Today's thoughts

Category: TRAVEL (Page 39 of 45)

Retirement is not without Hassles: Hoosier Corn #560

The corn is waist-high already in Indiana as a result of an abnormally wet May. The Mnemonic rhyme was always, “knee-high by the 4th of July,” so growth is well ahead of schedule this year. “Hoosierisms” like this were a big part of growing up in the only state with a basketball hoop in every driveway and on the side of any barn. “Them apples,”” warshing machine, “ and “crick” are only found in the Hoosier dictionary.  I guess you could also refer to our wacky language as “Indiana Corn.”

I grew up by the Michigan border in the very northern part of the state where fish were not “feesh” and I didn’t trudge through 2-feet of snow to get to “keendergartin,” however “further” south a Hoosier twang is endearingly  prominent. I did drink pop as opposed to soda, but the brand Ski was somehow not popular “in my neck of the woods.” Squirt was one of my favorites. Notre Dame was “down the road aways, while I.U was “pert-near” to Kentucky. Only northern Hoosiers know about Volcano Pizza, Nelson’s Golden Glow Chicken, and Lookwell Dairy. Tenderloins are truly ”the size of your head.”

Movies like Hoosiers and Breaking Away are authentic portrayals of Indiana culture. We went to the license branch rather than the BMV, and had a hamburger sandwich or chili soup for supper. TV dinners were my favorite meal, served on a TV tray. I ate Quaker Oats for breakfast only because it came in a cylindrical container that could be “recycled” into a basketball hoop. All I had to do was fashion some aluminum foil into the shape of a ball, remove the bottom of the container and secure it to the basement wall. It was time for some “Hoosier Hysteria.” 3…2…1…swish!

The single-class high school basketball tournament is always my favorite memory of growing up in Indiana. The championship game was always in the state capital of Indianapolis every March –  known to even hicks as “Indy,” “Naptown” or “india-no-place, even though it was a popular big-city destination. The sectionals, regionals, and semi-states were held in massive gyms throughout the state such as North Side Gym, The Anderson Wigwam, and The Muncie Fieldhouse. Butler’s Hinkle Fieldhouse was typically the host site of the championship, but the Hoosierdome, Market Square Arena, and, Conseco Fieldhouse (now Banker’s Life) have been used to accommodate larger crowds. Since the elimination of the one-class tournament, crowds are no longer an issue and large gyms are dying. Basketball is still king (and queen) in Indiana – Go Pacers and Fever, sorry Colts and Indians.

Yes, Mr. Hoover, there is a Hoosier Dam, but it’s not in Indiana but rather Chatham County North Carolina. Maybe it was built by Hoosier’s strong, reliable men, who were responsible for building the canals in Metamora, Indiana and gave Indiana University it’s unique nickname, synonymous with champions? (Also see Hoosier’s Nest.”) Speaking of which, only a Purdue Boilermaker fan, even though they’re still a Hoosier, would ever say, “Those Damn Hoosiers!” I always try to practice “Hoosier Hospitality” when I refer to a Boilermaker. As such a good sport, I deserve to win the Hoosier Lottery!

I married a Hoosier Mama, had a Hoosier baby, but never lived in a “Little Pink House,” as fellow-Hoosier John Cougar Mellencamp describes his hometown. I honestly also don’t know who my Hoosier Daddy is yet? (See Diary of an Adoptee). Finally, no one would even know where Indiana is on a map if it weren’t for the Indy 500. It’s given our state capital world-wide recognition. Every year in May, just prior to Memorial Day you’ll hear the familiar strains of “Back Home Again in Indiana,” followed by the words, “Ladies and Gentlemen…start your engines!” I’m surprised that the winner doesn’t have corn on the cob, warshed down with that traditional swig of milk.

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Arches #559

A glimpse of The Arch, veal marsala at Charlie Gitto’s downtown, a morning run to Washington University, and KSHE on the radio. These were the highlights of our overnight stopover in St. Louis. Since the Marriott Grand only serves Pepsi products, I had to go to McDonald’s for my Diet Coke favorite. Five hours of driving later, we arrived at our Indiana destination for dinner with my wife’s mother.

