Kanab, Utah … It’s called “The Greatest Earth on Show.”
That’s not too far off. It’s in the center of Utah’s tremendous beauty consisting of a whole host of national parks. Kanab is a bit rustic, though. We were kind of cut off from civilization there: no newspapers, no ESPN, limited Wifi, and their McDonald’s had no drive-through … it was like we were living back in the Stone Age. There was no way to keep up with the really important things that were happening in the world, events such as the mideast crisis, the Ebola outbreak, or the baseball scores. Somehow, we survived.
After Diedre Kaye, the four most important things in my life all begin with the letter “C”: cats, chocolate, comedy, and Cooperstown (OK, well, that’s “baseball,” but I needed a “C”). So our week in Kanab (Canab?) was not to be dedicated to baseball, it was not to be dedicated to theatre, it was to be dedicated to our furry feline friends, the cats.
No, not our three cats, Charlie, Casey, and Samantha, who so earnestly made this seven-month RV odyssey with us and have been such good sports about being cooped up in (to them) a cramped RV space with no chance to see the sites other than from the front dashboard windshield. No, these would be the cats of “Best Friends,” (BF) the largest animal rescue sanctuary for abused, abandoned, and neglected animals in the country. On their incredibly scenic red-rock 3,000 acres, they have massive and spacious indoor/outdoor enclosures for cats, dogs, birds, horses, pigs, and rabbits. At any given time, there are usually around 1,700 animals on campus. And that’s where we would be spending the week doing volunteer work at “Cat World,” Best Friends’ feline sanctuary, Diedre’s allergies to cats be damned.
On Monday, October 13, we checked in at 8 a.m. at BF and went through their strenuous volunteer training. It took about 10 minutes. We were then assigned to “Casa De CalMar,” which specializes in cats with the feline leukemia virus. These cats don’t necessarily have a good prognosis, but they were all incredibly social cats.
Cat World has 11 houses for their feline friends including one that’s named ”The Biggest Losers’ Club” for overweight cats. To the credit of the BF staff’s careful watch of nutrition for their cats, only four were in that house.
Each house has a different specialty. They all have a good sized central lobby area with 2-4 offshoot wings. Each wing is about the size of a single car garage. These wings are split in half with the indoor portion and the outdoor enclosure connected by myriad cat doors at several levels. The cats have more than enough room to roam.
Our volunteer time was 8:15 A.M. to 11:30 Monday through Friday. We did whatever we could to help the staff of each house with cleaning, feeding, and socializing with the cats. In the very first wing we entered in the outdoor portion, I had no sooner taken a seat on the floor than “Mister,” an amazingly friendly tabby, climbed up on my lap and became my buddy for the day. We found that in any house we entered, there were timid cats, shy cats, and casual cats, but there were always at least one or two, like Mister, who had no fear of humans and desperately wanted to be loved. They’d come up to you immediately, asking for no references, and before you knew it, they’d be in your lap getting their pets and taking their naps. The purring from those cats resounded throughout the sanctuary.
Some of the cats were actually very good at taking walks on a leash. While DK was walking Barney, a giant orange tabby, we found the cutest, gamest little kitten at the house next door. “Montana” was a tiny ball of Birman fur. He was missing his right, rear leg, and had little use of the left one, but that did not deter him in the least from scooting around the yard pulling himself around with his two front paws. He was just an incredibly sweet little boy. I would have adopted him on the spot, but his medical care is both expensive and requires a lot more training than we’re probably up for at our age. Still, what a little buddy!
As you’ll recall from last year’s blog, we had already stayed in Kanab and seen most of the sites in this two stoplight town. So on our first afternoon back, we just walked the town to refamiliarize ourselves with what they had to offer. Our RV park was an easy walk to anywhere in town, so that made it extra nice.
