Category: Travels

High Trestle Trail Bridge

This week’s subject was supposed to be Egocentricity. But I’m putting that on hold to recount to you my Memorial Day weekend excursion. I promise I will still be egocentric when I write about egocentricity later 😉

I had an opportunity to spend some guy time with my son Daniel last weekend. The rest of the family was visiting other relatives. As expected, we picked up just where we left off; debating the world’s problems, contemplating the origins of the universe, reminiscing about our many travels, and eating fun and fancy foods.

The rest of the family returned Monday and I enjoyed playing my music to an appreciative audience (special shout out to Claire and Ellie who listened intently for quite a while). We had fun around the yard and later, eating pizza. Unfortunately, reality intervened as they had to get ready for school and work the next day.

Tuesday was supposed to be a day to chill. But I had seen signs off the highway for the High Trestle Trail Bridge. I had always wanted to get on that bridge. But I never made it during my bike/trike riding days.

Summer of 2006 before my solo trip
My roadster – lot of miles. Lot of fun

With plenty of time on my hands I set off to find the bridge. In this case, Google Maps was not helpful. It took me to a trailhead miles away from the bridge, no matter how I phrased the location. I stopped in Polk City for directions and was sent to Madrid. Another convenience store attendant gave me good directions to the trailhead from there. 0.9 miles from there to the bridge. I finally made it.

Guitar on back, I took off across the bridge. High temperature, hot pavement, warm breeze. It was great!

A view from the middle. I could hear a heron or gull or some water foul, but I never saw it. Some interesting history of the railroad

Looking back

There is an elevated overlook just off the west end of the bridge. Turn right, walk up, and there ya go. I’ve seen the Saylorville Reservoir near here when it was filled with water from tree line to tree line.

I sat in the shade, unzipped my guitar case and began to play. Too much fun. A single cyclist ventured up to the deck, peered through the free binoculars, and left again. Play more music.

An older man on a recumbent trike rode up, dismounted and peered over the rail. He then approached me and asked if he could record my playing. His girlfriend plays flute and performs with her friend who is a harpist. I’m not sure why he thought she would find it interesting, but sure, why not.

I played about half of I Look Away, including lyrics, “when I can see what you’ve done for me…” We got to talking. He said he could relate to the lyrics in his new relationship. Not what the song is about, but that doesn’t matter. He related. Isn’t that what music and artistry is all about?! He lost his wife a year and a half ago. An aortic aneurism. Fast. It’s always interesting to find connections with people when one is willing to open up. I’m happy to have met this stranger and share some humanity with him!

I played for a bit more, then began the return trek across the bridge. Another successful, unanticipated excursion. Check this minor bucket item off the list. I made it to the bridge and back again. Sounds like another lyric or title. Hmmm…

Hope you all were able to enjoy your Memorial Day weekend as much as I. Now we look forward to new, or familiar, summer activities. Not too long until Independence Day. That is definitely one to cherish. Let’s not lose our independence. Take that however it strikes you. And thank you to all who serve and have served, both living and passed, and sacrificed!

Bear with me for another short story before I go. A few of my walking routes take me past a Frog Hollow Kids Campus, basically a large day care center. Sometimes the children are playing outside. Sometimes they wave or say hi. Sometimes I return balls and frisbees over the fence.

Yesterday as I was walking past, a boy asked “Can you honk your horn or anything?” I answered, “No, sorry.”, and walked away laughing. Kind of made my day.

As Ringo Starr would say, “Peace and Love!”

Touching Pictures

Pun Intended

Looking at pictures of Pam and me, in the house and in digital format, I realized that we are touching in nearly every picture. I’ve been holding on to this idea for the right time. I think it’s now. I hope you find them touching also.

I love this picture because, as with several others taken on our wedding day, I was looking at my lovely bride rather than the camera. Sorry for the poor quality. It has probably been scanned more than once.

Arm in Arm – What a beautiful bride!

I think we were living in Aurora IL at the time this pic was taken. Tom invited us to meet them somewhere North of the Quad Cities. A beautiful place. He used to take his kids fishing there, I believe. But notice how we are sitting. One hand waving, the other resting on my leg. Ah. Young(ish) and in love!

“God’s Pond” as Pam’s brother Tom liked to call it

On the Chicago River in a tour boat waiting to depart. Don’t we look cool! I think that is the Wrigley building in the background. This was a farewell visit to Kara and Chris before they left for a work assignment in the UK. Unfortunately, we never got the tour. The engine wouldn’t start and there were no backup boats available. But it was a fun time and, as usual, we also enjoyed being together.

