I Am Going To Stop Procrastinating. Tomorrow.

I still have one more entry to make to sum up my Texas trip, and that is regarding my visit to the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealy Plaza. Or the grounds where President Kennedy was shot. But I'm not doing that today.

Today is going to be a rambling discourse about campers. Or travel trailers, if one wants to be more accurate. I hve been looking at them for years. When my first husband, John, and I were divorced, I actually went out and bought a new one......I had discovered, much to my surprise, that I had missed camping and wanted to do it again. This brought gales of laughter to my family. My entire growing up period is comprised of camping pictures during which there is not one, NOT A ONE, that has me smiling. Because I had nothing to smile about. But if you camped in the horrid little thing we did, you probably wouldn't smile either.

My dad was cagey about it. It must have been about 1968, because Gwen was just walking. He came home with a rental tent trailer. It was gorgeous. Sink and range indoors. Big picture windows. Large enough so each of us got our own bed. When we got home from our trip, we held a "Family Meeting." Had we enjoyed it enough for Dad to go out and buy a tent trailer so we could do it more? Yes, yes, yes from the three little girl children. And what he came home with was NOT like the rental, it resembled this:

This is the outside.

This is the inside.

As you can see, there is a decided lack of any sort of luxury. No sink, no range, no mattresses. Hell, there aren't even windows on the damn thing. I don't remember what make and model it was, and these are the first pictures I've ever seen of something that vaguely resembles it.

It had HEAVY weight canvas. The kind where you had to be careful if it were raining because if you accidently touched it, the water would leach through the canvas and you would wake up with a wet sleeping bag. And an angry father.

You will also notice the lack of any sort of bathroom facility. Mom had given birth to four children, and her bladder control wasn't what it once was. Having to get up, get dressed, go outside, walk to the bathroom, do your thing, and reverse the whole process, in the middle of the night when one is half asleep, is not fun. So Dad, being an engineer, solved the problem. Maxwell House coffee can. We would wake up to the sounds of Mom tinkling into the coffee can in the middle of the night. How she managed to hit it, I will never know. I do know there were a couple of times one of us accidently hit it when we bounced out of bed in the morning. Not a pretty sight. Lots of scrubbing. And an angry father.

Not a lot of room for storage, either. So my Dad, the Engineer, solved the problem by building a wooden rack on the apron of the trailer. Into the rack he put three 55 gallon green plastic garbage cans. That was our storage. When traveling, or in bear country, there was a stick that went through the three lids, and a lock that would lock down the stick so no one could get into it. It was pretty ingenious, but keep in mind that I am a teenager by this point. My few friends that had campers had regular metal campers. We had this ghastly canvas apparition with the garbage cans locked on front. I felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies. But without their money. And I lived in mortal fear that someone I knew would see this thing.

But, as outlandish as it may have looked, my parents took us to most of the United States in it. The only states we didn't visit were along the Eastern seaboard. Dad traveled for his job, so he hated to spend his vacation time in big cities because he had to spend his working time in big cities. And the East Coast has a lot of big cities. Besides, Dad said, he wanted to leave part of the US untouched for us to explore on our own!

Once I went away to college, a lot of things happened. Dad built a screen porch and put in a fireplace. They got central air conditioning. A color tv. And got rid of the tent trailer and bought a canned ham. I don't remember the make, but I thought it was so cool. And Mom just loved it to pieces. She called it her Little Playhouse.

Much more camping was done by Mom and Dad and my two sisters. Eventually the sisters dropped out and it was just Mom and Dad. Until they divorced. Dad got the camper and stored it at his brother Buzzy's house way up north. I think it was Big Fork? He kept it there in case any of us ever wanted to use it.

I really wanted to go camping in it, but John was totally, 100%, dead set against camping. So we never made it and Dad eventually sold it. I was really peeved at John, but figured "eh?" what can you do?

Fast forward to the year 2000. Start of a new millenium. We decided to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary by giving each other a divorce. So I took some of the proceeds and bought a new Aliner camper. I had done a lot of research, and I thought this is what I wanted, but it never really felt comfortable to me. I eventually sold it.