On Tuesday morning, we were back at it, this time at Quincy House, the home for cats with special needs (handicapped) and social cats. I had chosen it because I wanted to spend more time with my new buddy, Montana
After doing a total cleanup of one of the wings, Diedre got the cat comb and brush out and started spiffing up the kids. Like Mister yesterday, she was immediately set upon by “G.I. Joe” who could not get enough of the combing. While this kept my better half busy for quite awhile, I grabbed the specially built cat-buggy and took new friends Spanky, Oliver, and eventually G.I. Joe for rides in the forested area. This also helped me get in part of my daily three-mile walk. The cats seemed to love seeing new sites from the buggy, but the really amazing part for me was that almost any staff member who happened by knew my buggy‘s occupant by name, even if they were from a different cat house. There were 200-300 cats there that week, but all the staff knew each one as if they were their children. Pretty neat!
At the end of the day’s shift, I had one last moment with my little buddy, Montana, while Diedre said good-bye to “Zulu,” her funny little kitten who was intrigued by boxes. Today we would be taking our lunch at Angel Village, the vegan lunch room available to all staff and volunteers. It was a $5 buffet that, coupled with the incredible patio view, would have been four times the cost at any other restaurant. We once again finished the day by walking the town of Kanab.
The next day’s house was called “Mondrian’s” and it cared for both social and shy cats. Today a little girl kitty, “Skadi,” stole my heart. We must have played with her string toy for 30 minutes. You know, Diedre and I can both really see now how people become “Crazy Cat Ladies/Guys.” As would happen every day, Diedre and I would each have a favorite in whatever house we were working. We would each find at least one (usually more) cute as all-get-out cats whom we wanted to take home. We had to keep reminding each other that THREE was our limit, although as children, Diedre had at one time kept 17 cats on the family’s hobby farm while I had eight at about the same time. That was back before we knew about “Kitty Kontraceptives.” But as adults, we’ve decided that after three cats, you do officially become the neighborhood’s “Crazy Cat Lady/Guy.”
Instead of a vegan lunch that day, we ventured out into BF’s massive park lands and tried to find “Hidden Lake” where we had visited last year. Somewhere along the way, we took a wrong turn. Didn’t matter. Wherever you were in their great outdoors, the views were incredible.
Thursday, October 16, 2014, would be a huge day for me. I’ll fill you in on that a little later.
Today we volunteered at “Morgaine” house. It was a lot of fun because in addition to the special needs cats it housed, there were also a boatload of kittens. Sylvester, a little cuddler, seemed to be DK’s favorite du jour; she actually liked him so much that she wanted to turn our “Three Stooges of Cats” into “The Four Feline Marx Brothers.” I had to put my foot down, which wasn’t easy what with the cat-do all over the place.
I had became enamored with three cats that day: “Heidi,” “Dolores” (Seinfeld note: rhymes with a female body part), and Sequoia who was just so sweet. Her story was one of a dedicated mom protecting her kittens after being abandoned in the wild until BF finally stepped in. We got to go to an adjacent wing to see Sequoia’s kittens who were being specially cared for. They were all just so darned cute.
OK, the reason that October 16, 2014, was a huge day for me was because it would be the 1,000th day of my streak of walking at least three-miles a day (or playing at least two softball games) going back to my heart surgery in January of 2012. To celebrate my 3,000 mile journey, we again hiked the area, this time taking the correct route to Hidden Lake where we had a wonderful picnic. In my celebration picture, I’m utilizing my high school Latin by flashing the Roman gang sign for one-thousand (a 1 with one hand and the letter “M” with the other).
The celebration of “The Streak” hitting 1,000 continued with dinner at the top restaurant in Kanab (right after “Jack-in-the-Box”), “The Rockin’ V Café Fine Dining.” The Food Sheriff said that since this was my 1,000th day of three-mile walking, she would not be on patrol that night. It was like turning the fox loose in the hen house. I was able to order chicken and LINGUINI!
Friday would be our last day on the kitty-campus. We opted to work at “Jill’s Diner,” yet another of BF’s cat houses for social and shy cats. Now, nobody had said it was going to be easy working on this gigantic, industrial cat farm on the mean streets of Cat World. First off, Diedre banged her head so hard on a cat shelf while cleaning that her mind went all ker-flooey. For a moment, she thought she was on the Broadway stage doing a performance of “Cats” with Henry Winkler. Fortunately, she recovered before they took the show on the road.
