Murder Mystery: Glasgow, Scotland

Don't get too excited by that title.  No one I know bites it during this episode, not the big one anyway.  There will be other types of biting though.

We finally arrive in Glasgow a day late but early enough in the day that there is no way we are just going to sit around the hotel all day.  One of our party of four was left behind in Amsterdam to take the next flight so the three of us that have arrived check in at the hotel, dump our luggage and hit the streets.

 

The chilly, wet streets typical of Scotland.  That is the front of our hotel.  It is hard to see them because of what they are wearing but my companions are there checking out the fireman statue out front. Our room faces on to this street, it would be just to the left of this picture on that 3rd floor.  There is a bus stop next to where I am standing and one on that cross street as well.  The hotel is above the Central train station.  As with a lot of buildings in Scotland, our room has a heater but no air conditioning.  All of this and a 7 hour time difference will create an environment that is not conducive to sleep.

The other guys on this trip have been to Scotland before and they have told us we need to take a bus tour up to The Highlands.  Chris, the one that made it the rest of the way with us this morning, walks us over to the place where we can get brochures and, if we want, book the tour.  We get a lot of brochures but I really want to look them over before deciding.  As I look around at the rest of the things the offer here, I find a book I decide to buy for 6 pounds (around $10).

 

The book takes you on a murder-mystery-scavenger-hunt-walking-tour to Glasgow Cathedral, someplace I already know I want to go.  We have no other plans and the guys are on board to humor me so we head out to solve the mystery of which one of those people is our murderer and what weapon they used.

The original book did not survive the journey back to the US.  As noted, it is raining out.  Each time I get the book out to look at the next set of instructions/clues, it gets wet.  By the end of the tour it is coming apart.  The book says the tour should take us about 2 hours.  There is a little note about who has been killed but I don't remember much about that.  Most of the book contains directions to take you from one place to another.  Once you get to a destination, you look for some type of clue.  It isn't as easy as I thought it was going to be.  The cartoon look of the characters on the back is deceiving.

 

Also, there were no disclaimers about hazards in the book.  There were a few.

 

At work we used to have something called a "cookie foul" or a "doughnut foul" which involved someone eating only half of a cookie or doughnut and leaving the rest behind.  I hope dog  fouling isn't similar.

 

We run into our first snag at a cemetery.  A really old cemetery.  See how weathered and moldy that sign is?  They are all like that.  Some are so worn you cannot read them at all. We are trying to locate a headstone that has two brothers on it.  We need a date from the younger one to mark off one of the weapons.

 

The boys study a possible match.  The creepy factor goes up in a cemetery when it is rainy and dreary outside.  We are also the only ones walking around in here.  At least the only ones that are visible.  We make multiple laps, in groups, individually (even more creepy) but we don't ever find the clue.  I vote to move on, the boys agree but only after suggesting we circle back later.

 

The book takes us to a lot of places we might never have seen.  The clues are a variety of things, in this case, we are looking for some text on the other side of that statue.  To make it more challenging, it is written in Latin.

 

Sometimes the directions were difficult to follow.  We need a date off of that building at the end of that bridge but we should have found 2 clues before getting to the bridge.  It turned out we entered this area in the wrong place and the two missing clues are on the other side on a path to the right.

 

Our second cemetery, the Necropolis at the Cathedral.  I make plans to come back later in the week.  I want to go all the way up to the top and see what/who is up there and to check out the view of the city.

 

Mr. Livingstone I presume?  We hit our second snag between this statue of  David Livingstone and the Cathedral in the background.  There is a sign missing off the front of another statue in the courtyard and it appears that is where our clue would be.

While we are outside the Cathedral we find out that the guy we left in Amsterdam and the person who left Montana a whole day after we did have arrived at the hotel (which serves to highlight how bad our travel experience was).  They are given directions on how to find us.  In the meantime, we pause the hunt to check out the Cathedral, no clues lie inside.

 

The Cathedral is free and open to the public daily.  You can leave a donation, which we happily did.  There is a small gift shop in a corner and we buy a small stained glass ornament after being inspired by the amazing windows of this Gothic architecture style building. The building was built 12th century and it is, according to Wikipedia, no longer technically a Cathedral because it isn't the seat of a bishop and hasn't been since 1690.

 

I don't really care about all of that.  The building is beautiful and inspiring and what I really want to know is, is that for sale?  I have a thing for angel statuary, especially really big ones and, though it is hard to tell from the photo, she is life size.  I wonder what the shipping would cost?

 

I know this kind of looks like the other picture but this is a completely separate room.  There are a lot of nooks and crannies to check out here.  Lots of interesting stone work and stained glass and wood work.  There are tapestries and tombs in the floors below.

