasts. One lunch was at an outdoor table in a restaurant in the historic section of downtown Huntsville. It was new South cuisine, a Southern twist on paella. And then the next day, at a restaurant in the historic section of Fayetteville, Tennessee, I had my first taste of fried catfish and fried okra. I thought they were both fabulous and Jay and Gina, who have had both many times, agreed. That great combination of succulent and crispy was exquisite.

We were busy (well, outings were nicely balanced with conversations over wine). We saw a performance of the Westminster choir from London (23 darling little boys and 12 adults), toured the space museum in Huntsville (where I crashed landed two space shuttles in the simulator. Oh dear. My grandsons need to visit and maybe attend space camp?), visited a recreation of the early Huntsville settlement where Alabama's constitution was written, did a fascinating tour of the Jack Daniel's distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee and enjoyed drives through the countryside of northern Alabama and a bit of Tennessee.

Gina snapped this photo just when I realized I had crashed the second shuttle.

The tour of Jack Daniels was one of the best tours I have ever taken - it was well managed, you saw
every step in the process, not overly complicated.  Great tour.
When you are next in Lynchburg, Tennessee - go.
Oh, and it's free - both the tour and the incredible scents associated with the process.

Jay and Gina were troopers, driving me 2 hours to Birmingham to catch the Amtrak train. It would have been far easier to take me to their nearby airport but this was the start of my cross-country train trip and the nearest station was 100 miles away in Birmingham. 

The train station had many passengers joining me for the trip to New Orleans and quite a few were already in their Halloween costumes. My favorite was the tall woman dressed as Dorothy with 6-inch glittery red platform shoes. She minced around the station. 

Loved the 7- hour trip through Alabama and Mississippi. The route was mainly rural where the train station is part of the small downtowns. All too soon we were suddenly surrounded by the water of Lake Pontchartrain. I knew it was big on maps but didnt realize quite how HUGE it actually is. Sunset over the lake was spectacular. 

New Orleans on Halloween is doubly full of interesting characters and they surrounded me while I sauntered through the French Quarter, right near my hotel. The iron balconies, charming buildings - you have all seen the photos. I veered a bit to walk along the Mississippi on the way back. 

I am now waiting for my train to LA.  44 hours of train travel through Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona await me. I have never driven through these states so am looking forward to it. I have a wee roomette which will be a new experience. 

And so farewell to the first half of my trip, exploring states from Cape Cod down to New Orleans. What fun it has been. Now onwards and upwards to the second half in California. 

Leg Six - Florida

Now I know what to do when you discover - just as you are getting ready to deplane - that you  left your phone in the lunch bag you threw out early in the flight.

1. You panic
2. Then you tell the people lining up in the aisle, ready to deplane, what happened. They pass the word up to the attendants standing by the exits.
3. You also tell the attendants that you will go through the garbage; they don't have to.
4. They tell you to go to the back of the plane as quickly as possible before the garbage is unloaded.
5. You wait impatiently while everyone who is deplaning passes your seat.
6. You then move to the back of the huge plane, don the white gloves they give you, while they dial your phone - and hear no ring tone (it's in airplane mode, of course).
7. You start going through the bags and, voila, at the bottom of bag #1 (out of at least 10) - is a bag with your phone in it!
8. Tell the attendants helping you that you love them.
9. Run off the plane while they yell back, "Glad you found it!"

Phew!  I would have been in trouble without that phone!

That happened this afternoon on the first leg of my trip out of Florida - so let's go back a bit.

My friend Andrea met my late morning plane in Orlando. I know Andrea through my work at MSQLP in Monterey - she was our social worker while I was a volunteer Executive Director. We had much fun working together. Soon after I moved into my retirement community in the Portland area Andrea moved across the country to a huge retirement community about an hour outside of Orlando. She lives at The Villages, the largest retirement community in the US. Get ready - it has 100,000 55-and-older folks living there.

The Villages covers many square miles with numerous neighborhoods, pools, golf courses, and themed squares with shops and entertainment venues. You need a bank? Grocery store? Gas station? Restaurants? Theaters? It's waiting for you at The Villages. The daily newspaper lists all the activities available each day. It's overwhelming how many choices you have.

I thoroughly enjoyed our drives among various neighborhoods, especially in her golf cart (much fun!). I sat in on her book club meeting - what interesting women. I liked them all. We listened to a great band, had lunch overlooking one of lakes and, as always on this trip, we talked and talked.

