A WRITER'S WIT |
VISITING CLOUDCROFT SINCE 1972
TUES Oct. 17: A Writer's Wit | Elinor Glyn
WEDS Oct. 18: A Writer's Wit | Wendy Wasserstein
THURS Oct. 19: A Writer's Wit | Dan Flores
FRI: My Book World | George M. Johson, All Boys Aren't Blue
VISITING CLOUDCROFT SINCE 1972In the three years since the beginning of the pandemic, Ken and I have been out of town only once, so our recent three days in Cloudcroft, New Mexico, made for quite a milestone. A five-hour drive (as we do it) from Lubbock, Cloudcroft is a quiet village with its historic Lodge (1899) and famed golf course—perhaps the highest course (9,000 feet) in the U.S. We've been coming to this village since the 1970s, but this was the first time we stayed on a VRBO property. We quite enjoyed the privacy and solitude that a single dwelling could offer (for the same price as a motel room you'd take along the highway). Yet we could not stay away from the Lodge entirely, dining at Rebecca's restaurant each evening. Below are some photos we'd like to share—all taken and processed on iPhone 13. 1) Video: Aspens About to Turn 2) Video: Golfer and Ponies Play Through Coming Next:
TUES Oct. 17: A Writer's Wit | Elinor Glyn WEDS Oct. 18: A Writer's Wit | Wendy Wasserstein THURS Oct. 19: A Writer's Wit | Dan Flores FRI: My Book World | George M. Johson, All Boys Aren't Blue
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A short message to let my readers know that my photograph will appear in an exhibit at the Texas Tech University's International Cultural Center. The Works on Paper exhibit features images of human beings in settings from all over the world. Click here for a link to all the particulars. I've posted a copy of my photograph below, but I encourage you to view the other fine photos, if you can. If you live outside West Texas, you can access a virtual gallery of the exhibition. The ICC always hosts such fine events in its spacious gallery, so I hope you can make it. Thanks! RJ
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the fiftieth post of fifty. Oregon (2015)Not only do I get to conclude my fifty-part series with the thoughts of one of my favorite childhood authors, Beverly Cleary, who lives at age 103, but with one of my favorite states. Ken and I arrived at our destination, Oceanside, in the middle of June, 2015. Our friends whom we met at Oceanside, had cautioned us about a sort of mix master coming through Portland, and we had studied digital maps galore, but we still managed to lose a lane and wind up for a few panicked seconds wondering where our car would go. It all worked out. The four of us shared a lovely three-bedroom house on a steep hill. Luckily, it was sunny the entire time, yet the temps never rose above the mid-fifties. We were privileged to witness a double low-tide, in which more beach than usual was exposed, leaving a great deal of sea life visible until the tide returned. I captured a bit of that beauty in the photos above, also a few other sights we managed to take in along the coast. Oregon was the 33rd state to join the union in 1859 and celebrated its sesquicentennial in 2009. Historical Postcards and Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Regina Porter's Novel The Travelers
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-eighth post of fifty. Montana (2014, 2015)I first became acquainted with Montana when, as a child, I learned that a great uncle lived there, was superintendent of schools in Miles City for nearly thirty-five years—although I would never visit the state until many years later. In 2014, while visiting South Dakota, Ken and I made a day-trip to cross over into North Dakota and Montana. We returned to the state mid-June 2015, to enter Yellowstone National Park. A mistake tourist-wise—way too crowded—but still, we did attempt to enjoy its stark and majestic beauty. We hope to go back either in May or September one year. Montana became the forty-first state on November 8, 1889. Historical Postcards & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Robert Caro's Working
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-seventh post of fifty. North Dakota (2014)Our visit to North Dakota was rather abbreviated. We were staying in South Dakota, and one day we got in the car and drove to their neighbor to the north. We had been aware that much in the way of oil drilling was going on because big trucks with oil rig business would pass us on Highway 83. When we actually crossed over the border we saw how intense the drilling was. ND’s area is 70,698 square miles. Its GDP is $52.527 Bn. Forty-four percent of its population of 755, 393 is college educated. And its capital is located in Bismarck. North Dakota became a state November 2, 1889, the fortieth state to enter the union. Historical PostcardsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Garrett Peck's The Great War in America: World War I and Its Aftermath.
