Open Road

After returning from the UK, there was much to attend to. First, my daughter completed her studies at Brandeis and attained a BA, with honors, and an award. We had a delightful day, as we were only attending the smaller graduation of Arts students, and the day was perfectly gorgeous. She was ecstatic and adorable. Celebrated with a simple meal out with a small group of family. Another milestone! So happy for her as she rushes off towards the rest of life with happiness, confidence and a lot of skills.

Back to business. I had a few fun photo jobs to complete, and The Van went back into the shop for a few more tweaks and upgrades. I was readying myself for my next road trip, this time off to Toronto, Ontario to have a photo "meetup" with some members of the Flickr group Utata, which I have been a part of for almost seven years. I've attended meetups (as they have come to be called) in Boston and several places in England, and consider many of these online pals real friends; we so enjoy one another's company. It's really nice to be with a crowd which moves about the way photographers do; stopping, staring, wandering, disappearing under a truck, with no one skipping a beat; we are in synch on this account. Photo-walks, we call'em. But we do a lot more than walk and take pics. We visit local sites, museums and, er, yes, a fair few pubs and restaurants. We have a blast, in other words. We'll be meeting in Liverpool this fall, and we are planing a Utata-Palooza in Boston in October 2013.

The van, repaired, repacked and revved up, was ready for action. I booked my first night at a camp in the middle of NY State and headed off to Canada. The trip was very easy to Herkimer, NY. My vehicle was parked right next to the River, we were well away from traffic, and I slept like a log. Kids were excavating and pummeling stones on the river bank, searching for "Herkimer Diamonds", a local form of quartz that is highly prized and easy to find there.

I'm been very pleased with the campgrounds I've stayed in, for the most part, and certainly on this trip. Even with all sorts of folks, kids, dogs, vehicles and accessories, the camps are always very quiet; no yelling, no dogs yelping and howling, no party-types disrupting sleep and serenity. Folks also refrain from staring or intruding; there is a high level of respect and decency from what I have seen and experienced. I've never once felt unsafe, lonely or worried while in a camp. I have felt worried on the road--lost, tired, but this is part of travel, and once one recovers, one feels a sense of relief and growth.

Awoke in the morn and did my stretching and ablutions, listened to tunes and walked someone's dog. :-) Hit the road for the long trip to Toronto. I should have gone further into NY state and gotten closer to Ontario, but, as it was, I ended up taking about eight hours to get to my final destination in Toronto, Rouge Park Camp; a small, sweet RV park right at the edge of the city! I was very happy indeed, after getting lost during the last 4 miles of the journey, to land in that park. The border crossing took about an hour; I was, along with everyone, waiting in my vehicle for about 30-40 minutes before I got through. No issues getting through, but I was a bit surprised by how many questions I was asked.

It was a thrill to see Lake Ontario at last, looking very blue and like an ocean, from my initial perspective. I went in under the Lake and worked my way clock-wise, up and around. The Toronto skyline looked quite tantalizing on the horizon, but very far away! I let Sat Nav take over when I got into city limits, but oh my, it sent me on local roads and I had no choice but to move forward. I was on a huge, long road IN the city for 10 miles, all local, with traffic galore, pedestrians galore and really no where to pull my big rig over for a break. Plodded onward, getting lost towards the end, but finally landing in the Park well before dark. Another spot right by the River, with no noise! Now nice. Settled in, ate a simple dinner, took an evening walk, and had another sound night of rest. Made arrangements with a local Utatan to get picked up at the Park and to ride into the city on public transport together. Jeff was very kind--I couldn't have done it without him without spending a lot of $$ and likely getting lost to boot. Couldn't wait to explore the city with my virtual, now real, friends.

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Later that same year......

I have much catching up to do here; though I have continued to be adventurous and have traveled and experienced quite a bit in the past few months, the chronicle of those events has been greatly delayed. Once I returned from my big adventure of procuring the van and getting safely home, I had very little time before I turned around and boarded a plane to Europe. I attended my usual extended Buddhist retreat in the spring, which takes place just outside of Glastonbury, England. The trip included a five-day visit to Amsterdam, which is magnificent in the spring, with long, warm days and delightful evenings.

The journey from Boston to London is such a well-worn path for me now that it seems as if I am simply hopping into a car and driving to a friend’s home. My cab from Heathrow Airport is pre-booked, and once I slide through customs, there is always a fellow awaiting my arrival with my name on a sign. I know I’ll be “home” in an hour. My delightful friends Jill & Rupert dine late, so there is usually a bowl of soup awaiting me, along with a (short for me!) glass of wine and welcoming conversation. In a couple of hours I am off to bed, and awaken in a familiar place.

