Where's George??

Back on February 16th, I was visiting my friends, JD & Angie Powell. That afternoon, JD and his dad, Jerry (also my friend) spent the day together. JD gave me a dollar bill he'd received at his grandmother's 90th birthday party. I bought a Jerry's Kids (Jerry Lewis) shamrock at The Village Inn in North Platte, Nebraska where the folks and I had brunch. To follow the journey of this iteration of George, go to www.wheresgeorge.com and enter the serial #F21648328A and the year 2006.

The Beagles Have Landed

February 25th – Sioux Falls, SD to Manitoba

A quick note to let you faithful hitchhikers know that Mom & Dad have been safely returned to their welcoming shelter of Lions Manor in Winkler. We crossed back in Canada about 2:45 this afternoon.

Will post very soon after the dust of unpacking has settled.

Love to all. – Gordon

Random Drive-by Shootings

February 24th – Fort Morgan, CO to Sioux Falls, SD

Okay, it's our second last day on the road. [If typos are prevalent on materials at the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville, I suppose it's okay to find them on the entries to traveller facilities on Interstate 80 in Nebraska. So what, do you imagine, is a "Urnal Room?" A place where men can work on their blogs, as in "Urnaling?" I just wish I knew what the Braille characters indicate.]

Dad was up shortly before 6 a.m. As soon as I heard him enter the washroom, I got up and readied myself to follow him on his re-emergence. He gave me a goofy wave as we passed in the hallway – and this was a foreshadowing.

Upon re-entering the bedroom, I found Dad again under the covers, so I sat quietly and reviewed a few emails. While on the topic of catching up, I should let you know, Lawrence Klippenstein (Woodhaven Toyota), that we were most surprised to find a marked change in the gas mileage in the past few days. By the time we reached Flagstaff, we had rung the odometer up to about 8,000 km. Even with chasing around and up & down the mountains at 75 mph, that first post-8,000 km fill showed a 19% improvement to 41 mpg (Imp. Gal.). It looks like the return trip will deliver that level of improvement.

The drive today, as with yesterday's, was somewhat more subdued than previous days. I imagine each of us has been mulling over the events and significance of this road-trip, traveling some interior highways, letting the events sink in. For awhile, my folks listened to a couple of religious radio broadcasts, but the FM signal eventually gave out.

During the mid-morning dozies, I put in my ear buds and listened to some music. I noticed though, that neither Dad or Mom were snoozing, so I introduced them to Suzzy and Maggie Roche's album, "Zero Church." I have to thank you again, Geoffrey Hayes, for the fine music you have introduced me/us to over the past ten or so years of Christmas gifts. I again listened to a number of them during this trip: Keith Jarrett's "The Melody at Night, With You," and Metheny & Haden's "Beyond the Missouri Sky" to name just a few. Both M&D commented on or asked about various songs on "Zero Church." A little connect of a different sort.

While most of the songs on this album are strong, "Each of Us has a Name" always gets to me... even more so given the words of the first stanza with this shared listening:

Each of us has name
given by God
and given by our parents

Each of us has a name
given by our stature and our smile
and given by what we wear

Each of us has a name
given by the mountains
and given by our walls

Each of us has a name
given by the stars
and given by our neighbors

Each of us has a name
given by our sins
and given by our longing

Each of us has a name
given by our enemies
and given by our love

Each of us has a name
given by our celebrations
and given by our work

Each of us has a name
given by the seasons
and given by our blindness

Each of us has a name
given by the sea
and given by
our death

We stopped in North Platte for brunch at the Village Inn. Other than for the obscene portions – again, and as always – I should let you know, JD Powell, that I didn't spend that $1 bill you gave me in Sedona as you suggested. I used it to buy a shamrock to help send Jerry's Kids (and how appropriate is that) to camp. The significance of the dollar bill is that it is traceable. I made note of the serial number, JD, but not the bill series (year). If you have it, could you let me know, and I'll post it so others can follow the bill, too?

Dad decided to take a turn behind the wheel after brunch so, for 82 miles, I got a chance to check things out from the co-pilot's seat.

At about Mile 310 on I80, we got the special musical treat I'd promised my folks. Suddenly the car was filled with the strangest drone music, caused by a constantly-changing groove pattern on the road. Ruth and I encountered this phenomenon in January. What we didn't do was try for a duet and, much to my pleasure and the folks' amusement, straddling the two east-bound lanes created a rare musical moment.