Back outside the rain has let up enough to take down the hoods.  The rest of our group shows up and we go from a party of 3 to a party of 5.  We are about halfway through the book and it becomes apparent to me pretty quickly that the hunt for our killer is going to take a backseat to hunting for pubs.  As we continue on to the next clue, the talk amongst the boys is primarily on this topic.  We have been walking for a long time and we could use some fuel for the rest of the walk.

 

And that's how it comes to pass that David eats haggis.  After trying mountain oysters a few years ago, I have sworn off food made from freaky animal parts and actually rarely eat any kind of meat other than fish or eggs anymore.  No haggis for me.  David doesn't love it but while eating at Taco Bell in the Minneapolis airport on the way home, they inadvertently finds a miniscule sliver of lettuce on his "soft tacos with no lettuce".  When I told him to get a grip he said he would rather eat haggis again than lettuce.  I think that says a lot about the general differences in food preferences where he and I are concerned.

All of the boys try the haggis and have some beers.  This is the first of 3 pubs we will visit before making it back to the hotel.  When we were in Amsterdam, we went down to the restaurant at the hotel and the Jackson Browne song from the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High was playing.  He was the first in a string of 80s pop singers we heard that night.  This trend followed us to Glasgow.  Every place we went they were playing 70s and 80s "American" pop-music.  Madonna, Fleetwood Mac, Seals & Croft.  I didn't expect to hear non-stop bagpipes and Celtic Women CDs but I didn't expect this either.  While the boys finish their sheep stomach "meatballs" I check out the ladies room.

 

I have seen a lot of funny signs in bathrooms, mostly about what to do with your tampons and proper hand washing techniques involving songs from Sesame Street.   This is my first encounter with a warning about drugs and "offensive" weapons.

 

Does this count as an offensive weapon?  Unfortunately I don't get to find out as the TSA frowns on my carrying this with me when I travel.  I can't even wear my hair in a ponytail if I don't want to have a quasi-sexual encounter with a female TSA agent these days.

Between pubs we continue to look for clues but not with as much interest.  We never make it back to the cemetery where we had our first missed clue.

 

We fail to solve the mystery. We have 3 suspects and 2 weapons left.  We leave Scotland a week later and are no closer to the answer.  Sherlock Holmes would be disgusted with us.

 

Toward the end of our walk, we end up by the Clyde river (or is it the river Clyde?).  There is the rest of my entourage, walking ahead of me.  I get behind as usual stopping to take pictures of things that most other people would never take pictures of.  Like trash.  Or homeless people.  Or strange signs about drugs and weapons in the ladies room.

It turns out to be a good thing that I am walking a little behind the crowd.  When I hear the phrase "I think I just burped up some sheep intestines" I know that a safe distance behind is right where I belong.  I am starting to think that haggis could be considered an offensive weapon by some.  It is a good thing that Alka-Seltzer is legal and that I have some back at the hotel.  I think one or more of those boys is going to need it.

Amsterdammit: Amsterdam, The Netherlands

When David received the message he would be going to Scotland, he asked if I wanted to go.  Initially, I said no.  We were at our son's wedding.  There had been expenses involved with that whole affair.  When my aunt passed away and I traveled to Florida, I spent a lot more than I originally planned.  I had spent quite a bit of money in a very short period of time.  I just couldn't see spending the money for me to go right now.  Then I talked to Carla.

Everyone needs a friend like Carla.  Carla will tell me if I look fat, or tired, or my outfit is awful.  She will tell me if I am being unreasonable or mean or ignorant.  When I told Carla about my not going on this trip she said,"Stop being an idiot."  She may have said I was crazy too.  "When will you ever get the chance to go again for just the cost of your plane ticket and food?"  She was right.  All of our hotel and David's airfare and food would be covered by his company as he is going to attend a conference.

The day after my talk with Carla, David sent me a text as I was getting started on my work day.  "Tim died this morning."  His friend Tim had died after arriving at work.  Sitting at his desk he had a heart attack and just like that he was gone.  Tim was in his 50s.  I sent David a message back, "I'm going to Scotland with you."

Because that is what life is about.  Living it while you can.  Not being an idiot and skipping a chance of a lifetime.  I had never been outside of the US before.  Not even Mexico or Canada when both had been options at different times.  I didn't even have a passport.  David had been on my case to get that done with us living only about 3 hours from the border with Canada but I was dragging my feet.  Not on purpose, but that was the reality.  I printed the paperwork and it sat in my in-tray for a long time.  Then I filled it out and it sat some more.  Then I found my birth certificate and paper clipped it to the application and it sat again.  That is the state it was in when I decided to go.  And because of that, I got to spend an extra $80 in all to do an expedited passport.