The weather was very cold and wet in England this spring, very much dampening our usual May frolics in the countryside at our retreat, but not enough to keep us from having the most delightful week together. I skipped walking up Lollover Hill in Compton Dundon, Somerset at sunrise to greet the May day sun this year; it was “chucking it down” with rain, it was cold, it was windy. No rolling in the dew barefoot in a diaphanous gown for the women this year! The wet, chilly spring continued right into summer for the country, many of my friends over there were getting a bit stir crazy as it continued.

Amsterdam; what a delight that city is! There was a mix of weather while I was there, with plenty of sun for me, and not that many raindrops to dodge, if one is strategic about it. My friend Yvette, who currently lives in Wales, joined me for several days, and it was lovely to have a friend there with me, as I generally go there solo. We had a delightful time scouring little markets and shops, visiting museums (The Handbag Museum!! fun) and traipsing around town as we wished. Yvette is a wonderful traveling companion; endlessly upbeat and flexible. We had some fab meals, a highlight being a Thai meal just outside of Rembrandtplein, which included the best veggie red curry dish I’ve ever had—this restaurant just gets it right every time.

Highlights of the trip! The Handbag Museum was sweet. All women in attendance, which was a hoot. The gift shop was busy! The museum includes the best of the best of handmade and manufactured handbags, mostly European, some several hundred years old. Gorgeous, and inspiring. We had some tea while we were there, sitting at a table which over-looked the garden. I spied a handbag left by the bench and told staff; “it’s a part of the exhibit”, I was told. A bronze facsimile of a handbag, left just where one would be likely too. I gather that I was not the first person to push the panic button on that account.

Best, most exciting “moment” for me occurred midway through our visit. After touring town all day, market stalls, parks, canals, parks, coffee shops, more more more, we finally were calling it a night, and returning to our separate hotels, just minutes apart. There was piano coming from the bar, and fun sounds emanating, so I popped in. I’m not much of a drinker, but the piano and happy camaraderie was what I sought. The bar wasn’t packed, and the 25 or so folks inside were singing along with a very talented and friendly pianist from the States. Folks were singing along happily, and a couple of people got up and sang a number.

Those who know me know that I love to sing, and look for and take advantage (if you can call it that!) of any opportunity to sing with others, especially talented others. I have long harbored a wish to be in a distant city, and to enter unknown into a scene, have a chance to sing, and to leave, high on the experience and ecstatic. Singing with abandon in a roomful of strangers, happily, bravely, with gusto. After a couple of folks had their fun and we were all getting into it, there was a lull. “Who’s coming up here next?” I sipped my ginger ale with a long draw on the straw. “Well, who’s going to take this opportunity?” he repeated. Ok. Drink down—I rose and walked over. Crowd clapped encouragement.

“What’s it gonna be?” said he. “Bobby Mcgee” says she. We worked out our key, and I climbed three steps up. Crowd smiled and encouraged me. I felt confident and happy happy happy. I *know* this song. Off we go. “Greetings from Boston!!” LOUD cheer. “Busted flat in Baton Rouge…..”. The guy ROCKED on the piano and gave me everything I could have wanted. We banged the song out with gusto and FUN. I could see folks that hadn’t been interested in the music perk up in the back and start smiling and pointing. I saw one woman elbow her husband and could see that she said “WOW!”. I could have cried, but I was too damn happy. We stretched out the ending, the applause was overwhelming. I was SO ecstatic. Tick off another dream on the life list, Honey. I can still tap into that exhilaration now.
The lessons and realizations were many; but foremost is the fact that I need to sing, more often, with more people. This is a continuing goal of mine.

Back to England, sad to leave the city I love, the city where everyone assumes that I *am* Dutch (which is partly true, as one of my Great-Grandads had a Dutch name, though I do not know when/how the family arrived in the States. The city where young and old, local and far-flung folks ride and dodge black bicycles everywhere, the frites are ubiquitous and the attitude very open and Continental, with a delightful international twist. In addition, my favorite Buddhist shop on the planet is there, and I am very friendly with the owners, and I spend hours and hours at their magnificent shop, chatting, meeting locals, purchasing trinkets. Home away from home; I generally get my cab to Schipol Airport right from their shop. One hour flight back to London City Airport, a ride on the overground to hampstead, and I am back in London.