I, on the other hand, had problems of my own. Two cats, “Z” and “Day Dream,” had made their ways up my legs and had both decided to spend the afternoon in my considerable lap. Apparently, though, not considerable enough for the two of them. A cat fight ensued and I, the innocent bystander, nearly had my right arm bitten off by a fierce mountain-lion type kitty who was probably all of six pounds. One band-aid and some Bactine later, I was back in the game. My toughness is why I’ve been called “The Alley Cat.”
After bidding BF a fond farewell until next year, we started a new walking streak. Mine was still at 1,001, but Diedre vowed to start one also. Her’s stands at “1” after today’s hike up and down Kanab’s local mountain.
On Saturday, our only free day in Kanab, with planning help from the kids we decided to make the most of the region’s beauty by venturing about 35 miles east to hike the Wirepass Trail slot canyons at Buckskin Gulch Park. We were not disappointed.
My lovely bride had helped me celebrate my 1,000 days of hiking by getting me a special commemorative T-shirt being sold all over town. Check it out. There are both front and rear views. Contact Diedre for the team price if you’d like one too.
The scenery at the park was incredible even before we got to the slots. Once there, we squeezed our way through parts that were only 2-3 feet wide with 100’ high walls. And when the slots opened up, there were amphitheater-like settings that would dwarf in size anything Broadway has to offer.
In one damp area, we saw mud of a rich, deep brown color that was partially dried. Diedre immediately saw how wonderful it would be to make clay pots out of it, while Alexx’s childlike mind thought only of milk chocolate.
Parts of the trek were hand-over-hand and called for assisted climbing, but we two senior citizens teamed up to make it there and back. It was a great day to end a wonderful week.
All right, we’re on the home stretch now. The last blog will be about the three final stops in our adopted home state of Arizona: Monument Valley, Flagstaff, and Lake Havasu. It’ll then be followed by the year’s wrap-up and a preview of 2015’s RV Extravaganza. Stay tuned!
As most of you know, I play senior softball on an Arizona 60-years-and-older-softball team. The players are from all over the country (Washington, Minnesota, South Dakota, Missouri, Wisconsin, Nevada, two from Ohio, and five from Michigan), but we meet up every winter to play tournaments in the southwest from January through March. And every year for the past four years, we’ve also met up in St. George, Utah, the first week in October to take part in The Huntsman Games.
The Huntsman Games are a sort of Olympics for seniors 50 and older. 2014 will be the 28th year they’ve been held and they just keep getting bigger and better with each new edition. This year will see a record 10,500 athletes from 66 nations competing in 28 sports which, besides all the usual events, even includes competition in square dancing and bridge.
My team, the Rox, has won two silver medals and a gold in our three years of taking part in the games’ softball tourney which usually consists of 50-55 Over-60 teams. We’re the old guys now of the event as all but one of our players are 64+. This means we’ll be competing against young hotshot 60-year old kids making it our toughest shot to medal. But on the plus side, we’ll move up next year to the 65+ division, once again making us the terrors of the tournament, so wish us well in our last year as 60’s.
On Sunday, October 5, after winning our 4th consecutive tournament in the warm-up event in Mesquite, Nevada, we hopped in AB1 to make our way up Interstate-15 on the short 1-hour drive to St. George, UT. We quickly set up camp, then found our way to the Lexington Hotel where, courtesy of Jim and Carol Erickson securing the party room, Diedre and I would host our annual Margarita Party.
We have hosted just such a party for every out-of-town senior softball tourney I’ve played in since 1999. It’s a great way for the team and other softball pals to get together for some camaraderie before the tournament starts. And this party was as good as any as we’ve ever had. We were joined by our parent club, the 65+ Rockies. A great time was had by all.