 

Along the way, we saw the modern new Mississippi River bridge, known informally as the “Stan Span” after Cardinal great Stan Musial, Effingham’s Giant Cross, the familiar Indy skyline, Gas City whose name always makes me giggle, endless cornfields, and the remains of the elephant barn that once served as the winter headquarters for the Barnum & Bailey circus. We did some reminiscing about our time together in Indianapolis and Central Illinois. We’ll make a stop in Decatur, Illinois on the way back, following several Hoosier nights in Rochester, Kokomo, and Indy. “Wander Indiana” was once the poorly thought-out state tourism slogan that implied aimlessness. My wife’s valuable vacation time will be spent “wandering,” as she kindly attends to the needs of her 96-year old mother.

 

As my wife currently “wanders” along down the flat, rough Hoosier highways, I’m writing and monitoring a couple of baseball scores. We’ll finish this trip at Busch Stadium back in St. Louis, my reward for helping her cope between the Assisted Living facility to restaurants, medical centers, the cemetery, hairdressers, and her sister’s house. I will go home disappointed if the Cubs lose to the evil Cardinals, but will act like I didn’t really care if they do.

 

I will enjoy drinking excessive amounts of wine with my brother-in-law, meeting his first grandson who is also his namesake, and getting together with old friends throughout the week. It will of course be hot and humid, a good reminder not to bitch so much about the cool, cleansing Portland rain. Then again, what would I have to write about when in homebody mode? After all, I’ve used the words “rain” or “gray” in at least half of my blog posts to describe the days in Portland. 

Retirement is not without Hasssles: Family Ties #557

“And they’re off!” Appropriate words on the day when Justified wins the Triple Crown. Instead, they signify the beginning of another adventure as we travel back home again to Indiana. This time, however, we fly into St. Louis instead of Chicago O’Hare or Indianapolis. We’ll spend the night there and drive through Illinois tomorrow, arriving in the Hoosier state in time for dinner with my wife’s mother.

We already went through the “you’re on vacation while it’s just another day for me” discussion, as my wife gets a well-deserved week off from work. She got through last week by dreaming of the Viking Ultimate World Cruise. We can only hope that this incentive lasts four more years until she joins me in retirement.

I’m sure she would rather be traveling elsewhere – say Bali. These quarterly visits to her home town eat up most of her vacation time at considerable expense. Only my sister, her kids, and grandchildren are left for me to visit, but mostly we stay in touch by phone. There just isn’t enough time to cover all our bases in the state, so I try to get with them for Christmas each year. They are celebrating the high school  graduation of my nephew’s step-daughter this weekend. They are all growing up fast.

The Midwest tour will include a trip to my 96-year old mother-in-law’s doctor, a visit with my newborn great nephew, a couple of nights with my brother & sister-in-law, lunches & dinners with friends, some research on my birth mother’s family, and a Cubs vs. Cardinals game at Busch Stadium.

Our pets are home with a house sitter. Tinker our 100-year old schnauzer a.k.a “the poopingist pup on the planet,” was left pouting on the rug in my office as we tried to sneak our luggage out to the car. Tally, her younger sister, will like the attention and exercise she’ll get in our absence. Her eye is healing thanks to steroids, and we’re thankful that the biopsy proved benign. Otherwise, she might have become a Pirate dog sporting an eye-patch. AARRRRR….

It’s Father’s Day tomorrow, and I will probably hear from my son who lives in Florida. He’s busy with a new baby that I won’t see until our next trip to Illinois in two months. Hopefully, she won’t be graduating from high school in a blink of an eye. We’ll all meet at Wrigley Field, a sacred spot for my son and I. We took my grandson there when he was a baby, and my granddaughter a few years later. My son’s wife is from Chicago so they happen to be visiting for their annual vacation.