We even attended a polo match of visiting professional teams.  It was an easy sport to follow and oh the horses were beautiful. I most enjoyed their long gallops down the field, watching the players wield those polo mallets (is that the right word?)

I had a wonderful time and look forward to a return visit. This one wasn't long enough and there is so much of Florida to see. And then it was time to leave for Alabama - and the adventure of my lost telephone. Thank goodness it all worked out!

Leg Five - The Carolinas

Charleston is breathtaking! I am staying in the bright pink 160 year old Palmer Home B&B in the historic section of Charleston, right on the Battery, at the tip of the peninsula where the Cooper and Ashley Rivers meet. Not in one of the grand bedrooms in the main house, mind you, but in what I call the "Lean-To-Attached-To-The-Original-Carriage-House" in back. It is charming with a (wasted on me) golf theme.

No, my room was NOT in the gorgeous main house (well, it was a bit shabby to be truthful but
 I cannot imagine how you keep up a 160-year old home).

And not the carriage house which was all one "room" in the back.

Look to the far left - the lean-to part. THAT was my room!

But, arriving in the dark from the train station, the light left on for me was such a welcoming sight.

Imagine sitting on either the second or third floor piazza (pronounced" pee-ah-za", not the Italian "pee-at-za"), with coffee cup or glass of wine (morning or late afternoon) in hand, gazing across the water at the island that houses Fort Sumter (where the first shots of the Civil War or War of Northern Aggression or, my favorite, "That Recent Unpleasantness" were fired.). The weather is perfect - 75-80 degrees, blue skies, no humidity. Everything sparkles.

Such a lovely place to eat a delicious southern breakfast, sip a glass of wine in the afternoon or just gaze away.
One set of tourists called out to me, "You have a lovely home!" I thought about it just a bit then waved
 and said, "Thanks!"  A bit of pretend is such fun.

You stepped into this room from the piazza.

Then add an historic town center filled with beautifully restored homes. They are gorgeous, some more than 300 years old. Gracious, charming, picturesque; block after block after block. I enjoyed meandering. I believe that Charleston has been my final exam of walking ability. I navigated cobblestones, uneven brick walkways and cracked slate sidewalks - all without problems.  The challenge was keeping one eye on the uneven walkways while, at the same time, gawking at the beautiful homes.

Many of the streets are so narrow I could not get good photos. This is just one tiny
house tucked between other large houses.

DiAn joined me on Thursday (she worked with my husband at Connecticut Audubon Society). There is no better guide than someone who has lived in Charleston for 10 years. She drove me in and out of narrow lanes, shared favorite homes, restaurants and bakeries and got me beyond the area I had walked. It was marvelous.

All too soon it was time to leave for Charlotte, North Carolina where DiAn now lives with her husband, Joseph. The drive was fascinating. We had lunch at a gorgeous South Carolina beach, toured a plantation outside of Charleston, and drove through miles of farmlands and pine forests. Charlotte is the modern South, banking headquarters, a rapidly growing city. They live in Chantilly, a current "in" neighborhood of Charlotte whose small downtown is filled with pubs and interesting shops. I liked Charlotte - their challenge is managing its rapid growth. They drove me around the city and small neighboring towns. Truly lovely.

I am utterly charmed by my first real visit to the South (I can't count my many landings at the Atlanta and Dallas airports or 5 days spent at Disneyworld in Florida).

And southern food? Yum.

In my 7 days in the Carolinas I have eaten:
Several bowls of she-crab soup
Grits and shrimp
Corn fritters
Hush puppies
Mud bugs
Raw oysters
Fried shrimp
Hoppin' John
Fried Pickle - does that count as a vegetable?

She-Crab soup!

I can't believe I didn't eat any barbecue (Jeff Wright, I hear you gnashing your teeth!) - just no time.

And I finally saw a Piggly Wiggly - mentioned in so many Southern stories.

Tomorrow, onwards to Florida.

Leg Four - Washington D.C.

Don't you just love Washington D.C.?  It is one of my favorite cities on planet earth - and so much is free! God bless our tax dollars at work. It feels great to swing open the doors of a Smithsonian museum (in this case, American History) and enter MY museum, an American who has paid her taxes to help this institution flourish.

I love the sense of expectation in the air. It's like the energy I feel when walking in New York City. You just KNOW important things are happening here. My friends Barb and Jim (Gary taught with Barb in a high school in Connecticut) actually live in a suburb of Maryland, a 25-minute subway ride from Union Station where I arrived on Friday, but we have spent most of our time in D.C.