The third musical event occurred shortly after entering Iowa. I don't recall how I puzzled Dad, but I finally got him to follow my twisted thinking, and he appropriately broke into what I think of as his hallmark song; a tune I recall him strumming and singing from my earliest years:

I was born on a farm out in Ioway
A flaming youth I was bound I would fly away
I packed my grip and I grabbed my saxophone

Can't read notes, but I play anything by ear
I made up tunes on the sounds that I used to hear
When I'd start to play, folks used to say
"Sounds a little Goofus to me"

(*) Cornfed chords appeal to me
I like rustic harmony
Hold a note and change the key
Hey, but that's Goofus



Not according to the rules
That you learn in music schools
But the folks just dance like fools
They sure go for " Goofus"



Got a job but I just couldn't keep it long
The leader said that I played all the music wrong
So I stepped out with an outfit of my own



(**) Got together a new kind of orchestree
And we all played just the same "Goofus" harmony
And I must admit we made a hit
"Goofus" has been lucky for me

Repeat (*)
Repeat (**)

Well, that's about it. The clock says I have once again stared this computer into a new day. It's now officially the last day of this adventure. Mom & Dad have already snuffled their way through a few hours of sleep. Time I join them in that non-endeavour.

Night all. Love to all who have followed us. I'll post again in the next couple of days.

And, by the way, it would be heartening for Mom & Dad if those of you who have hitched along on this blog would leave a comment so they can read them when I print it up for them. God – and Gord – bless.

The Folks Become Road Warriors

February 23rd – Holbrook, AZ to Fort Morgan, CO

This post is short and sweet. The drive was relatively long, but things went well. The weather, with the exception of some periods of heavy sidewinds, was fine. Traffic was generally light, passing through Albuquerque and the greater Denver excepted.

The first leg of our journey home began with our departure from Sedona on Sunday afternoon. The drive back to Holbrook was 155 miles.

The folks and I were mobile shortly after 7 a.m. this morning. During the drive, I listened to music periodically and shot (images, that is) somewhat aimlessly through the windows while at speed.

Shortly after 7 p.m., we arrived in Fort Morgan and checked into a motel with 795 miles behind us. The folks did incredibly well with that kind of confinement. Dad found it almost funny to find that his legs were pretty spongy from all that sitting. Dinner and showers done, we vegged for awhile, then let sleep claim us.

Out.

To Everything, A Season

February 22nd – Holbrook, AZ to Sedona, AZ Return

This chapter of the blog is hard to contemplate, more difficult to write. Today has been a "been there, done that," a "once-in-a-lifetime," an "is this all there is" experience for your humble narrator.

It's 8:30 p.m. MST, and Mom has just joined Dad in bed. One light on above the table and my laptop. The sound of eighteen-wheelers rolling up and down I40. The plaintive wail of trains lugging container cars east and west. A woman coughing in the next room. Tears threatening. Could it have been better for them? Was it good enough? God knows. Nothing to do about it now.

It's time to take them home, I know that. But I wish I could have shown them more, let them see some of my U.S. places. So little time, because I began so late. The irrevocable truth is that I have done what I have done – not what I wish I had done – to honour my parents.

Tomorrow morning we make for the frigid north and home, where we will have to wait many weeks before we experience the +21º C. of Sedona this afternoon. How many more opportunities will we be able to make in order to share this kind of time together?

But I'm way ahead of myself: I haven't yet sketched the events of our day to, in and from Sedona.

My Dad has been to Sedona twice before; once with Mom, and with a baseball team another. Their trip together was in 1975, with Mr. & Mrs. George Enns. Both times, Dad visited the Chapel on the Hill, a tourist destination Ruth and I did not reach on our visit back in November '08. This particular site seems to have been Dad's Holy Grail for this portion of the trip, and all else Sedonan seemed insignificant.

We arrived in Sedona via the Oak Creek Canyon Road from Flagstaff around 11:30, having all slept in. Over breakfast in Holbrook's Super 8 Motel, we had exchanged pleasantries with a couple headed to Phoenix to see their son, and a tall rancher type from east of Albuquerque. The couple lives in South Dakota halfway between Sioux Falls, SD and Sioux City, IA, "nine miles off the interstate, and close enough to IA to have an IA address." They, of course, were eager to exchange cold weather/winter stories with us. Our departure was considerably later than we had anticipated it would be in our plan-making the previous evening.

I insisted that our first stop be the Wildflower Bakery in Sedona. We ordered three soup and 1/2 sandwich lunch specials – Southwestern Veggie Roasted Corn Soup and a chicken salad sandwich – and three coffees. Praise all 'round.

