By all accounts, it was destined to be a great trip…..the thirteen day vacation that Fayez and I had planned. Or maybe I should say, the vacation that I planned….and Fayez approved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We tried to plan the  camping portion of our trip around KOA campgrounds. Why? Mostly because I have a KOA membership card…..and we got ten percent off of the regular price for each night. But…not only that. The vast majority of the KOA’s that I have stayed in over the years can’t be beat. The are clean; they are safe; they convenient; they are locally owned by families who are friendly, and like people, who are helpful…… take pride in their business.

We have always stayed in a KOA cabin. They are basic structures…..primarily built from the same design nation-wide…. Some people might call them “glorified tents”. But…..believe me: They are much better than sleeping in a tent on the ground. Each cabin will sleep at least three or four people. The mattresses are already there…..covered with plastic, so they are easy to clean….and, I suppose, so bed bugs can live on…or in….them. The traveler has to furnish the bedding….the sleeping bag, the sheets, the blankets, the pillows….or whatever else you might want. But, the important thing is: You are sleeping inside, on a bed with a mattress.

All of the cabins have some sort of basic shelf….or desk…. They all have electricity. Then, depending on the campground, there may be a chair….or there may not be a chair….to sit on. Depending on where the campground is located, there may be an air-conditioner or a heater…..or both.

Outside is where the action is, however. There is a friendly front porch with a porch swing or some chair. Every cabin has its own picnic table. And, except in rare cases….probably determined by local ordinances….there will be a fire ring or a barbecue grill. ]

To me….this is the best part of camping…..building a fire….and eating the food that Fayez fixes for us! We have two comfortable camping chairs, and when supper is finished…..and the dishes are done, which

consists mainly of throwing away the paper plates and plastic eating utensils….we can sit back and relax and enjoy the rest of the evening…..talking and laughing and arguing….and trying to avoid the smoke that will inevitably blow in our face.

These are camping cabins. Of course, there are no showers in them. Just like the people living in tents, we have to take a shower in the shower house. But, the showers are rarely fully occupied, so the only inconvenience is walking to and from the shower.

OK…..so: Our trip was built in large part around the availability of KOA campgrounds. And, this can be a little problematic. The objective is always to find a campground approximately one day’s drive from the last campground. Sometimes this means driving a few more miles….quite a few more miles. Some days, it means getting to a campground with plenty of time to spare. Those were the best days!

Actually, when we started talking about the trip, the only real destination we had in mind was Mt. Rushmore National Park in South Dakota. That gave me a lot of freedom to choose a route. Another goal was to cover as many states as possible. Before Fayez graduates from college, one of our aspirations is to visit every state in the Continental USA.

Fayez added one place he wanted to visit: A city in Michigan….a suburb of Detroit…called Hamtramck….which has the largest Muslim population in the USA. According to census figures, somewhere around 40,000 Muslims reside there. And, I also added a couple places to round out the trip: the St. Louis Arch….and a visit with my cousin in Arkansas.

Thus…..armed with this information, I devised a trip plan which, on paper, would transport us 3758 miles. The reservations were made and confirmed. The campgrounds and the hotels were booked. The rental car was reserved. We were ready to go.

When I looked at the rental car…a late model Kia…..and then looked at the mountain of “stuff” we were going to take with us…..it was rather discouraging. “There is no way all that stuff is going fit into the car,” I thought. And, even it that was possible….it would take a half day to load it all.

By this time, it was probably 4:00…..I was 101 degrees outside….and the sun was showing no mercy. Fayez said he would arrive around 6:30. The job had to be completed….if we were to leave on time. And….part of my plan was for Fayez to simply lock his car….we would get into the rental car…..and leave. Precise planning is one of my strong points…..just ask Fayez.

So, one labored armful at a time, I slowly, but methodically, carried the equipment and supplies to the car. The camping chairs…..the bedding…..the plastic boxes containing food and eating supplies….. After each load, I returned to the front room….out of breath…..hurting. I sat down in the recliner for five minutes…..and then carried another arm load of stuff. “Just keep at it…. Don’t stop now,” I kept urging myself.

The heat was brutal; the sun was unrelenting. There was not a cloud in the sky. Not a breeze was stirring. I got a can of diet cola…..just something cold to drink. “You’re making progress….. Just a few more loads…..” Finally….everything in the front room had been carried to the car. And….it all fit. With some space left over. By this time, I was thoroughly worn out; out of breath; chest hurting….. But, the job was finished. I had done my part. The time was pushing 5:00. Fayez would be here in another hour.

Now…..just sit in the recliner, turn on some music, and try to sleep. Oh….what relief; what contentment. I closed my eyes….and listened to the soothing sounds of Abba….as I drifted into a world of sleep.

“Wake up!” said a voice somewhere out there in the fog of my consciousness. I opened my eyes….and there stood Fayez.

“What is this?” I asked myself. Abba was still singing…..and that is only the first track on the CD. I glanced at the clock…..I glanced at Fayez. Fayez was early! No…..I had to be dreaming.

“How can this be. This must be a mistake” But, no…..I was sure it was Fayez. Then I became wide awake. I realized that I had seen an important event in history….something that had never happened before….and may never happen again: Fayez was early! Fayez threw his suitcases into the back of the car….and soon, we were off on our adventure……and just about on time.

We drove up US 75 into Nebraska. It was a steamy night. So steamy, in fact…..that the camera lens steamed over, making it almost impossible to take any pictures that night. The difference in temperature between inside the house and outside the house….the difference in temperature between the inside of the cool interior of car and the temperature outside the car….caused the camera lens to fog over almost immediately. This was one of those nights when we definitely gave thanks for the invention of air-conditioning…..even though it did mean ruining a night’s worth of pictures. But….given the choice between comfort and pictures…..we gladly chose comfort.

As we drove along, we talked and laughed and joked…..and of course, traded a few insults. We ate our Subway sandwiches I had bought earlier in the day. But……We were running late……probably due to stopping in Holton for some supplies…..and due to the slow speed limits on US 75…..and stopping to take pictures of state signs….most of which were ruined by the fogged-up lens on the camera.

According to my calculations, we should have arrived in South Sioux City, Nebraska, somewhere around 10:30 P.M. Ten thirty came and went….and we still had many miles to drive. Other than our stop in Holton….and the stops at the state borders, we didn’t waste any time…..but it was approaching midnight when we approached South Sioux Falls.

Little did we know at this point that an even bigger surprise was waiting for us…..something that would set us back at least another half hour or forty-five minutes. I had booked a room through the Expedia web site in motel just off I-29. We walked into the motel tired and worn out….and ready to get a good night’s sleep….at least, what was left of the night. I gave my name to the hotel clerk…..a foreigner, of course. He checked the reservations. “No reservation,” he said.

“Check again,” I asked him. “I made a reservation and it was confirmed.”

The foreign clerk checked again….and shook his head. “No reservation,” he repeated.

“Surely there has to be a mistake. I have the confirmation e-mail right here.”

He started to rummage through the reservations. “Oh, you have a reservation for August 11th”

What? That was after our trip was ended…..after we were back home again. But….obviously there had been a mistake. And…..is wasn’t mine! Apparently Expedia had reserved the room for the wrong date. We were out of luck!

“Do you have a room we can rent?’ I asked.

“No….all booked up.”

He did suggest another motel, however.  For some reason, we didn’t look for it immediately,  but set off on our own to find another motel with an available room.  The “motel gods” were working against us that night.  We tried two or three motels.   They were either fully occupied…..or closed.  Finally, we thought of the motel the clerk had suggested.

We found it….and it was still open…..and they had a vacant room for

us to rent.  Even thought it was not 12:30 in the morning, the owner seemed to be out and about…..doing something,  Of course….he was a foreigner, too.  He smiled at us…..took our money…..and smilingly led us to our room.  Wow….we were relieved.  Finally a place to stay.  A place to lay our weary bodies down…..and sleep.

He opened the door for us…..and with a sweeping gesture welcomed us inside…..and is we were entering a suite at a 5-star motel.  but….it was NOT a 5-star hotel.   It wasn’t even a ZERO star hotel.   Quite frankly…it was a dump!  There were two small rooms….so dimly lit that we almost needed a flashlight to find our way around.  And….probably for good reason!  They probably didn’t want us to see that the room was dirty; the carpets were stained; the furniture…..or lack of it….was broken down and old.   I am assuming that the bedding…..the sheets, bed spread and pillow cases….had been washed….but that would have been difficult to prove in a court.

But….the owner….the foreigner…..seemed to be bursting with pride with his motel. And us…..we had no other choice. This would be where we would sleep…..and by that time, I was so tired that I could have slept standing up. Fayez slept in a little bedroom where the air-conditioner was located. And I? I slept in the “front room”, so to speak. I had expected to toss and turn the remainder of the night from the suffocating heat. But, surprisingly enough, the little air-conditioner actually worked…..and I even reached for blanket sometime during the night.

We woke up…..fortunately with no diseases or anything like that. Of course, there was no breakfast! We took showers, packed our stuff into the car…..dropped the key in the key return box…..and left! I think there was a general agreement between Fayez and me that we would strike this off our list of possible motels in the unlikely event that we should ever return to South Sioux City, Nebraska.

 

Fortunately….again due to my fantastic advance planning….this was to be the only misfortune or misunderstanding over reservations for the remainder of the trip. Our next major objective before leaving the city was to find a place to eat breakfast. Quite frankly, I am very easy to please when comes to food. I often say that I am on a “see food” diet. I see food……I eat it! I am not very particular. Just set some food in front of me…..and I am satisfied. Fayez is not so easily appeased, however.

We stopped at a casino…..which seem to be very legal in Nebraska…. Fayez went to check on breakfast….. He came back out and said that some guy was going to lead us to the best place in South Souix City to eat breakfast. I am just a little hesitant to follow strange people….in a strange city….to strange, unknown places. But….it turned out well. It was a good place to eat breakfast….and was full of local yokals….and friendly waitresses. With out stomachs satisfied….and our spirits somewhat higher….we took off for the first full day of our vacation.

“On the road again….Expecting that the world be going our way…..” (John Denver)

Now…..it really feels like we are in South Dakota. We are heading west on I-90. There is nothing to slow us down…..just miles and miles of interstate highway stretching in front of us. There are very few towns to break the monotony of driving…..just miles of vast fields of South Dakota farm land.

People often joke about

 

 

 

 

People often joke about Kansas….calling it a vast wasteland. Or a state whose only purpose is to serve as a barrier between Missouri and Colorado……a state that has to be driven through to get to the Golden West. Kansas has often been described as being “flat as a pancake”. And somebody actually did research to prove that this is true. Of course, those of us who have lived in Kansas all our lives know this description is pure nonsense….a bunch of bull. The eastern one-third of the state consists of the Flint Hills…hundreds….if not thousands….of square miles of rolling hills. Yes, central Kansas is flat. But, its flatness is more than compensated for by the lush fields of wheat and soy beans and milo.

But…..when it comes to boring…..surely South Dakota will win that prize any day of the year. Apparently even South Dakota recognizes this. They have set their upper speed limit at 80 mph. And, why not? There is nothing to slow a person down. Often it is difficult to keep speed down…..whether it be the urge to get through the state as quickly as possible….or whether it is the mesmerizing ribbon of seemingly endless highway. But, a driver should not be lulled into a sense of false security. Even though South Dakota has set their speed limit high……they are certainly serious about enforcing it. I-90 is well patrolled. It is not at all uncommon to see state troopers parked in the medians….or driving along the highways….keeping a close watch for unsuspecting drivers who may think that the posted speed signs are merely a polite formality.

Unless a person chooses to stop at one of the few bona fide towns located at infrequent intervals along the highway, the only real opportunities to stop…rest…and to stretch muscles….are the highway rest areas. These rest areas are normally crowded with both tourists and truckers seeking a few minutes of relief from the highway. The rest areas are welcome green oases from the vast areas of uninhabited prairies.

Most of the rest areas have picnic tables. Ours did…..and we took advantage of the stop by eating our lunch. And, in our situation, our lunches were usually improvised….and consisted of anything edible we could readily put our hands on…..usually sandwiches made of peanut and jelly and sandwiches made of sliced turkey meat and cheese. For the first few days, we also treated ourselves to boiled eggs….which I had left over in my refrigerator.

After we picked up I-90 at Sioux City, South Dakota, and stopping only for a lunch break and maybe a couple rest sessions, we drove steadily across the state…..after a while, paying little attention to the surrounding landscape. There are a limit to the number of wheat

fields and corn fields that can hold one’s attention….even though there is a certain beauty to them. After all, this is our nation’s food supply. Without the vast fertile fields of grain and the thousands of square miles of pasture land which provide the food for the nation’s beef, pork and dairy animals, we would not be the great “bread basket” of the nation….and of the world.

But….. Even acknowledging all this, the landscape does take on an undeniable sameness. For the vast majority of the people who travel this highway, they have no hint that only a few miles to the south of these fertile fields lies the largest undisturbed mixed grass prairie in the United States. And, within this vast grassland lies a spectacular area of sharply eroded buttes, pinnacles, and spires…..which have been formed through thousands of years of relentless forces of nature…..water erosion and wind erosion. These earth and rock formation are known at the Badlands of South Dakota…..almost 243,000 acres in area.

It was mid-afternoon. We had driven about four-fifths the distance across the state of South Dakota when we finally left I-90 and headed south to take a look at the Badlands National Park. To me, the vast areas of peaks and valleys that have been carved out of the soil are fascinating…..and well as beautiful. For one thing…..they are so unexpected. Except for a sign pointing the way, there is no other visible evidence that they exist. A person who does not know this area….or a person who doesn’t read highway signs….would simply drive past it…..never knowing that it was there.

Driving through the Badlands is interesting. There are plenty of opportunities to stop and take pictures. But the best way to fully appreciate this park is to hike on one or more of the many well defined trails….and be surrounded on every side by the beauty of the landscape. One the three other occasions I have been there, this is exactly what we did. We spend several hours hiking the trails and taking pictures. But…sadly to say….that was back in my younger days….days when I was in better shape and in better health.

I felt badly for Fayez. Even though I encouraged him to go ahead and do some exploring by himself, he declined to do so. Maybe out of consideration for me….not wanting to leave me by myself while he was off having fun. If he had chosen to go off for a while on his own adventure, that would have been fine with me. It would have given him the opportunity to experience the Badlands up close. And, maybe it would have made his experience more personal and memorable. Climbing down into the valleys….being surrounded on all sides by cliffs and spires….being separated from the highway and “civilization” would have perhaps have given him a new perspective and appreciation of the unique beauty of the Badlands.

Or….maybe it was simply because it is not much fun to do things like this alone. And, I certainly understand that feeling. It is more fun and often more meaningful to share such occasions with others. But, in any event, we stopped in several places, took pictures…..and moved forward on our journey. For those tourists…..like us…..who only want to look and take pictures, there is a loop through the park…..a strip of highway that winds approximately 40 miles off I-90…..from east to west. Once we were back on the Interstate, we were only a short distance from your destination for the day: The Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore National Monument. Our first stop was in Rapid City to fill up with gasoline. Our next stop was intended to be our destination for the day….the Mt. Rushmore KOA Campground that would be our home for the that night and the next night. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done, though. Fayez entered the address into the GPS. For some unknown reason, the GPS didn’t recognize the address.

Unbelievable! We are headed to one of the most popular tourist destinations in the USA….and the GPS has never heard of it? Now I am beginning to question what kind of GPS unit I bought. The answer seemingly boiled down to one of two choices: (1.) The GPS was manufactured before 1941 (when the Monument was dedicated)….which was rather unlikely! Or… (2.) The GPS unit was a piece of worthless junk!