The Huntsman Games softball tournament guarantees every team at least five games. You start off in pool-play in a four-team grouping where every team plays every other team. Then based on your record, you’re put into a division with other teams who have similar round-robin records to yours. The highest level, the “Major,” is what we’ve always been in during our Huntsman history. This year was no different as we swept two games on Monday at the scenic Gubler Park, beating the Codgers from Salem, OR, 15-3, and then thrashing Renton, WA, 21-5. We then won our third game played on Tuesday at the main softball complex trouncing Cut Loose from California 16-3. All games were shortened by the 12-run mercy rule. It’s really fun playing on a team where all 13 guys are hitting and no one guy is expected to carry the team. That’s how we were playing.
We would now be competing against four other undefeated teams for the Major (top flight) championship on Wednesday and Thursday. Tuesday’s completion of our Round-Robin victories was celebrated in our usual fashion with a team victory-dinner at the Gun & Barrel Restaurant.
The Huntsman organization does everything here first class. This two week long extravaganza of senior sports has a trade show atmosphere along with gigantic opening ceremonies just like the real Olympics. Each sport has its own “social” get-together early Tuesday evening for players and coaches to renew old acquaintances and make new ones over some good food. The thing I think is really special is the fact that during every game in every sport at the Huntsman, they supply your team with a huge platter of apples, bananas, and oranges to help keep your old-guy-energy up at a suitable level. There’s little worry about the bottom-line here.
Seeded 2nd in the five-team, double-elimination event, we started off hot on Wednesday and won again, beating a good Athletic Outfitters/Trovato team from New York 16-4. The Rox Express was rolling. We were now in the winners’ bracket finale and were guaranteed no worse than a 3rd place finish and a bronze medal. However, we had our sites set higher than that.
Before the game, Tom Witucky, our left-fielder, told me a good story about the night before. Jim Sobek, the manager of the older Rockies team, is quite a character. Tommy was at dinner last night with Jimmy and a few other people. Everyone else had no problem ordering, but Jimmy was still considering his options. He likes to give everyone a bit of a hard time.
“So, how are the ribs?” he asked their poor waitress.
“They’re quite tasty,” she responded.
“Well,” said jimmy, “a guy in the bathroom said they’re dry.”
This flustered the waitress a little, but she managed to get out an “Oh, … I like ‘em” reply.
“And, uh, how about the potatoes?” Jimmy continued. “Are they any good?”
The waitress glared at Jimmy for a count.
“I don’t know,” she tartly replied. “Why don’t you go ask the guy in the bathroom?”
The place erupted in laughter.
In our second game on Wednesday, we finally met our match as a “youngish” 60+ team from Michigan, the Salsa Bombers, barely edged us 15-13 in the winners’ bracket finale. The Bombers roster was full of kids, the 60-year old variety, and their power was a bit much to keep up with. But we did, and when we got to the bottom of the last inning only down two, I was sure we’d rally and pull out a victory … but we didn’t. In years past, a comeback by us was the order of the day. Maybe the years are catching up with us. Who knows?
We would now need to win three straight on Thursday, October 9, to take gold. But again, we ran into a buzz-saw, this time by the name of Laff, a combination team from Nevada-California. The highest level of play at the Huntsman Games allows a team to hit no more than seven home runs. Well, we hit one; they hit seven! The final score was them-18, us-9, leaving us one win short of being in the championship game for the first time in our four-year history. Our four Huntsman wins and two losses record gave us bronze medals, thus completing our collection of all the Olympic color medals. Luckily, the wives stayed with us even after our not finishing first or second.
Even though the Huntsman didn't end liked we had hoped, we were reminded by our coaching staff that we were really an Over-65 team playing Over-60 Major+ teams in the tournament. A 9-2 record for the two tournaments isn't bad when you consider we had a championship and a 3rd place finish.
So, that last game brought to an end the Rox 60+ team. I can’t wait to see the guys back in Arizona in January when we will again be the youth of the division, that division being “65-and-Older.”
Losing so early made it easy for us to join Jim and Carol Erickson and Bruce and Ginger McLean for that evening’s performance of “The Wizard of Oz” at the marvelous outdoor venue, The Tuacahn Theater. This place is truly amazing, set right into a natural amphitheater of 200’ high red rock cliffs. The Tuacahn always puts on a spectacular performance, and this night was no different.