I just keep thinking this was taken at The OP (Other Place) in Clear Lake, probably around the year 2000. We were happy. Shows, doesn’t it.

Christmas at our Mason City house. Definitely still feeling like newlyweds!

It may be hard to tell if we had our arms around each other for this pic, but I’m making the assumption. I consider this a record of the pinnacle of Pam’ career. When we moved to Mason City from Aurora so I could teach at NIACC, Pam got the Executive Officer position at the Greater Mason City Board of Realtors(R). Mike Romig was president of the board at that time. A few years later, Mike was nominated and was elected to be President of the Iowa Association of Realtors(R). This made the local association responsible for the annual inauguration gala in West Des Moines. As EO for the association, it fell upon Pam to coordinate the event. Of course, it went off without a hitch. And, of course, Pam planned and stressed, and coordinated and stressed, and detailed and stressed. You get the picture (no pun intended).

This picture was taken in the hotel ballroom. I had just surprised Pam with the necklace as we prepared to come down to the gala. I was so proud of her!

From Our Travels

Yep. Still close! I think I’ve shared this pic before. It was taken in the upper room of a converted barn restaurant in Grant Wood country.

Speaking of Grant Wood… Okay. It’s not us touching, but Pam is holding the farmer’s arm. That has to count for something. I’m pretty sure this was actually taken during a different trip than the one to the barn. The American Gothic House is well South of the barn.

Stone City General Store Pub is such a fun atmosphere with good food and a majestic setting along the Wapsipinicon River in Eastern Iowa. Pam and I went there on multiple occasions as it was a peaceful, picturesque drive easily fit into a day trip. Still glued at the hip. The years only strengthened our bond.

One of my all-time favorites! Taken just a few years ago this picture epitomizes the long-lasting love Pam and I shared, even as some PD symptoms emerged. Holding hands. Looking into each other’s eyes. Smiling lovingly.

I loved life with Pam. We enjoyed our life together. We loved being with each other. What could be better?!

But I certainly was not the only recipient of Pam’s touching love. Please allow this great pic of Pam and daughter Kelley to represent the love she had for all of her family; never shy to hug nor demonstrate her love and care, be it with cards, food, smiles, or just by listening.

Arm in arm. It was a good day.

Touching pictures. They mean so much, and demonstrate so much. It is nice to be in touch with good memories. May I say, again, how much I love Pam and miss her?

Commemorative Camping – Part Three- To the Bridge and Home Again

This is part three of a three-part article being published on successive days beginning Saturday, May 20, 2023

The Bridge

The route to Pam’s bridge, as I like to call it, is familiar. Not only have I traveled it a couple times in the last year, but Pam and I had traveled the same route on the way to family reunions and visits in the past. With temperatures in the lower sixties and grey, somewhat foggy skies, the weather well suited my general disposition as I approached the family farm, and thus the bridge, on the gravel roads coming from the Northeast.

Though I’ve been to the bridge enough times to remember how to get there, I was further aided, especially in terms of distance and time, by my now well-functioning Google Maps. Even so, anticipation swelled as I approached. First, the tree line along the entrance road, the farm house, and some outbuildings. Then, turning west to see the winding creek and guardrails along each side of the rural gravel road.

Numb! No tears. No words. Just me, blankly staring into the water just as I did a year ago. I dropped a daisy branch and watched it float north, turning east and out of sight as it wound its way onto the family farm property. I tossed another, the only yellow daisy branch. To my surprise, it stuck in the mud next to the water looking as though it was planted and meant to be there. A thin ray of emotional sunshine.

I tossed a third branch and enjoyed the calm as it floated away and, once again, out of sight. I pictured how Pam’s ashes filled the stream as they, too, followed the same waterway to the north, then east into the farm. Just as she had wanted.

Three more branches. What should I do? I had wanted to bring living daisies to plant but was unsure whether they would make it even a year. So I decided to “plant” a branch at each end of the bridge’s guardrail. The ground was soft, and gravel loose enough from recent rain. Yeah. This is good!

Now I’m down to one daisy branch. But I’d been there only a little while, definitely not ready to leave! So I plucked each flower stem and slowly dropped each one in its own time into the water, watching as they floated northward. Still no tears; no words. But maybe a little more at peace with letting go, as I have the flowers. Moving on without Pam and yet having her with me all of the time, just not as either of us had wanted.