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-fifth post of fifty. Nebraska (2014)Ken and I stayed at one of those nondescript road motels that begins with an “H.” The young woman at the desk asked me what brought us to Nebraska. And I told her that I was attempting to log visits to four of my last ten states. She seemed to have an inferiority complex about Nebraska which I’ve witnessed before. One time, I met a young gay man visiting Texas from Omaha. I simply asked him what gay life was like in Omaha, certainly assuming it was better than Lubbock’s, and he got all defensive about it, as if I were making fun. Anyway, I told the woman that driving north on Highway 83, we’d seen some of the most beautiful land ever. Northeast Kansas and southeast Nebraska are not entirely flat, nor entirely agricultural. There is a very pastoral scene there, even if a Nebraska waterway called the Dismal River runs through it. Nebraska, you’ve got some PR to do. You can’t rely entirely on your ‘Huskers to make your name in the world! You need a WillaCatherLand or something. Nebraska became the thirty-seventh state on March 1, 1867 and celebrated its sesquicentennial in 2017. Historical PostcardsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Andrew Sean Greer's Less: A Novel
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-fourth post of fifty. Alaska (2011)Saturday, May 21, 2011 In Seattle, Ken and I board the Holland American ms Westerdam and head for open sea. It is 48°. We’ve never been on a cool-weather cruise before, but so far we like it. The décor designed for the Dutch firm is subtle and nuanced, not garish like some other lines I could mention. The crew are polite and friendly but not overly so. Not long after we enter our stateroom, we meet our steward for the trip. Each morning that he makes up the bed he will fold a single white towel into caricatures of various animals. See photos below. Wednesday, May 25, 2011 – Sitka, Alaska Our vessel is at anchor beginning at nine a.m. We will depart near five p.m. Our visit will be the length of a work day, and the group we’re with make the most of it. We all board a jitney, and a guide steps on board to be with us. At least three times throughout our day she informs us how lucky we are that the sun is shining and that the temps are in the seventies. It could be cool and damp, she says. There exists and interesting blend of Russian and Tlingit Indian influences that make the day memorable. Tuesday, May 24, 2011 – Hubbard Glacier I’m not sure it’s wise, but the captain glides our behemoth ship in close to view the glacier up close. The deck is crowded with passengers especially on the starboard side. I’ve seen glaciers calving on film but never live before. Of course, everyone is bundled up, and we can see our breath while back in Texas the highs are in the nineties. I stare and can’t help wonder what kind of shape of this glacier will be in a decade from now. Thursday, May 26, 2011 – Ketchikan, Alaska We dock at 6:41 a.m. and undock at 12:56 p.m., making for a short visit. Ken and I actually remain aboard and watch the action from our spacious terrace. The town’s shops are painted a variety of bright colors, and I photograph the geographic features that serve as a backdrop: the trickling down of a waterfall, the fog, a thick green forest. It is 57°. I fully understand that we’ve only seen a small fraction of what Alaska has to offer the tourist this week, but I do hope to return one day and see more. After a long and checkered past with the U.S., beginning in 1867, Alaska finally achieved statehood early in 1959, when I was in fifth grade. HISTORICAL POSTCARDS & TRUNK DECALSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | David Sedaris, Theft By Finding, Diaries 1977-2002
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-third post of fifty. Washington (2011)The only place I’ve visited in Washington is Seattle, where Ken and I embarked on a Holland America ship headed for Alaska (see my profile next week). But we spent a couple of days there before leaving and a day upon return, giving us a good feel for the city. I was surprised by the topography, that it gives San Francisco a run for its money on its steepness, known informally for its “seven hills,” like Rome. Hee hee. I loved the outdoor market, where you can watch the vendors toss a fifteen- or twenty-pound salmon to a paying customer, who’d better catch it. I loved the vibe, the fact that much public art adorns the city, that it was one of the first cities to raise its minimum wage to $12. And then there’s the coffee, ah, the coffee—if you like that sort of thing. Washington was the forty-second state to be admitted to the union in 1889. Historical Postcards & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Pam Houston's Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-second post of fifty. Utah (2015)The first time Ken and I were in Utah the visit was rather unintentional, hardly worth mentioning, but I shall. We had booked a Southwest flight from Lubbock to Boise, one of us, ahem, assuming we had only one stop in Las