Now, at 46, I finally have my passport and a plane ticket to Scotland.  Our trip will take us from Montana to Salt Lake City, UT to Amsterdam to Glasgow.  The flight from Salt Lake to Amsterdam is 10 hours by itself.  I am excited the night before and was worried I would have trouble sleeping.  I didn't, that is until 6 am when Delta sends me a text message.  Our flight in Salt Lake is going to be delayed an hour and we will miss our connection in Amsterdam.  I am not sure how they already knew this since we weren't even due to leave Montana for a few more hours.

We get to Salt Lake and discover that the plane to take us to Amsterdam is coming from Amsterdam.  That's how they knew.  Amsterdam is 8 hours ahead of us so when they left there late, it sealed our fate very early.  Two of David's colleagues are on all of our same flights.  As promised, we leave SLC about an hour late.  Fortunately, David and I are seated in a 2 seat section so it is just us.  I really wanted to sleep and took Advil PM but it wasn't meant to be.  I couldn't get comfortable even with the extra leg room we had and the lack of others in our row with us.  I did that sort of twilighty nap thing where you are still vaguely aware of everything but I never really slept.  Somewhere over Canada, the man in the row in front of us starts nudging David's coworker who is seated in front of David.  They are looking out the window so we look too and we see the Northern Lights.

 

It isn't easy to photograph the Aurora Borealis with your iPhone through your airplane window while zooming over Canada in the middle of the night.  I have always wanted to see them and now that I have, it just makes me want to see them again and again and again.  Norway and Alaska may have just moved up on our "someday" list.

But as the universe has a tendency to do with me, it gives and it takes away.  It gave me the Northern Lights so it was time for me to pay.  We arrive in Amsterdam to find that we didn't exactly miss our connection as that flight never left, it was cancelled due to fog.  Really bad fog apparently because flights are being cancelled and delayed like crazy and there are people lined up everywhere.  The lines are very, very, very long.  I can't even stress how long.  Longer than anything I have ever seen in a US airport.  No one there knows where they are supposed to be and the airline and airport employees were no help and in our case, sometimes made matters worse.

We get in a line at a "transfer station" that is for Delta priority members - I am gold with Delta.  The line isn't nearly as long as those who don't have status but it isn't short.  There are 4 employees there to help everyone in both lines.  We will be here a while.  We didn't even join this line until we tried to use the automated kiosks which said "report to desk" and "no alternative flights are available".  While we are in line, the men I am with have various conversations about what we should do.  They check the Delta app which has conflicting information ranging from we have a flight in a few hours no flight at all and this changes each time they look.  A few times one or more of them get out of line to try the kiosks again "just in case".  Because Delta is not the actual carrier now, it will be their partner KLM, that website is consulted and is also giving information that doesn't help.

At some point, one of the men is given the advice by a woman in an official looking uniform that we should get out of this line and go down the the gate.  I really don't want to do this.  I think it is a bad idea to give up our place in this line but I keep that to myself.  I am trying not to end up being called that 5-letter B word that I really, really hate being called.  You know the one.  If you know me, you have probably called me it at some point, especially if you are a man.  Bossy.  So I stay out of it and we leave the line that maybe has 20 people in front of us.  Not that the line is moving.

We go to the gate where they are going to board a flight to Budapest before the next one to Glasgow.  One of the guys goes up to the desk to ask the gate agent to help.  This was after the kiosks were tried again on the way to the gate "just in case".  Incidentally, now the kiosks say we don't exist at all.  One of the gate agents tells us to go away, they can't be bothered with us right now they are working the Budapest flight.  But they aren't.  There is no one at the desk and they are not boarding or getting ready to board right away.  One girl does start to look up some information but ultimately she can't help.  She tells us to go back to the transfer station and get back in that line.

 

As a testament to the weirdness that is this airport and this day, the sign on this door says "Emergency Door, keep clear" in English and Dutch.

 That door is on this wall that is in the middle of the floor with no other walls attached to it.  Please do not block this door that is in this wall that you can walk all the way around.

We pass another transfer station on our way back and the line is incredibly long.  Longer possibly than the one at the original station that wasn't for priority customers.  Back at the original transfer station, the priority line is at least twice as long as it was when we left.  We are standing there when the lady that told us to go to the gate walks by (looking for people who do not have status with Delta to kick them out of this line).  She makes a face and says, "Why are you back in my line?"  She sends us away again, back to the gate.  She promises they will help.  She talked to someone on the phone.  

