Tag: Love

Thanksgiving in July

(Welcome to Kelly)

If retailers can create sales called “Christmas in July”, I can call for “Thanksgiving in July?” Though it should probably be in June. I’ll chalk that up to artistic license.

Nearly two weeks past my gig in Clear Lake, I am still reeling from emptiness, sadness, and guilt. It is common for me to have a letdown after completing a challenging goal; that, combined with the spiral grieving process (though at times it feels more like a roller coaster!). Nor surprise that I am off.

I miss Pam intensely. I am sad that she is unable to watch her grandchildren grow into adulthood, she cannot watch Adalynn, our next door neighbor child, frolic on her new swing set, or to share times with family and friends, or go on the road with me. I feel guilty for moving forward with my life without her, even though I know in my mind that she would want me to.

Adalynn with Blue
Adalynn the Princess

In the midst of this despair I found myself giving thanks for many of the same things I rue during loss. You may thank God, the universe, even your lucky stars. Regardless of attribute, it is enlightening and healthy to be thankful.

First and foremost, I am thankful for my family. Just being able to have relationships with siblings, daughters, sons, grandchildren, in-laws is worth many thanks. And thanks to them for – being. Each person is a gift full of gifts! I am thankful for their support, for believing in me, for their compassionate ears and encouraging words.

Pam and I were happily married for over 25 years, for which I am truly thankful. Being with Pam taught me about unconditional love, deep love, letting go love. I cannot imagine a better mate. I am forever changed for the better because of her.

I am thankful for my health. Sure. I have a few “getting older” issues, but how can I complain when I know so many with far worse ailments. So far, I am still able to do the things I love, like play guitar and sing, and walk and hike. I can drive my car (which I also enjoy), and eat and drink “normally.” Health is at the heart of maintaining good quality of life, for which we all strive.

A modest home in a friendly Iowa town. Living across the street from a park and a pond – with trout! Good neighbors. So much more to be thankful for.

Which leads to how I live. Always striving to live within my means. Thankful that I can afford the things I have and am able to share my gifts with others.

My music continues to be a sustaining force in my life. I am thankful for the gift of music, my ability to play, and create music and lyrics that are cathartic for me and convey messages that others can relate to. I am thankful for the people I’m meeting as I play. From those who pass on the streets and walks as I practice in my garage, to those who patiently listen at more formal venues. I am grateful to be able to share myself, as representing thoughts and emotions of others.

So much to be thankful for! Whether it’s June, July, or any other time of the year. When I’m feeling down and out, It’s good to recognize and articulate what I am thankful for. How about you?

P. S.

OMG Look what came in the mail this morning. Guess I’m not the only one. 😉 They say they can provide six meals for every dollar donated. North Liberty Community Pantry is a cause I contribute to often.

Check ✅

Bucket list item? Goal? Dream? Commitment? Yep. All of those. My gig at Galilean Lutheran Church in Clear Lake was a success. I played one song during the service and 21 during the performance. Many stayed to listen. And while a few left after the first set, several friends, and family who all drove in for the event, thank you very much, stayed for the entire time.

A surreal perspective engulfed me as I played. It was hard to believe I was actually there performing. Fortunately, I enjoy playing my music and sharing my life with others through song. I got into it easily and made relatively few, minor mistakes, probably even fewer that were noticeable. Feedback was positive, with several people expressing their like for the songwriting. Overall, the consensus was that I should go forth and do more.

There were several stress indicators in the weeks leading up to the event. A gout flareup, trouble sleeping, and sadness for missing Pam. I know she would have been happy, and would have enjoyed the experience. I know I would not be who I am, doing what I am, without her love and encouragement. Last Tuesday was Pam’s birthday. Two days after the show. That, too, was looming in my heart and mind as the day approached.

Reflecting on my experience and feelings in the days after the show, extreme sorrow, and some guilt, overtook me. I realized that, though Pam shared it, this was my dream. My fulfillment. I felt that I hadn’t listened well enough to Pam expressing her dreams, that I didn’t do enough to make them come true.

