Our normal Sunday-Sunday schedule was thrown off a bit by the sheer distance between Nashville, TN, and Brandon, MO, so our maximum 300-mile travel day on Monday, September 15, put us in Poplar Bluff, MO. It became a bit of a two-day respite for us before the big blow-out in Branson. Poplar Bluff saw a lot of sleeping, a trip to the library to get better Wifi to try to keep up with this furshlugginer blog, and a trip to the local movie theatre to see that wonderful true story, “For the Love of the Game,” about a high school football team.
Sufficiently refreshed, we pulled in to “the live music capital of the universe,” Branson, Missouri, on Wednesday, September 17. Its title was so declared in a feature profile by “60 Minutes” even though its population is only 10,000. After a week there, the only comparison we could make was that Branson is to Nashville as Laughlin is to Las Vegas. I mean, it’s an OK place, the one major benefit being that we found more sugar-free ice cream there than any place we’ve been to in the country. Regardless of that, however, we won’t be making any special attempts to see this town again.

WHEW!
That ought to get us some royal notice.

The Oak Ridge Boys did a very nice show. We even got to sing along with their mandatory rendition of their most famous song, “Elvira.” Being the modest sort I am (and with a really bad singing voice), I just lip-synced. Nobody was any the wiser.

OK, you may know that our girl Diedre’s big birthday (I won’t say which one, but as a cryptic clue, I will let it slip that it’s the one where the government gives you a Medicare card) was coming up on Tuesday, September 23. Ergo, this whole week in Branson has been dubbed “Diedre’s Gala Birthday Week,” and boy, let me tell you, she’s taking advantage of it. But one thing she doesn’t know is that I have a plan named “SSGSPOAT,” which stands for “Super Secret Greatest Surprise Party Of All Time.” It’s going to be great and it’s going to be tonight. If you’re interested, keep reading today’s (Friday’s) blog.
Birthday week Friday starting out innocuously enough with a trip to “Gramma Ruth’s,” the number one rated restaurant out of the 300+ restaurants in Branson. We were going there for breakfast. Unfortunately, when we got there we were surprised to find out that the number one restaurant in Branson only sells cinnamon rolls. When Diedre got in line, she saw a ton (literally) of overweight (330+ pounds) people in front of her. That’s all it took for her to get the hell out of there.