The KOA is located on highway 244…..the same highway that leads

to Mt. Rushmore. How could the GPS not know that? We checked the atlas we had brought with us…. We checked the little maps on the brochures we had picked up in town….. They all knew where highway 244 was located….. The location of Mt. Rushmore was no secret to them.

Without the magical GPS to guide us….we had to resort to our desperate last choice: Follow the directions on the map…..and read the highway signs. We….at least Fayez…..felt that we had been transported back into a long-ago era…..an era which was void of modern technology…..and when human beings were forced to use their own ingenuity and intelligence and resourcefulness to guide them to any given target. At one point, we even considered waiting until darkness fell….and use the stars as our guide.

As for me…..as we drove along one of the highways going south out of Rapid City, I recognized many of the landmarks. Landmarks….which in this case can be translated more literally as “Tourist Traps”….abound by the dozen. Tame bears, pony rides, water slides, “museums”……anything to get a dollar out of a tourist’s pocket. Because of these familiar sights, I knew that at least we were in the right vicinity….at least, the right state…..and it was only a matter of time before we would find the highway we were looking for……the highway that would lead us to our campground.

Once we located the town of Hill City, we were able to orient ourselves….and figure out where we needed to go. It was also about this time that the GPS Unit woke up and decided that it, too, knew where we were! I am not sure if had been asleep….or whether it was one of those “special ed” type GPSes…..and just need a little bit of extra time to figure things out.

Shortly after leaving Hill City, we turned east onto highway 244….and within a few minutes we had arrived at our destination: The Mt. Rushmore Campground. No….No….that isn’t right. It was the Mt. Rushmore Campground and RESORT. As I said earlier, most….it not all….of the KOA’s where we have stayed have been locally owned….family owned….franchises…..many times with the entire family involved in its operation. The people who stay there almost always get friendly, personal attention. In many cases there is a small general store which stocks the most basic of supplies that travelers might need. And, commonly they have a small laundry that tourists can use. Some of them may even have a swimming pool that is open during the daylight hours.

But, this KOA was not your ordinary campground. It was as much a “resort” as it was a campground…..inasmuch as a campground can be called a resort. Personally, I would classify it as perhaps a “poor man’s resort”, at its best…..and an expensive tourist trap, at its worst. Included in the sprawling compound were such “amenities” as 2 large swimming pools, a bike shop, a car rental agency, a catering service, a chuck wagon dinner show, a climbing wall, stables, a “splash park”, UTV (utility terrain vehicle) rentals…..not mention the store, cafe and gift shop….. All of which cost an extra fee.

In fact, it had everything except WI-FI. I don’t know. Maybe they figured that if they furnished free wi-fi, people would spend their time using it, rather than spending money on their other “attractions”. Ask Fayez….. for me, this could have been the first strike against the campground. I had waited two days to log onto my e-mail accounts….only to find out that I could rent a horse….but not log onto the Internet.

Oh…but let me tell you what else the “resort” DOES have. It has many roads…. which were all heading uphill. It had an abundance of rocks that one could easily stumble over in the dark. It had a terrain that did not have one square foot of level ground…..This would have been great, if one of my legs was shorter than the other leg. It had long walks to the showers….all uphill….. Again, great if I had been training to climb Mt. Everest. It had showers which were located exactly in the middle of the large 55 feet self-contained RV’s…..the only vehicles which had their own comfortable showers. It had cabins with little desks….but no chairs to sit on (but on the other hand, there was no wi-fi, either…).

Yeah….the campground was in a beautiful environment….the trees, the mountains in the background. But, for me, none of this was enough to compensate for the discomfort and the inconvenience of the rocky, hilly, sprawling terrain. Throughout our entire stay there, I felt like I was constantly standing at an angle….always tipped to one side…..feeling much like I was the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Maybe that was because I was.

Fayez, on the other hand, loved it…..and was quite satisfied and happy. Maybe I can persuade him to write a paragraph or two giving his impression of the campground….and the two nights we spent there. Aside from all of my complaints….and they are legitimate ones…..it did not prevent Fayez and me from having a good time. And, it did not prevent Fayez from preparing a couple highly delicious meals. The first night, we enjoyed his specialty: chicken with rice and vegetables.

(By Fayez:  ‘Mt. Rushmore Campground, it is not as bad as Beryl made sounds. In addition, it was one of the best campgrounds that we stayed in this trip. It is true that it was bigger than normal but it was accepted to be big comparing it as it is being close to Mt. Rushmore. The camping place was located in the top of hill where the wound was blowing so peacefully late at night. We did not have any problem with insect or any sort of thing like that for the first time in that trip. Even though, the place was packed with a lot of people, who came today for the same purpose as us, we did not have any problem with people making noises or distraction. For the shower thing, it took us 30 seconds to hop in the car and be in the actual restrooms. I do agree with beryl for one thing only which is that the ground is not level, and there were rocks all over. But I want tell beryl that live cannot easy all the time, you have to be adventures and take the risk to be a real man and take it’….)

One of the few good things about the KOA was that it had a very comfortable mattress. I slept well both nights. And, although the days were quite warm….even bordering on being hot….it cooled off nicely at night. This, of course, was a gift from Mother Nature…..and not of the KOA.

Sunday morning, after a breakfast of raisin bran, a boiled egg and some coffee, we headed toward Mt. Rushmore….only a few minutes up the highway toward the east. Although it was fairly early on Sunday morning, the parking lot was filling up quickly at Mt Rushmore. Very luckily we were able to find a parking spot very near the entrance to the Monument.

Mt. Rushmore is quite amazing. Even though it is not a very interactive park, it makes up for this in its awesome beauty and wonder…..and incomparable dimensions and detail. The monument was the brainchild of a man named Doane Robinson…..who contacted the Gutson Borglum, a renowned sculptor, who had worked on other such projects.

Construction on the Monument began in 1927 and continued until its dedication on October 31, 1941…..shortly before the USA entered World War II. Although there was some controversy concerning who should be displayed on the Monument, in the end the final choices were George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt…..all considered to be among the most important and influential presidents in our history.

The total cost of of the Monument was approximately $990,000. That probably sounds unbelievably cheap….. Today it is less than money than 90% of university football and basketball coaches are paid every year! One million dollars back in 1935 would be worth somewhere in the vicinity of $17,000,000 in today’s market. Still not a bad price to pay for such a monumental undertaking.

Ninety percent of the “sculpting” was accomplished with dynamite. And, it is astonishing that not even one person lost his life during the 17 years of the construction.

Leading up to the main viewing area, we walked along the Avenue of Flags….a walkway flanked on each side by the flags of each of the 50 states….plus the flags of the District of Columbia…..and the American owned territories. Of course, we stopped to take each of our pictures with the Kansas flag.

 

 

 

 

 

Although we could see the faces of the presidents from many places….even from outside the park….they can be seen in their full magnificence only from the viewing platform directly in front of the monument. And, as one would expect, this is the spot where all of the people want their picture taken….and usually not just one picture….but several pictures. There is no other choice except to wait until there is an empty spot before having your picture taken. And….don’t even think of having your picture taken without any other people in it. It’s just not going to happen! Everybody is competing for their opportunity to have their picture taken….. And, Fayez and I were no different than the rest of the crowd. Once we had claimed our spot…..we took as many pictures as we needed before relinquishing it to somebody else. But…..the crowd is friendly. All of them have come for the same purpose…..so there is a general understanding that you may as well be patient until your turn comes around.

 

 

 

One thing that we found at Mt. Rushmore…..and at most parks…..is that people were always cheerfully willing to take pictures of Fayez and me together. And…..they are also happy when we volunteeres to take their picture. And, of course…..there are always the usual quota of people carrying the annoying selfie sticks, too.

I have visited Mt. Rushmore probably four or five times. And, every time I go there, I am truly in awe of how the people doing the sculpting…..the dynamite blasting…..are able to put the entire process into perspective…..and visualize it so accurately…..the steps to be taken to end up with an image that bears such a close resemblance to the person they are sculpting. When I consider that the face of George Washington is 60 feet long….it boggles my mind to understand how the workers could start out with the bare side of a mountain…..and end up with highly recognizable likenesses of the four presidents. I guess the lesson to be learned from this is…..I had better stick with things that I know…and leave sculpting to somebody else.

It was a hot day. The sun was bearing down with no clouds in the sky. We spent more than an hour at the Monument. After taking several pictures of Mt. Rushmore….from several angles….there was not much more to do. The carvings of the four faces are the main attraction….the only attraction. Right before we left the viewing area to walk back to our car, we did the thing that Fayez probably enjoyed the most about the visit. Fayez bought each of us an ice cream cone! I am not sure how much he paid for them….but whatever he paid, it was worth it. After standing in the sun for an hour, we were ready for something cool and refreshing…..and ice cream hit the target.

The visit to Mt. Rushmore gave me….an old history teacher….an opportunity to give Fayez a short lesson in United States history……by explaining who each of the presidents was….and why each of them was important in the history of our country. And….the only president whose qualifications I might be tempted to question would be Theodore Roosevelt. But, even then, I was able to tell Fayez several important things he did while he was in office. It took a couple attempts, but Fayez did pass the test on the name and location of each of the four presidents….and even why each of them is important. I am not sure if he could pass that test today….but he did well at the time of the test. And, as we all know….that is what is important. And….I hope he finally realized that studying history is equally as difficult as studying chemistry!

It was after noon by now….time to move on to something else. In our case, it was Custer State Park. Custer State Park was sort of a disappointment for me. In the first place, we had a difficult time finding it. Every other time I have visited the park, we entered from either the east or the south. But, never from the west. Every other time I have visited the park, we always planned our route using a map….a real map.

And, for some reason, Custer State Park seemed different this time. Nothing looked familiar. I didn’t see any recognizable landmarks. The only real attraction of the park is the herds of buffalo….or bison….that roam freely, grazing in the expansive grasslands and in the forests of the Black Hills. On each of my former visits, we have seen the buffalo. I can prove it. I have pictures of them.

 

And, an even better attraction is the donkeys or burros that call Custer Park their home. The donkeys are docile…tame. They can commonly be found on or near the road that runs through the park. They are eagerly waiting for any human being who will stop and pet them…..and give them something to eat. We always stopped our car….got out…and petted the friendly animals. We put our arms around them….fed them….talked to them….. However, if you are nervous….or afraid….to get out of the car to face these cute, cuddly animals, just open the window of your car and they will stick their head inside. Sort of self-service petting. Of course, they are being friendly…but there are also looking for some sort of hand out. So be prepared….have some bread or fruit or vegetables handy as a reward.

 

 

But, this year, we didn’t see any. No buffalo. No burros. Not even any camels. I don’t know. I can imagine we were simply in the wrong place. But, for me, it was a major disappointment.

We did see some beautiful scenery, however. Lots of spectacular rock formations. We drove through several miles of thick forests. We drove through a few tunnels….none of which I recall from any previous visit. It was a pleasant drive.

Our next objective was to find the sculpture of Crazy Horse. Of course, it wasn’t listed on the GPS either. After driving east for several miles, we finally realized that we were probably going to wrong direction. And, of course, we were. Retracing our route, eventually we did find the Crazy House sculpture…..another one of those sculptures which is carved….or blasted….into the side of a mountain. I can imagine that it’s purpose is to be a copy-cat tourist opportunity. If people will come to see Mt. Rushmore which displays the faces of some famous presidents…..maybe they will also pay to see a deja vu version of an Indian chief. Fortunately, this monument-in-progress is visible from the highway…..because it is certainly nothing that I would want to pay good money to see. I last saw this sculpture in 2002…..and it looks much the same today as it looked then. This monument is being financed by private funds, I think…..so perhaps is why progress is so slow. But….even when it is done…..so what? It is a likeness of an Indian riding a horse. Oh well….. There are all sorts of ways to make money from the public. By this time, both Fayez and I were starting to grow weary of driving….an we headed back to the campground……the resort…..or maybe “last resort” would be better description.

The second night we spent at Mt. Rushmore KOA we decided to be a bit more creative with our supper. I thought that maybe I was one of the few people in the world who really likes to eat liver. Most people turn up their nose….or make disgusting gagging sounds….when they hear the word liver. But, what a fortunate coincidence: Fayez also likes liver. So, we bought some liver….plus a cast iron skillet….and enjoyed an appetizing and tasty meal of liver…..and you guessed it…..rice. So, not only did we enjoy a delightful and different meal…..but I now have another cast iron skillet to add to my already more-than-adequate collection.

No matter how uncomfortable and inconvenient the campground was, it never kept Fayez and me from relaxing at night beside a campfire…sometimes until late into the night. Generally speaking, we had the night to ourselves. When darkness fell, the other campers disappeared into their RV’s or their cabins…..or their tents. So, as a strong breeze played with the campfire….and as the leaves of the trees rustled in the background and the crickets, the cicadas and other night sounds formed a curtain of serenity…..Fayez and I sat from talking and laughing and having fun solving the problems of the world…..and enjoying the freedom and serenity of nature and the great outdoors…..all the while trying to avoid the ubiquitous smoke that followed us no matter where we put our chairs.

We woke early Monday morning, ate our breakfast, packed our stuff back into the car…..and left the KOA Campground and Resort. And, for me…..there were no tears shed as we drove away! It wasn’t so much that I was eager to get away from the Black Hills….although I think we had seen as much as we wanted to see. But, it meant that I did not have to spend another night in that uncomfortable campground. I was hoping that at our next campground, I could at least stand up straight….and not be constantly leaning to one side. I think I can say with a great deal of certainty…..that will be the last time I will see that campground. I have to claim most….if not all….of the blame for staying there two nights, instead of one night. I told Fayez earlier that I thought I had made only ONE mistake in the planning of the trip….although I didn’t tell him what it was.

About a week before we were to leave, it dawned on me that for our second night, it would have been to our advantage to move to a campground closer to our next destination. I am not sure why I didn’t think of this when I was making the reservations, but by now it was….for me, at least…..too late to go through the hassle of canceling our reservation for Sunday night…..and looking for another campground on down the highway. It was just easier to stay in the Black Hills KOA….and drive a little bit farther the next day. But….I have found out that sometimes doing the easiest thing is not necessarily the best thing!

But….in my defense, I had no idea that the campground would be so…so….disagreeable. Most of the time, it is difficult….if not impossible…..to know these things in advance. I was more concerned about it having a picnic table….a fire ring….available firewood….. And, of course, the description in the advertisement in their brochure always sounds good.

So….we drove back into Rapid City to get back onto I-90….and headed west for some miles before turning north toward Sturgis. Sturgis is famous for its motorcycle rally held each summer…..when literally thousands of motorcyclists descent on the small town for a week of partying and smoking weed. The rally was still a couple weeks away when we drove through the small town. However, there were an inordinate number of motorcyclists at both Mt. Rushmore and Custer State Park…..most of them traveling in groups…..if not gangs.

It is always said that most of these motorcyclists are ordinary people, from all walks of life. Well….I don’t know about that. But, I can say that all of the motorcyclists that we saw were very well behaved….with no hint of a problem. Yeah…..they look like hoodlums….at least some of them do. But, I guess I would, too, if I were dressed in leather, with a headband, boots and gloves…..in the middle of the summer. I mean, we certainly did not see any of the motorcyclists wearing a suit and tie!