Of course we had common dreams that we hoped would become real during our years of retirement. I like to think we would have made those, and Pam’s come true. Unfortunately, we have little control over the universe, the world, our lives. I would trade, in a heartbeat, all of who and what I am now to be with Pam again.

As I pondered these shortcomings, I found myself saying:

“I could have loved her better, but I could not have loved her more.”

I’m not sure that makes sense, but it sounds good and might even make good song lyrics. I love Pam deeply. I know that. But I certainly could have done it better, listened better, given more of myself to her.

Other lyrics I’ve written express Pam’s beautiful being that I aspire to, but will probably never achieve:

“You treat others better than yourself. Thinking more of them than you.”

The “others” and “them” include me. Now I can only try to do better. I cannot change the past. But I can impact my future. And in doing so, positively impact other’s lives as well. I hope!

“What’s next?” You might ask. After a few days of relative rest (that means playing only occasionally instead of for hours each day), I will start working on new material that I’ve already been writing and plucking, along with polishing several songs that have been sitting for months and years. I hope to record the remainder of my current play list so that I can share the newer songs that are not yet posted. I’ll be looking for open mics around the area to gain confidence and exposure. No, Linda, I’m not headed to Nashville yet. 😉

Debut

Tomorrow, I will fulfill a commitment I made a year ago to prepare my music and play in public, when I perform up to 24 original songs at the church where Pam and I met and married. I didn’t realize at the time, about a month after she died, that following through on a dream of performing publicly while traveling around Iowa and beyond, would become such an important part of my grief journey.

Pam and I loved to drive the back roads to towns and eating establishments. We hoped it would be a significant aspect of our retirement. Fun travels. And I would ask hosts and barkeeps if I might sit in a corner and play. With Pam’s passing, I decided to keep the dream alive.

I’ve been working/playing nearly every day for a year leading up to this point. Tomorrow is my debut. I’m not sure where I go from here, but I’m working on new goals like recording the rest of my current play list, as well as polishing another group of songs that have been on a back burner for years. Playing at open mics will help keep sharp what I have been working so hard to develop.

Attempting to share more of me through my music, I have updated my Songs page to include all of the songs from Catching Up on Life, recorded in 2013. Hopefully, that page will grow significantly over the next few weeks/months as I record more of my current repertoire.

This is a bittersweet occasion. So many memories, hopes, emotions, challenges, and now, fulfilment. My love, Pam, made this all possible. She listened (probably more than she wanted). She encouraged. She dreamed along with me. She allowed me to be me. Even in death Pam’s love for me, and mine for her, helped me get through the roughest times and begin to create a future for me, without her. A future that still includes her through memories and songs. Songs of love and affection about and to her.

I will play on. For Pam. For me. To share with all of you who might listen. I am humbled and hopeful.

Another Milestone and More to Come

Today, July 27th, is the 365th day of reading Healing After Loss by Martha W. Hickman. It is the “last” page for me since one can begin any day and continue for a year. I have been partaking of this ritual faithfully for the past year, even before my first cup of coffee, as I have wanted to get my head and heart around my feelings and the challenges of each day of grief and rebuilding my life.

Before opening the book today, I suggested to myself that it will be interesting to find out if it would contain something profoundly pertinent to this day, or only another encouraging message to help me get through the day, and the year. I am quoting the page in its entirety below:

The quote

Since her grief had brought her fully to birth and wakefulness in this world, an unstinting passion had moved in her, like a live stream flowing deep underground, by which she knew herself and others and the world.

Wendell Berry

The Message

It is a difficult birth – this coming into full wakefulness through grief – and not everyone comes out ennobled. But since the rewards of doing it well are as multitudinous as the stars in the sky, it behooves us to do whatever we can to come through well.

What may it take? Attention to our own needs, our state of mind. Reading. Rest. A willingness to be vulnerable again. Counseling, maybe. Talking with understanding friends. For some, prayer, meditation, participation in a healing community.