The flying monkeys were just as scary as I remember them being when I first saw them at the Suburban World Theatre in Minneapolis in the 50’s. And the costuming and voices of Dorothy, the Tin Woodsman, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion were all just excellent. By the time the Wicked Witch melted, I had forgotten all about our stunning loss earlier in the day. Of course, that may have something to do with my age.
Friday, after seven straight days of playing softball (11 games in that time span), we were due a little R&B. We managed to get out just long enough for me to get my walk in. We followed a lovely path high above and with a great view of downtown St. George.
When we got back to AB1 (here’s a reminder that AB1 stands for “Air Barty One,” the name of our RV so christened for Diedre’s mom, Barty, who inspired us to go ahead and adopt the RV lifestyle. It just so happened that Barty would have been 96 years young on this day), there was an e-mail for us from Rox general manager Jimmy Erickson. Trying to keep our spirits up, he reminded us that the 60+ Rox record for four years ended at 126-41; that would have been easily good enough to win both the American and National League pennants this year.
OK, it’s Saturday. Since all of the rest of the team is gone, and DK is off getting her nails done, I decided to do something at the games I had never done before: I decided to see some other events in the two-week long senior games.
My first stop was at the Southern Utah Shooting Sports Park. There I would witness for the first time, “Cowboy Action Shooting” (CAS). It was a lot of fun.
This would be the 12th year CAS was a part of the Huntsman Games. In this event, 103 men and women 65-69 years old would dress up in cowboy outfits for the shoot-off. Using old west monikers such as “Slue Foot Sue” and “Botch Cassidy,” the contestants competed mano-e-mano in an event which required them to use not one, not two, but three different kinds of firearms. In the race to knock down 14 total targets, they started with double-barreled shotguns aiming at, four tombstone-like targets with a shotgun reload in the middle. Then, they’d draw their holstered pistols and rapidly gun down five metal bottles on a ledge. After completing this task, they’d then race over to another table, pick up rifles, and shoot four human-silhouetted targets. Finally, after knocking down all 13 targets, they had one last tombstone to knock down. The winner would be the first one to hit this final target, barring penalties of additional time for missed shots.
The whole event was set up in an old western town. I stayed with the match-play format all the medallists were named for men and women in the Over-65 category. I’m sure I’ll be back again next year and plan on dragging along Miss Diedre to join the cow town excitement.
I followed that up by going to see racquetball, a sport I played for years until my untimely heart event. Just watching these old, GOOD players was enough exercise for me. Any thoughts I had of trying to enter this event evaporated when I saw how well they all played.
Before picking up DK at her marathon mani-pedi competition, I went over to the Temple View RV Park and reserved a spot for next year’s Huntsman Games. The place we stayed this year was a bit of a dump, and the RV park we were considering in Hurricane, UT, was very nice but just too far away. So it’s back to Temple View where we stayed in 2013.
Our week in St. George ended quietly enough Saturday night. We had intended to go to different movies together (different movies, same theater complex, similar starting times) because I like science-fiction and DK likes quality acting. So I went to the Marvel Comics production of “Guardians of the Galaxy” while DK thought (“thought” being the operative word here) she would be seeing “The Giver” with Academy Award winners Meryl Streep and Jeff Bridges … only … they gave her the wrong auditorium number. By the time she figured out she was in a 3-D version of my movie (the fact that everybody else in the theatre was wearing 3-D glasses should have tipped her off), it was too late to see her movie. In the end, she was stuck with me watching inane cartoon-based characters save the world. At least I had popcorn, so it wasn’t a total loss for her.
We finished off the evening with a wonderful dinner at a restaurant we had not yet tried during our many stints in St. George. “Cappeletti’s” turned out to be far-and-away the best meal we’ve had in town … if you don’t count my predilection for pizza.
OK, tomorrow we’re off for a week of doing altruistic volunteer work in the town of Kanab, Utah, also known as “Little Hollywood” for its years as the go-to site for making cowboy movies. Tune in to next week’s blog to see how we save the planet … and please, do NOT call us “Guardians of the Galaxy.”
OK, this blog is loosely titled “OKLAHOMA/DALLAS/AMARILLO/ALBUQUERQUE/FLAGSTAFF and MESQUITE.” Kind of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?