Alice’s Restaurant

No, not the one in Arlo Guthrie’s song. It is, as far as I can tell, the only restaurant in Creston, Nebraska. We held a luncheon there after the family memorial service at the family church last year.

I’d had no coffee nor anything substantial to eat yet, so I sat at the bar, ordered and enjoyed a burger, fries, and lots of coffee. There were few people there and I appreciated the solitude of the moment to reflect on my visit to the bridge. Now I wept. I wept for the finality of Pam’s passing. I wept for her not being with me to visit the people and places she cherished so. I wept that Alice didn’t remember that we’d even been there the previous year. It’s over. The deed is done. It’s time to go home.

Home Again, and Bad Weather

Yep. I was ready. I charted a backroad route only to find that it would take nearly seven hours to get home. That won’t do. It was only about five hours mostly on Interstate. An uneventful trip that had me home just around 5pm. No weather, no battles. Good to be home. Something to eat, and unload the car. Sorting and drying equipment would wait another day. This night I would try to come to grips with the emotional roller coaster of, well, the last few weeks, and the truncated camping weekend.

By now, I just had to know. Opening the weather app on my phone revealed the wisdom of my decision to pull up stakes that morning. Tornado warnings in eastern Nebraska on a direct path toward Louis and Clark State Park. As the evening unfolded, watches and warnings flooded the screen. Though there were no tornadoes reported in the area, it was clear that high winds, heavy rain, and hail marched through the campground slowly, taking a while to pass through where I would have been. Whew!

My brother-in-law sent me this picture taken near Freemont NE last Friday afternoon close to where I’d traveled. This is the same storm that proceeded NE toward L&CSP.

Less severe storms made it to my home in the overnight hours. I opened a window by the bed and listened to the thunder and rain, watched the lightening flash, and smelled the rain soaked air. Another reminder of things Pam and I enjoyed together.

It would take a couple more days for me to tether myself back in reality, grounded in what has become my daily routine of writing, walking, and playing my music. I have much to accomplish and personal and family events to look forward to. All a bit tainted by the vast emptiness that once was filled by Pam.

My notes for this post include the statement: “Passing of a significant day doesn’t make a significant difference.” Thinking about it now, I’m not so sure. A little more looking forward. A little less looking back. How weird are our lives?!

In case you missed them, back to part one or part two of this story.

Commemoration Camping – Part Two – Camping is a Battle Too

This is part two of a three-part article being published on successive days beginning Saturday, May 20, 2023

Louis and Clark State Park

Continuing with the theme of minimal planning, I did not research L&CSP to an extent beyond choosing a campsite on the outside of the loop, along the water. It was difficult to tell from a map and a couple photos what I was actually paying for. So I was surprised to find that the last section of the drive to, and the campground itself, were very flat! Not in the hills at all. I should have known. The park is situated next to a bend in the Missouri River that was separated, by design, many years ago from the current river course to shorten and straighten the river for commercial traffic.

Arriving about 4pm on Thursday, the sky was threatening and the wind whipped up from the open waterway. First things first. Setting up the tent presented challenges in the wind. I was proud of myself for single-handedly securing all the stakes and tiedowns, thinking that I would weather a storm.

Across the Campground
The Campsite
The Tent – Ready!

Not yet hungry, I played guitar for a while but thought I should prepare food, as it was beginning to sprinkle. Finally an opportunity to try the Mountain House Italian Pepper Steak I’d purchased last year (I see now that it is “currently unavailable”). Boil water, fill the bag, wait 10 minutes, eat with a spoon. Good backcountry victuals! I enjoyed it and hope I can find more for future travels.

The wind continued into the evening and through the night. I turned in before 10pm, just as the rain began in earnest. It rained for several hours. There’s no sound that compares with hard rain and wind on a tent fly. One always wonders if the stakes will hold and whether the water will stay outside the tent, both from above and below. Fortunately and happily, the tent held. Unfortunately, my sixty something bladder was closer to its limits. Very fortunately, there was a lull in the rain during which I was able to keep that liquid outside the tent as well. Ha!

One lays down, and rises, earlier when out in nature. The rain had ended by morning. All I could think about was the weather, and wanting to get to Pam’s bridge on the anniversary of her death. I had a bunch of daisies to toss into the water, to float away into the farm as did her ashes almost a year before (Memorial Day Weekend last year).