Back at the gate, guess what happens?  They won't help us.  AND the next flight to Glasgow has been delayed.  We have no idea if we are on that flight but it is delayed for a couple of hours more and we are told we cannot get help until about 40 minutes before the flight.  Back to the transfer station.  More consulting of the Delta App, the kiosks and the KLM website occur.  One of the other guys says he shows confirmed on a flight that will leave the next morning.  David is currently showing he will leave at 1 am and I show the delayed flight.  We arrive back at the transfer station priority line which has grown so long they had to put up temporary barriers as it is probably 5 times as long as it originally was.  

Enough is enough.  I decide the B word is worth risking and I call Delta on the phone.  David and I are confirmed on the first flight that will leave the next day.  I get the boarding passes of David's colleagues and get them squared away as well.  Now we have to get a hotel and clear customs.  This isn't going to be an easy task either as we are not the only ones with this problem.  I think we arrived in Amsterdam around 11 am and it is now around 7 pm.  We tag team the hotel acquisition and one of David's colleagues gets us rooms and we head to the customs line.

 

I am in the front as we try to find the end of the line.  You go down a long hall and turn and there are people as far as you can see.  Down that hall, turn, people as far as you can see.  I think 4 halls later we find the end.  People are cutting like crazy.

These are some of the rudest people I have ever encountered and I have flown a lot and have seen lots of rude behavior.  Besides the blatant cutting in line, people stand right on top of you.  The girl behind us keeps trying to edge past us and makes comments if you don't move up immediately and stand directly on top of the person in front of you.  When we finally get to where the line split to go to one of two custom's agents we were standing back to see which would move faster and she demands to know which line we are in.  BOTH we told her.  I wanted to call her a heifer, my go-to term for irritating people, but since we are not in the US I am not sure how that will translate.

We make it outside and find the shuttle bus to take us to the airport.  On the shuttle, almost immediately the bus driver gets into an altercation with a cab driver.

 

The cab driver ends up driving right in front of our shuttle bus and slamming on his breaks to antagonize our driver.  Our driver in return is tailgating the cab.  I try not to look.  Even when we turn, the cab cuts us off and our shuttle driver never lets up.  Various fingers were displayed before I took this picture.

 

We (luckily) make it to the hotel, the cab driver pulls into the parking lot across the street.  The police are called and they actually come.  I am thinking that I would be shocked for the police to respond to something like this in big-city America when there was no accident and no one was physically injured.

I am getting an extra stamp in my passport because of our delay, The Netherlands.  It is late and we are tired and hungry.  What do The Netherlands offer us?  You may have noticed it in the last picture.

 

That's right...the golden arches of McDonald's.  I have managed for the first time in my life to leave the US only to get to a hotel after a less than ideal day, hoping for some kind of Amsterdammy type experience but no.  They have a McDonald's.  I refused to eat there.  Not for dinner.  Not for breakfast.  It is also the view from our hotel room.  It's like they are mocking me.

In setting up the rooms we learned things can be different over here.  When told we need 3 rooms for 4 adults they ask if we want to be in one room.  Yeah, that is a big fat NO.  They finally understand - 3 hotel rooms, not three beds.

 

We end up with 2 beds in our one room.  Twin beds pushed together.  I was so tired I didn't care if they were pushed together or not.  I would have taken a cot at this point.  We have been awake for something like 21 hours.  I don't even remember David turning off the light.  I was already asleep.  This set up also works for me because I don't like anyone touching me when I am trying to sleep.  Stay on your side of the bed please.  David likes to tether.  He likes to put his hand on me, or his foot.  I hate that.  It is like a hot weight on me and it drives me crazy.  He had to stay on his side or risk falling in the gap.  Or being pushed.

 

In another attempt to keep this experience as American as possible, David finds Little House on the Prairie and I watch my first episode ever while we get ready to leave the next morning.  Not just my first episode in Amsterdam, the first of my whole life.

So far, it is feeling like maybe I should have just stayed in the US.  I could have had been stranded at an airport, had McDonald's and watched reruns of 70s shows there too.  Plus there would be two less American men in the world who learned that I can be bossy (allegedly).  I don't know if the men in the rest of the world will find me that way.  I have to find some first.

Buc-ee's: Terrell, TX

I lost my sister-in-law in a Buc-ee's once.  The one near Huntsville, Texas.  We were on I-45 between Houston and Dallas, coming or going, I don't remember which.  You can't miss any Buc-ee's as I was already well aware but at the time I thought this one near Huntsville was the only one.

It is easy to get lost in - or to lose someone in - one of these stores.  Cathy and I had wandered off from each other, as you have a tendency to do in Buc-ee's.  You can get separated pretty easily, even in the bathroom.  I went outside to wait and sent her a text telling her where I was.  She came outside later and was upset with me.  She looked all over for me (inside, obviously).  She never got my text.  Down the road about 30 minutes later, she gets a text.  My text.  As they say, technology is great...when it works.