Vegas, the western hub. Wrong. We wound up stopping both in Reno and Salt Lake City before touching down in Idaho. Our second visit was still sort of a pass-through, but, at least we spent the night south of SLC, in Provo. We ate dinner at the Village Inn, and the most interesting aspect of our dinner was that we were seated in a booth wedged between two young couples, both Mormon, we assumed, by virtue of their conversations: two-year service and such. I can’t really remember, but we clearly witnessed the two most innocuous heart-to-hearts I’ve ever overheard in a restaurant, especially for people in the shank of their youth. ¶ The next day, we stopped at the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, which totally redeemed the dismalness of the night before. I’ve posted a number of photographs of the birds we were able to snag while there. It was a lovely way to spend a morning! It became the forty-fifth state on January 4, 1896, and celebrated its centennial on that date in 1996. HISTORICAL POSTCARDS & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Robert W. Fiesler's Tinderbox: The Untold Story of the Up Stairs Lounge Fire and the Rise of Gay Liberation
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the forty-first post of fifty. Nevada (2009-2018)I have long held a disquieting feeling about Christmas. Its messages are mixed: on the one hand, it is religious celebration of the birth of a major religious figure; on the other, Christmas is the biggest Capitalist opportunity to get rich (or break even) off the back of that little baby born 2,000 years ago. No cognitive dissonance for you? Well, okay, I’m just built that way, I guess. Anyhoo . . . in 2010, when a friend invited Ken and me to spend six days as her guest in Las Vegas, we said, “Hell, yeah.” No tree to set up. No presents (the trip is our gift to one another). No holiday parties to endure. And we are now approaching our tenth Xmas in Vegas. Nevada, itself, is filled with paradoxes: a state with nearly twenty Indian reservations yet one city with all the largest casinos; Las Vegas with its two million Bedouins living like city slickers; LV with its magnificent water features yet a limited single source (Lake Mead); a city of great riches yet poor souls passed out on The Strip, some with tin cups in hand; blazing summers yet AC that induces one to wear a hoody indoors. Lowbrow and highbrow entertainment, all in one city. What more could a tourist ask for? Honestly, I love Christmas in Vegas. There, the holiday is but a footnote, and that makes me happy. Nevada was the thirty-sixth state to be admitted into the union in 1864 and celebrated its sesquicentennial in 2014. Historical PostcardsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Gerald Durrell's Corfu Trilogy
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the fortieth post of fifty. Idaho (2008, 2010, 2015)Some places you visit because you know people who live there. In teaching graduate students at Texas Tech summer school, my partner Ken introduced one of his female students to a young English professor who was teaching creative writing at the same time (I believe this to be true). The couple later married, and the professor was instrumental in getting me into the MA program at TTU. Before I could finish my degree, Ann and Daryl moved to Boise, and years later, after Ken and I retired, we visited them at their home, once in summer and once in autumn. Boise is a well-kept secret, with a fine university. A river running through it (couldn't resist), in fact, a cultivated green belt for athletes, zoo-goers, museum attendees, and fresh-air breathers of all kinds. A great center for cinema, especially the Egyptian Theatre. A breeding ground for writers and authors. Most of all, a humane population. One night, after the four of us had attended a play at the Idaho Shakespeare Festival Amphitheater, the crowd strolled toward a huge parking lot. I figured, as in Texas, that there would be a huge push—cars streaming in all directions—to scramble to the closest exit. I was astounded when, as we reached a certain nexus, a four-way stop, each line of drivers took his or her turn heading for the exit. Ken and I asked if that was normal, and our friends quietly insisted it was. A state that uses a saying like “Drive Friendly” could sure learn something from that genteel bunch of Idahoans. Ken and I confessed that if we’d only encountered the place ten years earlier, we might have retired there. Of course, it just could have been a bunch of talk. Idaho was the forty-third state to be admitted into the Union on July 3, 1890. Its state bird is the Mountain Bluebird, and it boasts a population of 1.7 million people. HISTORIC POSTCARDS AND TRUNK DECALSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Alexander Chee's How to Write an Autobiographical Novel