Keeping up with family is our greatest challenge. Only my wife’s eldest daughter lives nearby in Portland, while her youngest daughter is in D.C. I’m stopping over to meet my granddaughter in Chicago on the way to shake hands with a man who may soon become my (step) son-in-law. We’ll all have dinner in DC before they come to Portland for a wedding. It’s all part of the engagement process, or at least we hope.

So, we’re off for another “Planes, Trains, and Automobile” experience. “Back Home Again in Indiana,” where my wife and I met and had our children. Now, everyone is spread out all over the country, and we look for opportunities to get together as a family. It’s hard to believe that I’m actually trying to add a birth mother and other potential dna-based cousins to an already overwhelming puzzle of relatives. I don’t even have time to stay in touch with the Indiana cousins from the parents who adopted me 66 years ago, except through Facebook. Oh, the family ties that bind me!

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: World Cruise #555

My wife and I have talked about a world cruise, to celebrate our joint retirement. We’re about 4 years away from the end of her career, as she continues to dream about this adventure. Viking sent us a brochure outlining a 245-day excursion of 59 countries and 113 ports, but just how do you pack for something like that? That’s a lot of underwear! It’s only $92,990 per person, so why not just buy new clothes when you need them along the way? The cruise starts and ends in London, covering all 6 continents, and would definitely be the trip of a lifetime for anyone. It would also cost us nearly $25,000 in pet sitting and over $20,000 in shore excursion fees, not to mention all the souvenirs we would buy. Plus, what do you tip the service crew?

First, we would sell the house and one car and put everything else in storage for a year. Hopefully, when we return there will be enough left to rent a home in Italy or Hawaii. This particular cruise is slated to depart in August of 2019, so inflation will undoubtedly drive-up the prices by our 2024 target date. If we adhere to our $1000/day travel plan, the total cost would be around $250,000 (See Post #320), if we do laundry on-board. Is a quarter of the retirement fund set aside for 25 years of traveling worth spending in 245 days? Would the memories last throughout those final years in assisted living?

I will be 72-years old when the time comes to take this ultimate cruise. Do we spend it then, or gamble on mortality, mobility, and good health to allow future travel? Will I even want to travel more once I reach that age or will my homebody tendencies grow stronger? These are questions that will only be answered as time passes by, along with our net worth. My grandparents invested in two mobile homes to satisfy their retirement travel needs, while my parents rarely got on an airplane. So, why do I need to see the world, when they never did?

I’m glad that my wife and I have travel in common as a retirement goal. She’s still saving for the world cruise, while I’m spending my retirement nest egg on current travel needs. We’ll go to Thailand next year, Egypt the following, and China in three years, while she continues to work and save. Bali would be next on her bucket list, the year prior to our World Cruise. As a compromise, we might have to settle on a 127-day or 119-day itenerary in our plan to see the world together!

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: New York for Two #531

Back from NYC with this poetic recap of our five days:

New York for Two

6 a.m. arrival
With red eyes.
Lobby couch,
A compromise.

Nap in room,
Junior’s bite.
Cheesecake taste,
Plus Black & White.

Mean Girls show,
My “Cool Mom” spouse.
Meet Barry & Carol,
At The Strip House.

The Band’s Visit,
Lulled me to sleep.
No need that night,
To count sheep.

A next day Bistro,
Brought us back together.
Greeted by our usual dose,
Of damp, rainy weather.

Barry charmed,
The French snob.
A final Au Revoir,
To see SpongeBob.

M&M store,
Platinum Elite.
Drinks with a view,
But wet feet.

You saw stars,
I ate steak.
Then your sweet tooth,
Was stating to ache.

Magnolia Bakery,
For a late night fix.
Not much luck,
With Half-Price Tix.

St. Pat bagpipes,
Central Park art.
Slice of Ray’s,
Hot dog cart.

Bolognese for two,
Martinis for me.
Dear Evan Hansen,
Last to see.