The weather forecast was a priority. Earlier in the week a 30% chance of rain and storms was predicted. By Thursday, it was 60%. As I checked the forecast this Friday morning, there was now a 95% chance of strong to severe storms developing by late afternoon and early evening. I knew that I didn’t want to be in a tent during, nor have my car subjected to, hail and even stronger winds than I had endured the night before. I made up my mind to strike camp as soon as I came back from the bridge, and figure out the rest of the weekend from there. I decided to skip making coffee and get on the road. I was not yet out of the park when I realized my stress level was elevated just pondering whether I had time to make it to Nebraska and back before severe weather erupted either at camp or along the way. Turn around. Pull stakes. Say goodbye to L&CSP.

I was thrilled to find that the only wet parts of the tent were the fly, the stakes, and the tiedown lines. Even the tent footprint was dry on both sides. I’d rarely seen that in the past after a rain. A little ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy (emotionally and atmospherically) day. Knowing that I would probably be headed home from NE, I didn’t worry much about the packing, just making sure I hadn’t left anything behind, that it all fit back in the car, and that it would not rattle around too much as I drove. I hate that!

And so I headed west toward Nebraska, drinking Frappuccino and munching oatmeal raisin cookies. It would be after my visit to the bridge before I ate a meal.

Stay tuned tomorrow for Commemorative Camping – Part Three- To the Bridge and Home Again.

In case you missed it, back to part one of this story.

Commemoration Camping – Part One – Getting There is Half the Battle

This is part one of a three-part article being published on successive days beginning Saturday, May 20, 2023

Thoughts of going camping over the weekend that included the one-year anniversary of Pam’s death came as a way of breaking up a long drive to Nebraska while checking off a visit to scenic Loess Hills in Western Iowa. I had camping equipment I’d yet to use and wanted to experience camping again nearly a year after visiting Mammoth Caves and Green River Lakes last summer.

The Plan

Of course I had a plan, but a loose one compared to my preparations for most travels. Yes, I did create a Google route to keep me off major highways and on course. And yes, I did duplicate a camping/backpacking spreadsheet – but only to ensure that I didn’t forget anything. So, okay, at least in my mind it was not minutely planned. I fully expected to take it as it came, adapting to circumstances.

I would leave on Thursday the 11th with Louis and Clark State Park as my final destination that day. I prepaid three nights of tent camping. I’d make the trip to Pam’s bridge at the farm on Friday, the actual anniversary, then back to the park as a base camp for yet unknown (and unplanned) adventures Saturday along the Loess Hills Scenic Byway. Home again on Sunday.

The planning that I did do, and the anticipation of the journey, were enough to keep my mind from much of the detail, over the last couple weeks, of what took place a year ago. I was aware, though, that my emotions were lurking in the background.

A Sketchy Start

A misguided Google Maps was my first clue that I would, in deed, have to take things as they came, when my location was consistently about 1/2 mile off the routed highway. The pleasant female British voice kept telling me to take the next right, at every gravel road that would lead me back to the road that I was actually on! I had to dig deep into my troubleshooting bag of tricks over multiple stops, to solve the issue. On my third stop and fixit attempt, I forced a stop of the application, then rebooted my phone. I’ve not had any issue with it since!

New Providence Hardware

This would be a great trip to take a detour to one of the interesting stops recommended by a daily email that suggests restaurants and attractions one might want to visit, Only In Iowa. New Providence Hardware was on my saved list of places so I added an out-of-the-way stop on my way to Loess Hills. After all, I had all day to get there and was up for an adventure. I figured I’d have lunch there and then continue my journey.

I timed my departure to arrive around 11:30. But that was delayed by my stops to fix my location issue. So I got there around noon. New Providence was all of two blocks long with the hardware store and a bank flanking the only north/south road through town.

I hadn’t reviewed the article about New Providence Hardware for some time so it came as a bit of a surprise when I found no restaurant either in nor near the store. No lunch! But it was fun just to be there, including taking a toilet break in the basement with dirt floor and a plethora of old grinding and lathing equipment, and metal shavings on the floor. At least the toilet was clean.

I got to talking with Heather who must have grown up in New Providence. She knew that there had not been a restaurant in town for at least 25 years and that the “soda shop” next door could be rented for events and hosted a free will lunch on Mondays. That’s it. I bought a Hank’s Gourmet Cream Soda just because.