 

In my defense, the day I lost Cathy, the Buc-ee's we stopped at was much busier than this one in Terrell is. I had no trouble finding a parking spot.  But even if they had been packed, I could have found parking, parking is one of the many things they are not lacking.  Parking, and gas pumps, and well...you'll see.

As I said, I thought the one in Huntsville was it but either I didn't realize they had more stores or they have added stores since we left Texas.  Now they have several stores in and around Houston and San Antonio, two that are strategically placed on the main arteries up to Dallas from those cities.  I know the one in Terrell didn't exist until more recently.  I have driven this stretch of I-20 between Dallas and Louisiana a bunch of times.  Many, many, many Buc-ee's-less times.

Coming back from Florida, I pass through Shreveport and that is where the signs begin.  "You can hold it!" they claim.  It is approximately 156 miles from Shreveport to Terrell or about 2 1/2 hours.  This is one time where there is truth in advertising.  Buc-ee's claims to have the cleanest restrooms anywhere and they absolutely do.  You don't have to be afraid of what might be behind that partially open door as I have been at many an airport.  You could eat off the floor in a Buc-ee's bathroom.  I wouldn't, but you could.  Not only is the bathroom clean but there are a LOT of stalls.  I can't stress this enough.  A LOT.  You are not going to get here and see a bus load of kids in band uniforms and be stuck waiting in a line 40 kids deep.  At Buc-ee's, they have you covered.  Room for everyone.

No picture you ask?  Sorry, no.  I could not take a photo of the bathroom due to my personal issues with people and their cell phones in the bathroom.  Why do you need to have this conversation right now?  In the next stall?  I am trying to have what should be a private moment here people - HANG UP THE F$%^ING PHONE!

Moving on.  Bathrooms aren't the only thing that make Buc-ee's worth stopping for.  If you decide to test the eating off the bathroom floor theory, there is plenty to choose from.

 

Besides having anything you could possibly want to eat or drink (copious amounts of Bud anyone?), they are a merchandizing machine.  I am barely in the front door and I can buy Buc-ee's socks if my feet are cold, or wet, or perfectly fine but in need of a toothy beaver.  All of those rows over to the left are candy.  Rows and rows and rows.  If you have a car full of small children, consider yourself warned.

 

Even those of us who are non-meat eaters or who are trying to make choices that don't involve large quantities of sugar are covered.  Salads and fruit and veggies galore.  Huge cases of them.

 

At the Texas Round Up area in the middle of the store you can get fresh made Barbeque:  Brisket and ribs and sausage and chicken and other assorted flesh.  Get it on a bun, get it off, get it to go.  Hot and ready.  They also have another deli section to the left of this out of the picture, a homemade fudge counter and a drink area with every possible bottled and fountain drink (plus coffee and other hot beverages) known to man.

Not hungry?  Waiting on someone lost in the bathroom?  Planning ahead for Christmas or birthday or some other event traditionally requiring a gift?  In need of personal retail therapy? Again, they have you covered.

 

Candles and picture frames and rugs and clocks and cookbooks and other kitchen items and

 

Men's, Women's and children's clothing, handbags, jewelry, belts, hats, shoes, scarves and tons of those trendy signs and

 

Looking for Texas themed items? You've come to the right place.  More clothes, hats, bumper stickers, aprons, pot holders and

 

Need a birdhouse?

 

Something with a non-edible chicken on it?  

(The edible kind are also available, I covered that already.)

 

Metal yard ornaments?

 

Ideas for bacon?  I almost got this for David until I remembered I would be the one cooking and then not eating the 101 things.

 

Anything and everything Buc-ee's.  Clothes, bumper stickers, backpacks, koozies, magnets, the list goes on and on and on.  Somewhere here at my house, there is a Buc-ee's neck pillow, like the kind you use on an airplane, that my brother bought for me.  I haven't seen it since our move but I know it is lurking here somewhere, grinning with it's giant beaver teeth.

 

Even at the register you aren't safe from the Buc-ee's themed merchandise.  Wondering what I bought?  Would you believe me if I said nothing?  

Nah, me neither.

 

I was going to get this and take it to my dad, I have to go by his house on my way to the hotel.  Then I noticed the seal was broken.

 

And then I saw this.  No cooking involved.  Dad would have loved it if it had survived the journey.  It is about an hour from here to my dad's house and I haven't had dinner.  Sorry dad.