I love driving through the city - oh look, there is the Lincoln Memorial (my children remember how, on our trip in 1987, I missed the entrance to the Memorial and ended up crossing the bridge to Virginia - again and again and again), there is the White House and so on. Everywhere you look is something remarkable, somewhere significant, some reminder of recent or past history.  I truly love this place.

I unintentionally happened to be here on one of the two days a year that the White House gardens are open to the public. The weather was gorgeous as I strolled by the Rose Garden, Jackie's Garden and the newest addition - the vegetable garden that Michelle and school children planted. Their tomatoes look quite good for so late in the season.

The veggies are looking good!

We toured the South garden (the part that abuts the huge elipse out back, not the grounds in front of the White House) so had perfect views of the Washington Monument as well. I am glad that, whichever president is in power, he has such beautiful and surprisingly serene spaces at hand for possible relaxation. I mean anyone who has the power to set off a nuclear weapon should have the possibility of bits of serenity.

I am somewhat embarrassed that I have never visited Washinton's monument in all of my trips to DC so made up for this on this visit. My you get great views from way up there. We also visited the statue of Einstein that stands outside the American Academy of Science. Great sculpture - he looks so old and rumpled and approachable that you want to sit down and chat. Many people climb in his lap for a photo op and it is considered good luck to rub his nose.

Check out the nose!  I couldn't quite reach it myself so the cane came in quite handy.

One incident of my visit stands out. Each month local members of their church (meaning those who live closest to them) gather for a shared dinner and this month it was at Barb and Jim's house. Over dinner discussions I learned that one of the members who works for the Department of Agriculture has figured out a way to turn the trillions of chicken feathers from Maryland's chicken industry into biodegradable flower pots. The Econ teacher in me was delighted. A local resource, repurposed, providing jobs and it's biodegradable. Win, win, win. Who ever knew? I won't look at flower pots the same way.

And of course Barb and Jim and I talked, talked, talked as we caught up over long leisurely meals and glasses of wine.  It was indeed wonderful.

Next on to Chaleston via Amtrak.  I am finally entering states new to me.  I have never been in either of the Carolinas and I will be spending several days in each. Yippee!

Leg Three - Connecticut!

Oh Connecticut was wonderful. This time I stayed with Joan and David in their charming home in Middlebury. Joan met Gary when she volunteered at Fairfield's Connecticut Audubon Society. Our two sons, Lee and Jon, soon became best friends. Over the years we shared many cups of tea while watching our children play.

As always, the ten years since my last visit seemed to melt away as we talked and talked and talked. Our first outing was to the small cottage/cabin they inherited. I had heard about it over the years and was delighted to finally visit.

Actually, I was enchanted. It is small - one long room contains the kitchen and living room. A few steps up is a room with 2 single and 2 double beds plus a bathroom. Not big but every square inch was full of cabin charm. Wood walls, mismatched chairs tucked into corners, shelves filled to capacity with old books, and a bright red wood stove in the middle. I wanted the know the story behind each photo and painting, each dish and lamp - my eyes kept spying something else I wanted to discuss. Nothing was brand new, everything had a purpose and outdoor things were carefully stored away in nooks and crannies awaiting the warm days of next summer. I smiled when I saw the sails from a small boat hanging from the ceiling of the bedroom. Joan promised me I can spend a night during my next visit (assuming it is in warm weather). We dragged chairs out to the dock where we ate BLTs from a local store. Heavenly.

But what came next was astounding - a visit with her daughter and her triplets! Oh what a marvel - and how I honor Joan's daughter, Jackie. Do you know how hard it is to keep track of three 2-year olds? One would be on one swing, another on the other when the third decided to walk right in front of the swings. You find yourself grabbing the third while trying to stop the swings - and I only had two hands. At other times they went in three different directions. How does Jackie do it? And she looks and acts so calm. 

I, of course, could not get enough of them and their older brother, Finn.

Another day we made a trip to Hyde Park. After devouring the recent PBS series about the Roosevelts I was thrilled to get to spend almost 2 hours touring Val Kill where Eleanor lived in the later years of her life. The National Park Service ranger/guide said they were unprepared for the onslaught of visitors since the program aired. The place was hopping.

This is desert at that other CIA (Culinary Institute of America). To differentiate from
that other one, their logo is a whisk!

