The Meaning of Life

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? That is a question I have asked myself for the past seventy years, and I still don’t have an answer other than right where I live now.

There is something about living where you were born that seems to establish a tap root that is hard to pull up. All my life, I have traveled to places that I thought were better than where I live. It all began when my wife Barbara and I were on our honeymoon. First of all, the honeymoon was our very first trip away from home. Our destination was Florida. We loved the Florida weather along the Atlantic Ocean. What we didn’t like about Florida were the yearly hurricanes. The following year we ventured to California via Volks Wagon Bug. The smog in the Los Angeles area discouraged us from moving there, although I did go on a job interview with an airplane manufacturing company. One look at their engineering department turned me off. It was a giant room the size of two WalMarts back to back with rows and rows of drafting tables staffed by white shirted engineers designing parts. Up to that point in time, I yearned to live in LA and work for an engineering firm. The sight of that room caused my brain to lose the idea of working there forever.

On our way northward from LA, I aimed the Bug toward San Francisco, playing Tony Bennett’s latest hit song,

What Makes San Francisco the Best City ...

I Left My Heart In San Francisco

Song by

Tony Bennett

The loveliness of Paris seems somehow sadly gay
The glory that was Rome is of another day
I’ve been terribly alone and forgotten in Manhattan
I’m going home to my city by the Bay
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars

The morning fog may chill the air, I don’t care
My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you, San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me

When I come home to you, San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me

We never stepped into San Francisco to see what everyone was singing about. Our itinerary was closing, and we had to move. However, the Bug topped out at 65 mph and needed to be goosed on the uphill segments, which were numerous. My last great vision was of Lake Tahoe before we called it quits in Reno, Nevada. Crossing Nevada was joyless. Just straight roads with endless hills between barren mountains.

As a young family, we enjoyed visiting Michigan, especially along the western coast of Lake Michigan, and we spent many weekends visiting my parents on their farm. We could have lived there, except that the winters are as brutal as those in Illinois. After many trips to the western states, we changed direction and headed east toward the Atlantic Ocean. The one thing I noticed is an abundance of dark green forests and lots of hills. What I didn’t experience is a driving force to want to live in the highly populated eastern part of our country.

After my son moved his family to Texas, I got to tour his state more extensively. The central part of Texas, with its hills and lakes, is beautiful and could convince me to live there.

Texas Hill Country on a 5-Day Road Trip

We decided to treat ourselves on our anniversary by visiting Hawaii. There is no doubt, I could live there on any of the islands, but the Big Island was where I’d want to settle, even though we had the most fun on Maui.

Later, Barbara and I began traveling to Europe. Our first tour was to Britain, which consists of England, Scotland, and Wales. Those places are nice to visit, but they are not for me. My work took me to Germany several times, and I fell in love with the countryside and the small villages scattered throughout the country. I studied German in high school and could speak a few words, but the language would prohibit me from living there. On one of those business trips, my boss planned a visit to our factory in Avenzano, Italy. We spent all of twenty-four hours there, and I fell in love with place.

Düsseldorf Old Town Travel Guide: Best ...

Throughout my travels, I have never been able to decide where to live next. Each time we visited somewhere, it was during an ideal time. For instance, we saw Hawaii during the summer, but never during the rainy season. The same held for Singapore. Canada is great during the summer months, but it is snowy and cold for the rest of the year. Iv’e never been to Alaska so I can only guess that living in six months of darkness would make me go crazy.

The choices of where to live are endless, and there is always a downside to every place I have ever considered to become my home. And I have always decided that I have a little bit of everything I have seen in the world, so why not just stay here in Illinois.

In conclusion, I have decided that at my age, the next place I want to live is Heaven.