The Outlook Mesa at the Sedona Airport was next, followed by a quick shopping trip at Tlaquepaque Arts & Crafts Village on the banks of Oak Creek. Surprise prevents any discussion of the few items purchased, other than for the turquoise pendant Mom bought for herself as a memento of this trip.

Next came the short pilgrimage to the Chapel of the Holy Cross. This unusual Catholic church was completed in 1956, and was the vision and gift of Marguerite Bruswig Staude to the Diocese of Phoenix and St John Vianney. Dad was happy to linger up here for quite some time, this place having obviously provided an important inspiration to him on his previous visits. Mom emerged from the gift shop, delightedly showing off a Chapel creche Christmas tree ornament Dad had bought for her.

Dad, however, was visibly tired. We had discussed the remaining itinerary over lunch, and he expressed the wish to head home. We toured a few of the easily accessible landmarks – Cathedral Rock, Bell Rock and Courthouse Rock. We drove further south on #179, through Oak Creek village, and on toward the I17 on-ramp. Soon after, we were back at the registration desk of the Super 8 Motel.

That's it. Not quite, of course. There are still 1,836 miles to traverse and, perhaps, a few more memories to create.

Over and out.

Passin' through Bushland, and the Leaning Tower of Britten

February 21st – Elk City, OK to Holbrook, AZ

Over 660 miles in less than twelve hours... not too bad for this crew. And an hour of that time was spent in the company of a crowded Denny's in Amarillo, TX, waiting with a declining measure of equanimity for their meals. (Bushland Grain elevator at Bushland exit off I40 in George's Texas.)

But today's weather, with the exception of some very windy periods, was perfect for car travel. We woke to some very cool temperatures in the only occupied room of the Flamingo Motel, having shut off the heater prior to retiring. Dad was up by 6 a.m. and I roused myself about the same time. With the heater rumbling, I got a shower, made my espresso and, with Dad's help got the car packed and checked for a 7 a.m. departure. As we were packing up, we also saw a short report on The Weather Channel about the property destruction caused by the wildfire we saw raging on the outskirts of Oklahoma City as we drove through the previous day.

Other than for food and fuel, we didn't venture off of I40 for the entire day. Mom & Dad swapped shotgun duty a few times as I kept the car highway-bound without any real sleepiness for the twelve-hour hike to Arizona. The sun shone from a clear sky, and traffic was moderate. After covering the 22 miles or so from Elk City to the state line, we drove across the Texas Panhandle, then traversed New Mexico, and arrived in Arizona in the later hours of the afternoon.

Prior to tucking in last night back in Elk City, Mom & Dad had given me a clearer idea of what they wanted out of the final legs of the trip. Based on their comments, I determined that we would need to drive to Sedona as directly as possible (so sorry, Jim Rodger, that meant foregoing a drive through El Paso, TX and a report on the current welfare of the El Paso Truck Terminal; and Shirley and Leonard McCaw in Scottsdale, a possible lunch – which I hadn't even dared raise with you), spend a day exploring Sedona and environs, then drive up through Utah to Moab (lots more red-rock canyon country), then boogie for home and a Thursday arrival in Winkler. This plan met with approval, and today's the marathon drive to Arizona marked its launch.

We're all rather weary tonight, so I'll get some photos cleaned up and get this post online. We only have a two-hour drive to Sedona in the morning. We're looking forward to a day of a more relaxed exploration and shopping as opposed to concerted asphalt chew-up. Goodnight Ruth, I love you. Miss you profoundly.

A Passed-Up Pig Out Palace, and Kicks on Route 66

February 20th – Conway, AR to Elk City, OK

Dad stuck his head in my bedroom at around 7:20 a.m. on Thursday morning. I had worked on the blog until 1:30 a.m., falling asleep around 2 a.m. A groggy 'good morning,' at best.






Janet uttered a fair few dramatic sobs through the early morning, while Abe commented that the bags looked a lot less appealing exiting the house. I made sure to toss the frisbee for Mahwin, and gave the Senegal Parrot, Cuddles, some time on my shoulder to nibble on cashews.

The car packed, the emotional good-byes made, Abe and Janet stood by as we belted into the Camry and pulled out. It was surreal.

While our last day's drive to Huntsville had been accomplished primarily under a torrential downpour, the drive back west started and stayed under brilliant sunshine. We had agreed on a more leisurely approach to our post-Huntsville drives, so we stopped at the same Conway hotel that we had stayed at nine nights earlier. We also had our evening meal at the same McAlister's Deli, and were served by Robert, the same courteous young man.

Good night, all.