It was sort of amusing to me. We had stopped in Custer State Park. Fayez wanted to climb down to a rock formation to have his picture taken. I waited for him in the parking area. While I was standing there waiting to take his picture, there were three or four motorcyclists standing nearby. They were all dressed in their motorcycle attire. They looked somewhat unshaven. In other words, they fit the stereotype of the typical motorcyclist. I wasn’t eve dropping on their conversation….not intentionally, at least. But, I couldn’t escape hearing their conversation. I don’t know exactly what I expected them to be talking about…..maybe their next party….or where they would buy their next supply of marijuana….or about the next fight they had planned with a rival gang? But….No! They were discussing the stock market…and how various stocks were doing on the market. Who know? Maybe motorcyclists are just ordinary people, after all….at least, some of them.

After we departed I-90, a few miles west of Rapid City, we drove for several hours on a two lane state highway…..something pretty rare for this trip. Two lane state highways are by far the best way to see the countryside…..to absorb the atmosphere and ambiance of the area. It is only on the two lane highways that a person has the opportunity to drive through the small towns and villages….to see the local landmarks….the schools, the churches, the parks, the quaint downtowns….. It is the only way to observe people as they go about their daily routine….and live their everyday lives. If we had the luxury of another week or ten days, we could have….and would have….taken this more leisurely route. But….time was the king….the dictator of our schedule.

The next two days have pretty well been lost in my memory. We didn’t stop and take pictures…..and nothing significant comes to my mind when I try to think back on those days.

North Dakota is just an extension of South Dakota, basically…..although I am sure that the residents of both states will vehemently disagree with that assessment. North Dakota is probably the more productive of the two states. In fact, North Dakota has slipped past Kansas as the leading producer of wheat in the nation. This is largely due to the fact that Kansas farmers have diversified their crops over the past years…..and now produce a larger variety of crops. But…..nevertheless, North Dakota is a largely a state of flat land which disappears off into the distance….farm land…..although one of the nation’s biggest oil booms has taken place there in recent years.

One other things stands out in my memory about our journey through North Dakota. A lot of highway construction was taking place, which, at times tended to slow us down. But, maybe this was good. These stops were among the rare opportunities I had to take pictures.

It was approaching mid-afternoon when we reached the eastern border of North Dakota and crossed over into the state of Minnesota. I think Fayez was rather disappointed about the trip through Minnesota and Michigan. I think this general rule applies: If you want to see spectacular scenery….mountains, deserts, conifer forests, rock formations…..travel to the West. That is where you will find the Rocky Mountains, Yellowstone National Park, the dense forests of northern Idaho, the enchanting rock formations of Utah and Arizona, the Grand Canyon. Travel to the East….and you will see the history and cultural heritage of the USA. I am not saying that much of the East is not beautiful….because it is. But, you will, in general, not find the magnificent grandeur of the Western USA.

Most of the two days were spent winding our way through often heavily forested flat land. Minnesota, for example, is billed as the Land of 10,000 Lakes. Hidden away in the abundant forests are hundreds of fishing and boating resorts, that avid fishermen, boaters, water skiers and campers call paradise. But, after having traveled to the West Coast and the Pacific Ocean the previous summer….and experiencing two weeks of constant visual stimulation…..the trip through Minnesota and Michigan could no way compare to that experience. But, on the other hand, part of our purpose for taking the trip…..other than relaxing and having fun…..was for the experience of becoming acquainted with each of the lower 48 states…..and to appreciate the wide variety of differences within our country. Farmlands of the Midwest and the deciduous forests of the northern states are part of this varying landscape. So…. during the two day drive we transitioned from farmland of Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska and South Dakota….to the Black Hills….back to vast stretches of farmland in South Dakota and North Dakota….to vast stretches of seemingly never-ending forests of Minnesota and Michigan.

On Monday night, we stayed at a KOA in Bemiji, MN. It was late in the day when we arrived…..after the campground office had closed. However, we found our key and cabin number waiting for us when we arrived. Because we arrived late, we decided to make to settle for hot dogs that night…..instead of our usual elaborate meals.

Tuesday, July 28, was a special day. It is not special to everybody…..maybe only to me. And….really….it has become even less important to me as time goes by. In fact, more and more I try to ignore the day. And, unless somebody reminds me….I have been rather successful in ignoring it the past several years. The past couple years, however, it has been vividly brought to my attention….mostly by Fayez. But….that is OK. He is merely pointing out the obvious….only bringing me back to an unpleasant reality.

July 28 is my birthday. Last year, Fayez brought an ice cream cake with him when he came to visit on my birthday. This year….we spent it in our rental car, driving across the states of Minnesota and Michigan to our destination of Newberry, MI……a 517 miles….10 hour drive. There was not a lot of celebrating. Fayez had already given me a gift before we left home…. And that morning before we started on our day’s journey, he gave be a birthday card. That, basically, was our celebration. Fayez didn’t even sing “Happy Birthday” to me.

Maybe the most welcome gift I could have received was to finally arrive at our destination…..and to pull into our KOA Campground before the sun slipped below the western horizon. It was a close call….it wasn’t completely dark….but it really wasn’t very bright outside, either. Neither of us felt like finding a grocery store to buy supplies at such a late hour. So instead of Fayez preparing a sumptuous birthday meal…..we got into the car and drove toward the nearby town of Newberry, searching for a place to eat. And, luck was with us. We spotted a Chinese buffet on the highway. We immediately pulled into the driveway….and decided we would commemorate my 77th birthday by eating Chinese food…..one of our old favorite choices of cuisine. It was a good decision. By the time we got back to the campground, it was dark…..and all we wanted to do was start a fire….sit back and relax and try to erase the long ten hour journey from our short term memory.

As we sat by the fire and talked, I was somewhat surprised how warm the evening was. We were in the far northern part of the USA….actually only a few miles from Canada…. and somehow I had expected that maybe we would even need a jacket to stay warm at night. But…..not true. The temperature did become cooler as the night progressed….which made it a nice for sleeping.

We were looking forward to leaving the days of constant driving behind us….and to head to our next destination…..Detroit. We had seen enough farmland and forests for a while. Now we were ready to take on the Motor City.

It began like most of his visits…..me, sound asleep in my recliner: oblivious to anything but my dreams. I left the front door unlocked….sort of like Motel 6: “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you”…. It was about 9:30 in the morning. I don’t know whether he said something….he probably did…..but all of a sudden I had the feeling that somebody else was in the room. I opened my eyes suddenly and looked up…..probably with a startled look on my face….. and there he was….standing there smiling at me. Fayez had arrived for another visit. This visit was not as long as we had originally planned…..or as long as I wanted it to be….but nevertheless, there he was, saying something original like “Wake up.” Fayez has always had a talent for saying original, clever, witty things like that. I shook my head, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and got up to give him a hug.

Wow….this was an exciting encounter. Fayez had brought two gifts to me! The first gift was a huge metal container of dates….which were produced on his family farm back in Saudi Arabia. These dates were plucked off the trees and packed directing into the metal box. No processing; no preservatives; no artificial coloring or flavoring. These dates were fresh off the farm. Fayez had given dates to me before….but never in this sort of commercial packing container….or in this volume.

Getting dates in this volume was a real treat…..and even a delight, if I can believe the many medical benefits and pleasurable physical enhancements that Fayez claims that the dates have. No matter. The dates are just plain delicious. The second gift was a memento that I had long asked for…..but never expected to receive. I figured that if I am ever able to spend a day or two in Saudi Arabia, maybe I would buy one for myself….only as a souvenir. Certainly I would be the only person in Valley Falls….or among my circle of friends….to own one. It was not very practical…..and I realized that I could probably use it only in the privacy of my own home. But….never mind that. I wanted one…mostly just say that I have one. I had asked Fayez a few times previously to bring me one…..or told him that I was going to buy one when…and if…..I went to Saudi Arabia. I do not like to beg for gifts. Gifts should come from the

heart. “It is more blessed to give than it is to receive.” But, he handed me a sack with Arabic writing on it…..and stood expectantly as I looked inside….and removed its contents. It was an Arab robe….or whatever they are called. The flowing gown that is the native dress for Arab men. I had always wanted one of these….but secretly doubted if I would ever own one. But here I was…..standing in my front room with one of these fine garments in my hand…..and hopefully, with a smile on my face. Fayez seemed pleased that I was pleased. I think he knew that he had done a good thing. That he had come across with the perfect gift….the perfect souvenir or memento….. Of course, the next step was to model the gown (I wish I knew the correct term.) I immediately pulled it on over my head. And, believe me…..this is no easy assignment, especially when the only thing I have ever pulled on over my head is a shirt and a sweater. But, after a little effort….there I was modeling my new article of clothing. It was (and is) a little long….about 8 inches…..but I will have it hemmed up….and wear it on cold winter nights as I sit and read in front of the fire.

Benefiting from my….and I emphasize the word MY….advance planning, our plans for the day had already been made. So, as soon as I took off my Saudi Arabian garment, we were ready to start out on the day’s adventures. We grabbed by new…at least, to Fayez….GPS system, got into his car, and headed for Kansas City…..our destination for the day. Under normal circumstances, I would have planned a rather detailed route to follow. But in deference to Fayez….or maybe in honor of Fayez….I skipped this strategy in favor of letting Fayez depend on the GPS that he has come to worship during his short lifetime. We stopped at a Dollar General Store in Tongonoxie en route so I could buy some bandages. No….this was not the result of any sort of violence between Fayez and me. (If it had been….Fayez would have been the one buying the bandages!) But, it was to treat a small, insignificant scratch on my left arm.

I take a drug which helps prevent blood from clotting on the three stents that I have in arteries near my heart. Of course, this is good! Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now. But….as with most good things, there is also a bad side to the story. If it prevents blood from clotting in my heart….then, guess what? Yeah….you guessed it. It keeps blood from clotting almost anywhere and everywhere in the body, too. Even the smallest of cuts or scratches can seemingly bleed forever. It is more annoying and inconvenient than dangerous…..in a very small cut, at least. A cut which might bleed for a few seconds…..or a few minutes, at the most…..can bleed for long periods of time. When I have asked my doctors….and yes, that is plural….about how to stop it, they all say, “Put pressure on it.” Oh come on now. I am not stupid. Do they think I haven’t tried this already? I am (or used to be) a certified First Aid Instructor. Whatever! But, this little incident happened about 6:30 the previous afternoon….and it continued to bleed until after we got home in mid-afternoon. That is why I needed the bandages. Maybe some day, Fayez, as an aspiring doctor, will be able to come up with a solution that seems to elude other doctors: If they are smart enough to devise a drug to prevent the blood from clotting…..surely somebody will be smart enough to figure out a way to make it clot in places where it should clot. But…..I have digressed. Now….back to the story.

As I looked over some possible interesting ways to spend our time in Kansas City, I considered several amusing and appealing possibilities: The Harry Truman Museum and Library; the Kansas City Museum; the World War I Memorial; the Jazz Museum… Kansas City certainly does not lack for things to do. However, we settled on the Arabian Steamship Museum. Fayez is from Saudi Arabia, and this seemed like a very favorable option. It has been said that “You cannot judge a book by its cover.”….and that is quite possibly correct. Stop and think now. If you have never been to the Arabian Steamship Museum….what would you think it is? Yes….that is what we though, too. We assumed that it had something to do with Saudi Arabia….about a steam boat from Saudi Arabia. This would be something that Fayez could relate to…..and maybe even know a great deal about…..

I was thinking, “Great….Fayez will be able to tell me a lot of details that other people don’t know about the things in the museum. He has probably studied all about this stuff in school…..and knows a lot about it.” Or….more accurately, I was thinking, “He is probably still using most of this stuff in his home. For him, most of the things on display are probably things that he uses every day back home.” Camel saddles….goat bells….large pottery jars to carry water from the oasis….maybe a couple sheepskin tents…..some sandals made from camel skin…..

As the little GPS devise pointed the way to the parking lot, both Fayez and I entered the museum….which wasn’t exactly cheap…..with high expectations of being both entertained and informed. We knew almost immediately….well, I did, at least…..that something was not right when there were no pictures of camels, no barren deserts with a caravan in the distance, no date palms growing around a secluded oasis….. Instead we were greeted with a picture of the Missouri River, lined with trees….and a large paddle wheel boat marooned in the center……. Not the desert scene we had anticipated. My heart skipped a beat or two….I reached for my chest…..I had the feeling of being kicked in the rear…… On another level, I felt like an idiot….a gullible sucker who had just been bamboozled by a carnival sideshow barker. But, mostly, I felt like someone who had not done adequate research. I had taken something for face value…..not having bothered to read the fine print. Not even fine print…..I simply had not taken the time to see what the museum was all about.

I don’t know about Fayez. I can imagine that he also was expecting to spend a couple hours that morning looking at relics from his native country….telling his friend (that would be I) all about them. Displaying his vast knowledge of his country……and acknowledge that, “Yes, indeed! Most of these items could be found in my home back in Saudi Arabia.” But, like they say, “When you are given a lemon…..make lemonade.” And….that is what we did. And, it wasn’t so difficult. In fact, the museum turned out to be a rather interesting place to visit. Steamboat Arabia Museum is a unique museum in the fact that it deals only with one subject……in fact, only one boat. It probably wasn’t as dramatic as the sinking of the Titanic, for example. After all, it was a steamboat….it sank in the Missouri River, not the Atlantic Ocean…..nobody lost their life…..and it hit a tree trunk that had fallen into the river and was submerged unseen beneath the water…..not an iceberg. But…..Wow! The ship contained a cargo of about 200 tons of diverse merchandise. The products and goods on the ship were intended for a variety of purposes: to stock new stores that were staring up in newly founded towns along the river; to supply equipment and supplies for farmers along the river; and even materials to build new villages….   Two hundred tons of almost perfectly preserved household supplies, building material, farming equipment, toys and recreational equipment, clothing, kitchen and food necessities, items ordered by individual families….or being sent to them as gifts….. There was not a single camel saddle or desert tent or earthen vessel in sight! Of course, there were also remnants of the wrecked ship: the huge paddle wheel, the hull of the ship, plus examples of the potentially deadly fallen tree trunks that lurk unseen beneath the surface of the muddy river. One interesting bit of trivia we learned was that the ship was not actually discovered in the Missouri River. Because of severe flooding over the years, the river has changed its course several times. This boat was found a few miles from the present day river by a group of adventurous….and far-sighted….friends who correctly concluded that there were possibly sunken ships buried beneath the earth in the paths where the Missouri River had formerly flowed. In fact, several boats have been discovered over the years….but none approaching the magnitude of the Steamboat Arabia. Immediately after hitting the fateful underwater log, the ship sank quickly…..not just to the bottom surface of the Missouri River……but it continued to sink far down into the mud. So far down that the thick mud formed an air-tight seal around the ship….cutting it off from air, oxygen and anything else that might cause the content of the boat to deteriorate or rot away. Thus….there was almost 200 tons of perfectly preserved….undisturbed….cargo, resting in the original place where it was when the ship sank. I don’t know…..I suppose we could say that was definitely the highlight of the day…..not that the remainder of the day was a bust….not by any means. We ate a leisurely lunch at an outdoor restaurant on the Plaza. I really don’t recall what we ate. It was good, though…..and I am including a picture of it. What I do remember is that I wanted so badly to pick it up and eat it with my hands! That is why we were born with fingers! But, bowing to social convention, I struggled to eat it with a fork….like a proper gentleman. I often wonder what would happen if I would simply pick up the food….food that is clearly intended to be picked up…..and started eating it with my fingers. I bet it wouldn’t be very long before everybody in the restaurant would be following my example…..and probably be giving me a standing ovation. But, no….I followed the artificial rules of etiquette that some lonely old lady with nothing better to do dreamed up while sitting at home alone…..wishing she had man to devote her attention to!

