Posted on November 12, 2015 under Thursday Tidbits with 3 comments

The Grassy Knoll – Dealey Plaza Dallas, Texas

Peter MacDonald Photo

 

I hardly know where to start.

A long road trip is so interesting with all the twists and turns in the road…literally and figuratively. You need to go with the attitude to expect the unexpected. This latest sojourn with my son, Peter has provided this and much more.

After a week of sun and sand in Florida, we have been wending our way to Victoria through the United States. I have been keeping copious notes of all three of our trips and could easily recommend routes, hotels and especially great places to eat. We have had some fantastic authentic meals including Cajun, Mexican and Texan BBQ.

It is also neat passing place names that were popularized in songs. We had lunch the other day in Tucumcari, New Mexico. If you were ( are ) a fan of the band “Little Feat” you will instantly recognize this as a place name in the song “Willin’” And of course, many of you weighed in on Facebook the other day when I posted the name of Winslow, Arizona. We were going to stop and take a picture “ standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona” but there was only one exit and were by it before we could blink.

So, here I sit in the lobby of the Maswick Lodge at the Grand Canyon tapping out these words at 4:45 a.m. on Wednesday. The triple time zone change plus the clocks going back last weekend, have me on the move at 4:00 every morning. Not sure my traveling companion is amused when I’m clunking around getting dressed and getting out the door to give him a few hours of extra sleep.

There is little doubt that the highlights of the trip will be the stop in Dallas and our visit to the Grand Canyon.

We arrived in Dallas on Sunday evening. The Cowboys were playing football in Dallas that evening which was a godsend as the traffic was almost non existent coming into the city. My plan was to get up early Monday morning and go to Dealey Plaza to see where JFK was killed, do a tour and then hit the road. We had a late dinner Sunday evening and took a cab ( Uber. Now that was an experience! ) to the site of the assassination. Although it was dark, the area was well lit and Peter snapped a very interesting picture of me standing on the exact spot on the road where the president was killed. Also in the frame are the “grassy knoll” and the Texas School Book Depository. The experience was surreal and I have written a major piece that I will be publishing in the days to come.

The Grand Canyon. If it’s not one of the “seven wonders of the modern world” it should be. But before you can see it, you have to get there. We ran into a rather serious snow squall about an hour away from the Canyon which nearly spoiled our day. I have detailed this entire adventure in a story called “A Grand Illusion” which will be published soon.

Most interesting sign on the trip so far? Just outside Amarillo, Texas we stopped at one of the many rest stops along the way. Exiting the car we noticed several signs warning us of rattlesnakes. We didn’t linger very long!

If all goes as planned, we’ll arrive in Victoria late on Friday.

Have a great day.

Posted on November 10, 2015 under Storytelling with 2 comments

NYC skyline

Peter MacDonald photo

 

 

It seems everyone is travelling these days. Young people are working all over the world and the baby boomers can’t seem to get enough of southern vacations, cruises and exotic adventures.  And families still like to go to old tried and true resorts like Disney.  Because of the sheer number of people on the move, the law of averages kicks in.   At some point you will experience travel delays, lost luggage and other hassles that often leave you wondering about the merits of simply staying home and reading National Geographic.

Ever since 9/11, travelling to the United States has become a bit more complicated. Increased security measures require thorough screening of people entering the country.  Long lineups at airports and border crossings have become the norm.  And sometimes, you are one of the unlucky ones who gets singled out for a more rigorous inspection.

There is only one thing worse than getting stuck in a long lineup of traffic at the U.S. border on a Friday night, and that’s getting caught in a lineup of precisely one car … yours.

Such was the case recently when my son and I were motoring to Victoria, B.C. from Halifax, with a small detour for a few days of sun and sand in Florida. Despite all the charms of the East Coast (the winter weather not being one of them), Peter had decided to move to a more moderate climate where he could pursue work and enjoy the healthy, active lifestyle that the West Coast is famous for.

He carefully packed all of his worldly possessions, including his musical equipment, into his car. Anticipating a shortage of space, he had purchased a clam shell to go on the roof. The vehicle was jammed so tight that there wasn’t room for an anaemic flea.  We looked like the Clampett family rolling into Beverly Hills.

I have never approached US Customs before where there wasn’t another vehicle in sight. We pulled up to the booth and handed over our passports.  We were asked a few questions and expected to be on our way in minutes, if not seconds.  However, it became abundantly clear that the agents on the evening shift at the St. Stephen’s crossing were bored out of their skulls.  I had visions of the Maytag repair man.  We were instructed to park our car, disembark and enter the Customs building.

Did I mention that I had to pee like a proverbial race horse?

The young official on the other side of the counter was all business. This was going to be the highlight of his night.  What could he possibly be thinking?  It became apparent that he was concerned that my son was going to look for work in the U.S.  (“Oh yeah.  This young guy and his dad are hitting the road and are gonna make it big time in Nashville and live like rock stars.”)  Two guys in ball caps – the next Hall & Oates.