Heather smiled widely when I asked to take her picture. I took special pleasure in capturing the mannequin as well. I see now that I missed part of the head. Oh well. Heather was delightful with her information about the town. I returned to the counter on my way out to tell her that I’d used worse toilets in my time.

On to Louis and Clark State Park (L&CSP). I finally grabbed an Italian Wrap sandwich at a Casey’s in Nevada IA, washing it down with the cream soda. The rest of the trip to L&CSP was uneventful but pleasant as I rode into the hills of Western Iowa.

Stay tuned tomorrow for Commemorative Camping – Part Two – Camping is a Battle Too

Bikers and Barns

“I can’t believe you like to do this”, she said, sitting back enjoying the rolling hills of the Iowa countryside. “I’m so glad you enjoy it. I love going for these rides. It’s nice to be able to share with someone who enjoys them!”, said I.

Seems like that conversation never got old as Pam and I wandered across eastern Iowa in search of some quaint café, country store, or winery. We had so much fun for several years before, and even after, her PD diagnosis.

I was looking through pictures for the last post when I stumbled upon a selfie we took at a restaurant out in the middle of nowhere east of Anamosa and Amber, Iowa called Teddy’s Barn and Grill. We noticed a sign along the highway as we traveled north toward Monticello. Sadly, it appears to be closed now. But it was a very cool place. The main seating area was in the very large loft. It also had adjacent second floor patio seating. The food was great, as was the décor and ambiance.

Waiting for food at Teddy’s Barn and Grill

I don’t really remember why we chose Anamosa for our little getaway in May of 2014. It’s only about an hour away. But I booked a room at the AmericInn on the north side of town (101 Harley Ave!). It didn’t take long to recognize the motorcycle motif of the entire property, beginning in the lobby and continuing in our room. After having asked about it, we left to explore and I noticed that the parking lot was shared with J&P Cycles. Not too surprising. And here’s why…

Couldn’t copy any other images, but check out the wall art. And you can go to the website for more

We also found out that the National Motorcycle Museum is in Anamosa. We drove by, but didn’t go in. Honestly, neither of us were interested in motorcycles. But it was neat just knowing it was there.

There is an Iowa State Penitentiary in Anamosa. It’s worth driving across town (not a big town) just to see the impressive 150+ year-old structure built by prisoners with stone cut at Stone City. Another day trip for another post. Don’t ever want to see the inside of this place – even as a visitor!

Grant Wood was born in Anamosa, Iowa in 1891. Arguably he is most famous for American Gothic, painted in 1931. If you know his work, you will already understand. If you don’t, I highly encourage you to visit the web site to see and learn more.

We visited the American Gothic House on another one of our outings. But it’s worth a shout out here. After all, it’s famous! It is located on the east edge of Eldon, Iowa, SE of Ottumwa.

American Gothic

It was our experience driving on the back roads around Anamosa, through surrounding towns and to restaurants along gravel roads, that Grant Wood’s paintings came to life – literally! Traveling the rolling hills along barns and farms, crop rows and trees, it was easy to “picture” where Grant got his inspiration. He surely could have set up an easel to paint, along any of the roads were traveled.

Young Corn

Our visit to Monticello was also interesting, it’s main attraction being the downtown area. So if you are – in the area – park the car. Take a look around. You might see something you have to have, or a tasty treat you simply must try.

This is what our retirement was supposed to be. Traveling around, staying in interesting places, sampling unique restaurants and attractions. We took several one or two day trips around, mostly eastern, Iowa. Stories for other travel posts. We had books and maps to help guide our way. I would highlight our route for Pam to follow (I used GPS). After several years, it was difficult to find a state or county road that was not highlighted in yellow.

We began these road trips on days off and weekends before our retirement. They did continue for a while until Pam was no longer comfortable in the car. The moral of the story – don’t wait, thinking you will have the chance to enjoy life once you retire. You never know.

I continue to take the back roads, looking for new experiences. Nowadays I also keep an eye out for performing venues like cafés and bars (or barns as the case may be). I do it for me, for some bucket list in my mind for many years. I do it for, but without, Pam, knowing she would simply and happily say, “I can’t believe you like to do this!”

Don’t Jinx It!

jinx:
– noun: one that brings bad luck
also : the state or spell of bad luck brought on by a jinx
– verb: to foredoom to failure or misfortune : bring bad luck to

There I go with the words again! 🙂

I want to write a happy post – but I don’t want to jinx it.