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the thirtieth post of fifty. Georgia (1990, 1991, 1992, 1994)The first trip of four that Ken and I made to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, we flew into Atlanta, Georgia. The Atlanta airport was touted as being one of the world’s busiest, and I had no argument with anyone about that, as we busted our rears to get to our gate. Our fourth trip we motored from Texas and drove through a bustling Atlanta, a city I would like to see more of. I would like to visit Savanah. I would like to see where author Flannery O’Connor lived. I would like to see free and fair elections in Georgia before my life ends. That's when I may return to Georgia. Georgia is fourth of the original thirteen colonies and celebrated its bicenquinquagenary in 2013. Historical PostcardsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World, The Real Lolita
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the twenty-fourth post of fifty. ARIZONA (1975, 1993, 2004, 2017)I first made it to Arizona when, in 1975, I accompanied a couple of friends who wanted to drive to Phoenix from Lubbock. It was in June, and while Texas is certainly hot at that time of the year, it has nothing on Phoenix. One evening, as the sun went down and the temperature fell to 102°, someone was heard to say that it was nice that things had cooled off. Anyway . . . we spent a great deal of time either in a pool or inside bars with AC. The second time I visited the state was in 1993, when I drove my mother and father out to visit my mother’s sister, who lived in Mesa. Again, June. Again, hot! I met two of Mother’s cousins, and when we all sat in a circle in one cousin’s living room, Mother looked more at home than I’d seen her in years, more genteel, more loquacious. She was at home! We visited a friend, an interior designer who’d bought an old adobe home and was remodeling it. Dinner with him was a respite from hauling the folks around. R. Jespers, Santa Rita Mountains, Arizona — 2004 Ken and I visited Arizona again in 2004, staying with a cousin from my father’s side of the family, as well as working in a visit with my late mother’s cousin, whose wife and he greeted us with great hospitality, a meal, and a jar of preserves. From Our Hotel Room, Gilbert, Arizona — 2017 In 2017, I visited my aunt who lives in Mesa, eighty-six at the time. She called together all my cousins, one of whom I hadn’t seen since we were children (see below). More of my family resides in Arizona than any other state in the union. HISTORICAL POSTCARDS & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World | Bullets Into Bells
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the seventeenth post of fifty. Colorado (1964, 1965, 1967, 2000, 2011) In my youth I was a church goer, mostly by default, de fault of my mother (har har). Our youth group spent two different week-long sessions in retreat at a cabin our minister owned near Silverton. It was a ten-hour drive from Wichita, and some of we luckier kids rode in the education director’s car, which had a rather new innovation: factory-installed air conditioning. You weren’t exhausted from the wind whipping your face hour after hour or from its roar in your ears. Your skin didn’t stick to the seats. She even let some of us drive! The retreats were great. Short on Bible and theological discussions and long on FUN. We hiked, made day-long climbs up particular mountains, cooked outside. And it was cool! No AC was needed as it was back in Wichita. On my flight back from LA in 1967, my plane stopped in Denver. As I was flying standby, I was bumped from the flight to Wichita . . . late at night. I called my mother to explain what had happened. She encouraged me to spend the night in the airport, just sleeping on a bench, as she had during World War II, waiting for a train. I’d seen too many movies about people sleeping on hard benches and declared that I was staying in a motel. And I then lifted one of those white courtesy phones connected directly to a motel and took its shuttle. The room cost me eleven dollars, and I tipped the bell hop fifty cents and had no idea whether that was too much or too little. It had just rained and was in the mid-fifties. The air, after I had lived with the smog-filled air of LA for two weeks, seemed splendiferous, providing a natural AC. In this century we’ve stayed with friends in Grand Lake (2000) and in Denver (2000 & 2011). In 2014 we drove widely around Denver on E-470, a toll road, not really wishing to partake of its urban sprawl. We spent the night in Pueblo, taking short trips out to see things such as Rosemount and the raptor center. The Colorado Centennial was celebrated in 1976, the same year as the nation’s bicentennial year, the same year Ken and I began our longtime relationship. HISTORICAL POSTCARDSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the thirteenth post of fifty. New Jersey (1957, 1963)The man my father’s older sister married, in 1939, was Italian. His father had come from Italy early in the twentieth century. In the sixties, that elderly gentleman lived in Vineland, and a carload of us sojourned from Washington DC one Sunday afternoon to visit Pop F. He was a rotund, white-haired man, quiet-spoken, taciturn to a fifteen-year-old like me. It was boring sitting around while the grow-ups yacked. My cousin, the