What we can be sure of is that we will be different. Whether we will be embittered and sad or compassionate and, in a deep sense, happy is not totally within our power to decide. But the outcome may be more within our power than we think. Like any birth, it has its pains and dangers. But it is new life at stake here – new life!

Marth W. Hickman

The Thought

I will use all the power I possess to come through this well.

Martha W. Hickman

This message encapsulates how I have spent all of my energy this past year (plus). These things I have done, in one form or another. I am confident that I will not be embittered but rather I feel renewed compassion for people, all of whom have their griefs and challenges to bear and come through. And though the pains and dangers still arise, I look forward to my new life, though a life without Pam, knowing she is always with me in my heart and that this is what she would want for me.

Thank you Martha Hickman (now deceased), for grounding me with your daily messages, walking with me along this arduous path through loss and grief. I am putting your book aside for now, knowing that it will be there any day of the year I need it as an anchor for my soul.

Pam’s 72nd Birthday is Tuesday, July 11th (I used to call it lucky 7/11). I am celebrating by playing my first “concert” at our home church in Northern Iowa on Sunday the 9th, a milestone in my commitment to Pam and me. It will be followed by a celebration for Pam’s Birthday with family. A celebration of Pam’s life. A celebration also of survival, of coming through.

California – Not a Bust – California Dreamin’

(The second in this 3-part series to chronicle my recent trip. Just a short post)

Though the drive was mostly enjoyable, the vacation really began upon arrival at California Dreamin’s house. Once I parked the car at the motel, Hotlanta and I didn’t have to do anything the entire time we were there (except me playing music). OMG! A real vacation. What’s up with that?! Snacks, drinks, open air, patio with a view! Ah.

Within a couple hours, travel snacks ingested, we were strolling along Seacliff State Beach in Aptos. The beach and campground sustained significant damage from winter storms, destroying the pier and further sinking the ship which lays prostrate just off the shoreline. But the weather was clear and “warm”, the air hinting of salt, and the sounds of the waves rolling up on the sand. After more food, drink, and live music – me – we retired for the day. Too much fun!

With California Dreamin’ and her husband as travel guides, we ventured into the “country” for a hike in the woods on day two. Another beautiful day in the hills with plenty to gawk at including a redwood stand and a mighty Eucalyptus, both for which I lay in the path to take the shots. I even talked to the trees, thanking them for – being. Too much fun!

More food, drink, and music – the second day.

Happy Birthday, California Dreamin’! With more family joining in, we celebrated with balloons and decorations, gifts, and of course, food, drink, and music. The party continues – the third day.

Our last day with California Dreamin’ was pretty much rinse and repeat with even more family to see and share in the festivities. We had such a great time catching up with everyone.

As you would expect, the time went too fast, much of it just talking, munching, and feeling like family. It is wonderful to have healthy, happy relationships with siblings (all of them!) and their families – the fourth day. Too much fun!

Though this leg of the journey was most important and enjoyable, I won’t go into detail about our family interactions, making this the shortest of the three related posts. I’m sure you understand.

Stay tuned for part three of California – Not a Bust posting on Monday, June 26th

California – Not a Bust – Too Much Fun!

This is the first of three posts for “California – Not a Bust” chronicling my trip to CA for my sister’s birthday. These posts will publish on successive days beginning Saturday, June 24, 2023.

Why Trip Out?!

My California Dreamin’ sister just celebrated a milestone birthday. My Hotlanta sister wanted to be there for the celebration. I chose to go to satisfy birthday wishes for both. Hotlanta’s birthday falls on the anniversary of Pam’s death, May 12th. I wanted to give her a special gift so that she knows that I totally differentiate the two events. Making the trip was a win, win, win for the three of us and we got to see several family members as a bonus!

Getting there was fun – but not even half!

Planning well in advance reduces travel stress. But I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived in Sidney, NE the first evening to find that there were no rooms available anywhere close. Glad I had a reservation! It turns out that a matriarch of the Cabela family died a few days prior. The funeral was scheduled for the next day, but the viewing and Wake began the evening I arrived. I thought it was funny seeing several men in black suits, white shirts, and skinny black ties come out of the motel as I was entering. Lots of hustle and bustle inside.