I want to write about changes I see in myself and my grieving process – but I don’t want to jinx it.

I want to write about progress in my recording studio – but I don’t want to jinx it.

So I’ll write a short and, hopefully sweet message, also hoping that I don’t jinx – anything, and save these other topics for the future. Just in case the progress is fleeting, as has often been the case in my recent past.

I am home from my third trip to visit my sisters, Mom, and brother-in-law in the Atlanta area. It was the longest I’ve been away from home since I worked on site in my “glory” days. All three visits were different; the first was very difficult, coming just weeks after Pam’s passing. The second visit was in September. Though still filled with intense emotional turmoil, I was able to at least enjoy the company of my family.

This last visit was different. I woke up the morning of my leaving, not wanting to go. I realized I was afraid. It wasn’t about leaving Pam here in the house. I was actually afraid to leave the familiarity of my surroundings; my comfort zone. I felt very alone. But it only took about 1/2 hour to settle into my road psyche and begin to enjoy the scenery.

The drive to Atlanta was somewhat stressful as I took interstate highways most of the way. I was able to avoid some of my large nemesis cities like St. Louis and Nashville, but Chattanooga got the better of me. But all’s well that end’s well in that regard and I made it within an hour of my ETA.

Committed to keeping my message short, I will say that most of the visit was relaxed and enjoyable. I had time to play music, read, EAT!, and contemplate. All were good therapy for me – except for gaining four pounds. Well, maybe that was therapy too. Now I am home and want to carry the good things forward (except for the pounds that I hope to lose again soon).

I found a route home that completely avoided interstate highways and took me on many winding, hilly, scenic, roads through Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri, and, of course, Iowa. Though it took longer than the more direct interstate route, I enjoyed the driving, the scenery, and the interesting little towns along the byways. Pam would have enjoyed it immensely, except for the length of the drive.

I hope I won’t jinx things by suggesting that soon I can write about happy things; changes in me and my grieving for Pam; progress with my music. Something else to look forward to – no jinx intended!

Everything is Relative

Or is it?

Definition (Webster’s):
NOUN
1: A word referring grammatically to an antecedent
2: A thing having a relation to or connection with or necessary dependence on another thing
3a: A person connected with another by blood or affinity
3b: An animal or plant related to another by common descent
ADJECTIVE
1: Introducing a subordinate clause qualifying an expressed or implied antecedent
2: RELEVANT, PERTINENT
3: Not absolute or independent : COMPARATIVE
4: Having the same key signature —used of major and minor keys and scales
5: Expressed as the ratio of the specified quantity (such as an error in measuring) to the total magnitude (such as the value of a measured quantity) or to the mean of all the quantities involved

While sitting at the breakfast table of my sister and brother-in-law, I commented that it looked gloomy outside. My brother-in-law responded that he liked the weather and enjoyed looking out to see the overcast yet quiet skies. Clearly our outlooks on the weather are an example of the saying “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” “Sounds like a good topic for a blog”, I said to him.

My initial task was to figure out what such a post would include. Looking up the definition of “relative“, I hadn’t even considered that it is both a noun and an adjective, and the differences in relative meaning between the two groups of definitions. Comparing outlooks on the weather is an example of using the word relative as an adjective. Whereas my relationship to my brother-in-law uses the same word as a noun. Obviously, relative noun and relative adjective are related. Seems rather confusing.

I wrote a note on my outline comparing “want” to “desire.” But what about “want” and “need?” I’m afraid I’d end up drowning in a semantic whirlpool if I start comparing the meaning of all of the words I use when I write. Briefly though, what about want vs. desire? Want can mean desire. But it can also mean need, as in – in want of food or drink. When I use the word want, I think of something I desire, as opposed to need. I constantly wrestle with controlling my wants and use “need” as a comparison to help me curb my appetites. It doesn’t always work, but hopefully it serves to check and balance.

Is everything relative? Does it depend on whether we use the term as a noun or an adjective? Returning to the broader context, we are all related; as humans, as animals, as living, as organic – as cosmic energy and dust. Relationships at many levels; blood relatives, in-laws, friends. Are we relative to monkeys/apes and other mammals in a noun or adjective way? Interestingly, the answer is probably “yes.” Yet if we compare ourselves in social, economic, and political context, it is certainly relative in an adjective sort of way. Thus, it is all a matter of degrees or ratios. No absolutes. I’m often reminded of the adage about if you think you have a great house or car, someone has one better. Who’s to say which is the best?