swimsuit thief, is now probably older than his grandfather was the day we visited him in 1963. My eldest cousin, a college student at the time, winked at me and said, “I’m probably going to get to drive back to DC. Mom and Dad are too drunk.” ¶ The old Italian-American had what seemed like a small farm, compared to my grandfather’s wheat farm back in Kansas, but the man certainly had plenty of fresh vegetables. ¶ New Jersey, the butt of many jokes, is, in part, a bucolic state, not near as urban as its neighbor across the river. NJ is third of the original colonies, became a state in 1787. It celebrated its bicenquinquagenary in 2012. HISTORICAL POSTCARDSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the twelfth post of fifty. Virginia (1957, 1959, 1963, 1968, 1973, 1974, 1989, 1990, 1994, 1999, 2010)In Northern Virginia, where my aunt and uncle lived in Fairfax County, it was difficult to separate, at times, Washington DC from the southern nature of its surroundings. The lilting dialects, the Georgian colonial architecture with red bricks and white columns. Even the White House is a southern building. And yet my aunt and uncle were New Yorkers; it seemed like an odd fit. In the dozen times that I’ve been to Washington, I’ve viewed multiple sights multiple times: The Smithsonian Institution (including the Air and Space Museum located a thirty-minute cab ride from DC in Fairfax County), the Capitol, the Washington Monument, Jefferson’s, Lincoln’s, the World War II Memorial, The Vietnam Memorial (I had previously looked up the address of our Wichita neighbor, R. E. Jenkins, who’d been killed at nineteen, as well as the man for who I’d worn a steel MIA bracelet, Stephen Adams, Iowa), Georgetown, Mt. Vernon, the home of former president, Chester A. Arthur (a bed and breakfast where we stayed in 2010), on Logan Circle. The closest I came to the White House was Pennsylvania Avenue, where I took an iPhone picture through the wrought iron fence. I’ve seen both of Thomas Jefferson’s homes, Monticello and the one in western Virginia, Poplar Forest, a three-day trip by horse cart for its original owner. I’ve strolled through the quad at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, where the Jeffersonian buildings provide space for qualified students to live. ¶ Virginia is tenth of the original colonies, established in 1788. Historical Postcards & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the eleventh post of fifty. Maryland (1957, 1959, 1963)In 1963, I was fifteen when we visited Aunt Gladys in Washington, DC. My cousin was seventeen, and he and his sophisticated friends invited me to go with them to the beach in Maryland. On our way we stopped in at Nordstrom’s in the Seven Corners shopping center. I watched as my sophisticated cousin and his friends shoplifted identical plaid swim trunks. We rode out in a red Impala convertible, and when the traffic backed up surprisingly, the driver, one of my cousin’s friends, headed for the soft grass median rather than rear-end someone. ¶ At this Maryland beach, my cousin and his friends looked like they all belonged to the same fraternity and flirted with girls older than they were just for the fun of it. I never told my parents what my cousin had done. It was one of those events that advanced your childhood pretty quickly, traveling with delinquents, and you knew you could never go back. ¶ In the Baltimore neighborhood where my aunt and uncle lived in 1957, people attached ceramic cats, mostly black, to the roofs and sides of their homes, perhaps as a way of identifying theirs as they approached it on the street. My dad bought one before leaving for Kansas and it hung on the side of their house in Wichita for over fifty years. ¶ Maryland became seventh of the original thirteen states in 1788. Its bicenquinquagenary was celebrated in 2013. HISTORICAL POSTCARDSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the ninth post of fifty. Pennsylvania (1957, 1959, 1963) Barges. Coal. Coal dust. On our 1957 vacation, my family and I spent nearly three days in the mountain town of Brownsville, waiting for our Packard Clipper, a ’55, to be repaired. My mother tried hard to find ways to entertain us while we waited around on repairs that could never be made. She took movies of us running up and down the bank of the Monongahela River, me waving a jaunty striped cap I’d gotten for my ninth birthday. “Run, darn you,” my mother said. “It’s a moving picture.” And run we did, like little fools. The hotel where we stayed was so rife with coal dust that Mother had to wipe down everything (including the toilet seat) before we could sit. At the end of that brief but drawn-out respite, my parents bought a new 1957 Pontiac, and we broke it in on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It was one of the oldest in the nation, and the roads were not that well engineered, not near as sleek as the Kansas Turnpike (you could travel at eighty mph), but it was certainly scenic. ¶ Philadelphia is the city where some of my grandmother’s German cousins lived, but when I try to google the address where they lived, it