We’ll be back,
There’s more to do.
You love New York,
And I Love You.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: New York Minute #529

Since most everything in New York takes twice as long to do, time also seems to go twice as fast. This is what they mean by a “New York Minute.” It’s a 1985 song by Ronnie McDowell, also done by Don Henley four years later. “In a New York Minute, Everything can change, In a New York Minute. Things can get pretty strange, In a New York Minute, Everything can change, In a New York Minute.” There have been two peaceful moments so far: cocktails last night overlooking Times Square and sitting on a shady, park bench in Central Park, until the saxophonist started to squawk. This was after nearly being struck by a taxi and a skateboarder on my morning run. You have to be on your toes at all times in the big city, navigating the crowds and the unexpected obstacles, or it will be your last “New York Minute.” 

I’ve successfully completed the poor man’s “Big Apple” dining perfecta: a street vendor hot dog, black & white cookie, a McDonald’s fountain Diet Coke, and a slice of Ray’s pizza. I’m ready to go home. Like Las Vegas, I began to suffocate after a couple of days of noise pollution, large food portions, crowded rooms, and flyer pushers. My wife enjoyed last night’s work assignment, a chance to meet the current and future TV stars. She came back from the party with lots of pictures and stories, reinvigorated about some of the perks of her job, while I enjoyed the quiet of our room. We have one more show tonight, Dear Evan Hansen, and then will return to Portland for a “Broadway Series” performance Love Never Dies. That will be five shows in less than a week, a new record for me! (See Post #454).

I assume that all the sheep displays around town are regarding the New York State Sheep and Wool Festival. There are stuffed sheep in our lobby and projections of grazing sheep on the elevator doors. I’m wondering if the Renaissance is an official festival hotel, because it seems so out of place here in the city? BAAAAAAAH! There is a large 15 acre grassy area in Central Park known as Sheep Meadow, known primarily as a gathering place for large-scale demonstrations and political movements. I did not see a single sheep, although the Central Park Zoo is adjacent, nor have we had “lamb” for dinner here yet. People do tend to “flock” to New York, and then walk along like zombies, staring at their phones or the bright lights. We have both slept fairly well, so there has been no need to “count sheep,” and besides “wool be home soon!”

The peace and solitude of my home office awaits, as I return to “Homebody Heaven” tomorrow. I will be anxious to share stories of my Gotham City adventures at Friday’s Leadership Meeting. Like any trip away from home, the time has passed by quickly, in this case in a “New York Minute.”

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Big Apple #528

While visiting the city, I was trying to discover why New York is called the “Big Apple,” so I had my research team do some Google searches. It seems that the nickname was popularized by sportswriter John J. Fitz Gerald through a series of horse-racing related articles for the New York Morning Telegraph back in the 1920s. “The Big Apple. The dream of every lad that ever threw a leg over a thoroughbred and the goal of all horsemen. There’s only one Big Apple. That’s New York.” I guess it could have just as easily been called the “Big Carrot.”

Was there really a brothel in the city run by  a woman named Eve, as some rumors imply? A stronger possibility is a reference in the 1909 book by Edward S. Martin, The Wayfarer in New York, that reads, “Kansas is apt to see in New York a greedy city…It inclines to think that the big apple gets a disproportionate share of the national sap.” Its roots may also lie in African-American culture, as found in the Chicago Defender publication: “I trust your trip to ‘the big apple’ (New York) was a huge success and only wish that I had been able to make it with you.”

By the late 1920s other writers were referring to the city as “The Big Apple” outside of horse racing, including Walter Winchell in the 40s and 50s and there was apparently even a popular song and a dance, as well as apple-inspired night clubs. By the early 1970s, the New York Convention and Visitor’s Bureau had adopted the nickname and began to aggressively promote it. Similarly, the baseball Mets featured a “Home Run Apple” and apples began to appear on merchandise, store fronts, and festivals related to New York City. “Big Apple Corner” was established on the southwest corner of 54th and Broadway. Events like the Big Apple Anime Fest and Big Apple Theater Festival began to pop up, and eventually the city and the red apple became one. Even Presidential candidate Donald Trump introduced “The Big Apple Ball” to his home town.