I am almost sure than Fayez would have joined me. I have always eaten such things as pizza, fried chicken, french fries….etc….with my fingers. But, it was Fayez who taught me to eat rice with my fingers. And, that, is one of his valuable contributions to my life. I’ve got to admit that I am not very good at it yet. I tend to get more rice on my shirt and on the floor than I put into my mouth. But….the concept it good. Now I am anticipating additional lessons on how to eat other food with my fingers, too! And….Practice makes perfect. It probably wouldn’t be accurate to say that from this point on, the afternoon headed downhill. However, the visit to the Steamboat Arabia Museum was no doubt the high point of the day…..the feature length movie, if you know what I mean. After eating lunch, we drove to the University of Missouri at Kansas City (UMKC) medical school in hopes of at least a short tour of the School of Osteopathy….. But, apparently our luck had run out for the day. The School of Osteopathy was one giant work zone: No parking lot, no sidewalks, blocked entrances…..

I have been encouraging Fayez to consider osteopathy as one of his options when it is time to choose a medical school. As for me…..I wouldn’t hesitate for a minute to seek out an osteopathic physician as my primary care doctor. Osteopathic doctors have the exact, identical education and training as a medical doctor (MD) has. In fact, they have education and training beyond what medical doctors receive. It seems to me that osteopathic doctors incorporate a more realistic, holistic, all-inclusive approach to treating patients and their diseases.

I don’t know….. Maybe the name “osteopathic doctor” doesn’t have the romantic…and expensive….ring to it as the term “medical doctor”. But….all of you have been around long enough to know that all doctors…..any sort of doctor…..have the almost certain potential to become rich. If not….why else would they be doing it?

OK….enough of my editorial….or infomercial…. After realizing that visiting the School of Osteopathy was not possible, we headed for home….for the ranch. The day’s activities must have taken its toll on us. We had barely gotten on highway US 24 headed toward Tongonoxie, when Fayez admitted that he was so sleepy that he was barely awake…..and that he had to stop and rest before he fell asleep while he was driving. Oh, Wow! This was serious. It looked like all the wild excitement of the day had worn him out. Fayez is a good driver……but only when he is awake. I have never driven with him when he was asleep…..and I did not want to start that afternoon! So, at our earliest opportunity, we pulled in to the parking lot of a convenience store so both of us could take a short nap…..and hopefully, wake up refreshed.

Happily, we made it home. And, happily, we agreed to take a long nap before driving to Topeka. My ideal nap time is eighty minutes. That is the length of one music CD. I pop a CD into the CD player…..turn it on….and when it is finished….I usually wake up ready to attack the evening. Normally, I hear only part of the first song….and then I zonk out, only to wake to silence….or the music of Willie Nelson, who always sings the final song on each of my more than five or six hundred CD’s. I really don’t think Fayez sleeps for eighty minutes. But, he is young….and he doesn’t need as much sleep as I do.

We spent the evening in Terry’s Bar and Grill in Topeka…..by far our most favored bar in the city. Terry’s Bar is almost a prototype of the neighborhood bar. Most of the people who go there seem to know each other. The owner and staff of the bar quickly learned to recognize us….many times bring our drinks without having to ask what we want. I don’t think it is mandatory to buy food… But, I always feel somewhat obligated to buy at least an appetizer, if only because we often spend three or four hours just sitting and talking.

Terry’s Bar is a great place to sit and talk. There are several TV monitors, usually showing area athletic teams. There is music playing in the background…..real music, not today’s ear-splitting, unintelligible hip-hop or rap music. That is not the kind of customers Terry’s attracts. When the bar is full…..of course, the noise level can climb a few decibels. But, it is always a friendly noise…..the chatter and laughter of friends getting together for a party or just a neighborhood social hour.

After the people leave…..and it is always quite early…..I can well imagine that Fayez and I are the loudest, most obnoxious people in the bar….especially when we begin to argue….or “discuss” or “debate” some topic. No….no…..We are never loud or obnoxious…..and we never disturb other people. At least, not intentionally. At any rate, we have never been kicked out of the bar…..and we are always welcomed back….time after time after time. Surely, that is a good sign.

As it does in many cases, our day ended with a visit to Wal-Mart to stock up on whatever food we are planning for the next day. If I had my choice….and if it were possible and practical…..I would do ALL of my shopping in the early morning hours. At 1:00 A.M., Wal-Mart is a shopper’s paradise…..a shopper’s dream come true. We are able park our car within a few steps of the door. The aisles are not clogged with shoppers…. There are no noisy kids running up and down the aisles…..no fat-ass women standing in the center of the aisle talking…..no handicapped shoppers driving their motorized carts down the center of the aisle, daring us to try to pass them….no unprepared, perplexed men trying to find a product while talking to their wives (or mistresses) on a cell phone…..

Wal-Mart restocks its stores at night, so there will be some carts loaded with groceries, but you can maneuver your way around them. On the plus side…..there are LOTS of people working at restocking the shelves, and that means if you have a question, there are lots of employees around who cheerfully help you. Wait time at the checkout stand is minimal. There are not as many clerks working…..but neither are there as many customers. Checkout times are much faster…. Shopping in the early morning hours is as about as close as you can come to in-and-out shopping.

Thursday dawned bright and cheerful. Well, no…..that’s not right! Actually it didn’t “dawn” at all. I opened the door to a dark, overcast sky. The clouds look ominous….almost like they were daring us to carry through with our day’s schedule. And, our days schedule depended rather greatly on the weather. We were at the mercy…..and good graces….of Mother Nature. How was she feeling that day? Did she wake up in a good mood?

For a while, Mother Nature was like most women….she couldn’t make up her mind. But, as always, Fayez and I are not the quickest, most alert people in the morning, either. We constantly say that we are going to wake up at a certain time….be going to a certain place at a certain time…..or be doing a certain job at a certain time….. But, it rarely….no, it never…..happens. I would like to say this is all Fayez’s fault. And, maybe three years ago, I could.

When I first met Fayez back in December of 2012….the first time he spent time at my house……it was easier for me to ride a wild camel than it was to get Fayez out of bed in the morning! Any attempt to wake him up was greeted with an unintelligible grunt. It took begging, cajoling….and even threats to rouse him into a semi-awake state of mind. And, even then, I didn’t dare leave him alone. If I did….he would immediately lapse back into a state of sleep……and I would have to repeat the entire process over again. Finally, I adopted the strategy setting his wake-up time about 30 minutes early….in hopes that I would be successful and rouse him to a state of consciousness to get on with the day’s agenda.

But….times have changed….and so has Fayez. Probably the secret for this transformation is his cell phone. It seems to emit strange sounds all night long. I can even hear them a room away. It also has an alarm…..which, although not very loud…..seems to work. These days his desire to check the cell phone for messages is a huge motivating factor to wake up and become alert. Over the past few years, Fayez’s right arm has been conditioned to automatically reach for the cell phone the instant his eyes open in the morning. Sort of a like Pavlov and his dogs, I suppose.

At any rate, in recent times, Fayez has begun to allege that it is I who tends to obstruct progress in the morning.

I will be the first to admit that I am a true believer in organization…..that I am addicted to lists, schedules, time tables…..shackled to careful planning. I don’t know….maybe it all the indoctrination I received while serving in the army. The old “Hurry up and wait.” thing. Or perhaps I have seen….and suffered….the consequences of too many poorly planned schedules and agendas that I have made while working at the school.

Or….nowadays, I can probably just chalk it up to the fact that I am getting old. And….they say that the memory is the first thing to go….among other things. If I don’t plan in advance….and write it down….there is a very good chance that I will forget about it….and it will never happen.

But, I think a rather strange thing is happening. Tight organization….strict time schedules….are becoming less important to me…..but more important to Fayez. Maybe it is my imagination, but it seems to be he who is always prompting me to hurry up. It often is he who is waiting for me….pacing back and forth impatiently glancing at his newly acquired wrist watch….something he refused to believe he needed until recently.

When he gives me those, “Hurry up….. Why aren’t you ready yet?” looks, I am never sure whether to feel annoyed…..or proud. Sometimes I get these spooky feelings that maybe some of my organizational and efficiency urgency is rubbing off on him. And, even more freaky is the feeling that it may be like pouring water from one glass to another glass: As one glass gets fuller….the other glass gets emptier.

But…..getting back to the story: The day was cloudy….but it wasn’t pouring down rain. Our only objective for the morning was to build a bird feeder. By 10:00 we were sufficiently ready to start the job. The bird feeder we were going to construct was the same bird feeder that Oliver and I had constructed a couple months earlier during his visit. It seemed to be very popular with the birds, so I figured: “If it ain’t broke….don’t fix it.” Or….if you have the ball…..run with it.

In anticipation of this construction project, I had all the lumber pre-cut to save on time. Having the lumber cut to the correct lengths in advance certainly did save some time for Fayez and me as we prepared to build the bird feeder. But….in the long run, I am not at all

sure it saved time for me. I spent an hour at the home improvement store explaining to three high school age boys exactly what I needed to have…..and watching the three of them trying to figure out how to accomplish this seemingly impossible task. Finally, a guy who I assumed was an assistant manager came along to help them…..after I explained what I wanted for the tenth time. Actually, he didn’t know much more than the high school kids knew….but they finally figured out the magic of using the big saw…..and cut the wood I needed. If I could have video-taped the entire incident, it would have made a great You Tube video.

With all the components pre-cut to the correct size, the bird feeder rapidly took shape. Fayez was in charge of the electric drill….and I held each piece in place while it screwed the little bolts into place.

For an amateur with no experience in screwing, I have to say that Fayez did a very good job. Things went as scheduled until we finally came to the last steps. And…..then I found that I had forgotten one step…..I had simply forgotten about one of the most important parts. I already told you that my planning and organizational skills are deteriorating….right?

I had neglected to include the 1×2’s that go on the outside of the feeder and keep the seed inside…..and keep the seed from falling out. But, necessity is the Mother of Invention, as they say. Improvise….Adapt…..Overcome.

I had some spare lumber…..and now it was time to improvise. We got the job done. The end product didn’t look as nice or as professional as the bird feeder that Oliver and I built. But, as I am fond of saying, “The birds don’t care what the feeder looks like….only about the food.”

Fayez got to experience something new for him….which is always

good. He seemed to enjoy it. I don’t think he fully appreciated how ugly the bird feeder turned out. But….the good news: it can be repaired. The next time he comes to my house, we will make some modifications…..and hopefully improve its appearance….and make it look like it was not put together as a kindergarten project…..or that it was constructed in an institution for mentally challenged people.

It was my fervent hope that painting it would make is look better. That adding some color would disguise some of its defects. But, Alas! This did not happen. It will have to undergo some major surgery.

And, who is there better to do this….except for an aspiring doctor who needs some practice in this area……under the direction of a master teacher, of course.

We painted the bird feeder yellow and black…..the colors of Wichita State University, the university that Fayez attends. And, to emphasize the fact that the yellow and black were intended as the WSU colors…..and not the Valley Falls colors…..we painted “WSU” on the roof…..on both sides. Certainly….no offense to Valley Falls. But we wanted to make sure the true intent of the choice of colors was clear.

After we finished building the bird feeder…..admiring it…..taking pictures of it…… It was time to get ready to drive into town to get haircuts. Every time Fayez comes to visit, I make an appointment so he can get his haircut at the same time I do. Of course, I have been going to Laurie Glassel for at least twenty-five years. And, for good reason: She does a super job of cutting hair.

Not only has she cut my hair down through the ages, but she has also cut the hair of all my foreign exchange students. Most of them look forward to going to her when they come back for a visit. Without exception, all of my former students say she is by far the best barber they have ever had…..both before and after they spent the year living in the USA.

And, it took Fayez only one visit to come to the same conclusion. When he leaves her shop, his thick black hair has never looked so good. I have never cut anybody’s hair, but I can imagine that cutting and styling hair as thick as Fayez’s hair takes more than just a little talent. She is very meticulous….and she cuts and styles hair to please the customer…..and not herself.

At any rate, we both walked out with fresh haircuts…..and headed back home to the Ranch. Almost immediately we began to prepare for our late afternoon meal….our only real meal of the day. Fayez is always in charge of preparing the food. If he weren’t….we would live on a steady diet of pizza, frozen dinners and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Fortunately, however, Fayez likes to cook….and even more fortunately….he is good at it. He is capable to conjuring up some delicious Saudi Arabian food….using his mysterious, exotic Middle East spices that the tongues of the Western world are not capable to pronouncing.

Over the years, I have learned to simply leave him alone while he is preparing his recipes. There is nothing I can do to help the situation…..and my offers of assistance only serve to slow the process….and possibly make it more complicated….for both Fayez and me.

One thing I have observed, as time has passed…..is that Fayez uses fewer and fewer dishes as he creates his culinary masterpieces. I remember….back in the old days….that there would be mountains of dirty dishes to deal with as a by-product of his tasty feasts. And, I suppose, you have already recognized who becomes the dish washer. You know…. “I will do the cooking…..and you do the dishes!?” My attitude was that there is always a price to pay for perfection…..you have to take the bad with the good….or “Thank Heavens for dirty dishes; They have a tale to tell; While other folks go hungry; We’re eating very well.”….

But, I am starting to become convinced that Fayez has already begun to adopt my aversion to doing dishes. Or at least, he has started looking at the “big picture”…..Why spend an hour washing and drying dishes when you can simply prepare everything in one or two pans? No…..Fayez is not becoming lazy. In fact, he is starting to use his considerable intellectual power….and do things the most efficient way. Fayez is fond of saying, “Work smarter…..not harder.”

And, I am proud enough….and egotistical enough….to suspect that this is another important life lesson that he has learned from the Master.

OK. Putting all that aside…. It was time to fix supper. On this particular night, however, we were not having Saudi Arabian food. We were having good old American food. And, what could be more American than chili?

Normally when we prepare an American food….and I only know how to fix a few of them…..I take over and ‘Just Do It’. But today, Fayez was again in charge of preparing the meal…..under the constant and critical eye of the resident Master Chili King. (That would be ME!)

Actually, I really do not have a recipe for preparing chili. I know what ingredients I will use: hamburger, onions, garlic, maybe some green peppers, diced tomatoes, tomato sauce, chili beans, chili spices…..anything else that seems like it may be right at the moment. After caramelizing the onions, garlic and green peppers…..and after thoroughly browning and dicing the hamburger…..then it is pretty much free-style the rest of the way. Just keep adding the ingredients…adding the spices…..tasting it….adjusting the spices….. Bring it all to a boil….let it simmer……

Fayez is slowly learning the secret. And the beauty of making chili is that we only have to get two pans dirty in the process: the skillet with the hamburger…..and the big pan that is used to cook it. The chili almost always turns out good….sometimes better than the last time. Even when Fayez makes it!

I have never asked him……and he has never volunteered……to explain the secrets of preparing the Saudi Arabian food. And, it is no doubt best this way. I don’t have the spices that are necessary….nor do I have the desire or patience to bother with it. It tastes so much better when Fayez makes it…..and I am willing to wait for it.

We washed the one skillet and the one pan we used to cook the chili…..and the bowls we ate out of, of course…..put them away. And, supper was over for another day.

Next came my mandatory rejuvenating, energizing nap…..accompanied by 80 minute of choice, personally selected music….. That was closely followed by another night of merriment at Terry’s Bar and Grill……and then home to my bed that I am sure was calling out my name…..

And, Thus ended the second day of Adventures with Fayez.

It’s Friday. And today, I am not saying “TGIF’. It is the last full day of Fayez’s visit….and it has come too quickly. Too quickly especially since he had originally planned to stay for a week…..only to be subsequently scaled back to three days. But, as usual, we have things planned….and as usual, the day gets off to a slow start.