We had lunch at the Culinary Institute of America (yum!) and dinner at her son Jon's  (and wife Angie and 3 children) house. I loved seeing this boy who played at my house when he was young as husband and father. His children are at the tumbling age - tumbling over each other, the dog, the furniture and us. It was such fun.  

Other lovely drives through the spectacular autum leaves filled the rest of our time together. It appears that I nailed it - I was there for the height of the fall season. Magnificent trees of orange, red and yellow everywhere I looked.

Then, all too soon, it was time for my first Amtrak ride (of 6 I will be taking) out of New Haven. I must admit the quick glimpses of Yale that I spied on our way to the station made my heart clutch a bit remembering my husband's time there. On the train I sat among a group of orthodontic staff workers on their way to a conference. I stared out the train window, one ear listening to their chatter, while I watched towns that I used to know go by. My how Bridgeport, Norwalk (where I taught for 16 years) and Stamford (where Gary taught) have grown and changed. And then, before I knew it, I was at Union Station ready for my next adventure in Washington D.C. 

Leg Two - The Berkshires

It is hard to describe fall in New England without gushing. The leaves are indeed spectacular and I seem to have picked the best week to revel in their color.

My week in the Berkshires was magnificent - both visually and in time spent catching up with the lives of Stu and Jayne. Stu went to Yale with Gary and they were among the first friends I made when we moved to Connecticut after our marriage. The years fell away as we enjoyed the week in their cabin in Beckett, Massachusetts.

Ten years ago, on my last trip to New England, Jayne and I, with compass, map and can of red spray paint in hand, walked the 33 acres they had just purchased. Our goal was to tag trees along their borders. I called us either Hansel and Gretel or Lewis and Clark (Jayne and I remember differently) as we worked our way through the forested land.  When we came to the remains of a meandering stone wall we knew we were indeed along one of their boundaries. It is now forested but once must have marked the edge of a farmer's field. All those stones came from clearing the land.

Today we know that, although we were successful in marking some of the trees, we  mismarked many others. Oh well - the red paint is already wearing away so time will erase our mistakes.

It was great fun to be on the land again but now with a long driveway and cabin in its midst.  I was able to walk to the creek (these wonderful hosts had two walking sticks I could use when walking over uneven ground, around roots and over rocks). I didn't make it to the swampy area but have clear memories of the mud oozing over and into my boots as we marked the trees ten years ago.

And so the week passed in long conversations around the table, walks in the woods, wonderful meals and drives through the countryside. I loved the pumpkins and scarecrows, stone walls and the two-lane country roads. History smacks you in the face in New England. So many small villages from its colonial past. And have you ever had an apple cider doughnut?  I never had - delicious.

I laughed - getting ready for Halloween!

In one small town we came to the church that Arlo Guthrie bought and turned into a community support agency. It was closed but, luckily, a man happened to open the door and invited us in after we kind of begged. They were having a big fund raiser that evening and Arlo would perform - drat he wasn't there practicing - but we enjoyed chatting with folks who were getting the place ready.
All too soon it was time to go. I hated leaving Stu and Jayne, the cabin, the forest and that
meandering stone wall - it is now visible from their front porch - but the next leg of the trip awaits. Onward to Connecticut with all the memories associated with the first 16 years of my marriage.

Cape Cod: First leg of the Celebrate-The-End-Of-The-Year-Of-The-Knee Tour!

The last time I was at Cape Cod the children were in 2nd and 6th grade. It was May of 1987 and we spent a long glorious weekend at a rented home right on the beach at Brewster. Stephanie and Lee couldn't get enough of the water outside the back door and the candy shop a short bike ride away. Such wonderful memories.

Now, 27 years later, I am back but this time so much wiser. The cottage I stayed in belongs to great friends, Tom and Lynne, and is in the woods in Welfleet, a bit north of Brewster. This trip I luxuriated in the views of the woods, the ponds, the Bay and ocean, and the utter charm of the small towns of Cape Cod. No wonder artists flock here. I love all the cottages - especially the wee ones right along the beaches.

But I get ahead of myself. I arrived in Boston Thursday evening. Friday morning I went with Lynne to the writing class she teaches at Wellesley. Ah the young women were thoughtful as they discussed Supreme Court cases associated with their writing topics. They were cases I had lived through  - interesting to hear them discussed by people to whom they were history.