The Last Fifty Miles Got To Me

Driving and taking road trips has been a passion of mine since 1961. However, I’ve only ventured out three times in the past four years. Two of the escapes were taken this month. I dream of driving across this great country of the United States at least once more. The thrill of experiencing the great plains and deserts, followed by the Rockies, sometimes overwhelms me. My body, however, has slipped to a level that surprises me. Having been physically active most of my life, I have fallen into a malaise and inactivity. The result is a body that is twenty pounds overweight, all of it hanging above my belt line like a bowling ball. The weight doesn’t bother me as much as the achy joints they cause. This trip was another test to see If I can last through an extended drive.

Lovely and I undertook the adventure of driving around Lake Michigan, starting from Chicago and circumnavigating in a counterclockwise direction. In days past, it would have taken me two days to drive 998 miles, but this time, I wanted Lovely to experience the beauty of the many lake towns, the great sand dunes that border the west coast of Michigan, and finally, Mackinac Island (pronounced Mackinaw}, and Mackinaw Bridge. The bridge has a history and beauty of its own. It allows people like me to cross the straits a ten mile stretch of water that joins Lake Michigan, Lake Superior, and Lake Huron. The bridge also connects lower Michigan with upper Michigan. Why the state is split into two sections is another history lesson.

Our first stop was Traverse City, the home of cherries. Two peninsulas extend north to form Traverse Bay, creating a terroir that makes growing cherries successful. Thus, the Cherry Capital of the World is born. The drive along the shore of Lake Michigan is scenic and extends almost to the bridge. I had to stop at Charlevoix to take a break and to eat a donut. This is a charming town with many touristy shops catering to the boating crowd, making it a destination. The day was cloudy grey and rather dreary, but we prevailed and continued to enjoy the scenery. The next town in line was Petoskey, famous for the Petoskey stone. These stones are the Great Lakes contribution to fossilized coral formations. My recollection of these towns is from three bike tours I took years ago. I was amazed at the growth that has taken place since those visits.

We arrived at our destination, Mackinac City, at the foot of the bridge. I had always passed this town, but I deliberately stopped to check it out. We checked into our motel, called the American Boutique Inn, and made it our base for the next two days. It was within a ten-minute walk to the ferry dock and the downtown shopping/restaurant area. We discovered two restaurants open and several that catered to breakfast, The White Buffalo Bar & Grille was next door to O’Reilly’s Irish Pub & Restaurant. We later discovered they had the exact same menu and delivered food from the same kitchen. The only difference between them was the beer menu and decor.

Touring Mackinaw Island is undoubtedly different. There are no motorized vehicles allowed on the island. Although I would argue that electric-assist bicycles are motorized, but they are allowed. The main street at the water’s edge is about a mile long and is crowded on both sides with buildings built in the eighteen hundreds. All of them are nic-nack shops and cafes. Other notable attractions are, The Grand Hotel, Fort Mackinac, and Arch Rock. The nicety of the street was that it was quiet except for the clop-clopping of horses hooves as horse drawn carriages acted as taxis, tour, and livery vehicles. We finally took a tour and enjoyed a rest from the shopping. Out cart was drawn by three very large percheron draft horses, and they climbed the hills up to Arch Rock with little effort while dragging a cart load of thirty people.

The tourist season lasts until the end of October. Then, all the shops and hotels close, leaving a permanent population of five hundred people to enjoy the solitude of the island, which often gets iced in when the lakes freeze. Most of the help is contracted from Jamaica and the Dominican Republic. They all go home to enjoy the money they made during the summer. Over 900 horses are ferried back to the mainland to farms and barns in the upper peninsula to rest up for the next season.

We left Mackinaw City to cross the bridge and follow US Rte 2 west, the lake on our left, and forests on our right. After an hour we turned onto Hwy 77 north through heavy forests on both sides with a few tiny hamlets to Munising, Michigan, on the shore of Lake Superior. Our boat ride was at two o’clock and we arrived there at one thirty. The boat ride took us along the lake’s western coast along the Pictured Rocks National Shoreline. To describe it, the coast is a 200 foot high cliff that drops vertically into Lake Superior. I have seen this part of Michigan from the top of the cliff and lakeside. It is an amazing view from both perspectives. The captain of our boat pointed out mosquito bay. He said there is not one single mosquito living there. They are all married and have children.