A late breakfast will satisfy our hunger until our main meal later in the afternoon. And, as usual, breakfast consisted mainly of a bowl of raisin bran….and a cup of coffee, for me. Fayez has stopped drinking coffee….once one of his favorite morning drinks. If you really want to know why, you will have to ask him yourself. He has told me multiple times…..but somehow, the reasons still elude me. The coffee that he used to like so much is still here….waiting for him…..if his “coffee” pendulum ever swings back the other direction.

It is already 10:00….but there are only four events on our calendar today. First of all, Fayez will go to the mosque in Topeka. The service starts at 1:30, so we scurry around in order to leave our house by 12:30. Of course, we don’t meet that goal…..but we are not in any danger. We will make it to Topeka in plenty of time. Anything over one or two minutes seem to be “plenty of time” for us.

While Fayez is attending the mosque, I will go my weekly shopping….plus pick up any last-minute items we will need for later on in the day. The scheduling worked out pretty well. The car was getting low on gasoline, and by the time I had filled up the car at a service station on California Street….almost across the street from Wal-Mart…..and by the time I had driven back around the block in order to cross California at a traffic light….the scheduling seemed to work out perfecting. There was no point sitting and waiting to cross a busy street like California, when it was faster and easier to drive around a block to a corner with a traffic light. I do have insurance on my car….but I didn’t particularly want to use it that afternoon. However, I am sure that if Fayez had been driving, he would have made a dare devil crossing…..and would probably have made it safely. Many years ago, I would have chosen to do this, too. But….not now. I know I have lived a long, fruitful life…..but…..

After doing the shopping, I drove back to the mosque. The timing was almost pefect. Within just a few minutes, Fayez appeared….and we started on our journey back to the ranch.

After we arrived back home, it was time to prepare for the second event on our agenda: we had invited our friend Sam to come up and eat with us at 3:30. The division of labor had already been decided. Fayez was in charge of preparing the meal. I was in charge of starting the fire in the fire ring….and doing all the other flunky things like carrying everything we needed out to the picnic table: the paper plates, the plastic forks and knives, the paper towels….everything we would need for our meal. All the high-tech stuff.

And the meal! Wow….Fayez was in high gear with this one. I have learned to just leave the cooking to him. Sort a “Don’t ask; don’t tell” situation. He brought the meat with him from Wichita….where I suppose he got it at an Arab market. One of the kinds of meat looked fairly conventional….probably lamb. The other meat was a kind of “mystery meat” to me. Again…. “Don’t ask; don’t tell”. We can be pretty sure that is wasn’t pork…..and I was hoping that it wasn’t camel meat! It looked like what I imagine a Saudi Arabian hotdog to look like. Whatever kind of meat it was, I was confident that Fayez would transform it into a culinary delight.

Along with the meat, there were some other more conventional foods: rice, potatoes, tomatoes, green pepper…and maybe some other vegetables…..and rice. The ubiquitous rice. This may sound conventional or ordinary…..but when Fayez combines it with his exotic Middle East spice, it tastes delicious…..anything except ordinary.

No sooner than I had gotten the charcoal lighted….my most technical task of the afternoon…..than our friend Sam pulled into the driveway. I left Fayez to be the official greeter….and I hurried to my bedroom to quickly slip on my newly acquired Saudi Arabian gown. When I walked into the front room wearing the garment, I am not really sure what I was expecting. Maybe a gasp of surprise? Or some insincere….but well-intentioned…compliments? Some uncontrolled

laughter? Actually, Sam’s response was more of a non-response: just a look of bemused uncertainty or patronization. Having spent enough time making myself look like a dork……I quickly removed the flowing garment……and the entire incident was quickly forgotten. In other words: It did not produce the reaction I had expected.

Dinner was served on the patio with a background setting of whispering green trees, a green carpet of freshly mowed grass, the easy pre-summer breeze……and hundreds of thousands of cicadas! This year…..2015…..is the year of the Seventeen Year Cicada. They appear en-mass only once every seventeen years……and each of them must have received his invitation. And….for sure…..each of them accepted the invitation. I don’t know who the Chief Cicada was for my yard……but I can assure you he did his job very well….and very efficiently.

Not only that Friday afternoon….but for the next two or three weeks…..the cicadas hung around. As we sat and ate our lunch, we spent much of our time flicking cicadas off our arms…off our head….off our back….off our legs……off our face…… They were truly annoying. They are stupid, bumbling insects. Where ever they land, they tend to stay there until they are forcefully dislodged.

The cicadas literally blanketed all the tree limbs…..all the tree trunks…..all the fence posts….. They covered almost anything that had a solid surface. They are disgusting, to say the least. And….apparently stupid. Leave the door open for a minute, and a halfway intelligent bug or insect will take the opportunity to fly inside……either attracted by the light or the warmth…..or just because they want to perturb the owner of the house. But….the cicadas? Never once during the four or five weeks they hung around did one enter my house. And, the noise! The indescribable discordant sound of thousands of tiny buzz saws…..or of a thousand little kids all playing scratchy sounds on a violin. However one wants to describe the noise, it is loud….and it is never-ending.

However, even with the bothersome presence of the cicadas, the meal was an unqualified success. Although we were sitting around a picnic table on our patio, with the savory, spicy Saudi Arabian food, we could just as easily been sitting beside an oasis in the middle of a vast desert while our camels feasted on the green grass and drank the pure blue water. All this….minus the cicadas, of course.

The food was yummy…..and it was satisfying….. When the meal was over, the clean-up began. The clean-up consisted mainly of stuffing paper plates and plastic eating utensils and plastic water bottles into a plastic trash bag. And….lucky me! There was plenty of food left over….so I could continue the feast for at least another two or three days.

The meal ended…..Sam got back into his pickup and headed for Topeka….. And, we prepared to take our daily siesta. After eighty minutes of music that I would never hear, we were on our way to Topeka….and the YMCA. Fayez wanted to spend some time working out. I made a couple attempts to ride the stationary bicycle…..and I did persevere for about 30 minutes. For me, it was a lost cause. I went back to the car to continue my nap…..leaving Fayez to complete his workout routine. In the end, however, it worked out well. Fayez emerged from the building energized, refreshed; and I woke up from my nap also energized and refreshed!

Our next….and final…..destination for the evening was Terry’s Bar and Grill….where I enjoyed my traditional pitcher of Bud Lite…..and Fayez favored his two glasses of Diet Pepsi. Our favorite way to end a splendid day.

As always, Fayez had something important to do in Wichita the next morning. He had to leave the house by 6:00. We both set our alarms so he wouldn’t be late for his important meeting. I set my alarm for 5:15….and Fayez set his alarm for 5:30. When I awoke the next morning…..Saturday morning…..it was already 6:10. My alarm had not gone off. And, apparently Fayez’s alarm didn’t work, either. He was still sound asleep. He jumped out of bed….threw his belongings into his suitcase….. Our “Good-byes’ were quick and to the point……as Fayez jumped into his car, spun out of the driveway…..and headed off into the sunrise….on his way back to Wichita.

As a bit of a sequel…..in the mad rush to leave the house, Fayez forget to take his favorite cooking pan…..plus his array of spices. I mailed them to him the following Monday…..and the length of time it took for him to receive them equaled about three times the length of time that he spent at my house. But….the is another story for another time!

It was mid-afternoon, Sunday, June 11, 1995, when I got my first glimpse of the city of Berlin. That was the year I went to Europe for the first time. My first German exchange student, Sebastian Holzhausen, had invited me to visit. And, we planned a three week driving tour of Europe.

As we entered Berlin, we drove down Kurfurstendamm…..the entire length from west to east. I was nervous….because Sebastian was nervous….. This was his first solo trip in his parents’ car. He had never been to Berlin before.. And, certainly, I had never been there before! As we drove down the wide avenue, Sebastian was tense. He really didn’t know where he was going……and neither did I. He didn’t want to get lost…..and neither did I. So my attention focused on his driving. Sebastian was very quiet as we drove along. I knew he was nervous…..and I didn’t want to do anything to exacerbate his uncertainty.

He found the youth hostel where we would stay for the next three nights with a minimum of trouble….and then we relaxed. We could afford to relax. After checking into the hostel and locking our possessions in a locker…..we set out to explore the city. We walked to a subway station about three blocks from the hostel…..and took it downtown. It was my first ride in a subway.

As I stepped out of the subway station, I got my first conscious view of Berlin. It was magnificent! If there really is such a thing as “falling in love at first sight”….this would be a textbook example. Although we had driven the same route only minutes earlier, I was too occupied to pay much, if any, attention to our surroundings. But, as I stepped out of the door at the Whittenburg Station and saw the Unity Sculpture and Kurfurstendamm….the beautiful tree-lined avenue in front of me…..I knew this was a place I was going to like. And like a lot.

It wasn’t until successive visits that I really got to know Berlin, though. That first trip, when I was with Sebastian H., we traveled everywhere by subway. From that time on, I never traveled on the subway system again……unless it was absolutely necessary….which, sometimes it is. Riding on the subway is very disorienting….especially for a first-time visitor who has not yet gotten his “bearings”. Underground, you have absolutely no sense of direction. And, those who know me know that I am very dependent on directions….north, south, east and west.

There is nothing to use as orientation points. All a person can see is darkness. There is no way to know where I was heading. I would emerge from the darkness of the subway tunnel into the bright light of the outdoors…..and have absolutely no idea where I was. If it was cloudy…..which is usually was during that trip…..I couldn’t even look at the position of the sun for orientation.

I am not sure why we didn’t use the city’s extensive city bus network….or the S-Bahn (above ground trains) system. I am assuming that Sebastian thought they were too slow. But…come on…..I was in no hurry. It has been said…..although I can’t prove it…..that you can ride on public transportation to any location in Berlin and be within 400 meters of your destination. I don’t know if this is true…..but I am sure it comes pretty close. Berlin has a magnificent public transportation system

In my opinion, city buses…..or trams in the eastern part of Berlin…..are the only way to travel. I can look out the windows….see landmarks….and see them repeatedly over a period of time. This gives a sense of order….or stability…..or familiarity….to the city. This enabled me to know and keep my directions…..and eventually learn my way around the city.

It turned out that one of the most important city buses stops about a block from our youth hostel…..a bus that could have taken us anywhere we wanted to go….with only a change or two. But we were completely oblivious to that fact. I marvel about that fact every time I go to Berlin. Every time this bus stops to pick up people. I look down the street and say, “That’s where we stayed the first three nights I was in Berlin.” Oh well…..

The moral is: If you are a permanent resident of Berlin, and if you are in a hurry, and if you already know where you are going, and if you don’t care about the surroundings, and if

directions mean nothing to you….then, by all means….take the subway. But….if none of the above things are true: If you are a first-time visitor, or if you are not in a hurry, or if you do not know where you are going, or if you do want to see your surroundings….or if you are dependent on directions……then always take a bus or a tram or the S-Bahn.

And, just for the record…..most people in Berlin…..most people in Germany….have no concept of north, south, east and west. It is quite obvious they were not born in Kansas.  And, I have only recently learned the concept of “right” and “left”. It took me a while to become savvy in the ways of Berlin transportation. Having been raised as a Kansas farm boy and having lived most of my life in the Midwest, I consider myself a fairly polite, civil person. I open doors for women; I always let them go before me; I help them when and if they need help. And….I always do the same for old people, too. Oh wait…..that’s me! I am the old person.

During my earliest experiences with traveling on a bus or subway or tram in Berlin, I tended to stand back and let other people go first….especially women….and more especially, older women. But, after finding myself standing in the aisle holding on to an overhead strap or bar…..or finding myself still on the outside of the bus when it took off, I began to reevaluate my strategy. When boarding any public transportation, it is literally “every man for himself”. I learned that if I wanted a good seat…..or any seat, at all…..I had to become more aggressive….and maybe just a little cold-hearted. I began to rescind some of my chivalrous habits and tried to assume some of the aggressive nature of a native Berliner. For a while, I felt guilty about crowding in front of somebody else….but, the guilt feeling didn’t linger very long. Back in the “old days” my exchange student would get a seat….and then hold the one next to him for me. But, it wasn’t very long before I was “out German-ing” them….and I was the one who found a seat….and held the one next to me for them.

Berlin has made it possible to see most of the historical sights easily. By riding two different city buses, a person can see probably 80% of the most important historical sites in the city. The 100 bus and the 200 bus have been intentionally routed past these buildings and landmarks. Make no mistake about it…..there are hundreds of things to see and do in Berlin. But, if you take these two buses, you can come back home and (almost) pretend be an authentic authority on Berlin: The Brandenburg Gate. The Reichstag Building, the State Opera, Humboldt University, the German Museum….. Before the Berlin Wall came down, most of these buildings were located in East Berlin and were not accessible to most tourists. Probably the only old historical building which was located in West Berlin was the Reichstag Building. The newly built Berlin Philharmonic building was on the West side…..as was the Museum of Modern Art, Bellevue Palace and the Tiergarten park. But, now the city and nation are unified, so there is East or West Berlin. On my first trip to Berlin in 1995, I think Sebastian H. was very reluctant to venture very far into the former East Berlin. Old habits seem to linger. On subsequent visits, however, I discovered that there is truly no East or West…..it is all one unified city. No STASI agents were lurking in the shadows waiting to whisk me away to a secret prison for interrogation. Nobody was secretly plotting my every move. If there was….it was probably our NSA or CIA. (If I suddenly disappear….you now know what probably happened to me!

It took me a while to realize that these two buses are really city “tour buses”. One or two times, we paid $15 or $20 to ride on a commercial tour bus that took us to the exact same places. But for a $3 or $4 daily transportation pass, you can go anywhere in the city…..on any type of public transportation. Once the light in my brain turned on, I never paid for another tour bus. The transportation schedules are complicated….at least to me. They are generally posted at every transportation stop. I rely entirely on my German students to decipher them…..which they do with no problem. They have been doing it all their lives. But….on the other hand…..I can read a map….something I had to teach most of them. So….yeah. I really believe that some form of city transportation will take you to within 400 meters of your destination…..no matter where you choose to go in Berlin. I have never tested this theory…..but I can imagine that it is fairly close to being true. There are over 1000 miles of bus lines; more than than 200 miles of S-Bahm lines; more than 90 miles of subway lines; and about 120 miles of tram lines. Now…come on. That is a lot of miles. That many miles can get you from Kansas to the Oregon Coast……not quite, but almost. Of course, this is when knowing how to read the transportation tables comes in handy. All forms of transportation chris-cross the city….east to west; north to south. Knowing how to make sense of the transportation tables is a valuable skill to learn…..one that I have yet to master.

Sometime when I am in Berlin, I would like to take a day or two and just ride around on buses all day. I will get on the bus at its starting point…..probably the Zoo Station….and stay on it to its ending point. And….then ride back to the Zoo Station. If I see something that looks interesting, I will get off the bus….look around for a while….and get back on the bus and continue on the journey. To me that sounds like fun…..an interesting way to explore the different neighborhoods of Berlin. And, maybe I will even discover some offbeat intriguing site that didn’t make it into the guide books. Yes….I know, this probably doesn’t sound very exciting to most people….and I may have a few problems convincing my Germans that it is a good idea….but I think it may be a fun thing to do. Berlin is a conglomeration of neighborhoods….just like many big cities. And, each of the neighborhoods has its own distinct personality, and there is a different “feel” or “vibe” to each of them. There are several ethnic conclaves within the city…..