Wellesley was the first East coast school I had ever seen while on a trip when I was 16 and it is every bit as beautiful as I remember. While Lynne met with students after class I strolled around campus (and I am walking well these days - with my cane at my PT's insistence. It gets me lots of open doors so I appreciate it). Then off to visit the new Westwood Library that Tom, as head of the whole system, supervised - and it surpassed my expectations. Lovely, useful design. So airy. Makes one want to settle down in a corner with a good book.

Then off to the Cape for a long weekend. The cottage is gorgeous (imagine a gem with a beautiful   kitchen, open living area, 2 bedrooms, an over-the-top bathroom and a deck overlooking the woods behind the house). All with a seaside fragrance. My favorite spot was the entry. There is something about a red table that calls me.

Three days later, days filled with wonderful meals (oh the clam chowder! And the oysters! And lots of wine!), beautiful drives around the Cape, reading on the couch and deck and in my comfortable bed, and talks, talks, talks. We had lots to catch up on - and so we did.  I loved every minute.

Lynne dropped me off at the MTA ("oh he never returned, no, he never returned . . . ").  I took the train (my first of many on this trip) an hour east to Worcester (or Wis-tah by the natives) for the next  leg - a cabin in the Berkshires with Stu and Jayne.

Can You Believe It - I'm Home!

24 hours after my right knee was replaced I am home. Incredible. And you know what did it? My 4 months of "Rocky" behavior - 90 minutes of knee exercises in the pool every day. I passed every physical test with flying colors (the test you had to pass to be able to go to a rehab center and then home).

There was one funny moment. When the PT came to my room she was concerned when she saw my walker. You have probably seen both types of walkers out there - one is aluminum, has no seat and wraps around the front of the user. The other style has a seat but, because of the seat, you walk further back. She wanted me to have the first type, I brought the second. After voicing her concerns I answered with, "You don't understand. I have been using this walker for 4 months. I can win Olympic events in it. I can do twirlys (she was not impressed), stop on a dime, do quick corners, push it with the seat piled up with my stuff or my grandsons, run it down stairs when necessary (not with me using it for support, mind you) - I KNOW this walker." And then I proved it. I walked up and down the hall next to her, balanced, using the brakes properly, standing correctly, applying little pressure to the arms of the walker so my legs did the work.  I was quite perfect, I think,

She smiled and agreed.  I can use it.

Then we walked, did stairs, completed the 3 exercises she wants me to do each day (so easy after the 2 hours per day I now spend on them on my bed and in the pool). I can't get back in the pool for 6 weeks but that's okay.

The other reason I could come home (and not go to a rehab center as many people do) is that everything here is done for me. I don't have to fix meals, do the type of cleaning that is hard (washing floors etc), my Physical Therapist will come right to my room for treatments, etc.  Phew.  Thank goodness.

So I am sitting on my bed in my wee apartment typing this. My knee is covered with a pad connected to an ice machine to keep the swelling down (the hospital gave it to me). I have figured out how to have enough ice to keep it filled given that I have a tiny freezer. I am in business.

I can't quite believe that I am walking as well as I did before the surgery and can now progress further.  Apparently during the surgery the doctor bent my knee all the way back so that my heel touched the back of my thighs (kind of makes me queasy thinking about how VERY much that would have hurt if I had been awake) and with continued exercise I will be able to do that myself. A new goal.

So, it's over, my new life commences, I now know I CAN make my trip to the East.

Life is good.

The Year of the Knee

My knee replacement surgery is tomorrow. I'm calling 2014 "The Year of the Knee." It started in January with that cortisone shot that apparently introduced staph into my body (an absolutely freak occurrence according to all) and proceeded through many months of knee strengthening and learning to walk again.

So now I will go back a few steps - use a walker for a bit. However the knee will be stronger and the arthritis gone.

I hope to travel to the East coast, swing down South, back to the West and then up to Oregon for the months of October and November. I look forward to long, lazy conversations with good friends I have not seen in many years. It will be, by necessity, a physically easy trip and I plan to do a lot of it by train. See more of this wonderful country. It should be lovely.

I assume that by December my knee - and my life - will be back to normal.

I learned a lot about myself in this Year of the Knee. I am also glad the experience soon ends!

Wish me well.

Simple Pleasures

When I sold my house in Pacific Grove in early June I pretended I was rich - after all I just sold a house in California. In reality the money is needed for my retirement years but, for a week, I pretended this wasn't the case. I took anyone and everyone out to dinner, I bought clothes and shoes, and I certainly didn't think about the bills that would surely come due. Instead I luxuriated in the pretense.