The geology of the pictured rocks is fascinating. Layers of sandstone form the cliff. On top, there is a layer of topsoil with forest. Groundwater seeps through the layers, picking up various minerals as it moves. The water reaches a level of stone that stops it and moves horizontally toward the lakes, seeps out, and runs down the face of the cliff. The rock face is streaked with colorful orange(Iron), green(copper), black, and white.

We rested in a Holiday Inn Express that night and dined at Munising’s finest supper club, The Dogpatch Restaurant (two and a half stars). In the morning we packed up the Death Star and headed south. The plan was to make it home in one 400 mile segment. Everything went well until we were fifty miles from home. We arrived at precisely the same time as everyone who works in downtown Chicago is leaving to go home for supper. It took us an hour and a half to inch our way home from that point. Lovely was not a happy camper, nor was I. There was nothing I could do to speed things up we just had to slug our way through the traffic.

When I got into the house, the first thing I did was pour myself a healthy jigger of scotch and slugged it down. Except for those last fifty miles, it was a great trip, and I passed my driving test. In total, we drove 998 miles, 400 of which were on the last day, and the final 50 took the longest time

The Best Plans Often Go Awry

The best plans a man can make often go very wrong. I plan to leave on a short vacation trip tomorrow. This morning, when I returned from mass, I found myself troubleshooting a new problem. I always park my car in the garage, and today, when I pushed the button on my rearview mirror to have the door open by the time the front bumper reaches the door line, nothing happened. There I sat, pressing the button repeatedly all the time thinking of the definition of insanity, i.e. doing the same thing over and over with no success and expecting a different reaction. Except, I was pressing the button on different places thinking there might be a hot spot on the mirror switch. Then, to my surprise on my final push, the door began to rise. It raised about a foot and then slammed to the ground with a bang. That’s not good, I thought. Oh well, give up and tackle the next problem, like how to get into the house. It is my habit to use the garage as the entrance of choice. This morning I realized that is a bad habit because I don’t carry keys to the storm doors. I went to the front door, and found it locked. I went to the side door and luckily the storm door was unlocked, I’ll have to discuss that matter with Lovely, I thought. She fell down on her job to secure all doors before retiring, but today it was my gift. I entered the house and immediately proceeded to the garage to examine the door. I spotted the problem from twenty feet away. One of the two torsion springs that help raise the door is broken. It broke while lifting the door, so it slammed to the ground. Before that, it was overloading and shutting down with each button push.

The next problem is finding someone to replace the spring on a Sunday. Luckily, I remembered that the previous repair company had placed a tag with their number on the door. I called, and after hearing the line switch three times, a voice came on—a genuine, authentic, human voice. I am now waiting for a serviceman to call back with an arrival time. If I am lucky, I may get to leave on the trip tomorrow as planned.

Time Away With Lovely

This is another one of those days when I don’t have a clue as to what my theme will be. I’ll write until something comes to mind. This past week, I drove to the town of Galena, Illinois. That is the longest drive I have taken in a few years. I have something in mind for later in the month, and I was wondering if I was physically and mentally capable of driving so many hours. I made the driving part without too much fatigue and with a little more physical conditioning I think I can expand the drive to five hundred miles in a single day. One thing. that might hamper me is daylight. If I get caught short on light, I may have to pull off and sleep. My eyes are not the best for dark time driving.