Kreuzberg being one of the most prominent. Kreuzberg is predominately made up of people of Turkish descent….although it is rapidly being gentrified and becoming one of hotspots of development. The Turkish population of Berlin amounts to somewhere around 200,000 people. Berlin has the largest Turkish population anywhere outside of Istanbul, Turkey.

Berlin has a population of around 3.4 million people living with its borders. But, the entire Berlin-Brandenburg metropolitan area has around 6 million people. So….yes….it is a large city (larger than anything in Kansas, at least)….but it comes nowhere near the masses that inhabit such cities as New York, Tokyo, Seoul, Shanghai….

It is a comfortably large, manageable city. There are people from 180 different countries living there. In fact, about 30% of the population is foreign born. Maybe one of the factors what makes Berlin not seem like such a crowded city is the fact that it covers over 340 square miles of land area. Now…Paris…..just for comparison…..occupies only 40.7 square miles. How about that, sports fans? But….the population of Paris is less than 3 million…..so I suppose that is a mitigating factor……but not much. With so many nationalities and ethnic groups represented in Berlin, it is not difficult to find a restaurant from a different nationality almost every night of the week for more than a month! And, that is exactly what we did during my trip to Berlin in 2013. We made it our mission to eat in at least one restaurant from a different country every day I spent in Berlin…..and I was there for three weeks. The next time I go to Berlin, I am pretty sure that I can take up where I left off and not have to repeat any of the nationalities for another three weeks. Eating different kinds of exotic food is interesting. If you are strictly a Big Mac kind of person….or if you have no sense of adventure……then eating at random foreign restaurants is probably not your thing. These are not Big Mac sort of place; they are not steak and potatoes type of places. You will soon learn that there are lots of foods….served  in a lot of different ways….containing a lot of unfamiliar ingredients…..out there just waiting for you to try them.

One Sunday afternoon, Sebastian B. and his wife, and myself ate in an Ethiopian restaurant. We sat down, ordered our food….sort of a random choice, since none of us had been the Ethiopia…..and waited. Usually one of the first things a waiter does is to bring the silverware or other eating utensils. The food was brought to our table…..and still no knives or forks. Ethiopians do not use eating utensils. They eat with their fingers. Now…..that is MY kind of restaurant.

Oliver and I went to an Arab restaurant one Sunday evening. One of the first things we usually do upon entering a restaurant is to order a beer to drink…..especially after 5:00…. Beer is actually cheaper than most soft drinks. We looked through the entire menu….twice. We looked at the signs on the walls. No beer. Then we asked the Arab waiter. No beer….. And, then it dawned on me. “Wake up, Beryl! This is an Arab restaurant. They are Muslims. They don’t drink alcohol!” So, we ordered a soft drink and waited until later for our first beer of the evening.

The evening we dined at a Korean restaurant, everything was so strange that we simply asked the waitress to bring us some “typical” Korean food….the kind she would eat at home. She brought out an impressive array of food…..none of which was very familiar. It had an egg on top….and that may have been all I recognized. But, it was delicious. We asked for the most popular Korean beer. She brought each of us a bottle of Sojou….(I am not sure that is how you spell it, though). Whatever….. She said it is the beer of preference for young people in Korea…..probably because it will get them drunk the quickest. Anyway….it tasted very much like rubbing alcohol. Maybe after a while, we could have developed a taste for it. If you drink enough of it, you probably won’t care what it tastes like!

This happened to us in more than one restaurant. Ask the waiter….or owner….in many cases the same person…..for some authentic local food…..and they are more than willing to accommodate you. When you are finished eating, he (or she) will invariably ask how you liked it. Always….and I mean Always…..say it was delicious. First of all, this is simply good manners. Second of all, it makes the owner feel good. And, third, it promotes a little bit of good will toward the United States. Let’s face it…..in many places, the USA needs all the good will it can generate. But, all of these eating places seemed to be authentic. None of them were in the usual tourist areas. We chose restaurants in the more out-of-the-way places…..places where I doubt if many Americans ever venture. And, almost without fail, we were welcomed warmly….and showered with attention.

Every time I go to Berlin, I like to discover something new…..whether it be a new restaurant, a new section of the city, a new and interesting site, a new art gallery….. But, one rule I have pretty much established for myself…..and I pretty much follow…..is to find one or two places…..bars and restaurants…..that I return to night after night. It is amazing to observe the contrast in the quality of service that takes place. It will change from polite indifference to a cordial welcome within a couple nights. Germans may be….or act like….rude people when you first meet them. But, once they become familiar with you…..this indifference quickly turns to welcoming acceptance…..and excellent service

. There are hundreds of bars in Berlin…..maybe even thousands. Actually, I supposed we could say that almost every restaurant in Berlin is also a bar…..(although the reverse cannot be said.) Most of the “popular” bars feature loud music….sometimes recorded and sometimes live…..and they are expensive. These bars are frequented mostly by young people who like loud music….and loud electronic music, at that. And, they are probably not aware that they will gradually grow deaf if they persist in going there for very many years. But….they go there to have “fun”…..to see and be seen. But, on the other hand, they are also going to develop very strong lungs and vocal cords learning to shout over the deafening music. Either that…..or they will go away with a severe case of laryngitis. Usually, however, one would not go to such a bar to “talk” anyway. Most of these clubs and bars don’t even get rocking until most normal people have already gone to bed. And….did I say that they are expensive?

I have gone of a couple of these bars…..but I quickly recognized they are not for me. Somehow I don’t get a lot of pleasure shouting at somebody for a few hours…..and having them shout at me in return. I prefer the quiet neighborhood bar….a place where people go to see their friends and talk and argue and watch a soccer game on TV. Most….or a lot….of the people know each other…..and they are generally friendly, safe places. We most commonly choose a bar within easy walking distance of our apartment…..and there is always a bar within walking distance!

If there is no soccer game on TV, most bars play recorded music in the background….mostly just to muffle voices and so people can talk privately and without being heard. Rarely does one find the blaring, high decibel music that is played in the “hip” bars and clubs…..or the so-called “discos”. And about seventy-five percent of the time, the music is going to be “oldies”….and American oldies, at that. Maybe they do it in honor of me! No, I doubt that. Germans simply like old American music.

Most…..or a majority….of “bars”….as contrasted to eating establishments…stay open very late. Many all night. It is not uncommon for us to be going back to our apartment about sunrise…..about the time that everybody else is waking up. Bars….at least the dozens of bars that I have been in….are safe, congenial places to sit and talk. I don’t know how many bars I have visited in Berlin….or Germany…..but, I know it is more than I can count on my fingers…..and my toes. . During all this time I have spent in a wide variety of bars…..in many areas of the city…..I have never witnessed a fight! Or any kind of violent behavior, for that matter. In fact, I am trying to recall if I have ever actually seen a drunk….inebriated….person making a fool of himself. I am not naïve enough to think that it doesn’t happen….somewhere. But, it has never happened in a bar where I

have been. One reason for this, I think, is the fact that alcohol does not have the “forbidden fruit” allure that it has here in the USA. People start drinking at a much younger age in Germany. For example, wine is a staple part of a meal in many German homes. Most German grow up not experiencing the “mystery” or “taboo” that is attached to alcohol that the young people in this country are accustomed to. It’s no big deal. It is available from a very young age…..and thrill is just not there. I think the only Germans who I have ever seen drunk….in public….are low-class soccer fans on the day of a soccer game. Somehow, they seem to take their rivalries rather seriously.

One aspect of Berlin…..and Germany….life is the abundance of open-air, sidewalk bars, cafes, coffee shops….. When the weather is warm enough, they are everywhere! Germans love to sit and talk, argue, read a book or a newspaper, talk on their cell phone….or just sit and do nothing….. As for me….I like to sit and talk…..and to do nothing. I am not the arguing type of person. And all of the newspapers are written in German. But, it is pleasant to sit and sip a cup of coffee…in the daytime….and a glass of beer at night…..and talk to whomever I am with at the time….and just watch the people and the traffic pass by.

If you sit long enough, you will see just about everything. You will receive an education in human behavior. There are poor people and rich people, young people and old people; couples; people walking their dog; people waving signs; people mumbling to themselves; people preaching or ranting about something; punks with their weirdly colored hair; kids wearing the latest American fashions. And……of course, the traffic. Sitting in a sidewalk bar is not without its risks…..and without its drama for people like me who really do not know exactly what is happening. One sunny afternoon, Frank and I were sitting in an outdoor bar in Alexanderplatz near the World Clock. Of course, Frank did all the ordering. Like always I just stood there like a puppet while he ordered a couple beers and paid for them. We sat there talking and watching the people. Alexanderplatz is a great place for people watching.

When we got ready to leave, I stood up and started to walk away. Frank stopped me and said, “Take your beer mug with you. “Really?” I asked. “Are you sure it’s OK?” “Yes,” Frank assured me. “I paid for them when I paid for the beer.” “Wow!” I thought. “This is a good deal. This is a good souvenir to take back home.” We walked about ten or twelve feet, and I heard angry shouts. Again…..I don’t speak German, so I had no idea what was happening. Actually, it never occurred to me that the yelling was being directed at us. I turned around to see the waitress running after us….shouting angrily. And until you have been shouted at by an angry German woman, you really don’t know what it is like to really be shouted at. We stopped. I stopped only because Frank did. After some words between them, Frank looked rather embarrassed and said, “We have to give the mugs back.” As often happens….there had been a misunderstanding. Frank thought he had paid for the mugs. But, it turned out that he only paid a deposit on them. And, I don’t remember if he ever got the deposit back or not. As for me…..I felt like an idiot with people staring at us like we were common criminals. Needless to say, we did not linger around Alexanderplatz much longer that afternoon. And….we certainly did not stop at that outdoor bar again!

On another occasion, a minor incident of another sort happened while Oliver and I were sitting in an outside bar near the Brandenburg Gate. Each of us had a glass of beer, and we were sitting, talking….and watching the people walk and drive past. The area where we were sitting…..between the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag Building…..is a busy tourist area…..a perfect place for people watching. The bar was filled with people, most of whom were drinking beer….although a few of them may have been drinking coffee.

I was comfortably slumped back in my chair, enjoying the sunshine and the beautiful weather. Suddenly a gust of wind hit us…..and before I could react, I found my glass of beer in my lap! This didn’t happen to Oliver….or anybody else….only me. Somehow I think most of the people sitting around us were probably tourists. Why do I think that? If they had been Germans, I am sure they would have found the situation to be hilarious and would have gotten a good….and long….laugh. For some reason, it seems that many Germans find other people’s embarrassing misfortunes to be comical and funny. While most people are uncomfortable and sympathetic to these sorts of incidents……and usually look down or pretend they do not see what is happening…..or they volunteer to help……Germans seem to find them funny and often laugh long and loud. To me, as a civilized, polite American….I find this to be rude, crude and inconsiderate. But, many Germans don’t seem to understand it that way. At any rate, a waitress brought a towel so we could clean up the mess……and so I could get dried off. She did not, however, volunteer to give me another glass of beer as a replacement.

By far the most serious….and frightening….culinary experience took place in an Indian restaurant. It was a cold day. Sebastian B. and I were sightseeing on Oranienburger Str., This an interesting street on the near north side. The New Jewish Synagog, the old Post Office Building, the Hackeche Hof…lots of bars, restaurants….and people. It is one of the “hip” sections of Berlin . It was getting to be late in the morning, so Sebastian and I decided to eat lunch in an Indian restaurant. It was a pleasant place. We were the only two customers in the restaurant at the time. We seated ourselves in a booth in the front of the restaurant near the door. Our young waiter….and he may have been the owner, too….we never did find out…..was chatting with his wife and his young son. They were getting ready to leave, and he was saying good-bye to his son. Actually, it was a rather touching scene. Obviously, they were a happy couple, and it was easy to see that their little boy occupied an important place in their life.

After the wife and child left, he came to us, still smiling. We asked him what he would recommend, since neither of us was familiar with Indian food. He pointed out a meal that he thought we would enjoy…..and left to place our order. He came back a few minutes later….still smiling….and said that they were going to prepare the meat in a different way than usual. They were going to put it on a charcoal grill instead of the gas stove like they usually did.

“This is the first time they have done it this way. It will taste much better,” he assured us, rather proudly, I think. We ate the meal. Before we left the restaurant, Sebastian said he was going to use the restroom. After he got back, I decided it was probably best if I went, too…..not knowing when I would have another chance. On my way back to our table, I passed by the kitchen. I heard some very loud, excited conversation taking place. I had no idea what they were talking about. When I got back to our table, I asked Sebastian what they were saying. It seems that there was a fire in the kitchen.

Seconds later, the waiter reappeared. This time he was not smiling. He told Sebastian that the kitchen was on fire…..apparently caused by the charcoal. We sat there for maybe fifteen seconds, and Sebastian looked at me and asked, “What shall we do?”

“Let’s get out of here!” I said. Around this time, heavy smoke began to come from the kitchen. The waiter was shooing us out with his hands…..as if we needed any encouragement. Sebastian said something like, “Shall we take our coats?”

“YES!” I replied, grabbing my own coat.   By this time smoke was billowing out of the kitchen. The waiter stopped us on the way out and asked Sebastian something….rather urgently. Sebastian was patiently explaining something to him…..as I stood there expecting to be barbecued alive at any minute. When we got outside on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, I asked Sebastian what he and the waiter were talking about. It turned out that the waiter had no idea how to call the fire department…..and Sebastian was giving him rather detailed (I thought) directions on how to do it. In fact, thinking back on the incident, I think maybe it was Sebastian who finally called the fire department on his cell phone.

In a short time, flames and black smoke were coming out a window to the side of the restaurant….presumably from the kitchen. By this time, a crowd of on lookers was gathering on the sidewalk and in the street outside the restaurant…..proving, I suppose, that it is not only people in small towns who are attracted to fire….but  fires have a sort of universal allure. We stayed around and watched for a while….. Of course, there was nothing we could do. I wanted so badly to take some pictures. But, at the time, that did not seem to be a very nice or appropriate thing to do.

Sebastian asked if we should pay for our meal! Actually, in all the excitement, I really hadn’t considered that possibility. We gave the waiter….who was standing by helplessly, just like us….a bill that was more than adequate to pay for our food. At first, he declined it…..but it didn’t take very much persuasion from us before he finally accepted it. We told him how sorry we were…..and left. For a while, I felt rather guilty about the fire. After all, they had used charcoal especially for us to prepare our meal….. It was obviously an experiment. The food was, in fact, very delicious. But….on the other hand, we hadn’t requested it…..and they had done it voluntarily. I rather doubt if they ever used this method again…..

There is a totally unrelated mistake that a  novice visitor to Berlin commonly makes. I know I did. Never assume that just because everybody is speaking German….and after all that is their native language….they do not also speak….and understand….English. It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that just because you cannot understand what they are saying, they cannot understand that YOU are saying. On one of my early trips to Berlin, Sebastian and I ate most our meals in a restaurant quite near the hotel where we were staying. Each day we would go there….and each day the same woman took our order. Sebastian did all of the talking. I am sure I made comments not only on the food….but probably on other things, too. She seemed to ignore me….dealing only with Sebastian. This reinforced my belief that she did not understand English.

On the fourth day we went there, we sat down in our usual place. But this time, instead of talking to Sebastian, she looked at me, and asked me in almost perfect English what I wanted to order. Needless to say, I was startled….and a little speechless. I managed to tell her what I wanted…..and then I asked her where she learned to speak such good English. Had she lived in the USA….or England? “No,” she said, “I always wanted to speak English, so I went to language school.” Just to make sure she knew other things besides the menu, I talked to her a few minutes….just friendly chatter. Yes…..she really spoke English…..and very good English, too. As soon as she left our table to place our order, I asked Sebastian if we had made any comments about her….or about anything…..that could have been offensive. Neither of us could remember exactly what we had said…..but apparently all of it had been good. At least, she continued to be friendly to me…..and always spoke in English after that. I don’t know…..maybe she was just testing me. If she was….we apparently passed the test.