Buc-ee's is worth a stop if you are passing by.  Even if you are in the general vicinity - say within 100 miles it might be worth a trip.  I might be inclined to make the detour again if I were hungry, or thirsty, or in the mood to shop, or in need of a mecca of consumerism.  Or if I need a bathroom.  Trust me...you can hold it.

Saying Goodbye: Pensacola, FL

My aunt died.  It wasn't unexpected but really, does that matter?  Does that make it easier for the people that loved her?  Of course not.  She was ill for a long time but things had deteriorated and my cousin notified me that she was in hospice.  So I told her, when the time comes, I will be on my way.  But, as often happens in these situations, it didn't turn out exactly the way I planned.

Phyllis was my dad's only sibling.  They were close growing up.

 

When your mom regularly dresses you up and poses you for pictures, I assume you form a special bond.  There are a large number of pictures of my dad and Phyllis in various outfits, not always matching like the ones above, being posed both with and without their parents.  Church, funeral, school events like prom, Easter, Christmas, birthdays, a new haircut.  No event was too small for this exercise.

My dad moved to Texas in the late 60's and he and Phyllis never lived geographically close after that with Phyllis moving just over the line from their hometown of Atmore, Alabama to the Pensacola, FL area.  Almost every summer, we loaded up the car and made the 12+ hour drive to spend time with my dad's family and in particular, Phyllis's family.

 

This was a common ritual.  My parents LOVE the beach.  I do not (nor did Phyllis).  Possibly because I hate sand, maybe from being buried to my neck every summer.  The only plus side to this is being protected from sunburn, something I can do after being exposed to very little sun. 

Front to back:   Me, my brother Donnie, my brother Aaron, my cousin David, my cousin Dawn (they are brother and sister).

I saw my mother's family constantly growing up.  They lived nearby and we also had a boy and girl cousin on that side that were close in age to us.  I enjoyed spending time with both families but there is something about spending time with Phyllis's family that was different.  I peg it to staying in hotels and beach houses.  Staying at your aunt's actual home (which happened with Phyllis but not that often), isn't as memorable.  

 

I am sure our parents could say where this was taken but I cannot.  I do remember the outfit I am wearing and that a person in a gas station asked if I was a boy or girl.  Really?  I am the little blonde girl.  Do people really dress their sons in halter tops?  That's Phyllis on the left, her husband (one of my 3 uncles named Jim) and then my mom on the right.

 

Jim & Phyllis with David & Dawn.  This photo brings back so many memories.  We stayed in that hotel a bunch of times, the Holiday Inn in Navarre, FL.  I don't think it is there anymore, I believe one of the hurricanes damaged it beyond repair.

 Back to not sure of the location exactly.  My grandpa once took us swimming in a gravel pit so there is no telling.  That's Phyllis with my brothers on her left and Dawn in the foreground.  I don't know where I was but my guess somewhere in the shade.

I think Phyllis probably took this photo.  I also think this is the one and only year that my parents flew us out to visit in advance of their coming.  We stayed at Phyllis's house and at both of our (divorced) grandparent's houses.  I cut a huge gash on my upper thigh after I accused Donnie of cheating at cards and went to leave in a huff.  My grandpa's solution was to lay me on the floor and pour rubbing alcohol on it.  Based on the size of the scar I don't think I would be wrong in saying I actually needed stitches.  That's me in the middle in the white dress.  The tall one.

 Me and Phyllis laying on the beach.  No doubt we both sunburned that day.  It was always easy to see where I got my freckles from when I was around Phyllis.  I think I am about 16 here.  That's uncle Jim in the sunglasses behind us.  I could have sworn I had a copy of this where Phyllis was looking at the camera but I couldn't find it anywhere which makes me really sad.

When I was 18, her son, my cousin David died.  He was in a car accident the Wednesday before my wedding.  His sister Dawn was supposed to be my Maid of Honor.  Obviously, she wasn't as understandably none of that family came.  I got married on Saturday and on Sunday my parent's called to ask my new husband David and I to postpone our honeymoon so they could go be with Phyllis when David died.  We agreed.  He died that Monday.

 

Me and Dawn at her wedding in 1992. I'm still the tall one.

 

This picture was taken just a couple of weeks before Dawn's wedding (the baby is my son Blake).  We had traveled there when my grandpa died.  Someone suggested that maybe the women in our family shouldn't get married because someone always died around that event.  For Dawn it was grandpa.  For me it was David.  Phyllis's grandmother Dora died around the time of her wedding.

One thing about Phyllis that stands out to me, and really applies to that whole family, is that she always seemed happy.  She was always smiling.  Look at her in the picture above.  I know she wasn't always happy, no one is ever always anything.  But my impressions of her now and as long as I can remember, she was a positive person.  My dad has that trait too.  You never hear them complain or use words like "I wish".   I never heard her be sad about David's passing.  Whenever she talked about him she lit up, she smiled, she talked about happy times.  I want to be like that.