This was my second visit to Galena, the home of Ulysses Grant, the eighteenth President of the United States and the General who finally ended the Civil War. Lovely is new to the USA; she has never been there and likes visiting places she has never been to. We left in the late morning and arrived four hours later, still in bright light. This left us with some time to cruise into town to browse the shops and to have a leisurely supper at the Green Street Tavern located in the Desoto Hotel building on Main Street. My memory of Galena is vague since my last visit was in the 1970’s and we camped. I do remember touring Main Street with Barb and the kIds. I especially liked the fact that the entire street was filled with buildings built in the early eighteen hundreds. I was totally impressed with the massiveness of the front doors that were easily three inches thick. Another thing that left an impression on me as a senior was that the floors in these places were wavy and irregular in levels. They were not easy to walk on if you have balance problems like me. They also had a lot of steps between rooms and floor height changes which made walking an adventure.

The stores are a blend that sell doodads, fancy coffee-pastry, and women’s clothing with a few antique shops mixed in. Tours are available for the historically interested. We ran out of time to visit the Grant home, and just as well, as the tour would have consisted of listening to a docent spew historical facts in the crowded rooms of what was once considered a considerable mansion but today might fall into the middle-class sector. If I want to see some old houses, I will revisit Colonial Williamsburg.

I thought Galena sits on the edge of the Mississippi River, but it doesn’t. It is a few miles east of the Mississippi and has no prominent tourist roads leading to an overview. One of my goals was to show Lovely the great Mississippi River. To do that, I had to drive north from Galena to Dubuque, Iowa. This was a good thing because Dubuque, being on the river, is loaded with businesses of hauling by barge. THe river is not very wide at that point but the bridge over is still impressive and offered a good view of the expanse of the waterway. As we left the bridge the road turned South and headed along the river toward the Quad cities of Davenport, and Bettendorf on the Iowa side, and Rock Island, and Moline on the Illinois side. My map reading skill has obviously diminished because I swear that the only bridge across was at the Quad cities. I was surprised to find out I am wrong.

We enjoyed rural views along the river in a relatively hilly section. When we came down from the high country to the river, we stopped at a quaint little roadside restaurant called Richman’s Cafe for coffee and a cookie in Bellevue. Lovely wanted pictures of the river to remember, so we crossed the road and walked to the water’s edge. There, we blindly photographed using our phones, blocked out by the bright sunlight. I blindly aimed the camera and touched the button to hear the camera take a shot.

Back on Highway 52, heading south, we were thrilled by some magnificent river views. The road eventually came to a tee near a town called Sabula, and I decided to continue eastward. That decision led us toward the city of Savannah, although I only realized it was in Illinois once we crossed the river on the bridge I didn’t know existed. I have read about and heard about Savannah all my life, but did not know where it was or how big it was; now I do. I can knock Savannah off my list of places to see. The drive through was enough for me.

The remainder of the drive took us through north central Illinois and eventually to Interstate 39 South. I have never been on 39, so we took it to I-80, which was the straight shot to Frankfort.

All in all, this was a very nice getaway and I thoroughly enjoyed the time away with Lovely

Light Speed to Reality

As an interesting experiment I thought I would look back ten years and repost what I was doing then. I am delighted by the outcome. My wife Peggy and I were returning to Frankfort from Arizona. We had spent an extraordinary winter visiting friends and enjoying the magnificent sunshine in the Valley of the Sun.

This was first posted on 24 April 2014.


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This morning we left a chilly rainy 65 degree day in the Valley of the Sun. Two hours later we reached the top of a 7500 feet high peak and moved through a snowy white out. The car thermometer dropped to 28 degrees. The weather followed us to our first destination city with two additions, wind, and hail. The wind-chill drove the last spike through my Phoenix warmed heart, ugh. We will follow a major weather pattern across the United States and we might even meet some severe rain storms with possible tornadoes. I don’t need an adventure like this anymore, packing the car was adventure enough.

I often tell friends “in May when I return the weather is colder than the weather I experienced in Phoenix in January.” Another big difference is that in May, Illinois doesn’t have many flowers in bloom, while in January, the valley is abundant in flowers.

Our last week in the Valley had us basking on the patio enjoying 90 degree days. I don’t think I will see another ninety degree day for another three months.

How deprived am I?