(SPOILER ALERT: “SSGSPOAT” is coming up.)
Unbeknownst to Diedre, I had purchased tickets that day for an evening cruise/dinner/show on the Branson Belle Showboat (Show #3) on Table Rock Lake. I did tell her where we were going. However, I did NOT tell her I had purchased FOUR tickets instead of two.
The mystery thickens.
Abandoning my miserly, coupon-only spending ways, I got us seated at the VIP table. Suitably elevated and dead center with no one in front of us, these were easily the best seats in the house. Diedre wanted to know who I was and what I had done with her beloved Alexx.
And the mystery was now almost fully gelled.
As we leaned on the railing while enjoying the lake’s scenery, a ship's officer appeared.
“Are you Diedre Kaye?” he asked.
After I assured him I wasn’t, he asked the same question of my wife. He said the captain wanted to see her. Now, I had earlier let it slip to DK that there was a chance she might have to go on stage that night and be part of the show, so she immediately figured it either had something to do with what I had said earlier, or she thought I might be trying to recreate the first meeting of her parents some 75 years ago when dad Fritz was a radio operator on a Mississippi River passenger boat and mom Barty was an attractive young college grad. Fritz saw her and was immediately entranced by her beauty, so he had a note sent to Barty saying there was a telegram for her in the radio operator’s office. One thing led to another and before they knew it, 16 years had gone by and they had four kids. Well, either way, she didn’t think it was that unusual, so she willingly went with the officer.
As she started to go down the stairs, there at the bottom was …
SSGSPOAT!!
Yes, at the bottom of the stairwell were her good pals, Mary Harberts (the maid-of-honor from our wedding 23 years earlier) from Michigan and Jo Gemmill, local pal from Cave Creek, AZ, by way of London. The requisite laughter, tears, and hugging ensued by the three ecstatic gals.
The next day being Saturday, I figured it would be a real girls' day as they’d probably go out into Branson for a tour of the Day-Glow Mop Factory, high tea, and a lecture on beading and crocheting. But they crossed me up, instead opting for some serious shopping, sushi, and wine. While they were doing that, I had an equally fun time getting Zippy’s oil changed.
Yeah, I lead a life close to that of George Clooney’s.
That night we had tickets for “Dolly Parton's Dixie Stampede Dinner and Show” (Show #4), a combination rodeo-Broadway show-history lesson. At the will-call, I asked where our tickets were. They said, “Oh, they’re good. You’ve got the 5th row.”
Only, when we got there, although we WERE in the 5th row … well, of course, there were only FIVE rows in the entire place. In essence, we were in the last row. Still, not bad seats.
there was no silverware.
Yes, the geniuses at Dolly’s Stampede decided we were eating all finger food, or so they claimed. It was quite interesting doing battle with an entire broasted chicken, potatoes, and soup, all solely with your fingers and all in near-total darkness. I felt like we were at a kids’ Halloween party.
This avowed best dinner show in Branson included trick horseback riding, buffaloes and long-horned steers, singing, dancing, comedy (sort of), and, of course, the inevitable audience participation. Nothing like paying big bucks for professional entertainment and then watching the guy sitting next to you run an obstacle course trying to win toys and trinkets. Surprisingly, the highlight of the birthday-part-2-celebration actually turned out to be a great dive bar, The Rowdy Beaver, where we started AND ended the evening.
Now back to just the two of us for birthday week, we took our daily three-mile constitutional back at a park near the Branson Belle. There we ran into this gal who was, I think, the reincarnation of Scarlet O’Hara. Such a nice lady. We were also greeted by a brown turtle. You just never know whom you’re going to run into on one of these walks.
Their Marilyn Monroe was excellent. She’s always been one of Diedre’s favorite actresses. This MM had a very good voice and quick, clever repartee with some old guy (at least older than me) whom she got up on stage. Their Elvis didn’t look much like “The King,” but if you closed your eyes, his voice would have had you believing you were in a Sun Studio’s recording session with Mr. Presley.
All in all, a fun night.
Birthday week rumbled on. Monday’s dinner was one of Diedre’s favorites: fried oysters at the Outback Steak and Oyster Bar. They were excellent as were my chicken-kabobs. We’ll have to try the Outback by our movie house back in Scottsdale if we, like Marco Polo, ever make it home.
“Hits of the O’s”?
By now, Diedre and I had decided that all the shows in Branson operate along the same basic script. It’s like they’re on auto pilot. Each one goes like this:
1- at the start, they want you to say “hello,” but it’s never loud enough the first time, so you have to yell it twice;
2- they all eventually drag some poor unsuspecting soul (a senior almost always) up on stage and somehow embarrass him;
3- they constantly encourage us to “help them out” with a song by clapping. Hey, we’re paying THEM to entertain us, not the other way around, so why do we have to be part of the entertainment? DAGNABIT! (Universal phrase for Diedre and me when we’re acting far too old for our age);
4- then it’s time for an “audience participation game,” and it’s always a “lame” game … again, WE are paying to see them entertain us, not to see some boob from Boise, Idaho, try to sing an octave above a screech;
5- then there are the mandatory tributes to religion and America;
6- they then recognize our veterans by having them stand up and take a bow; as a former army reservist, I was standing up and down so often that my suspenders finally broke;
7- all performers have one rendition or another, but it’s always a joke about seniors not being up to date on computers, facebook, or cell phones (true as it may be);
8- another joke they tell is a bad one that nobody likes so that they can say, “Ooh, nine people got that one.”;
9- and finally, there’s the obligatory standing ovation no matter how weak the show was. Diedre and I are fairly strict about who gets standing O’s, so it’s always a little bit insulting to see s.o.’s given for absolutely every performance.
And now … the REAL celebration: Tuesday, September 23, 2014, DK’s official Medicare birthday. Today would be “no holds barred,” “no time limit,” and “loser leaves town.” It was going to be CR-AZY!
Yes, the two of us would be zip-lining today so that Diedre can forever say that she went zip-lining ON her 65th birthday. The location would be the Branson Zipline Canopy Tours at Wolfe Creek Preserve. It was about seven miles north of Branson and was billed as an Ozarks eco-adventure with professionally trained guides. We had once again gotten extravagant and opted for the most expensive outing, “The Xplorer Canopy Tour,” which included seven ziplines on ten sky-bridges. The 2.5-hour tour even included an eco-friendly snack break consisting of some kind of birdseed-granola bar and water. I was stuffed for a week.
The tour started off with a ride to the top of the mountain in a Swiss Army Troop Carrier. And you know how tough those Swiss Army neutralists can be with those deadly Swiss Army knives.
From there we did our last minute scrambling to see such classic Branson sites as the Andy Williams Moon River Theatre.
And finally we made it to a very falling apart “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” museum. I must emphasize again that we did not go into these last two places but had to take the necessary photographs just to entertain you, our dear blog readers.
Wait … what?
Moving on.
The star of the show was, of course, Shoji Tabuchi, a Japanese-born, classically trained violinist (at age seven) who loves country music. The show turned out to be an odd combination of a Japanese-violin (fiddle) playin’ country singer … and “singer” is giving him all the best of it. His English was so broken, I’d have to call it “shattered.” Nevertheless, our birthday girl was excited to have her picture taken with the great man … “Shoji Tabuchi,” just in case you forgot.
Enough said about Branson.
Our next blog will consist of stops that include (number of nights at each in parentheses) McAlester, OK (1); Dallas, TX (3); Amarillo, TX (1); Albuquerque, NM (2); and Flagstaff, AZ (1). I know, that’s not quite our usual Sunday to Sunday scheduling. It’s just that getting back to AZ through the southwest is a long trek with not a whole lot of places to go. Nevertheless, I WILL entertain you with sparkling tales about the World’s Largest Ball of Twine in Amarillo and the National Linoleum Festival in McAlester.
I bet you can hardly wait.
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