No matter what hour of the day or night…..there is always a place to eat or drink in Berlin. It may be a small outside cafe with only a couple tables….or it could be a large fancy restaurant….or maybe you prefer a crowded noisy bar. As for me….give me a familiar, friendly neighborhood bar with music playing in the background….just loud enough to disguise and obscure surrounding conversations….a safe place where we can talk late into the night…..a place where we are greeted with a friendly smile.

But, while you are in Berlin, don’t forget that one of the most convenient and quickest places to eat…..and some of the most exotic and tasty food….are the sidewalk curry wurst vendors and the doner Kabap stands. Both of these snack foods are ubiquitous throughout the city.

Kabap originated in Turkey…..and naturally followed the burgeoning Turkish immigrant population when they arrived in Germany. Curry wurst, on the other hand, is said to be indigenous to Berlin….and something that Berliners are rightfully proud of. There is even a curry wurst museum tracing its history….or development….or rise in popularity. For those of you who have not eaten curry wurst….and if you have not been to Germany, you probably haven’t. Maybe you have tasted what may be passed off as curry wurst….and imitation knock off. But only in Germany….in Berlin…..will you be treated to the real thing. Curry wurst is essentially German wurst….or sausage. The sausages are steamed first, then fried and cut into little sections……with curry sauce on top of it….and served with french fried potatoes. They are almost always eaten with tiny disposable plastic forks. This is not a meal. It is a snack food…..much like a hamburger is here in the USA. I have heard people say….and I have seen it written…..that Germans couldn’t care less about “diet” food. Maybe overall this is partially true. I have never seen a “diet” menu or a “low fat” or “low salt” menu in a German restaurant. But, it is certainly possible to buy low fat and low salt food in grocery stores. I don’t know if anybody besides me buys it, however. But, I have experienced little difficulty buying “no fat” or “low fat” milk. And, the same is true for sliced meat and cheese. On the other hand….it is quite easy to order vegetarian food in Germany. I never have…..but the sister of one of my former students is vegetarian, and she has never had a problem finding it.

Speaking of cheese. When buying sliced cheese in Germany, you won’t find the little conveniently individually wrapped slices of processed cheese….imitation cheese. The cheese you buy in Germany is the real thing….authentic cheese….and a huge variety of them. Most German are appalled at the thought of eating the chemically produced cheese. One final story comes to mind when I think about food in Germany. On my first trip to German….the one back in 1995 with Sebastian H….. On our first night in Berlin, we went to a restaurant to eat. I asked him to order me something that was “typically German”….something a native would be likely to eat. He did…..and when it arrived at our table, I took one look at it and exclaimed, “What IS this stuff?” It was

something called Eisbein….or something like that. It was almost pure fat! Certainly at least 90% fat. It was inedible! It was repellant! Pure fat? I get sick now even thinking about it. I picked out the lean meat….probably less than 10%…..and left the rest of it on the plate. Man….people complain about McDonald’s food being high in fat. Their food is health food compared to this! But… I was comforted in later years when subsequent students told me they would never think of eating it…..and their mothers would never even consider serving it at home.

Well….if I sound like one of those food critics on one of the cooking shows….in my own mind, I probably am….but only for myself. And….NO….I do not intend to write some sort of restaurant guide for Berlin. Everybody likes what he likes…..not what other people tell him to like. As a general rule, I try to avoid the “popular” places….the “in” places. The only thing different you are going to find there are vastly inflated prices, ear-piercing music and suffocating crowds of people trying to be hip.

I am content not to be “hip”. I will choose the friendly, neighborhood bar or restaurant any day of the year. Places where I can relax and mingle with “real” Germans

 

                                                   

 

 

 

 

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Oliver. He was a German. Yes…that’s right….a Kraut. He was a nice little boy. He always obeyed his Mama and Papa. He made good grades in school. He had lots of friends…especially another nice little boy named Bjorn. Oliver liked to play and have fun with his friends.

But, one day Oliver began to get bored. He wanted adventure. He wanted to go out and see the world. So he decided to go to the most exciting country in the world…the United States of America. But wait! This wasn’t enough. He wanted to go to the most exciting state in the USA. There was only one obvious choice: Kansas. But, Oliver wanted even more. He had to go live with the most exciting person in the state of Kansas. Oliver was very lucky. It just so happened that he was chosen by the most exciting person in Kansas to come and spend the school year….and to attend the most exciting high school in the state of Kansas.

Oliver spent ten months living in the most exciting country, in the most exciting state, with the most exciting person and attended the most exciting high school. After ten months, Oliver had to go back home to the land of beer and sauer kraut. Oliver was very sad. And, so was his host father…..the guy who took care of him for ten months and came to love him as a son.

But, sometimes Oliver missed his Kansas home and his Kansas host dad….so he returned to Kansas to visit. Sometimes, Oliver’s host dad missed Oliver, so he traveled to Germany to visit him. This has been happening for almost twenty years. Of course, little Oliver has grown older…..while Beryl has stayed the same age. They have a special relationship. Now they are simply special friends.

There is another reason that Oliver is a “special” friend of mine. What are the chances of choosing an exchange student who shares your birthday? Yes….July 28 is the birthday of both Oliver and me. I bet this hasn’t happened very often in the exchange student history! But….it happened to us. Many people probably don’t know it……but Oliver is a few years younger than me!

This is the story of Oliver Schoeller, my exchange student during the 1996-1997 school year. Now here is the story of his most recent “homecoming”.

On the night of Saturday, February 21, I drove to Kansas City to meet Oliver at Kansas City International Airport. It was a trip that I was afraid would not take place. There were predictions of a winter storm that threatened to shut down highways….and potentially even the airport. But, as many times happens in such frantic weather prophecies, the tale was worse than the truth. It was cold, however…bitterly cold. Oliver’s airplane was due to arrive at 11:23 P.M. I was somewhat shaken when I did not see his flight listed on the arrival board. But, there was little I could do except wait. All of the ticket windows were closed. But not long before its expected arrival, it was announced that his flight had been delayed by one hour. Great! But….at least, I knew he would be there eventually. And…I knew it would be worth the wait.

Oliver drove back home….no doubt out an instinct of self-preservation…..since he knows quite well that I do not see well at night. Before we headed for home, however, we made a detour to McDonalds in Platt City….the same place where we stopped when he first came to my house in 1996….and every subsequent visit. The wind was bitterly cold, and we were motivated to get back to our warm house.

But….it seemed that we had a slight problem…..or what we were hoping was a slight problem. The temperature gauge in my car was registering above normal heating. The engine was starting to overheat. Being the cautious person that I am….and not knowing anything about cars…..and considering my car often acts like a piece of junk….I was worried. Would we have to spend the night in Platt City? Was I going to be faced with a repair bill of a few thousand dollars? We tried the obvious solution. We bought a gallon of anti-freeze/coolant. The little tank that contains the fluid was almost empty. I am somewhat paranoid when it comes to the honesty of mechanics. I had just had the oil changed two days before….and they are supposed to check the levels of all the fluids. Did they intentionally remove some of the fluid…..knowing that the car would overheat? Would they be that devious? Would they take advantage of a person they know is almost totally naïve about cars? I would prefer to think they did not…..but: Who knows?

One good thing about Oliver’s visit was the fact that when we arrived back home at around 2:30 A.M., I didn’t have to waste time giving him a tour of the house. He had already lived here for 10 months….and had come back for at least two visits. So basically, we followed our usual routine: We sat down, opened a couple beers, and started talking.

No matter if Oliver is visiting me….or I am visiting him in Berlin or Cologne….time has a way of slipping away. In Germany we usually find ourselves in a friendly neighborhood bar, sipping a few beverages….and talking. Most bars in Berlin are open all night….and we are usually there to keep them company and also to provide our token amount of business. Bars in Berlin are relaxed, inviting establishments…..places where people are welcome to sit and talk and drink all night….if they so desire. And, many times, that is what we do. We don’t do it intentionally….say: “We are going to stay here until 6:00 A.M.” Time just sort of slips away….and before we know it, we are going back to our apartment about the same time as most people are getting out of bed.

This pattern seems to prevail at home, too. The emphasis is always on talking; the drinking only keeps our throats from getting too dry.

Did you ever sit down with somebody who just sat there? No matter how you tried to start a conversation…..nothing worked. You start to wonder: Is the person too shy? Is he not very bright? Is he afraid to express his opinions? Does he speak English? Is he deaf? This never happens when Oliver and I are together, Maybe it is because we are none of those things. Well….both of us are a little bit shy, maybe….but not when it is only the two of us. But….we do not have to worry about those other reasons. Yes…..both of us are bright. We are not afraid of expressing our opinions and thoughts. We both speak English. And….neither of us is deaf. Well….I am probably a little bit more deaf than he is…..but….I am also older. In any case, finding something to talk about has never been a problem…..even if it caused a severe lack of sleep during the times we visit each other.

Our days rarely began before 11:00 A.M. or noon….except on our occasional travel days.  So planning something to do in the morning was a problem we didn’t have to worry about.

When I am at home alone, I eat only two meals a day. And they are definitely not the kind of gourmet meals that I would serve to a guest.  Basically, Oliver was in charge of preparing lunch…..which consisted mainly of some sort of sandwich. Early in his visit, we bought a little ceramic skillet which can be used to bake eggs in the microwave oven…..or whatever happens in a microwave oven. We made extensive use of it. On more than one occasion Oliver tried to convince me that I was trying to starve him…..deprive him of sufficient amounts of food. He even claimed that he had actually lost weight while at my house. Wow….I wish I could make that claim!

During his ten day visit, I prepared three sumptuous meals….well, actually two meals. One night we had a picnic outside on the patio in the Arctic weather. But, as always, if the fire is hot enough….and if you wear enough warm clothing….it is very comfortable and pleasant….sitting in front of the roaring fire….baking hamburgers….eating chips and dip….and drinking a cold beverage….listening to our teeth chattering. And, it is always fun to make the neighbors wonder if the person living in the next house to the east of them is crazy. On this particular night, the coyotes were howling in the distance, and we could hear the hoot of an old owl somewhere in the darkness. And……we could also hear the warm wood stove in the living room calling to us: “Come back inside, you morons.”

The other two night, we feasted on two of my specialties. (I only know how to make three things.) One night I prepared my famous….and high delicious….burritos. The other night, I cooked up a pan of chili. For those of you who really know how to cook, you will recognize immediately that neither of these recipes takes a lot of imagination or effort. Oliver asked me to write down the recipe for the chili. I don’t even have a recipe. I just brown some hamburger and start adding stuff. Fortunately…or miraculously…it always ends up tasting pretty good.

 

But, mainly, we depended on our favorite all-you-can-eat buffets in Topeka for our evening meals: The Golden Corral, Coyote Canyon, and Chow Time. Neither of us left there feeling any hunger pangs. And, for good measure, we ate lunch at the Globe Restaurant…an Indian buffet…one day with a friend of mine. And….our all-important visit to the Dairy Queen. This was probably more important to me that it was to Oliver…..since I restrict myself to one trip to the Dairy Queen each year. (Although this year I made two trips.)

Oliver also got his wish to go to an American steak house and eat. Oh….I suppose I would have taken him to one…..if he insisted. But, the truth of the matter is: I don’t particularly like steak. Steak is only hamburger that has not been ground up yet. Taking a look at one of their menus is enough to make me lose my appetite! Their inflated prices are merely a ruse to disguise the fact that you can get almost the same nutritional value from a couple Big Macs, some french fries and a salad. I think it must be the “snob appeal” that attracts most people.

“Oh…guess where I ate last night? A Steak House. Of course, I paid ten times what it was worth…..and ingested ten times more cholesterol than is healthy for any human being. But, never mind all that….I ate at a ‘Steak House’. Aren’t I special?”

But, on the other hand…..we didn’t pay for it. We went as guests of my brothers. Thinking back on it now…..No, we probably wouldn’t have gone if they hadn’t invited us.

OK…..now what do you think? Do you see a pattern of systematic starvation here? Did Oliver really lose weight while he was here? And….if he did…..whose fault was it? Next year, we will eat all of our meals at the Golden Corral…..and I will send him back to Germany needing to buy larger clothing.

While we were planning for Oliver’s trip, I ask him if he would help me do two or three little jobs around the house that needed to be done. Yes….I would have paid my high school helper to do them. But, Oliver was more than eager to do anything he could to simplify my life. “I really hate for you to come all the way to see me….and then I just make you my little slave,” I told him.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Just leave everything, and I will help you do it.”

Using the word “slave” was a big mistake! And, knowing Oliver as well as I do, I should have realized that before used it. “Stop and think, Beryl!”

For the remainder of the time he spent at my house, he never ceased to remind me of it. But……Yeah….now that I think about it, he was a pretty good “slave”. And, we accomplished some pretty neat stuff while he was here.

One of the most constructive….and fun….things we did was to construct a bird feeder. In some of the past years while I have lived here, I merely threw bird seed on the ground, hoping birds would come around and take advantage of the free food. Back in those days, I had hardly any trees. There weren’t many birds around to feast on the banquet I had laid out for them. And, after a while, it would inevitably rain…and then the seed would pretty much wash away. My attempts at establishing a bird buffet failed. Maybe I failed to promote it or advertise it aggressively enough. But, at any rate, I closed it down because of a lack of interest on the part of the birds.

Now….several years later, I have a small forest of trees growing in the yard beside my house….thanks to a company who sells fast-growing trees….and my own faithful devotion to caring for them the summer I planted them. Now there seems to be an abundance of birds that make this area their home….or at least, their vacation destination.

For quite a while, I had wanted to make a bird feeder….a large bird feeder….to hang in the yard to attract birds. This feeder would have a roof to protect it from the rain…..and it would be large enough to accommodate several birds at one time.

Over the past few weeks I had formulated a plan in my mind. Now I only needed somebody to help me….sort of a carpenter’s helper. Non-union, of course. (Although I am a firm believer in labor unions!) Oliver readily volunteered to help. So, armed with my mental plan and vision of the bird feeder I wanted to build, we drove to the lumber yard in Oskaloosa and bought the necessary lumber that I did not have lying around my garage or storage shed.

The feeder is one of simple design. Let’s call it a minimalistic design….since it a type of architecture. And….after all it is just a bird feeder…..and I doubt if the birds are really concerned with its design. On each of the four corners there is a 2×2 support post….each twelve inches high. In the center there are three support columns….each of which are 16 inches in length. This gives the roof a four inch pitch. Since we had no miter saw, we simply joined the two pieces of the roof together as well as we could…..and covered the roof with some spare shingles that we found in the tool shed. The bird feeder is painted red, white and blue…..the colors I paint almost everything. Most people…..and my neighbors in particular…..think I use these colors because they are K.U. colors. Actually, I use them because I like these colors….and because they are the colors of our flag.

Oliver had not had a lot of experience using an electric saw before, so I found it prudent on my part to do all of the sawing. If there was a finger or a hand to be cut off….it may as well be mine. And I was hoping if such a disaster happened….it would be my left hand. No…..I have done this too many times to have an accident. I am an old pro when it comes to using an electric saw.