“New York,” “NY,” “NYC,” “The City” or the “Big City” is also known as “The Capital of the World,” “The Center of the Universe,” “The City so nice they named it twice,” the city that never sleeps,” “The Empire City, ” “The Five Boroughs,” “Fun City,” “Gotham,” “The Melting Pot,” “Metropolis,” “The Modern Gomorrah,” “Baghdad on the Subway,” “Hong Kong on the Hudson,” and originally “New Amsterdam.” However, “The Big Apple” seems to be the most endearing reference. 

Historically, apples appear in many religious traditions often as mystical or forbidden fruit, from the Book of Genesis to The Song of Solomon. “Applemaniais incorporated into legends, rituals, phrases, and fairy tales like poison apples, Apple Day, William Tell, Issac Newton, apple bobbing, a slice of apple pie,”an apple for the teacher,” “little green apples,” Johnny Appleseed, “apples to oranges,””an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” “apple of my eye,” and “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” to name a few. Apple Records and Apple Computers are more modern-day commercial uses of the iconic fruit from the Garden of Eden.

No matter how you slice it, “The Big Apple” is New York City and nowhere else. To me, it’s a city that requires more energy than anywhere else to get something done. Lines are longer, there’s more noise & garbage, horrendous horn honking, traffic is ridiculous,  buildings are taller, blocks are longer, and people can be rude. It can sometimes be the “Rotten Apple.” Hopefully, it won’t be today!

 

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Retirement is not without Hassles: Sirens #525

The problem with red-eye flights is that when you arrive at your destination the room is never ready. Here we are in the lobby of the NYC Times Square Renaissance trying to get a few hours sleep with lots of background clatter and firetruck sirens. It’s the city that never sleeps because of the ever present loud noise and endless variety of things to do. Dinner tonight before the performance of The Band’s Visit is at The Strip Club, not what you’re thinking but rather a popular steakhouse. We’ll do lots of eating and walking over the next few days. 

We left Portland last night at 10 with an Alaska Airlines pilot who was in a hurry. In fact, he announced that he wanted to avoid the morning rush in getting from the airport to his Jersey home, so he cut 45 minutes off our travel time. Unfortunately, that means an even longer wait for the room. I used that time to get my minimum mile run out of the way, but my wife is struggling with getting comfortable on a lounge couch in the midst of dining room preparation and more sirens. 

On the flight, I was able to watch the end of Water for Elephants and also see the bizarre Mad Max: Fury Road blockbuster. I did not recall seeing Elephants 18 years ago, one of the benefits of an aging memory, so I was able to enjoy it again. Mad Max was never my thing, so there was nothing to remember.

Yesterday, I finished up the Tin Star series on Amazon Prime, watched a library DVD of Ken Burns’ documentary on The Statue of Liberty, and listened to a podcast interview of fellow Indiana University alumni Angelo Pizzo. The focus of the latter was about the future of  IU basketball, but it evolved into talk about his movie Hoosiers. I did not realize that they were forced to cut 45 minutes out of the movie, and that those segments were on a commemorative DVD that I own but never watched before. Much of it involved the relationship of the Gene Hackman and Barbara Hershey characters. My copy is autographed by Jack Scholz, who played one of Hickory High’s opposing coaches. Pizzo revealed that he is working to produce a second basketball movie based on the book Getting Open: The Unknown Story of Bill Garrett and the Integration of College Basketball. (See Post #441)

My wife is in New York on business, and I am tagging along as a retirement puppy. She’ll also get her Broadway fix with as many as four shows. I will go simply to watch the smile on her face. After an hour-and-a-half in the lobby, they finally got us in a “junior suite” overlooking the M&M store in Times Square. Following a three-hour nap, interrupted by more sirens, we were having lunch at Junior’s and had to try their signature cheesecake. It has long been a Brooklyn favorite, so much in fact that during a 1981 fire, concerned spectators were chanting “Save the Cheesecake” to firemen. I wanted to yell at them earlier, “can’t a guy get a nap?”