Another fast forward. To the times that are now. My mother and father are both gone. After I bought presents for both of my sisters this past Christmas, kept asking about Christmas plans and received absolutely no response, I finally figured out that I am totally on my own. The two of them have always been closer to each other, and I am tired of trying so hard to break into their clique. So I had myself one whonking good cry, went through the presents, kept the ones I wanted and donated the rest. I hope they landed with people that appreciate them.

Mom left me some money. Enough to pay off most of my bills, with some left over for traveling. That's how I was able to ride the train to Dallas. And I have never stopped looking at travel trailers. Suddenly, there was Viney Rose one Saturday listed on Craigslist. The fulfillment of a dream. More later about her, but here are her pics.

Hick From Da Sticks

Friday, March 11

When I was younger, I kept thinking that there would be some magical time when I would suddenly feel "grown up." When I would look like the beautiful women looked on Hugh Hefner's "Playboy After Dark," (the network version, not the cable version), I would go to cocktail parties and drink martinis and engage in social banter. I'd wear little black dresses with pearls and black shoes with stiletto high heels. And bright red lipstick. And I would feel like an adult woman.

I am still waiting for that day.

My hair never did turn blonde, nor did it ever straighten out enough to put into a beehive. Nobody I hung out with ever had a cocktail party, and the one martini I drank tasted like rubbing alcohol. The olive was the best part. When I go to a party, I don't feel like I'm bantering, I feel socially inept. Little black dress? I don't think so - I'd look like a black light bulb. And as for the heels - I can't even do little heels without falling off of them.

Bright red lipstick - can't seem to stay in the lines coloring on that one. Looks like a little girl got hold of Mommy's makeup. Pretty horrifying.

So I don't know why I thought that I'd be able to walk into Neiman-Marcus and look anything like other than what I am. A good old gal from Minnesota, doncha know. I did have it in my mind that I was going to treat myself and buy a purse for myself. Until I got a gander at what the purse prices were. I suppose I should have done some research first. And should have remembered that it has been years, absolute YEARS, since I have paid full price for a purse (thank you very much, various thrift stores!) So I figured that $40 for a purse was really going to be living large!

I will now pause for a moment to let the laughter die down.

$40 can't even get you a coin purse at NM. I never knew that purses are being manufactured that actually cost over $1000! And probably even more!

So I wandered around the store, trying to find a place that had some doo-dad that wasn't too terribly expensive when I happened upon the candy shop. Thank goodness! Got myself a sequined Easter Egg. And George some chocolate. And Matt some imported chocolate.

And the Candy Shop Lady was kind enough to give me a shitload of NM boxes and such for presents. What I'm going to do with them, I don't know, but it was nice of her! Even though she did say it was obvious I was a tourist.........

sheesh

I did feel better when my friend Carol said the letters at the store actually stand for "Needless Markup."

Also felt MUCH better that evening when my friends and I met for dinner at the Dallas Chop House. At first I was afraid it was going to be a high brow, frou frou place, but our waitress turned out to be very down to earth and nice. I have always wanted to try steak tartare, so I did, dammit. And I found out that my palate is not very adventurous, thank you very much. It looked like uncooked meatloaf and tasted something worse. But now I can cross that off my Bucket List of things to do before I die.

The rest of the meal was superb! Steaks one could cut with a fork, huge mushrooms, gigantic potatoes. Yum, yum!

I had to say farewell to my buddies already (their conference was done the next day and they were flying right out), but it sure was nice to spend a little bit of time with them! Hope to be able to do it again! With or without steak!

And Some Still Insist It Never Happened

Thursday, March 10
Anyone who knows me, even slightly, knows of my passion for World War II. Particularly Europe, and most especially Germany, both in the period between WW I and WW II and just after WW II. I have come across many theories trying to explain how it was that a civilized culture like the Germans could have turned into the murderous thugs they became during the war. But they are, and will always remain, just that - theories. It will always remain something of a mystery.