Of course reality soon reared its ugly head and I am back to my usual budgeting but oh that week was glorious.

The single best thing I bought (and after using it at my cousin Pattie's house soon after my arrival in California I asked her to go to my amazon account and order the exact same thing for me) was my Nespresso machine.

I love it.

I bought their espresso machine - and the frother - and the the case to hold the little packets - and the large (200 total) sampler offering a variety of caffeinated and decaffeinated coffees. Yes, I went a bit hog wild. I am sure my financial advisor is glad I bought the least expensive model (well, actually I did not divulge the extent of my spree to him) and the whole works was waiting for me when I returned from California.

Then I watched the 60 Minutes episode about aging - and what appears to affect how long we live.  Who knew the regimen includes 2-3 cups of coffee a day and 1-2 glasses of alcohol?

And here sat my new Nespresso just waiting.

I am now in coffee heaven.

I enjoy a perfect cappuccino each morning (I equal the cappuccinos from my memories of Italy. The little cap of foam?  Yep, I create it every time.)

On these hot summer days in Portland (I know, I know - who knew summers were sunny and hot here?) I make at least one iced coffee - YUM.

And then, to combine the daily required intake of coffee with that of alcohol - what better way to end each day than with a hot decaffeinated coffee with a dollop of Bailey's?

Okay, I am not rich, not even in the slightest, but I am so glad I went on that short spending spree. In fact I toast myself each night, Baileys and espresso in hand.  Way to go, Donna!

Yosemite Again

What can I say? I am not sure there is anything more majestic or more breathtaking than Yosemite. Yes, I have stood in other majestic and breathtaking places on this planet but I don't think any are MORE so than Yosemite. Simply wonderful.

This year my cousin Pattie couldn't come. Drat those work commitments for the too-young-to-be-retired-set but her sister Loretta could join Stephanie, Dan, the two boys, Lee, Michelle and me (and the 30 plus other friends and family that make up this annual camping group). Although I have only come the past 8-10 years, this was the 30th year the group has camped at Yosemite.  

Our campsite was spectacular - the most beautiful of my experiences here at the Housekeeping Campground.

Okay, the actual tent cabin is NOT spectacular:

Yes, a tad rustic but look close - we ARE minimalist campers.  There is not a lot of stuff at the site.  Inside the tent flaps are a double bed and a set of bunk beds. We had two of these cabins - mine was to the left in this photo. 2 bear lockers (the two iron boxes stacked on top of each other) are provided at each site. You store EVERYTHING that has a scent - sunscreen, toothpaste as well as all food. No bears joined our site this year.

But look at the view we had from our cabin:

Our tent cabin was at the top of a bluff overlooking the Merced River.  Here was our view to the right..

Here was our view to the left.

Just down a bit we could cross a foot bridge:

To the wide beach on the opposite shore:

This is where we swam and the boys played in the sand.

I wasn't wearing my glasses when I saw this interesting sight at the beach.  I wondered what it was.  

A green man fleeing for his life?

Ah, a turtle raft, of course!

The child did have fun on it!

In the afternoon the river filled with rafts (including ours - the same ones from last year). 

And if I got bored, I could look up to the left from the beach and see:

Yosemite Falls

We made great camp meals (well we only had to make one dinner - for all 40 of us - and then were able to enjoy the dinners made by others in the group the remaining nights) but is there anything better than the smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the early morning chill air?

We hiked, swam, biked, saw ranger shows (Wesley learned a lot and was able to share what he learned), played baseball in an open space in the midst of the group's 10 cabins, caught up on reading, watched the ground squirrels and deer who strolled into our sites, heard campers yell "Elmer" from camp site to camp site as it got dark (a decades-old Yosemite tradition with several options for its origin), looked at the stars through Dan's telescope, caught up with each other's lives over the past year, read some more and enjoyed the beauty around us.

I did quite well with my cane over the uneven ground - no problems. Okay, I didn't hike or bike or play baseball but I did the rest. The one funny thing was the reaction of others on the beach as I walked into the water using my cane. I heard a few catches of breaths when I first started into the water (I guess they thought I wouldn't get in or wouldn't get the cane wet) but more gasps when I kept going until my shoulders were covered by water and the cane was completely submerged. It still supported me even in the shifting river bed sand. When I got out, I turned it upside down and watched the water drain out from the metal holes. Handy thing, a metal cane.

And yes, of course, I went to the Ahwahnee to have lunch and to pretend I was staying at the other end of the spectrum of lodgings at the park.  Wonderful, as always.