It was a fabulous spring. Returned home to a big-to-do list, so much to catch up on after spending more than two months on the road between the BIG van trip and European adventures. My daughter graduated from University just after I returned home and we set to work on getting some more van upgrades and doing the usual work within and without our home. Husband and cats very glad to have me back, and me very glad to be back!

But you just know; it wasn’t long before my feet got itchy again and my empty suitcase was calling out to be filled. Ok, ok. where now?

Ohio, Day two

Awoke in a very cold van when my alarm beeped rudely at me at 7:22. Snooze. But *had* to get up. Turned on heater and then crawled back into warm bed and waited for things to warm up a bit. Rain was falling, and I felt dozey and lazy. Never the less, I needed to rally and get the rig dow the road to the auto shop so they can check a few things out for me. Wiper blade needs big repair--driver's side wiper is bent or has lost tension; the wiper does not wipe! Oil usage will be explored, and that silly dangling hose will get a look-see. Hope it goes quickly so I can walk down the road to get it and carry on.

Yesterday was filled with very moving surprises. Steve came home mid-day after I'd spent time outdoors on my own, and we got in the car and went exploring. We hadn't spoken much about when/where since the day before, so I just got in and allowed things to unfold. I wish I'd thought a bit more before getting in the car to take off. We went to visit my Grandmother's grave, but I did not bring along anything to offer, unfortunately. We spent time remembering her there, and also saw her parent's and some of her sibling's graves. I picked up and straightened Leroy's and Leona's little headstones. They were twin siblings of hers that died at just a few months of age. There was also a brother, Arnold, who died at ten; how heart-breaking. The Quarry Bank cemetery looks good, much as it did the last few times I have visited.

We then went to pick up Steve's 90 year old mother; Lila is still strong and sharp, and looks wonderful. She helped by handing over 2 folders of information about my Dad (her first husband), and about his Dad, Earl. Earl was murdered before I was born. he got my grandmother pregnant at 15, married her when she was 16, he 22. They were divorced after just a few years. He was an auto mechanic and "jack of all trades", skilled at manual labor, apparently. He also drove a cab and made deliveries of prescriptions to many patients for a big pharmacy. He was also a serial womanizer, apparently. He was murdered in 1957, when he was 57, by a man in a jealous rage. He was shot in the neck, paralyzed, and lingered painfully in the hospital for a few days, and then passed. The murderer received a life sentence for the killing. My father never said very much about him, he hardly knew him. Earl had been ostracized in life and neglected in death.

We found out where Earl was buried, and the three of us went to the cemetery. We received help from the staff, who directed us to an area. We eventually needed names nearby, as it became clear that Earl Hill and a few others were buried in a certain place, but there were no headstones. No one placed a stone for him, not even a marker. This makes me feel very sad. What were the demons? Why did his life unfold in that manner? Apparently my father became legally adopted by his step-father just before he enlisted in WW2. None of the family wanted Earl to be able to claim the 10K life insurance payment in the event of my Dad possibly being killed in the War. He was despised, pushed away, because of his bad behavior. This had profound effects on my young father.

I had a strong feeling about where Earl's grave probably was, and placed a loose flower there. After we got more info and discovered the nearby names, it was clear that the spot I'd chosen was very close, if not right on the spot. I said a few words and felt the pain this man suffered through his actions and the ramifications his behavior had on others, and his horrifying end. I hope that he can receive some peace and healing. There is still much healing and light-filled work to be done on his behalf, and for all of our family members.

Amazingly, I finally held a photo of him in my hands. I so wondered what he might look like. I'd heard he was dark, as was my Dad. It's a profile shot, and his eyes are closed, but you can see his profile, coloring, hair pattern. My Dad definitely bore a resemblance to him. I was speechless for a long time, just taking it in. There is still more to tell, but it will be shared later. I'm too tired to go on. 11:45 am and I need a rest. Oh my.

Ohio

It feels great to be back in Ohio again. I haven't seen my brother in years, and it's spring, and there is much potential out there. I slept well in the rig in his driveway last night. Placed earplugs in at bedtime to thwart the work day traffic on the road this morning, and awoke refreshed. It's gorgeous outside; what we've got is a truly a picture-perfect early spring day.