I believe in reincarnation. Even though I think the Catholic Church frowns upon that sort of thing, I just believe in my soul that I have been on this earth before, and I will be on this earth again, until I learn those things that God wants me to learn in order to be able to stay with Him in eternity (there is my own little half-baked theology, right or wrong! Buddhism, Lutherinism, Catholicism, Lynnieism!). My fascination with World War II is because, I believe, my last time on earth must have been during that time, living in that place. And I must have been Jewish.

Of all the places in the world for such a place to be, Dallas has a Holocaust Museum. http://www.dallasholocaustmuseum.org/

And this was the day I participated in it.

Perhaps all museums do this now, but I really liked what they did here. They hand you a set of headphones and a small player. There are pictures and artifacts, like in a regular museum, with numbers by them. You enter the number into the player and it talks about what you are looking at. Much more informative than just reading the picture captions for yourself.
This museum is not huge. So instead of trying to cram a bunch of stuff into a small space, they instead decided to focus on just one day - April 19, 1943 - and the behaviors of bystanders to the Holocaust. They highlight three different events: 3 young men attacked a train bound for Auschwitz, the residents of the Warsaw Ghetto rose up in revolt against their Nazi oppressors, and delegates from Britain and America were meeting in Bermuda to ultimately decide that they were going to do nothing to help the Jews of Europe.

The museum was begun by Dallas residents who had survived the Holocaust. What moved me so much about it is that it is not just a recitation of all the horrors done in the name of the Nazi state, but concentrates instead on the morality of what WAS and what WAS NOT done by governments and ordinary citizens. The exhibits ask you to question what you would have done, and to become an "Upstander," or one who stands up for what they know to be moral and right. If there would have been more Upstanders during that time, the Holocaust could never have happened.

Of course, I've come across this idea before, but it never made such an impact on me. Being a visually oriented person, it was probably seeing in person things that I had just read about before. I began to cry when I saw and touched the rail car that had actually been used to transport Jews to their deaths, and I continued to cry when I saw the concentration camp uniform, the hundreds of rings taken from their owners before their murders, the stack of eyeglasses no longer needed.

I cried through the entire museum.


And, at the end of it all, I cried at each name that is memorialized. Those who perished, and those who are still among us. But who will soon be reunited with their loved ones.

We were fortunate enough to have a survivor talk with us. She was not in one of the death camps - her mother was able to get she and her brother out of Germany just in the nick of time. But her testimony was still chilling. She was a young child when they left, but she still remembers the sound of the SS man's boots as he came striding through their train compartment checking papers - she said that she didn't know what it was about them, but once you heard the sound of those boots you never forgot it. And the way she said it, sent a cold chill down my spine.

My original plan was to visit the JFK Museum after this one. I was so emotionally drained, I just walked home. And processed my visit, to use a therapy term.

I would not have missed this for the world! And I do hope that, over my years, I have learned to be an Upstander.

Owie, Owie, Ouch, Ouch

As promised, I'm continuing the Blog from where I stopped. So today's entry would be for Wednesday, March 9th.

The web site for the Segway tour is amazingly comprehensive. http://www.dallassegwaytours.com/
And they even go so far as to have a page of photos taken just for your own particular group: http://www.dallassegwaytours.com/Photos/March11/03-08-11-1/1.html

One small fact that they don't touch upon is that riding a Segway is exercise. I don't know why the idea didn't occur to me beforehand, but it didn't. I guess that I thought that one just stood still up top and moved ones arms to get the thing to move. But there is more to it than that. You are moving your ENTIRE bod - booty and all!

For example, if you are going along a hill crosswise, to keep things upright and yet traveling in the proper direction, you must lean your body towards the hill but keep your weight towards the Segway, if that makes sense. After about half an hour, I found myself sort of dancing on the machine. Like riding a bike, or skiing, or roller skating, after a while it becomes instinctual. And the Segway involves the whole body to get it to move. Lean forward and you go forward. Lean forward a lot and you go forward FAST. Lean forward a lot and turn your hand to the left and I would imagine you would fall down. But in a most spectacular fashion.