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Beached #524

When I got to the beach pool the other morning and took my shirt off to expose my pasty, white skin to the sun for the first time in months, I felt very exposed and self-conscious. Regardless of how good of shape you’re in, your semi-naked body feels twice as big and your swimsuit twice as small. Maybe this is what everyone was thinking?:

 

What’s that thing?
Out in the sand.
That’s not a fin,
It’s got a hand.

It’s too large,
To be just bait.
I hope that chair,
Can hold it’s weight.

It’s not moving,
It’s turning red.
I just pray,
It isn’t dead.

Even though,
It’s got no tail.
It looks to me,
Like a pale whale.

Though as big as one,
Something’s not right.
It’s not Moby Dick,
His skin is too white.

Think the tide,
Brought it in?
It also has hair,
And a double-chin.

It should be buried,
Before it starts to stink.
No wait, I think,
I saw it blink.

Not a pretty sight,
Hard to ignore.
It’s rolling over,
And starting to snore.

Endangered species?
Let’s all hope so.
Physically unfit,
And in a Speedo.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

Retirement is not without Hassles: Dirty Laundry #523

I feel like we’re just stopping by the house to do laundry before we hop on another plane for New York City. We’ll hook up with some old friends who live there now for dinner and several Broadway shows, including Mean Girls, The Band’s Visit, and Dear Evan Hansen before my wife gets down to her broadcasting business. I plan to take another friend’s son to Peter Luger’s Steakhouse in Brooklyn for a dining experience out of his typical price range. He’s in his first year of working in the big city after graduating from the University of Oregon.

It’s unusual to be sitting outdoors waiting to board an airplane as we are here at Kona. I guess it’s a true “air”port, as opposed to air-conditioned. I’m one of the few travelers wearing jeans, as I begin the transition back into my retirement uniform. It will be 25 degrees cooler when we land in  Portland with only memories of tropical temperatures. We did determine that we were at 20 degrees North Latitude, and five degrees south of the Tropic of Cancer, also referred to as the North Tropic.

The only time we were ever below the equator was Bora Bora, at 16 degrees south. When we go to Thailand, we’ll be at eight degrees north, with plane transfers in Seoul and Tokyo, both new cities to visit. That trip is a year away, but top of mind because most of our airfare was confirmed in the last couple days from a poolside beach chair.

Thailand will be the centerpiece of next year’s travel, just as Greece was this year’s major excursion. In two years, we’re looking forward to an Egyptian cruise, and the China will fulfill our first five-year plan. At that point, we’ll begin to approach my wife’s retirement and planning will get more specific regarding her dream, a round-the-world cruise.

In the meantime, we’ll continue to focus on reoccurring U.S. destinations like Florida, Indiana, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Phoenix/Tucson, Chicago, Hawaii, and NYC. We also hope to get to Vegas, New Orleans, Vancouver, and maybe even Alaska. When you’re traveling as we are today, you can only think of more travel. It seems to be a serious addiction for both of us.

On the flight home I watched Battle of the Sexes, the story of Bobby Riggs and Billy Jean King. It was interesting to reflect  back on that era. I could not have imagined as I was just graduating from college and starting to raise a family that I would eventually follow my wife’s career in broadcasting.

I was apparently brought up to respect the boss regardless of sex and have always worked well with female professionals. In the mid-seventies women were just beginning to make their mark on the business world and I was working for a woman at that time. It wasn’t until 30 years later that I spent my last 8 years under female management, and at that point my wife’s career had taken precedence. In fact, this trip to Hawaii was the result of the company’s female leadership that has become common in the media world. Similarly, Billy Jean King was a pioneer in women’s rights and equal pay. The broadcasters and promoters that she battled were almost exclusively males chauvinist pigs.

My retirement experience is greatly enhanced by my wife’s career and the fact that she is still enjoying it. I would not be making these frequent trips to LA, NYC, and Hawaii if it weren’t for her. This is why it’s now time for me to go home and do the laundry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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