seems that the street must have disappeared or been renamed. It’s as if they never lived. The city is also where my Dutch grandparents landed in the early 1900s. ¶ Pennsylvania is the second of the original thirteen colonies, established in 1787. Over 230 years old! HISTORICAL POSTCARDS If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the seventh post of fifty. Indiana (1957, 1959, 1963, 1969, 1976, 1994) Shoals was our first stop when my family drove east in 1959. My father put in a good nine or ten hours of driving—over 650 miles and four states in one day. During that trip—before the interstate highway system was complete—we passed through downtown Indianapolis. My mother took a Super 8 film of the experience, flags billowing off some important building. Hot. Exhaust pouring in the windows of our Pontiac. On the second day, my father would drive through three states in one day (Indiana, Ohio, and West Virginia), and we would think we were making grand time, but we were in the mountains and it took from dawn to dark to drive 550 miles. We were two hours from my aunt and uncle’s home in Falls Church, Virginia. It would be my third trip to Washington, DC, and I was only eleven! In 1969, my college choir performed in South Bend, and I was able to visit with the daughter of one of mother’s high school teachers, Jo Leatherman Perkey, who made a special effort to see our performance. The choir had fun touring the Indy 500 track (above). ¶ Indiana is the nineteenth state. Residents celebrated its bicentennial in 2016. Historical Postcards If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: My World of Short Fiction
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the sixth post of fifty. 6. Illinois (1957, 1959, 1963, 1969, 2006) When I was a child, Illinois was one of the four states my dad drove through in a single day as we headed to Washington DC to see my aunt and cousins. Beyond that, Illinois didn’t mean much to me until 1969, when my college choir’s tour included Chicago. In the middle of February with dirty snow piled onto the sidewalks like little mountains, a college friend and I walked under cloudy skies and chatted about what most twenty-one-year-olds do. The choir sang at a Methodist church in Evanston, and as a rising organ pupil I played the postlude. The sanctuary was cold. ¶ Even later, in 1976, Ken and I would venture across the Mississippi River to visit his grandparents’ old farm near Thebes, not far from Huck Finn’s haunt, Cairo. The humidity was so unbearable that we were drenched standing in full shade viewing his grandparents’ graves in the cemetery. In 2006 we traveled on AmTrak from Fort Worth to New York and changed trains to the Lakeshore Limited in Chicago. We took a brisk walk around during our layover. It was early May, and the trees were just beginning to bud out. We’d already had ninety degree temps in Lubbock, so it seemed that we were stepping back in time. HISTORICAL POSTCARDS & Trunk DecalsIllinois is the twenty-first state. Its centennial was held in 1918. The year 2018 will be another big one. Check it out! If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the fifth post of fifty. 5. Missouri (1956, 1957, 1959, 1963, 1968, 1976 + many others) On my family’s first trip through the Show-Me state, in 1956, we visited Bagnell Dam in the Lake of the Ozarks. I imagine that we took U.S. Highway 54 because it was as a direct shot you could get from Wichita. The trip was a tryout for my brother, who was three at the time, to see how he would take to long periods in the car. During that trip we also visited mother’s family friends in Tipton, not more than an hour’s drive from the dam. We stayed in a mom-and-pop motel, and I witnessed one of the hardest rains I’ve ever seen in my life. We traveled through Missouri every time we went back East to visit my dad’s family. One memorable sight were the charcoal factories that were nestled among the trees of the rolling hills. Some of them were partnered with rustic establishments where you could breakfast on eggs and smoked bacon. In Brownington is located the grave of my great-grandmother’s first husband, who drowned when, during a rainstorm, he drove a team of horses into a river, drowning him, his horses, and a calf loaded in his wagon. The year was 1884. ¶ My partner Ken’s family are all from the Saint Louis area. In the seventies I began to get a closer look at the state: clear streams and rivers, fried catfish, verdant woods and lawns, friendly people who embraced me as one of their own. Historical PostcardsMissouri is the twenty-fourth state. Its centennial was held in 1921, so it won’t be long until another hundred years have passed. I wonder why there is a forty-year gap between Missouri’s and Kansas’s statehood—so close and yet so far. If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
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AUTHOR
Richard Jespers is a writer living in Lubbock, Texas, USA. See my profile at Author Central:
http://amazon.com/author/rjespers Archives
December 2024
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