The three of us on my tour were not of an age to be leaning forward a lot, but our tour guide told us that on some tours there are hot dogs who have to try it. And they do, and they fall down and everyone laughs at them so they don't do it again.

Anyway, I digress.

I slept like a rock. And when I finally woke up, realized that getting out of bed was not going to be an easy undertaking. Not only did I have muscles that were sore, I had muscles under muscles that were complaining. And I do quite a bit of walking, and have a moderately physical job, so am not TOTALLY out of shape. But, boy, did I hurt! So I, gently, rolled out of bed to get some breakfast.

Thank heaven for room service! And for the lovely hot water in the shower that came sprinkling down without end! It helped a little, but not a huge amount, so I decided that a "stay close to home" day was called for. And I did just that! Napped, read the paper, watched t.v.

My friends came in town Wed. night, so they came over to my hotel and we hung around in the living room and caught up on who was doing what, and how silly we were way back when and drank oodles of Diet Pop.

A low key day. But a Very Nice Day.

Where Oh Where Has The Blogger Gone?

EEEEEEEEEEEEEk.

I now understand what happens to blogs when they start out great guns and then just sort of slide off into Neverneverland. I got so busy vacationing that coming home (i.e., back to the hotel room) and creeping into the big comfy bed with the hundreds of soft pillows was more important then spending time on the computer.

BUT -

I did discover that I can't go and go and go anymore like I once could. I think it's a combination of my physical problems and the drugs I take to combat those problems. It seems to work better, I seem to work better, if I do one day of sightseeing stuff and one day resting. Watching tv, reading books, hanging with friends, whatever. I feel a little guilty, that I'm on vacation, dammit, and I should be out DOING SOMETHING, but by NOT seeing everything that I want to see, then I have a wonderful reason to come back and visit that place again. And again.

So I will pick up this blog where I left off.

Oh, Dear

I was duly chastised by Georgie, who pointed out that I had not kept up with my blogging duties. I had been taking pictures, and editing them, but I hadn't realized until just now that I had not been doing the writing part of things and that he was indeed correct.
Oops.
Can I plead that I've been busy vacationing as hard as I can and the days just sort of slip slide away?
Back to work here.
Tuesday was my Segway tour of Dallas day. If you don't know what a Segway is, just Google it. I can't for the life of me think of a description that does it justice! But it is one hell of a good way to tour a new city. You aren't closed up behind the windows of a bus - you are right there experiencing whatever it is. If this makes any sense. Because it was the middle of the week, our tour group was not terribly large. Just me and a couple from Calgary, Canada. And the two tour guides. Who knew their stuff! Now, come along and learn more than you wanted to know about Dallas:

We get used to our "ponies"

My steed, trusty No. 11

Representation of the original settler's cabin. His entire family lived here, parents, kids and all. Wowzer.

One of the smaller hotels.

Oh, it is a conference center, also.

Yours truly, modeling the latest in safety gear and flamingo fashioning.

Big Red.

Used to be a courthouse, now is the Visitors Center. All of the stone was brought in (via wagon, I should guess) from Pennsylvania. An absolutely stunning building, especially in the sunlight.

The old jail. Jack Ruby was held here pending his first trial, as was Lee Harvey Oswald. The location where Oswald was shot are two metal doors to the left, which I didn't get in the picture.

The first shot was when the Presidents limo was under a sign which crossed the road. The next shot was maybe 20 ft away, and is shown by this "X" in the road.

The last, fatal, shot was much further down the road. This is the shot that many people believe came from the direction of the Grassy Knoll. After seeing everything in person for myself, I am no longer sure that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. The first and second shots are way too close together, and the view from the Sixth Floor Window to the roadway is not very good.

This is what is called "grabbing the longhorn (bull) by the horns."

God only knows I have enough experience with bull!

I've had this liking for Texas Longhorns ever since I lived in Texas in the late 70's.