I slept in a bit, spent a good amount of time organizing and cleaning my home on wheels. Savored my coffee and did a lot of yoga. Walked around and around the spacious yard and took some green, springy pics. Listened to some tunes and took some time to meditate. Did not get to auto garage yet, did not drive anywhere, did not make anything happen. I needed downtime, and that's what I am now enjoying. ahh.

Steve will be coming home from work mid-day and we'll go meet his Mom for awhile. She is very interested in genealogy and may be able to help me locate my Grandfather Earl Hill's grave and more. We will definitely go visit my paternal grandmother's grave, and many of her family are there as well. I'll be glad to be there with my brother, we last visited there together in the mid-nineties, when my Grandmother was interred.

I believe that we're headed across the river to dine at an Italian place this evening. Went there over 20 years ago, and it was fab, hopefully it will still be a pleasant experience. I have to study some maps, but my Dad used to love a hot dog joint in Wheeling, W. Va called Louie's. I think Wheeling is likely out of my way, but it sure would be fun to include a stop there if it were to be feasible. Nice to know that somethings really last, at least through several generations.

It's a bit of a stun to have the luxury to hang about, as I have been this morning. I am ready to get out now, however. Hope Steve gets home soon!

Little Rock and Memphis

The days are flying by so fast, and I have been so tired in the evenings. I haven't had the mental energy to write blog posts the past couple of nights as a result, so now I have some catching up to do. Although my days are primarily filled with driving, there have been stops along the way to break up the monotony of the road. In my last post I wrote about my second day in Oklahoma. The next morning I left the state and headed to Little Rock, Arkansas. The day was just about all road trip, and I landed at the North Little Rock KOA in the early eve.

I've become very efficient at getting into my spaces, even those that require "back-in" and not just "pull-through". Also quite proficient on hooking up my "home" to water, electric and sewer right quick. It's been pretty warm still in the evenings when I stop, necessitating the closure of all curtains in windows to stop solar gain (as well as gain privacy), and the running of the AC to get comfy enough to have my evening meal and relax. I've been going to sleep by 10 each night, and sleeping soundly.

When I arrived in Little Rock, I directly headed out for BBQ at a famous place called "The Whole Hog Cafe". It's a very popular place right downtown, but I chose to go to a satellite out in the 'burbs instead, so I wouldn't need to navigate little downtown streets and likely get lost in the process. Best pulled pork sandwich I've ever had--and 6 kinds of sauce on the table! Spent some time in a couple of shops getting supplies for the van and some food to restock my larder. Also did a bit of a walk around a small park in the neighborhood. As the afternoon wore down I headed to the North Little Rock KOA and settled for the eve.

BIG plans for the next day! I planned to drive 2.25 hours to memphis, visit Graceland, and then proceed another 2.5 hours to settle in for the eve at a KOA in Hurricane Mills, TN. I did indeed accomplish all three, I'm happy to say. Graceland was easy to find, had plenty of parking, and was run efficiently enough that I could do the whole thing (or at least the parts that interested me) in about 2 hours. It was just about what I expected, only maybe even a little better. It doesn't look that big from the outside front, but it spreads out in the back and has 2 floors for visitors (only the bedroom floor is off limits). It's locked and frozen in time with 70's decor---over the top, but not even as much as I thought it would be. Green shag rugs, for real, man. Lots of gold records. And Elvis, his parents and his grandmother are buried outside right next to the pool! Wonderfully weird.....

Had to buy some Elvis kitsch for friends and family, of course, and I couldn't resist buying the cheesy, posed pic of myself at the entrance to the shuttles that drive the crowds over to the mansion.

I didn't linger, however, as I knew I had another 3 or so hours to drive to get to my next KOA in Hurricane Mills, TN. Smack dab in the middle of the State, and right by a major highway---Route 40, the route that I had been on for days and days. Never the less, I put in my earplugs and got a good night of rest. I was going to shower, but time ran out, and, hey, how dirty can I be, and who would get close enough to even detect anything? I'll get around to it, eventually. Tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow.

Today I simply DROVE. Drove 2.5 hours, rested and ate. Another 90 minutes, time for a break and a walk. Another 3 hours, finally off of Route 40 and onto 81 North. I'm at the northeastern edhe of Tennessee tonight, just a few miles away from the W. Virginia and Kentucky borders. I'll be going through a bit of KY, the WV, then into Ohio, where I will beeline for Marietta, the town of my Father's birth. My brother lives just outside or Marietta, and I will be staying with him (parking/camping in his driveway!) for a couple of nights, maybe three. Then will be the final push towards home. One more night in a KOA in Pennsylvania, or Maryland, and then...HOME!