Mary Cabela was one of Cabela’s’ founders. The Cabela family is from the area and is large. Apparently the motels were packed with extended family, friends, and probably a host of loyal customers.

My son and I were in the original Sidney Cabela’s in 2002. It was a sprawling one-story structure that looked like a strip mall on the outside, and a maze of rooms with various “departments” of sporting goods of nearly all types spread throughout. Cabela’s has since sold to Bass Pro Shops.

Day two brought a nearly immediate smile as the topography quickly changed to bluffs and pastures west of Sidney. The flats of eastern Nebraska faded in my rear view as I rose further above sea level, viewing small flocks of prong-horn amongst grazing cattle, some near enough to catch their gaze, others like polka dots in the distance. Too much fun!

Mountains loomed like low-level storm clouds in the distance as I approached Cheyanne, WY. Snow pack was still prevalent atop the taller ranges to the southwest. Before long I saw snow near the highway as I continued to gain altitude and began to weave my way through the rocky ranges.

To my delight, mountains surrounded me for the rest of my journey to Salt Lake City, my second stop. Wind and rain welcomed me as I traversed the city, ending up on the west side where I could see the Lake’s low water level from my motel room. Wind and rain continued into the night, the American flag in front of the building snapping so loud it woke me in the middle of the night.

The morning brought calm, sunny weather, ideal for the next leg of the journey. I drove along the south end of the lake for miles, as it transformed into salty desert landscape, flat as a table top, with mountain ranges surrounding both near and far. I didn’t realize that I was heading for the Bonneville Salt Flats until I came to the exit for the flats and the Bonneville Speedway. Though I’d traveled through here in 2006, I didn’t remember seeing them. Too much fun!

I continued west to Reno, NV through mountain passes and vast desert land, smiling the whole way. Fair weather, comfortable car, Goin’ Mobile.

I wish I could say that the entire journey to the south of the bay on day four was a pleasure. But as expected, California driving is not a California dream! Traffic picked up as I approached the state line, headed toward Sacramento. On west from there for a while then a sharp turn south toward San Jose. Traffic. Interstate parking lots for no apparent reason. Yep. Just what I expected. The one positive part of this experience was the presence of flowering shrubs and Eucalyptus trees in the medians and along the shoulders of the interstate. Unfortunately, I couldn’t gawk for fear of hitting another sardine in the tin, or the or the tin itself!

My sister chose to fly to CA, approximately nine hours door to door. I chose to drive three and a half days. We arrived at California Dreamin’s house within an hour of each other. Let the party begin!

Stay tuned for part two of California – Not a Bust posting on Sunday, June 25th

On the Road Again

Hmmm. Sounds like a song. Oh, wait a minute…

But true, none-the-less. I was in the car for most of the week. It’s difficult to write while driving. Hopefully, I am gathering material for future posts along the way. Consequently, this will be a short post, what Pam used to call a “lick-and-a-promise” type of post (though she was referring to cleaning the house).

So I would like to take this opportunity to convey my thanks, once again, to all of you, my faithful followers, for your continued reading. But also for your continued positive feedback for my subject matter and my writing. Wut Javia, including my writing, sharing music, and other aspects of my life, has become an integral part of my grieving process. Not only is it an outlet for working through my thoughts and emotions, but a medium for honoring Pam’s life; the life of the most amazing, caring, and truly nice person I ever met.

Thank you. Without your participation and encouragement, this past year would surely have been a much darker, more difficult path to navigate.

My current travels exemplify the process of moving forward with life. With an eye on the past with Pam, I am purposefully opening myself to experiences that might become part of my new life without her. I know this is what she expected of me, hoped for me, and approves of. I hope that I can live the rest of my life in a manner that continues to honor hers.

Just before leaving, I turned to look at my living room and said, out loud, “I know you are not here anymore. But I am taking you with me.” I did smile.

(Happy Birthday, Cheryl!!!)

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.