This morning (Friday, the 20th) dawned crisp and clear, with the temperatures just under the freezing mark. While Dad and I woke early enough, we sauntered our way through the first hour or more and, by sometime after 8, were finally back on I40. I hadn't made my usual espresso hit, so I was fairly hazy until I found a Starbucks in Russellville, AR. A poor substitute these days, I must say. Sometime later, we needed to make a pitstop and bumped into Huckleberry's Pig Out Palace just outside Henryetta, OK. Happily, it was not a fit with our schedule, and so we pulled back out onto the interstate.

Everything else was a little hum-drum until, just as we were about to pass Elk City, I spotted a sign for the National Route 66 Museum. Mom & Dad immediately expressed interest in stopping, despite the fact that is was around 3:30 p.m. and we were still two hours from our anticipated destination, Amarillo, TX. We had just over an hour to do a too-quick survey of the city's shrine to one of the most famous routes in modern times.

And, Allison and Pete, I couldn't convince them to let me remove this pram from their exhibit, so I had to settle for something considerably more mundane and touristy. Sorry.

With the museum closing at 5 p.m., Dad suggested we stay in Elk City. We also were unable to negotiate the purchase of an antique camper trailer in the exhibit, so I suggested the Flamingo Motel back down 3rd Street (as we had once had a motel by the same name in Winnipeg). A young man from the Indian continent, who had purchased the business one year ago, showed us a decent, recently renovated room, and we became his sole customers for the night.

Before and after dinner, the folks and I talked about what was reasonable and doable within the days remaining in the month. While Mom has said that this break in their at-home routine has been wonderful, the overall effort and lack of routine has been tiring for both of my folks. Dad commented, as we were considering our options, that this would likely be his last trip of this kind. This was only one of the moments of pathos we have encountered during this past two weeks. This trip is about making memories precisely because we all recognize that the time for making them is so limited.

After extensive use of maps.google.com, we came up with an acceptable itinerary. Dad retired after a shower, while Mom did her devotional reading and I hammered away on this blog.

And, now, it's time for my retirement. Love to all who are still with us on this journey.

Explorations, Flicks 'n Prayers

February 17th & 18th – Huntsville, AL

Tuesday
Tuesday's daylight hours were downtime for most everyone. We idled through breakfast, morning, lunch and the early afternoon. Mom & Dad started to prepare for a Thursday departure (of which the folks advised our wonderful hosts at lunch), while Janet prepared for the house for the arrival of their Bible study group and Abe barbeque chicken for the evening feast. (Right, 5 thrusters each over 10 feet across, capable of a combined force of 7.5 million pounds of thrust.)





I, on the other hand, tinkered with this blog, assessed and tweaked photos, drafted text, and accepted an offer from cousin, Darren, to help do away with some Persian leftovers and to watch a Kurosawa film. (Mom at the controls of a Shuttlecraft landing simulator.)

Ruhi's Persian delicacies were wonderful again, and the movie, "High and Low," was a completing engaging black & white treat. It was doubly satisfying to learn that two cousins with very little contact over nearly five decades should have a number of interests – movies, music and spirituality among them – in common. Darren had clearly made a study of Kurosawa's work, while I tend to be quixotic in my movie selections. That said, I was delighted to have him introduce me to another aspect of Kurosawa's work of which I knew nothing.

Back at Janet & Abe's house, Mom & Dad really enjoyed their immersion into a completely new group. They had a great time, and commented that all of Janet & Abe's friends in this group extended great hospitality and exuberance.

Wednesday
Last full day in Huntsville. The five of us headed for the U.S. Space and Rocket Center well before lunch. Mom & Dad got a close-up look at the artifacts of an era that, in so many ways, seems already so far away. Was it all staged in a Nevada desert site after all?? Nah, of course not, and the shear immensity of the hardware was most impressive.

On returning to Abe & Janet's, Darren called again with a double invitation: to join the Huntsville B'hai community at his house for a prayer gathering in support of the seven now under arrest in Iran, and to watch another movie.

It was a rare opportunity to share in the concerns of another community, and even more gripping in that two of the detained individuals are friends of Ruhi's.

Darren had selected "Memento" for this viewing. This Christopher Nolan film's subject had an eerie effect, as my memory is flawed as well. As the film unwound – or, more accurately, rewound – my tension rose dramatically. This film will get a number more viewings, Darren. Thanks. And, if you have the chance, check out Tykwer's "Winter Sleepers" and Susanne Bier's "After the Wedding" as examples of movies that have resonated for me.