After her husband Jim died, things started to change.  After a few years, Dawn was forced to seek care for her mother.  Alzheimer's, early onset I would say since she was only in her mid-60's when she passed away.  Like her mother, I never heard Dawn complain.  She took care of it with a grace I hope to have half of if I am one day called to make the difficult decisions she was forced to make. 

When Phyllis passed away, my dad called me.  I asked if he planned to go to Florida and he said he would let me know.  He and my mother had been there only a few weeks before and he had said he wouldn't go back when the time came.  Knowing my dad I thought he might have changed his mind.  When he decided yes they would go, I knew my course of action.  

I would fly to Texas (from Montana) and then help him make the long drive to Pensacola.  Dad drives a truck for a living and let's face it, he isn't getting any younger (that was for you dad), so I didn't like the idea of him making that long drive by himself.  It isn't that he can't, that didn't matter.  I didn't want him to.   There are few people in the world that bring out my protective side but he is one of them.  Once, when he was playing softball, a man on the other team was heckling him while he pitched and it took a lot of self-control for me to not go punch that man in the face.  My plan is to get the keys as soon as I can and to do as much driving as possible.

All of this would delay my getting to Dawn as fast as promised but it felt like the right thing to do.  Besides, thinking Dawn would need me right away (or at all) was a fallacy.  It isn't that she didn't want me to come but she doesn't need me.  She has a great family, close friends, good colleagues at work.  She would have been okay had I never made it at all.

I flew to Texas and we made plans to start the drive the next morning.  When my brother asked what time we were leaving I told him that mom was setting her alarm for 6 am so my guess would be 9.  I was close...we got in the car at 8:30.  That's when things started to fall apart.  My mom calls her mom while we are still on the street my parents live on.   Her mom is unwell and at 90 years old, that is a big deal.  There is conversation about missing medication.  She speaks to one of my aunts who is at my grandmother's home and there is talk of going to a hospital.

Getting to Dawn quickly wasn't about Phyllis.  It was about Dawn.  When the discussion began about what needed to happen my dad said it perfectly to my mother, "Phyllis is gone, I can't do anything for her now.  Your mother is still here.  We have to take care of the living."  So dad drove me to DFW airport, I rented a car and drove on alone.  I know it was hard for my dad but I also know he would never tell you he was sorry for that decision or that it was wrong.  That's not the way he thinks.  Again, I want to be like that.

So I drove and I thought.  And thought.  And thought.  And wrote some of this post in my head along the way.  Probably some really good stuff I didn't write here. Driving to Florida to say goodbye to Phyllis and to do whatever it was that Dawn needed me to do gave me lots of time to think about them, about family, about my childhood.  

I remember that trip when we flew to Florida without mom and dad clearly.  Maybe because mom and dad weren't there.  Maybe because a lot happened and we had that factor of staying in homes we weren't familiar with and with people we barely ever saw.  What stands out the most is that when we arrived at the airport in Mobile, Phyllis and Jim were there to get us and I was sick.  We drove to their house with Phyllis sitting in the back of the van with me, holding my head in her lap, while I fought the urge to vomit.  I can't be sure that I didn't.  I just remember her caring and kindness and her promise I would be fine.  Those are important things when you are young and away from home and with what almost amounted to strangers.

Phyllis and I saw each other once, maybe twice on average, per year over the whole of my life.  Less after I was an adult.  But there are parts of my life that only she and her family bore witness to.  The time I was sick after the plane ride, when I cut my leg on the table, when I threw up large amounts of watermelon in my grandma's back yard.  Now I think, maybe those things never happened.  There is almost no one left to tell me otherwise.  

My family on that side is dwindling.  My dad, my brother, me and Dawn.  Our families of course.  But as it always is as generations begin to pass on, sometimes those below have a hard time keeping in touch, finding time to be together.  We have that whole geographic distance problem:  Dad and Aaron in Texas, me in Montana, Dawn in Florida.  Both Dawn and I have been married  more than 20 years and our husbands might have met once or twice.  Recently, Dawn and I have made an effort to find a way to see each other at least once a year.  Just like when we were kids.  

 Dawn and I in Nashville this past April.  I'm the one on the left.  Always the tall one.

Memory works in strange ways.  Phyllis lost hers.  I feel like some of mine are less real now that she is gone.  As Dawn and I go on and make new memories, maybe together, by seeing each other and talking about the old times, the fun times, hopefully those memories I feel are fading by the loss of their witnesses, can stay real.  At least for a little while longer.