After the initial round of questioning, I asked permission to use the washroom, which I thought was a reasonable request. But I guess if you’re a balding 60 something you could be a drug mule and might flush your drugs down the toilet.  Request denied.

The border agent was trying to verify that Peter had gainful employment in Canada. He was indeed set to join a band, having played a few gigs with them earlier in the year.  Now if you’re name is Bono or Ringo, proving that you are a member of a band is one thing.  How do you prove that you are about to become a member of a band?

I paced from side to side and finally, the agent felt a twinge of pity and let me use the washroom; saving a janitor the unsavoury duty of cleaning a puddle in front of the counter.

“We need to inspect your car.” Never have six words struck such terror into the hearts of these intrepid travellers.  I had this vision of the agent opening one of the side doors and the contents of the car springing forth and crossing the border on their own.  In my darkest moment, the thought also struck me that they might decide not to let us cross the border.  Rather than lying on a beach in Florida, I suddenly had a vision of us passing the giant statue of the goose in Wawa, Ontario as we make our way across Canada.  In November.

It was obvious that the Customs official needed something, anything, that he could justify to his boss for letting us through the checkpoint. Peter was allowed to retrieve his cellphone from the car and in short order, produced a picture of himself playing with the band.  He could have been playing with the Muppet’s band at this point and the agent would have let us go.

We slipped back into the car and eased down the highway. We flicked on the local FM station and heard the familiar strains of “Band on The Run”.

 

Posted on November 8, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

“The Bird Man”

All good things must pass and after a week of glorious sunshine in Florida, Peter and I hit the road yesterday with the car pointed west. Before leaving Florida, I wrote a short piece about the small community of people that I have come to know at our time share. They are very much like the wonderful friends I have back home. Here’s how I summed it up: “ People leave all pretenses at the gate when they arrive. There is no one upmanship. Quite frankly, no one gives a damn how rich you are or how smart you are or how important you are in your home community. Here, at The Islander, you’re simply one of the gang. “ One couple who have been going there for years and will celebrate their 60^th wedding anniversary next week ,said it best. Coming to Florida and feeling the warmth of sun and friendship, has extended their lives.

I’ll tell you, the combination of time zone change and winding the clocks back an hour has thrown my internal clock into a tizzy. It’s bad enough that I’m usually up with the birds but the last several days, I have been tapping away at my computer at 4:00 in the morning. So, it came as quite a surprise Saturday morning when I stared at the clock on the stove and it was almost 5:30. I checked my pulse to make sure I was alive. Betty and Ivory ( our granddaughter ) had flown in to Florida the night before and due to a lack of space, I walked across the pool deck and spent the night on my brother’s couch. I got up, made a pot of coffee and went and threw in a load of laundry. There are clocks on the stove and microwave and one that is old fashioned and of the wall mounted variety. I quickly discovered that the two digital clocks had not been changed with the time change last week. Can’t remember the last time I did laundry at 4:30 a.m.!

We spent some time with a sweet lady from St. Louis the other evening who has crisscrossed the United States many times in her life. Her husband has had multiple health issues over the years so she does all the driving. Last year, she drove nonstop from St. Louis to North Redington Beach Florida… quite a feat if you’re Peter’s age. She’s well up in her 70’s. Ahem. This is an 18 hour drive! In any event, Dot was immensely helpful as we mapped out the next leg of our trip. Our route will take us through Biloxi, Mississippi ( where we stayed last night ), Dallas, Amarillo ( Texas ), Albuquerque, New Mexico and Flagstaff, Arizona. We’ll spend some time at the Grand Canyon and then head north to Boise, Idaho and finish our trek in Victoria.

Dallas. November 22, 1963. The assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy remains one of the most significant events of the 20^th. century. I remember it as if it were yesterday as do many of you my age and older. I still shake my head when I realize that this was 52 years ago. This singular event, more than anything else, reminds me how fast life zips along. If everything goes as planned, I hope to stand on the grassy knoll this morning and stare at the spot in Dealey Plaza where JFK was killed. Apparently there’s an X on the road to mark the exact spot. There are tours of the Texas Book Depository where allegedly, the lone gunman, Lee Harvey Oswald fired the rifle that killed the president. I say allegedly because there are still conspiracy theorists who believe that there was more than one gunman involved. I plan to write a major piece about this in an upcoming story. Obviously, this will be one of my serious pieces.

I am still waiting to see if my editor will allow me to publish the story, “Resurrection.” It is the true story about a friend of mine who is convinced to have a pedicure. I wouldn’t exactly call the story racy or salacious but it has the potential to raise a few eyebrows from people who read my material on a regular basis. It is actually very harmless. As mentioned in my last piece, I “test drove” it at the book launch and it received a great reception.

Coming up later this week is my tribute to people who do shift work, especially my friends in the nursing profession. It’s called “A Seismic Shift. I will also be publishing the story “Borderdom” about the pleasant hour we spent with Customs officials at the St. Stephens crossing a week and a half ago.

A special shout out. My story editor has a birthday today. Please wish her well.

Have a great day.

“ They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them “