Back at Abe & Janet's, the folks were watching a couple of movies with their hosts as well. Two homes, four films, many prayers for a better world, and food to nourish the body. One extended family growing in understanding. The end of a visit. The anticipation of the next. Midnight. Time for rest.

Food & Wheels

February 16th – Lebanon Hermitage and Nashville, TN

I awoke about 7:15 Monday morning to slatted sunshine spilling over me. I was wrapped in a cocoon of homemade blankets in the RV trailer JD had offered to give me a little privacy and, I suspect, insulation from the 5 - 6 a.m. waking of the children.

As I stepped out into the brilliant, frostbitten air, I was instantaneously greeted by Levi, the retriever, and Girl (or Storm, for the conditions in which this stray arrived some years ago). It's getting bad. Since Rebus arrived in our lives, I seem to fall for virtually every dog I meet. These two playful dogs were no exception.

I was greeted by aromas and family goings-on as I entered the house. The air was rich with the smells of bacon, sausage, gravy, biscuits and coffee. JD and Angie were cozied on one of the couches, Anslee at their feet and playing with her princess castle set. Connor and Luke were huddled around JD's laptop at the kitchen table, checking out new plans for their K'nex construction kit.

Another tasty meal once again partaken, we began organizing for sometime out and about. Angie, though at first hesitant to have the children leave, got excited by the prospect of some to herself with a book on the couch. The children gathered up trading cards, books and stuffed toys, buckled themselves up in the back of the Suburban and we made the short drive to Jerry and Charlotte's home in Hermitage, TN. Charlotte gave me a warm welcome to Hermitage, then disappeared after her flock of grandchildren, which had vanished into the house. JD opened the door to Jerry's workshop and waved me in.

Bro Bob, you would have been in heaven. My brother is a car/gun/motorcycle/radio/old-stuff-generally nut. Vintage stuff filled every corner, from radios to toys and motorcycles, with everything in-between. Jerry was working on a couple of bikes, though his own bikes were gleaming and near-at-hand: several vintage BMWs and a rare Norton Manxman among them.

Jerry has been a motorcycle enthusiast forever, at least since his uncle, I believe, gave him a ride when he was young. I don't recall Jerry's exact words, but the gist was that his whole world changed with that ride.

It's obvious that Jerry is well and widely connected with all things vintage. He restores older bikes for enthusiasts all over the country, and he has a passion for cars as well, witness the Triumph and MG sitting out front of the workshop.In that regard, he suggested the three of us drive into Nashville to visit his friend, Jeff Lane's, auto museum (lanemotormuseum.org).

Jeff greeted Jerry warmly as we walked in and, a few minutes later, we were winding our way through the rows of auto oddities. The museum has amassed a collection of over 150 unusual, mostly European, vehicles. Jeff's fascination with vehicles is grounded in his father's passion for restoring British sports cars. For his 12th Christmas, he asked for and got his own restoration project, a 1955 MG TF basket-case.

A couple of notable vehicles were: a black version of the first bike Dad got for me in '67, a 65cc Honda Sport; and a fire Push Me / Pull You Fire Responder built for narrow mountain roads where turning around was impossible. The latter reminded me of many circumstances in life.

After doing a fairly thorough survey of all the displays, Jerry suggested lunch at the local Harley dealership. He has had a connection with the owners since he and they were young boys. Boswell's has a diner as part of the dealership, and the smell of food makes buyers of most everyone who steps inside. I bit at Jerry's recommendation of the catfish. Once again, I overate, but the meal was truly fine. No 10W50 or machine finings were detected in any of the fare.

We finished up our time together with a quick drive around downtown Nashville (Doris Day's high school, the Grand Old Opry, the Parthenon, and other landmarks) then headed back to pick up the children at Jerry and Charlotte's.

Southern hospitality is unique. You honestly feel like you will be missed and that your imposition on your hosts was their pleasure. I'll miss Jerry and Charlotte. JD and I got the kids home and, before heading back to Huntsville, I made my fond farewells and some photos of the family.

The BMW National Rally is in Johnson City, TN this July and I plan to see these fine folks again at that time. Then, of course, there's the Shiloh rally in fall, the Great Chicken Rally in Huntsville, and my relatives. I think the Powells may see more of me than they might have anticipated. I made the drive back to Huntsville with gratitude for the time up around Nashville and for the time to come with family in Huntsville and beyond.

I walked in the door of Abe & Janet's to the sound of crokinole. Dad and Samineh were teamed up against Abe. The scent of competitiveness hung heavy in the air. Eventually I, too, was drawn into the fray from which I escaped without too much blood let.