Crater of the Moon National Monument & Preserve: Arco, ID

A person could starve to death in Idaho.  Not only that but it is unlikely anyone would ever find you until you are a pile of bones and, just maybe, not even then.

On the way home from Boise we decide to make another side trip, this time to the Craters of the Moon National Monument & Preserve near Arco, ID.  During the 190 mile, 3 hour trip from Boise to Arco, the nearest town to the Monument, there was nothing.  No gas stations.  No fast food.  No mom and pop store.  Nothing.  I can't stress this enough.  Nothing.  David and I became vaguely concerned about options for lunch.  Once you arrive in Arco there is a gas station that has a little convenience store so we were able to get drinks and snacks.  David, as per his usual, picks out hot and spicy pork rinds...a decision he later comes to regret.

As I mentioned in my last post, this part of Idaho isn't what I expected but what you really don't expect is to be driving along and come to a volcanic wasteland.  

 

This wasn't one volcano but a group of them called The Great Fissure. The National Monument and Preserve cover 750,000 acres.

There is a very nice visitor center where we watch a movie about a man who in 1920 hiked across the entire length with another man and a dog.  The poor dog was wishing pretty quickly he had been left at home.  The sharpness of the rocks damaged his feet both quickly and badly.  Geologists say this is the most recent fissure eruption in the US (excluding Hawaii).  In 1924, President Coolidge used the 1906 Antiquities Act to preserve this area as a National Monument.

 

There are campsites here for both tent camping and RVs.  It is easy to understand why NASA sent astronauts here in 1969 to prepare for moon missions.

There are several parking areas where you can walk a trail to view the different kinds of volcanic rock along with the other scenery here. I will say these were not really ADA friendly although they are paved.  The paths were narrow and not really flat and it was easy to trip if you weren't paying attention to where you were walking.  Or even if you were if you are like me and find yourself tripping at places like the mall or the parking lot at Walmart.

 

There was a surprising amount of wildlife here including lots of chipmunks, some who posed nicely to have their portrait done.

 

And a large variety of birds.

 

There is a surprising amount of vegetation, considering all of the rock.  Lots of sage and other desert/scrubby bushes and craggy trees. 

 

A lot of the trees appear to be dead and those make up some of the most interesting scenery for me.

There is one large mound of fine gravel rock that you can hike to the top of.

 

This picture doesn't do it justice.  That is not an easy hike.  As we were going up a man and woman coming down notified us that when you get to what looks like the top, it isn't.

You can see a LONG way from up there.  Not that the view is what most would consider spectacular since it is scrub brush, dead trees and volcanic rock but I think it has a beauty of it's own.  It is very windy at the top and I have to hold my shirt down lest I flash the other visitors.

I have always really liked black & white photography and this place lends itself to that, in my opinion.  Here are a few of my favorites:

 

We spent close to 3 hours here and I am glad we made this side trip.  It is a very interesting place and it isn't overrun with tourists.  We set off for home with the hot and spicy pork rinds and a bag of ruffles because the visitors center didn't have any food at all, no snack bar or anything for purchase.  Home is 260 miles away, approximately 4 1/2 hours.  We haven't eaten a meal since breakfast in Boise, around 7 hours ago.  The snacks don't hold us for long and we are both seriously hungry not far down the road.  I keep thinking we will pass something, anything but just like the first half of the drive, that is an incorrect assumption.  I start to be vaguely concerned we will have to go all the way to Hamilton, only about 30 miles from our house before we find food.  Then I see a sign for Salmon, ID.  A town I have heard and it has a sign so it has to be big enough for us to find something to eat, right?

Driving through Salmon on a Sunday told us very quickly that our choices would be limited.  We were actually slightly concerned there wasn't anything open at all until we made it to the very far edge of town, right before our turn for home.  Burger King.  David is very happy, he likes Burger King.  Not only do I not like Burger King it is one of those that is inside a gas station, not my favorite place to eat food.  Plus, as a person who tries to not eat meat, Burger King isn't a great option.  But, we are both so hungry there is no way we are passing this by.  We both assume at this point we won't see anything else between here and Hamilton, close to another 100 miles away.

They are offering their fish sandwich at this time so that is what I order.  It is terrible.  I only eat half.  David eats all of his burger even though he was still feeling a little queasy from the pork rinds.  As you can image, this doesn't help.  I make the remainder of the drive home with him in the passenger seat on strict orders to tell me if he plans to puke so I can pull over.  

Next time I think we will take a cooler with food and drinks and possibly other life sustaining items like flares and toilet paper because we might find ourselves in need of them out here on the lonely highways and back roads of Idaho.

 

I feel ya buddy.  I really do.