When Lee and Michelle (Titi to Wesley and Finn) arrived, Wesley was ready. He knew he was in for lots of tickles and loves from his beloved Titi.  Let's see what this looked like:

The first gentle little tickle to Wesley's side

Uh oh - so funny he is hopping about.

Even Titi's feet are elevated from mirth (who knew the rafts would make great chairs when not in the water?).

Complete convulsions of laughter.

Oh no, just so exhausting - can you do it again?

A wonderful week.  Wonderful memories.  Unfortunately, the day after we left, lightning strikes ignited a fire. Today, more than a week later, almost 5000 acres have burned. Thankfully it is 95% contained and did not affect the part of Yosemite Valley where we camped but any acreage burned is a loss to all. 

Even with the realities of forest fires, I already can't wait for next year's trip.

Another Birthday

I had a perfect birthday. Turning 66 was lovely. I always like double digit years. I remember 11, 22, 33, 44, and 55 so now I can add 66.

First it is summer in Portland - a whole different animal from the rest of the year. The rain disappears to be replaced by lovely blue skies, fluffy clouds and - get ready - sunshine. Today was in the high 70s, low 80s, just about perfect. Stephanie, Dan and the boys joined me in a round-trip, 2-hour river cruise from downtown Portland south to just a bit above where I now live. I have driven alongside the Willamette River - well parts of it - but now I got to see it from mid-stream. It was glorious to sip champagne (it was a Sunday champagne brunch tour) while watching the shoreline slip by. We sailed under 4 bridges and around small and large islands.

There were surprises. Things always look different when looking back at the shore. I found myself trying to figure out what all the riverside buildings were - their riversides looked so different from their street fronts. I also discovered several small neighborhoods of floating houses. I had no idea they existed because you can't see them from the shore. What fun it might be to live in a floating house. I'm sure there can be challenges but on this particular gorgeous day it seemed the perfect place to live.

The OFH (Old Folks Home, my irreverent name for the retirement community where I now joyously live) is right on the Willamette River, well we are at the top of a bluff overlooking the river. I can see across to lovely estates along the opposite shore. By the way, what a feast of fire works displays these riverside owners set off on the Fourth of July. I watched from an apartment on the 6th floor and was amazed as their fireworks exploded in front of me. When I looked north I could see, way in the distance, the fireworks from Portland and Vancouver and when I looked south, I could see ones set off by folks at Lake Oswego. I have never seen anything quite like the array of displays along the river.

One house, across the river a bit northward, has intrigued me since I moved here. It appears to be a combination of an old utility building (like an old water works) with an elaborate, multi-storied Mediterranean villa plopped on top of it but I couldn't be sure if it were one or two separate buildings because the river bends at that house.

Today I got my chance - I sailed right in front of it. I learned that the 8 bedroom villa IS built on top of an original pump station. I now saw that it also has a dock with 2 boats, a small boat house and its very own sea plane. As lovely as it all was I found myself thinking about the cost of upkeep. Phew. It is also a lot to dust.

The boys were perfect, the sun shone, the river glistened and, all too soon, we returned to where we departed. We went back to Stephanie and Dan's house and had a lovely time starting the list of what is needed for the annual trek to Yosemite. We leave in two weeks. This time the whole family will be there - Lee and Michelle as well (assuming their work schedules cooperate). I already can't wait. A week camping along the Merced River in sight of Half Dome and Yosemite Falls - can anything be more magnificent?

So thanks to all the family, friends and former students who wished me well today. Several called but I wasn't home - I was out on the river. Ah, it was lovely. 66 is going to be a great year.

Back Home Again

I am home and had a wonderful time but first, let's picture my entrance into the Golden State. How about arriving with - get ready - a walker, a cane, a raised toilet seat and a box of fiber cereal. Really? Could I be more geriatric?

In reality I did not arrive carrying the raised toilet seat but sent it, via Amazon, to the first home where I stayed. My beloved cousin Pattie experienced the embarrassment of greeting the UPS man who handed her a carton with RAISED TOILET SEAT stamped all over it. Given that she is so much younger than I am, she was brave; I thought it pretty hysterical.

The good news is that both flights (to and from Oregon) were simple thanks to the kindness of Alaska Airlines folks who wheeled me from the curb to the gate and then back to the curb on my arrival. It couldn't have been easier.

My first week in the San Francisco Bay Area flew by then off to the Monterey Peninsula to sell my house.