Are there absolutes when it comes to relativity? Seems like a contradiction of terms. But not if we think of relative as a noun. I am absolutely related to my brother-in-law by marriage. Comparing myself to him is a whole different matter; different looks, different cultures, home locale. Even different marital status. The list goes on and on.

You made it to this point in my wandering musings about everything being relative. I have learned a thing or two in the writing. Whether you found it interesting or that it has been a waste of time – is relative. Or, have you made an absolute decision about it? Whoa! Wherever shall I go from here?

P.S. The adjective reference to music key signature did not go un-noticed. Maybe food for thought in another post.

P.P.S. It is worth noting that my brother-in-law is a linguist and knows several languages. We have fun punning with multiple word meanings and he often explains the origins and comparative meanings of words in other languages. How appropriate that his response to my statement evolved into the topic of this post.

Directions

(Written a few weeks ago. Clearly I haven’t managed to move on enough to stop writing about Pam, and my loss of her love and companionship)

Moving along my new life without Pam includes writing posts about other subjects whether they be additions to previous categories such as travels or music, or something totally new. I have a category built in for politics, but I’m thinking I might not want to go there. “Musings” is my catch-all category for, well, almost everything I post.

But which direction should I go? I see travel and music in my future. I am preparing to hibernate over the winter months. That time is reserved for practicing my music in hopes of recording several songs while readying for public performance next year. The plan is to drop new recordings in this site as I complete them. I am also transitioning from daily walks to a rowing machine and other indoor exercises to be prepared to “hit the ground running” (not really running) when the weather warms next Spring.

Nothing big. But those preparations dovetail with travel plans. I still have a desire to drive around, short or long distance, asking local café and bar staff if I can play my music in a corner of their establishments. Something I looked forward to doing with Pam during our retirement years. They may say yes. They may say no. They may say “oh hell no” after listening for a bit. I also hope to combine performing with camping, a direction I have been and want to go again.

I have, however, received encouragement recently that boosts my ego enough to continue in this direction. I realized that I am a one-man garage band. My garage venue is positioned across from a city pond that brings parents and children, people with dogs, runners, walkers, old and young, and fishers to enjoy the area. They hear me and see me. I’ve become such a fixture that many wave to me in passing or ask why I’m not playing at the moment. Once while I was walking around the pond a couple stopped to say they would miss my playing, because I too was walking. Just last night a woman who I didn’t even recognize asked me “No music tonight?” as she was jogging by. I answered that I just finished. She motioned her disappointment. I gave my thanks.

One of my reunion classmates recently surprised me at the main event when he walked in and said “I remember you.” Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize him. But I asked why. He answered that we were in the same home room and that I once brought my guitar and played for the class. Fifty years later he still remembered. What a compliment. I told him his words were great to hear at this juncture of my life, and thanked him.

During a time of personal uncertainty it helps to have plans and goals, directions in which to go. Without them, the days would be endlessly sad. They are sad enough as is. So I look forward, as I review the past and live for today. I am confident that Pam would approve.

Westward from Lolo Pass

A8

(written on the back of the placemat, August 12th at A8 restaurant in Williamsburg, Iowa)

The seat across from me is empty at a place we used to love to go. General Tso, Egg Drop Soup, Fried Rice, and Crab Rangoon. This lunch combo is truly special. We’d often order two, though one was plenty for both of us, just so we could take home the leftovers. I’m holding my emotions!

My first stop on what is already proving to be a strange day. Heading to my 50th high school reunion. August 12th. The three-month anniversary of Pam’s passing.

Lunching here at A8 is a perfect example of “going through” the grief. I seem to be purposeful about going places and doing things Pam and I so enjoyed together. Not all at once. Each venture has its emotional toll.

Christie, who owns and runs A8 with her husband, recognized me and stopped by my table. We haven’t been in this restaurant in over three years! Asking about Pam, I gave her the news. She recalled that Pam looked tired the last time we were here. Another milestone. And I made it through without melting into my tears.

I completed the A8 ritual by smashing the fortune cookie with my palm, as I have always done. But there is only one. The seat across from me is empty. Oops! So is the fortune cookie (I laughed out loud). No special words of wisdom for me. No winning lottery numbers. So it goes. (Off to my next new life’s experience. Seeing people I have not seen for 50 years.)