Oklahoma, Day One

Thursday was a good day. I slept well and awoke refreshed, then took my time getting "out the door", knowing that my drive time would be much less than yesterday's six hour-plus. No wonder I slept so well! Was able to take easy major highways just about the entire way. Mid day I stopped for a burger & fries, they called my order by my name, very sweet. Folks were very nice everywhere I stopped today, very gentle and friendly. The soft accent they have in these parts is quite nice. I drove about 3.5 hours and landed at "El Reno West" KOA, which is actually in Calumet. When I looked at the map it mentioned a nearby "Indian Museum and Trading Post", which sounded hopeful, as I am hoping to find a native drum in my travels.

Each KOA is eeerily similar, but vastly different. I was offered an easy pull-through spot right smack dab in the midst of 10 HUGE RVs. "NO thanks", said I, "have you got something quieter, more set back?" Sure, if you can back in, he smiled. Can I back in? Hell yes, it's only 21 feet long! Got one of the best spots in the place, under a cedar tree, hardly anyone nearby, with wooded land to explore just 15 feet away. I don't explore far when I am alone in unknown zones (I believe in playing it *very* safe when I am on my own)....but at least it's not all paved and packed in back here.

Slept quite well again, and had an easy morn, cleaning, organizing, sipping coffee at my picnic table. I knew that I did not have far to go, just down the road about 30 minutes to El Reno, to visit the grave of my maternal Grandmother, Mattie Callison Fox. Through my research on Ancestry.com and making inquiries to local historical record keepers, I knew which cemetery to visit. I even had a photo of her gravestone! Found the El Reno cemetery easily, and drove around a bit, seeking, until I saw an office, which was open, and inside was a man with a computer who looked Mattie up and showed me exactly where she was!

It's a bit of a complicated story. My Mother never knew she was not actually raised by her birth family until she was in her sixties. She had been trying to get a passport, and had difficulties, and it was all confusing, but she simply soldiered on. At some point, she began researching her genealogy and simultaneously (or almost) her actual birth Aunt passed away, and there was an inheritance, and a PI was hired to find her. Even this part is confusing, because my Mother never told us very much.

I had always, always been desperate to know more about my ancestors. Both of my parents were only children, I only ever knew my paternal grandmother, and I so longed for more information about who I was, who were my people, and where was I from? My parents were seemingly content to know little to nothing, and they had nothing to tell me.

My Mother did eventually go to Oklahoma, to attend a family reunion with her long-lost birth family. She mentioned it, but didn't share details. I was pregnant and then gave birth to my daughter, wrapped up in my own world, and didn't ask for or receive much info about the reunion; Mom kept it to herself. I found some stacks of papers and photos from this trip, and also of her genealogy research, in her home as we prepared to move her out of her condo and into an assisted living facility. Hungrily, I read every bit, but there were still so many questions!

Meanwhile, for the last 10 years or so, I had been doing a lot of internal and external work in honoring my ancestors through ceremony, meditation and on the web. Once I had access to my Mother's papers, it all came together, magically. A lifetime in the making--many lifetimes in the making, and suddenly--BAM.

I started to hatch a plan to get out to Oklahoma, where my Mother had gone, and to see, and to connect, in my own way. My husband and I had been discussing getting a camper van, and then a dear friend of mine in Colorado told us that he had one to sell! "it needs work, but I'll sell it to you at a great price". I flew out to Denver to retrieve it, and that whole story has been told here in previous posts.

Finally, after 3-plus weeks of me ill with flu, and the van getting even more work done to it than we expected, I hit the road. Within three days of the van's completion, finally, I was at the source! So, there i was, at the graveside of the grandmother i never knew by name, never knew where she lived, never knew anything about. Stunning. I stayed there for quite awhile, making offerings, saying prayers, singing, clearing, cleaning the space around, and staying still and silent in gratitude and awe. I left gifts, and thanked Mattie for her gifts, as well. She was buried along with her husband (not my grandfather), and her two sons, one who died at age one, and one who lived a very long life, buried without wife or children. Did he have children? Do I have cousins somewhere? More research....

It was a beautiful and truly awesome moment for me; tears of joy, tears of sadness, joy at being connected, and letting her know that I now know who she is, and honored and thanked her with my entire being. Joy, joy, joy. I drove back to my "camp" very happy indeed.