All went really well. My house looked beautiful. The new hardwood floors are gorgeous. Everything sparkled. Robin's minimal staging was perfect. Each morning I found time to read while sitting in the kitchen nook or out on the deck. And, somewhat surprising to me, there were no tears. It has been three years since I lived in the house and there were enough subtle differences that parting was a bit easier than I thought it would be. Standing in its emptiness, with all the walls painted white, made it not quite the house I had left. It will always be the best-house-of-my-life but the important memories are safely stored in my heart.

And, as always, amusing things happened. The first was the discovery that Robin had found the original screwdriver that held the garage door closed when I bought the house in 2002. I thought it was so funny at the time. A screwdriver? Filling the clasp that held the garage door closed? Really? I used it while I lived there (why change a tradition?) but the tenants apparently found something more appropriate. Bless Robin. She found it in the garage and replaced it. I smiled when I saw it and left it, with a note, for the new owners.

Then I walked around to the tiny side yard and had varied emotional reactions. My heart leapt when I saw the porcelain angel and old bathroom window I had hung on the fence - I had forgotten about both and was pleased that the tenants hadn't removed or damaged them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the baby rose bush climbing up the side of the house.

Of course, this is my crappy photography. I failed to include the section of the fence with the angel and window but you can see the rose bush leaning over from the wall of the house.

Oh that bush was a major pain in the butt. I am responsible - I planted it. I wanted a rose and roses don't do well in Pacific Grove - summers are too foggy. The man at the nursery suggested a good ol' Cecile Bruner rose, given its hardiness. Well he was right - I couldn't kill that plant if I tried. It was under the fumigation tent and still managed to survive.

While I lived there I didn't often go in the side yard - there was nothing there of significance - but when I occasionally wandered in I was often amazed at how high the rose bush had grown. Sometimes tendrils grew through the casement of an upstairs bedroom window and on up to the roof. I would sigh, drag the hedge clippers upstairs, lean out the tiny bedroom window and start slashing. My arms got tangled in the thorns as I chopped my way through the mess and tossed clippings down to the ground below. I was only able to trim down about two feet from the window.

Back down on the ground I would use my long tree trimmer tool to pull down the branches to clip them to a height of maybe 7 feet - and it seemed like only a month or so later, the whole process had to be repeated. I grew to loathe that rose bush except when it bloomed. I will not miss it. I wondered if I should drag out the tools that were still in the garage and trim it back a bit for the new owners? No, I decided, let them get used to it.

Ah memories. Now new ones will be created when the Martins move in. Without a doubt it WAS the best house of my life. I hope it is for them and I thank Robin for all that she did to help me sell it.

I stayed four nights with Robin and Greg - across-the-street neighbors at our intersecting street corners - and then 3 nights with Sharon and Warren, kitty-corner from my house. Robin gave me a lovely gift - a copy of her photo of the area immediately inside my front door. She put the photo through an app that makes it look like a painting. I carried it with me for the rest of my trip - it sat on each succeeding bedside table and now sits next to my bed here in Portland. I love it.

This is on my bedside table at Sharon's house

The days flew by.  Sharon and another friend drove me down to Big Sur for breakfast at Deetjen's - those of you who have been there know how special and how very Big Sur it is. And who can resist French toast stuffed with raspberry cream? Under the redwoods? Certainly not me.

Lee and Michelle drove down from Oakland to pick me up on Lee's 35th birthday and the day was his. Guess where he wanted to go for breakfast? Deetjen's. I did not utter a word in protest. Who would turn town raspberry-stuffed French toast a second time? Off we went for the hour drive back down the coast to Big Sur. Again, simply lovely.

On the way back Lee suggested we drive the Old Coast Road. Yes, those who have been there know how rugged it can be. There was one section where it WAS a bit scary but Michelle drove it all with panache. What a girl! Here was one mild part:

I think it's about 15 miles, all dirt, through open areas like this (see the fog slipping in?), into redwood forests, steep hairpin turns - it took us about an hour.  You end up at the Bixby bridge.  Not for the faint of heart.

Eventually we made it back to Oakland where we had a great dinner and I spent the night with Michelle's moms. A lovely day in all ways. 

And then back home. 

I am no longer a home-owner and that is okay. Thankfully, I am happy where I am. Much love to the few friends I saw and apologies to the many I did not. I just wasn't quite strong enough but, look out, I warn you, next time I will be at your front doors.