Our cat, Charlie, must not like the title as he’s lying here on the breakfast table bopping my laptop. He’s very particular about blog titles, as you can tell.
As I mentioned at the end of our last blog, getting back to AZ through the southwest is a long trek with not a whole lot of places to see, so we’ve had to depart from our usual Sunday to Sunday scheduling in order to be in St. George, UT, in time for the 28th Annual Huntsman Senior Games. We also had to alter our original schedule because of the passing away of my cousin Alex Smith. Instead of staying in Oklahoma City as planned, we’re detouring to the Dallas area to attend her memorial.
After two years on the RV road hitting restaurants all over the country almost every other day, it finally hit me: the American business model has effected a great change in the way their restrooms accommodate us.
What? You’ve noticed it, too?
It’s just that you no longer have to do anything when you get in there. First off, one doesn’t have the option anymore of flushing the toilet. Smart-Commodes (I-Commodes?) decide for themselves when flushing is necessary, then they do it … or they don’t. That option can be quite embarrassing.
Then you try to wash your hands. The soap dispenser with a mind of its own begins spewing soap automatically if you’re anywhere within a 14’-radius of it. Soap milling about on the counter is a continual hazard.
The water faucet then turns on automatically for you after a minute or two of frantic waving. Unfortunately, it also automatically turns off, usually far too soon, so there you are left with a handful of suds.
“Marge,” the automatic paper towel dispenser, is probably smarter than we are; she often shoots out a paper towel before you need it, knowing full well you’ll be visiting her soon enough. Sometimes Marge isn’t there and all you’re left with is one of those air-blower hand dryers. People use to hate those because you’d stand there forever looking like a dolt as a gentle breeze took 45 minutes to dry your hands. But if you luck out (?) and get one of the newer models, well, look out. I’m pretty sure they’ve been built by out-of-work, NASA engineers using spare jet-engine parts. Your hands are dry in less than five seconds, but they take off your nail polish, too. Of course, I’m not wearing nail polish this week, but you get my drift. I think the last jet blast leveled my fingerprints.
All of this just to improve the bathroom process. Now, if we could get them to do your business for you, well, then we’d really have something. Back to work, geniuses (genii ?).
The day after Diedre’s epic birthday saw us making our way down the road to McAlester, OK, where the highlight for us was seeing the Tina Fey movie, “This Is Where I Leave You.” It was pretty funny.
Oh, at dinner that night, I somehow remembered that probably the only person I know from Oklahoma is Steve Pittman from Muskogee. Steve and I were in Army basic training and Advanced Individual Training (AIT) together at Ft. Polk, Louisiana, back in the summer of 1972. We had been pretty good buds, even kept in touch for awhile afterwards, but that being just a year or 20 before the interweb, we soon lost touch. When I mentioned Steve to Diedre, she went into her usual Sherlock Holmes mode, and within three minutes, had found Steve in Tulsa, OK. There was even a picture that, although 42 years older, let me know she had indeed found the right Steve Pittman. I e-mailed him that night and then waited for a response. I figure it’ll probably be another 42 years before I hear from him.
On Thursday, September 25, we rumbled into our RV park in the Dallas suburb of Lewisville, TX. It was a very nice campground, situated in a giant city park on Lewisville Lake complete with baseball, softball, soccer, and football fields, a disc golf course, boat launches, and a swimming beach.
The next morning at breakfast while checking e-mails, I discovered a response from Army buddy Steve Pittman. He was amazed to hear from me and had thought about finding me over the years. Turns out he had taken a similar education path to Diedre’s, starting out as a teacher and working his way up to principal. He had really gotten into SCUBA diving while in the Mid east and had taught diving for a long time. He’s only a year away from retirement, then he and his wife plan on doing a bit of traveling. I quickly dispatched another e-mail inviting him to visit us at Terravita and stay in our casita. I’ll keep you informed.