So it was a really nice surprise to be treated to the sight of this tremendous sculpture commemorating the days of cowboys and cattle drives. Although calling it a sculpture doesn't do it justice - there are a shitload of individual animals (I believe the guide said 40?) and they are all unique. They are arranged like they are being herded on a drive by cowboys.

Cowboys were primarily Mexican or black. Being a cowboy was a dirty, stinky, difficult job that didn't pay very well. So it was way down on the ladder of jobs that people wanted. Freed black former slaves and Mexicans didn't have much of a choice.

This is a textbook example of a poor composition.

The horse looks like he is getting ready to poop on the people.

I have no clue what I was thinking with this one!

This young man takes the expression "family jewels" most literally!

Actually, he is the "mascot" of AT&T, representing communications. He started out on their building in New York City, and resided several other places until finally landing in the lobby of their new corporate headquarters in Dallas. It is difficult to get a sense of his size, but he is enormous! To get him into the building, they ended up pretty much gutting the front of the building. They then ended up reinforcing the floors to handle the great weight of his presence. He is not solid gold, but is gold leaf.

I did have several other pictures that I wanted to post tonight, but the server is giving me fits. So, I'm going to soothe myself with leftover steak. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

The Horn On The Train Goes "Toot, Toot, Toot!"

Whoever originally designed the train whistle did one heck of a good job figuring out how it should sound. No matter how many times I listened to it, I still loved the sound of it blowing through each town we passed through.
There are so many fun aspects to train travel. Some things you may think of, and some are surprising. I love the ability to walk around. Sit in the observation car, surrounded by windows, and watch the landscape move by. Walk to the lounge to get a pop or sandwich. Just get up and walk if you feel your ankles swelling.

Train passengers are different from plane passengers. They talk with each other more. It may be because the trip takes a longer time, or it may be just because we all share a love of train travel. I have yet to meet anyone who says that they had a miserable train trip and they can't wait until they can get on an airplane again!

I met two wonderful women this trip. Both in the vicinity of my age bracket. Both traveling solo. Both open about their lives. One I never even got her name, but the other I hope turns into a long-time friend.

But it was so affirming to me to have had our Heavenly Father send these two angels. It proved to me that the direction my life is going now IS the right direction, and there are many other people besides me who are traveling it. People that are willing to walk with me and teach me on this journey, even if it is only for a fractional amount of time. And all I have to do is overcome my shyness about talking with them. Now, what you have been waiting for......the pictures of my little Tin Can of a rail room.

The Window Seats

The long bench on the right pulls out into a bed. Two are supposed to be able to sleep in it, but I'm not sure how comfortable they'd be. Up above is a single bunk that can be pulled down for another bed.

Towards the door.

There is a sink on the right. I had a bagel sitting there, and Jim, our Attendant, came by and told me I probably wanted to throw the bagel away. I told him I needed to keep it in case I needed something to eat. So he let me know some of the disgusting things he has found around sinks - when he got to used condoms, I willingly gave my bagel to him to toss. Yuck.

The shower

It was a pretty interesting arrangement. On the left is a curtain that was supposed to snap against the walls so water wouldn't run out. But none of the snaps on the curtain matched the snaps on the walls. I had figured out by this point that trying to take a full shower while the train was under full steam was probably not one of my smarter ideas, anyway, so settled for washing my hair and sort of wetting myself down very quickly during a stop.

My traveling companion surrounded by my traveling stuff.

My companion again

Her full name is Mistress Eleanor. Or Ms. El or Ms. E. for short. The Eleanor is after Eleanor Roosevelt, who was also a great traveler and one of the women (after Helen Keller) I admire most highly. Ms. E. is enjoying her trip and is proving to be a wonderful companion! Never complains, always willing to do what I want to do, doesn't eat my leftovers. Can't ask for more than that!

When I knew I was back in Texas

On the day my Grandma Gilgosch was buried, it rained. When a bunch of the kinfolk got together at one of my cousins house later on, the sunlight came streaming through the clouds. We felt like Grandma was letting us know her spirit was with us. Ever since then, whenever I see sunlight coming through clouds like this, I feel Grandma is around me again.