That evening we went to my cousin Sydney’s house for a light dinner, get-together for all the relatives in town for her sister and my cousin Alex’s memorial the next day. Syd, Syd’s brother Duncan, Alex, and I all share a great-grandfather, McIndoe Alexander. Diedre and I were the only ones there from the Alexander side of the family since Syd’s mom was an only child, but there were a ton of Smith cousins there whom I had never met. It was a very comfortable evening with a lot of very nice, new people to meet.
On Saturday morning, I was up early to get in some softball swings at the park’s nearby batting cage. I would be playing two softball tournaments starting in less than a week, and since I hadn’t swung a bat in our seven months on the road, I figured I’d better hit a few so as not to totally embarrass myself.
Alex’s memorial was a buffet at her and husband Gord’s country club. There was a wonderful slide-show of her life with many pictures I had never seen. My brother and I used to visit Syd and Alex in Owatonna, MN, when we were kids. There was just three years separating the four of us.
Any passing is sad, but Alex’s was really so since she was only 64. It was liver failure that came upon her so suddenly. You may remember from last year’s Dallas blog that she was in fine shape, even accompanying us to the Texas Rangers’ baseball game. And now she’s gone. We feel so badly for Gord as it was really a shock for him to lose someone he figured to have at least another 20 years with. I’ll always love the picture Diedre took last year of Alex (Alexandra), her nephew and another cousin of mine, Alexander, and me. I like to call it: ALEX-CUBED.
Rest in peace, dear cousin.
On Sunday, we broke camp and made our way north to Amarillo, TX, where they had an excellent RV park. Of the 34 camps we’ve stayed in so far this summer, it was only the 4th one to which I gave a “5” (Excellent) rating. Since Amarillo is a portal to anywhere east for us, I’m sure we’ll be staying there again.
On Monday, we landed in Albuquerque. That made it time for yet another old-home-week. Tom Schroeder had graduated St. Louis Park High School (MN) with me in 1968. I played basketball against him when we were younger, and we were both part of the same sports-crowd in high school. His dad had even been my junior high school principal. So of course, I lost touch with him after graduation and had not seen him in 46 years. Through a fellow graduate friend of both of ours known only as “The Shrub” (long story), we made contact and Tom found our RV park. Except for a mustache and a little gray, he looked the same as he had 46 years ago at the senior All-Night Party. It was great catching up. Tom and his wife have some acreage where they keep horses and a miniature burro (miniature? I thought all burros were miniature). Just like Amarillo, we go through Albuquerque often, so Tom is now on our “to-be-annoyed list” whenever we pass through town. (DK here - I did take a photo of the boys but my camera ate it in the download. For sure we will reconnect when we go to Alburquerque again so I can get a photo!)
Speaking of our Albuquerque RV park, a strange thing happened the next morning. A mysterious fog rolled in and when it cleared, to the tune of “The Twilight Zone” theme song, somehow it was 1950 again, the year this RV park first opened. Diedre and I couldn’t believe it.
Interstate 40 was gone with the old Route 66 in its place. I got gas (ethyl, of course) at the ancient gas pump, although three service-men rushed out to pump my gas, check my oil, and charge me only 11-cents a gallon. The modern RV’s were gone. In their places were cars and trailers from the 50’s.
Diedre went in for her hair appointment and was put under a hair dryer at least 50 years old.
I did our laundry using an old-fashioned wringer to dry the clothes. I then sat down to watch first-run episodes of “The Honeymooners” on an old console TV while Diedre furiously battled to get the top score on a new-fangled video game called “Asteroids.” It was only when I began maniacally playing the pump organ like Lurch from “The Addams Family” that the fog returned, and miraculously, it was 2014 again.
Go figure.
On Tuesday, September 30, we drove up to Santa Fe to see Diedre’s faux brother, Tom Costello, who was holding our mail. Tom’s dad, Red Costello, was Diedre’s god-father. A nicer man than Red never lived. Tom is a chip off the old man's block.
You may remember back in April in Houston, TX, we had visited our long-time theatre friends, Fudd and Bugs (Laura and Chris Hawkes). Fudd had been instrumental in Diedre getting to meet and have her picture taken there with Broadway legend, Tommy Tune. Well, that was at the University of Houston. In the meantime, Fudd was recruited by the Santa Fe University of Art and Design to chair their performing arts department. They also wanted Bugs to be their technical director. Their department offices are in The Greer Garson Theatre.
These were big moves for the both of them. It was so very exciting to see Fudd, the young, just-out-of-college girl who we first met when she got a small supporting role for the Minnesota Shakespeare Company when Diedre was its managing director in the mid-90’s, now being put in charge of an entire college’s theatre program . We’re such proud parents.
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| (over 20 years ago) |
We were back on the road the first day of October. But before leaving New Mexico, it was now Diedre’s turn to play “old-home-week,” this time with Western Michigan University chum Tom “Gags” McGaghie. Tom is also in education, working for the Native American Reservation school system in Grant, NM. I had never met Tom, but moments after being introduced, it was like we were old buddies. This “Santa Claus look-alike” is a bear of a man with a great laugh to match. Over coffee, Tom and DK talked over every minute of their time together at Western. Since Grant is on the route to/from Albuquerque, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of Gags in the near future.
NOTE: Is everybody in New Mexico named “Tom”? (Schroeder, Costello, McGaghie).
Late that afternoon we made it to the J&H RV Park in Flagstaff, AZ. This 4.5 acres park was built in 1982 by Joanne and “HaRVey” (That’s how he spells it) Mickelson. They love their park and it shows. It’s won the “National RV Park of the Year Award” three times, i.e. 1994, ’98, & 2003. It’s truly a wonderful park: no smoking, you must be over 55 to stay there, great wifi and cable TV, home to several smaller green spaces with seating/gathering areas, and a lovely pet memorial park with actual marble gravestones. We decided, in fact, that the campsite was so nice that in 10 years when we’re done RV’ing, AB1 probably won’t be worth selling anyway so we’re going to drive it up here and leave it in Flagstaff from May to September. It’ll be our getaway from the heat of a Phoenix summer.
The J&H owners were also a pair of cut-ups. While most camp owners have a list of rules that make the Gestapo seem like Sunday school, Joanne and HaRV let humor make their points. They had signs about controlling your pets and children. There was also one about stowing your garbage. And a lost and found reference was particularly funny.
Well done, Joanne and HaRV!
Our only accomplishment in Flagstaff was to secure Diedre’s new driver’s license, then it was off to Mesquite, NV, on Thursday for the Mesquite warm-up-for-The-Huntsman-Games Softball Tournament, of which we were the three-time defending champions. This year would be no different as we won all three games Saturday, then swept the final two on Sunday to take the title.
It was great seeing the guys and their wives again for the first time since playing ball with them last March. That night we met up with the Erickson’s (Jimmy and Carol) and the Kinch’s (Phil aka “Sparky” and Sue) at a local sports bar. Phil told the best story of the night. A Central Michigan University (CMU) alum, Phil related how he was once out with buddies playing golf. They stopped at a bar to have one for the road. A nearby boisterous group just happened to be singing the CMU school song, so Phil stopped over to say “hi.” When he told them where he was from, one guy exclaimed, “REALLY! Do you know Sparky Kinch?!”
Phil waited a beat.
“Know him?” he finally said … “I AM him!”
Other than softball, the weekend had few highlights. After a nice casino buffet on Friday with members of our Rox-Over-60 Senior softball team, Diedre and I once again put a casino darn-near out of business with some savvy video poker/blackjack wagering that left us $5.85 to the good. We slept well that night.
Then after Saturday’s three wins in 90-degree afternoon heat, we collapsed at the nearby Peggy Sue’s Sports Bar. Shortstop Robbie Masson had perhaps the largest pot-pie I‘ve ever seen ... probably that anyone has ever seen. Somewhere in Michigan, I think he’s still working on it.
OK, a 5-0 record on Sunday should be good enough to prepare us for the big Huntsman Games Senior Softball Tournament where, out of 50-55 teams annually, we’ve won two silver and one gold medals in the last three years. We’re now racing to St. George to set-up for our standard pre-tourney Margarita Party. We’re looking forward to seeing you all there.
Then … LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