I explained the basic concept of the design to Oliver…..and he understood quite quickly what our mission was. After I cut the plywood for the roof and the floor, I turned the project over to Oliver. And….I became the carpenter’s helper. The picnic table….and a couple old saw horses….were our workbench. Because of the limited facilities I have, we met with a few logistical problems….but Oliver came up with clever….if not ingenious….solutions to all the obstacles…..putting his degree in engineering to good use.

This was the first time Oliver had done anything like this…..and I think he found it to be pretty interesting. Yeah….I think he even had fun. The bird feeder looked pretty good….at least to us! I didn’t get it hung up in a tree….and I didn’t get it painted….until after Oliver had gone back to Germany. But….we both agreed: Our project was a success.

So….what is the moral of this story? If you are going to be a “slave”……you may as well have fun doing it.

Now that the bird feeder is in place….and now that it is painted…. all we have to do is wait and see if the birds will eat from it. But, I believe the famous line from the movie “Field of Dreams”: If You Build It….They Will Come!

I won’t even bother to tell the rest of the ways Oliver made life more comfortable for me. Things like do all of the night driving. Move a ton of green wood from the garage to the outside. Help me with my cell phone and computer. Start the fire when it went out. Now…..Do you see why I missed him when he had to go back to Germany?

While Oliver was here, I took a humongous step into the unknown (for ME)…..into the vast world of the unexplored (for ME)….that colossal world that was waiting for ME to explore. If you wonder why I am emphasizing the word ME…..it is because in the realm of technology, I tend to lag about five or ten years behind the rest of the world. At any rate, I bought my first GPS system….with the help of Oliver, of course.

I am almost ashamed to admit it…. especially after spending so many years belittling them and poking fun at the people who use them. After all, I know how to read a map. I have been doing it successfully now for many years…..and I have never gotten seriously lost. I mean…..isn’t using a GPS the lazy way to do things? Doesn’t this take some of the satisfaction out of planning a trip? Doesn’t it subtract some of the joy of the unknown….rob a person of some of the mystery of “Will we make it there without getting lost?”

Nevertheless, I relented to peer pressure and buckled under to the prevailing social customs and accepted technology of today.

Actually…..most….if not all…of the credit for using it can be accredited to Oliver. He is the one who set it up for me. He is the one who read the directions on how to use it. He is the one who typed in all the addresses. He is the one who made a rather futile effort to provide an orientation for me…..to demonstrate its use….to coach me on how to use it. As Oliver will no doubt verify…..he more or less failed in his mission. But, at least, now I can brag with the best of them and say I have a GPS.

Why did I take this rather radical (for ME) step…..and in effect admitting that I was wrong about the value of owning a GPS? Oliver and I had originally planned to spend a few days driving aimlessly around the state of Colorado….just sightseeing….taking advantage of pleasures Colorado has to offer….and camping in KOA camping cabins at night.

The last time Oliver and I went to Colorado was in the summer of 1999. We had big plans of just roaming around at random…..seeing as much as we could…..and sitting around a big campfire at night. Unfortunately, it rained every single day…..and especially night….we were there. Although we did have a great time, we had to sleep in motels at night….and we never had the opportunity to camp out. Not even for one night.

We had planned to make up for that on this trip. Just roam around….with the help of our trusty little GPS….stay in a KOA cabin at night….sit around a campfire….fix our supper….and enjoy the legal pleasures of Colorado. Sure…we knew that it would probably be cold. But, that was nothing that some warm clothing and a roaring fire couldn’t remedy. Sadly, though, we had not counted on the snow. Much of Colorado was experiencing near blizzard conditions…..and even our GPS couldn’t overcome that little obstacle.

As I mentioned earlier, however, we did take short trip to the farm of a friend of mine, Sam, over in east-central Kansas. We could have easily made it there without the help of the GPS….but now that we had it…..why not use it? So…..Oliver typed the address….and we dutifully followed the GPS woman’s expert directions. Good News! We made it.

As I mentioned earlier, it was a bitterly cold day…made to seem even colder by the brisk north wind. And, Oliver was woefully under-dressed. We only stayed for a couple hours. Even in that short time, I think Oliver enjoyed himself….and learned a few things about grafting trees. While we were there, Oliver contributed some more of his famous “slave labor”. He helped Sam install a bird house….while I looked on and took pictures. This seemed appropriate. Oliver is an engineer. I am a photographer. Oliver was not dressed warmly….so the work helped keep him warm, whereas I was dressed like an Eskimo.

One of the interesting features of Sam’s farm is the small cemetery which adjoins his property. Although I had been to the farm a couple times previously, I had never taken the time to take a close look at it. It is a small family cemetery, devoted to a family who lived in the era in the mid-1800’s…..around the time of our War Between the States….or Civil War. The grave stones were engraved with dates from that era. Many of the markers are in remarkably good shape, considering they are more than one hundred and fifty years old.

Oliver agreed that the farm, located in a beautiful setting with small forests of trees, and gently rolling hills…..and also sufficient flat land for farming….would make an ideal setting for a country home….. Idyllic, as the Germans like to say.

And…..I might add….the GPS got us back home safely.

Like most of Oliver’s trips to my house…our house….this one was also mostly a trip of nostalgia. Deja vu….shall we say. We try to do a lot of the things he did during the ten months he lived here. We made a couple trips to the Golden Corral, a couple trips to the Dairy Queen. We took five minutes and took a tour of Valley Falls….looking at all of the old familiar landmarks in the city. Broadway, the school, the swimming pool, the football field, the two baseball fields, the post office. Yes….I think I have about named all of them. We went to Laurie, my hair dresser for the past twenty-five years or so, and we both got hair cuts.

Of course, we went to Topeka….our “big city”. We looked at Lake Shawnee. Drove up and down Kansas Avenue…..and of course, Wanamaker….the street “where it all happens”…..even back then. I introduced him to my…..now “our”….favorite bar, Terry’s Bar and Grill. We ate lunch on a Friday with my Sam. We went to an Indian buffet, which was new to Oliver…..but which he liked. On the Sunday night before he left, we strolled through the almost-deserted West Ridge Mall…..very different than the bustling crowds when he was here.

Late one afternoon, we walked around the State Capitol Building. Well…part way around, anyway. It was a frigid cold afternoon. And, let’s be honest: Those Germans just aren’t as tough as we Kansans. So we cut the walk a little short. No…honestly, it WAS very cold. And, we seemed to be the only people stupid enough to be out “sightseeing”.

Interesting for me…..but maybe not so much for Oliver…..was a quick drive-by inspection of a town-house complex that I hope will be my home some day. Oliver encouraged me to stop and ask for a tour of one of the town homes, but maybe it is still a little too early to be requesting a tour. I am planning to stick around the ranch for another two or three years…..before I start inviting him to come visit me in a town house in Topeka. However, when that time finally arrives, Oliver will not have to worry about carrying firewood, building fires is a stove, constructing bird feeders…. It will be new experience for me…..and him..

Of course, anybody who lives around there…..or has lived around here in the past….will understand that there are not a lot of new discoveries to be made in this area. Everything stays fairly predictable. It is sort of like an old shoe. They last a long time…..and the longer you wear them, the more comfortable they become. I think this may describe how Oliver feels when he come back “home”.

We also continued another custom of past years: We measured Oliver. And, we found that he has grown a full inch since the last time he was measured. On the bathroom door, you will find the measurements of all of my former exchange students….and some of my other guests. One of those guests was Oliver’s older brother, Michael, who came to visit in 1997. He is a couple or three inches taller than Oliver. But….Oliver is taller than all of the other former students. Six feet five inches? I think that is correct.

But….like they say: You can’t have everything. So there were some disappointments. Some things were rather deja…not so….vu.

One afternoon, shortly after he arrived, Oliver and I set out looking for an old abandoned missile base which was constructed on some land south of Valley Falls. I had never been there before, but I had heard other people who had been there talk about it. Oliver was eager to see it…..and so was I. At times, I have considered buying an old abandoned missile base, such as this one, and converting it into an underground home. I have seen pictures of other missile bases that are now being used as homes….and they are awesome. Sound proof. Weather proof. Fire proof. Burglar proof. I am ready to buy one. The only thing holding me back is the $550,000 price tag.

The location of the old missile base was not difficult to find. It was exactly where everybody had said it was…..maybe a half mile off K-4 Highway. As luck would have it, though…..we reached a point where the road ended…or rather was blocked by a double or triple locked iron gate…..on which were multiple warnings and threats to Stop…Stay Out…No Trespassing….Do Not Enter….. I think they were trying to tell us something. Admitting defeat, we turned around and made our way back to the highway. Mission failed.

Almost every winter, American bald eagles nest in the dense trees around many of the lakes and reservoirs in northeast Kansas. They have been spotted on many occasions at Lake Perry…..at Paradise Point. In fact, I have seen them. I have even taken pictures of them. On the day we drove to Lake Perry, we were not so fortunate. We didn’t get out and hike through the trees…..but from the roads, no eagles were visible. Spotting and photographing a bald eagle had been high on our priority list. But, actually seeing one of these magnificent birds is never guaranteed. In fact, it is probably more a stoke of good luck more than anything else. Whenever an American Bald Eagle is spotted, it usually makes the news. They are definitely around….but seeing one is sort of like playing the lottery. You have to be lucky.

The trip to Paradise Point was not wasted. This is the location where Oliver learned to drive a car. It is the place where I almost had a nervous breakdown teaching him to drive a car. Almost every Sunday afternoon, we could be found at Paradise Point…..Oliver behind the steering wheel…..me in the passenger seat. In those days, all of my cars had standard transmissions. In the case of the teal colored Hyundai that Oliver learned to drive…..a 5 speed.

There is no doubt that learning to shift gears is by far the most difficult concept to learn for a beginning driver. Paradise Point was an excellent “classroom”. Isolated. Very little traffic. A variety of terrains. Straight roads. Circular loops. Even a couple stop signs. And…..there are the hills! Have you ever tried to explain to a beginning driver how to shift gears when starting from a stand still….on flat ground? It is difficult. Now…..have you ever tried to explain to a beginning driver how to shift gears from a stand-still position on a hill?? Or to stop the car and start it again on a hill?

“Stop!” “Let the clutch out slowly…..no, no….slowly!” “Now give it a little bit of gas. Keep letting the clutch out.” “Not so much gas!” Clank! Thunk! The engine dies. So….you start over again. Eventually, the new driver gets the idea. It just sort comes to him….like turning on a light in the brain. Oliver learned. And….that is probably the time when I started getting my gray hair. Anyway……he learned….and this became our favorite training course…..many Sunday afternoons.

So, Paradise Point is a place that Oliver knows well. Even though we didn’t spot any eagles that day, he got to take a nostalgic trip down Memory Lane.

The third major bummer was….I think….the fact that we didn’t get to take a trip. Both of us had looked forward to taking a trip to Colorado. But, as I explained earlier…. the weather won out this time. But….the good thing: Colorado will still be there the next time he comes to visit.

The bitterly cold, windy weather….and then the snow on the final weekend….sort of threw a wet blanket….a cold wet blanket….on some other nostalgic plans we had made. For example, we didn’t make it to Lawrence….nor did we get to go to church. But, those were minor details compared to the fun and delight of merely getting to enjoy Oliver’s companionship for a few days.

Normally, I am not the sort of person who has a “favorite this” or a “favorite that”. Why limit myself to favoring one thing over another. I probably have twenty or thirty “favorite” songs. As for a favorite food: Just put some food in front of me…..and it is probably one of my “favorites”. A favorite TV show? Although most of the shows on TV today are trash, I like to watch ten or twelve of them whenever I can. My favorite movie? Ask any of my German students. No matter what movie is playing…..I am going to fall asleep.

However….if I were going to choose my favorite thing about Oliver’s visit…..aside from the simple pleasure of having in around…..it would be a gift that he made for me the Saturday night before he went back home.

It was either the night…or morning….that he arrived, or maybe it was the following day, that he told me he had brought something with him……and that we were going to work together on a project he had in mind. He seemed rather excited about it.

“Just wait and see,” he said mysteriously. “It’s going to be fun. You’re going to like it.”

I always get suspicious about “surprises”. I like to always know in advance what is going to happen. I don’t like for people to figuratively jump out from behind trees and startle me. After Oliver observed the proper period of keeping me in suspense…..making me wonder what this secretive project might be…..letting my imagination swing back and forth like a trapeze  artist high above the ground…..with no safety net….. He finally told me that we were going to paint a picture together.

My immediate reaction was, “Yeah…right. And what have you been smoking?” The zenith of my talent in drawing is to construct stick figures. And, even then, I would probably mess them up. However, Oliver brushed off my protests and professed to have full confidence in my artistic abilities. Of course, he secretly knew the limited extent of my talent….but, as usual….he was being nice.

On the final Saturday night before he returned to Stuttgart…..a snowy night when were were pretty much snowed in at home…..Oliver got out the canvass and the acrylic paints he had brought with him.

Knowing that I would be of little or no help to him in the actual painting, Oliver and I agreed that I would make a contribution by making suggestions to him as he painted the picture. Fair enough. I am good at giving advice. We found a small square of wood that had once been a book shelf which he used as his easel…..and Oliver began to work his creative genius.

Oliver’s choice as subject matter for the picture was to paint a lake scene at dusk, with mountains and forests in the background. That having been decided, he sat down, mixed some paint and started. Yeah…. He started to paint. Just like that. No rough sketch. No picture to copy. No picture to fill in. Just a blank square of canvass.

As he concentrated on painting, I did something. Although I don’t remember exactly what it was. Probably watch TV….or read….or take a nap. As he neared the completion of the picture, he held it up and asked what I thought. This is where my expert advice….my artistic contribution….to the project became valuable. This is where I put my stamp on the painting. This was what made it “Our” painting.

“Why don’t you put a little cabin on the edge of the lake? Maybe some lights in the windows? What about a moon…..with the moonlight shimmering on the lake?”

 

So…..Oliver added a cabin with lights in the windows….a nice moon with moonlight shimmering on the lake. Just like that.

“What about a little boat on the lake? Or some colorful flowers in the foreground?”  And…..no sooner suggested….it was done.

For me, the end result….the picture of the lake and the mountains and the forest and the little cabin and the bright moon….and the flowers…..was nothing short of a masterpiece. Certainly a masterpiece to me. It has already taken its permanent place among the three other paintings Oliver has given me in past years….hanging on the wall in my front room for everybody to admire.

It is difficult to explain the intangible delight of the ten days Oliver spent visiting me. But, this painting….along with the red, white and blue bird feeder….are visual reminders of Oliver’s visit and of the fun we had together.

On Sunday, the weather took an unexpected turn for the better. The temperature warmed, the snow melted, the sun shone again. We ate one final meal at the Golden Corral…..had one more drink at Terry’s Bar and Grill. And….then, suddenly, it seemed….Oliver’s short sojourn at the Darrah Ranch had ended. But….it is never “Good-Bye”……only “See You Later.” And…..maybe next time it will be on our birthday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the last blog, I wrote about landmark events in my life…..those events that will always stand out in my memory. Events which are those “Where were you when……?” events. They were historical events which have changed the course of history in my life time. It is a tricky job making judgments like this. Making pronouncements like this is very subjective, to say the least. Incidents which I placed on my list of life changing occurrences for our world and our society may not appear on the list of somebody else. Probably there will be people who will disagree with me…..even want to argue about it. Sorry…..I don’t argue. I learned long ago that it really accomplishes nothing…..nobody is really going to change his mind! So…..if you want to disagree on my selection….go head. Pick out your own historical makers….. And, then write a blog about it.

This blog is going to be different. It will do you no good to argue about these……because they are my own personal landmark events. I am going to call them Sign Posts…..because they have pointed me in a direction that I may not have taken if they had not have happened. The good thing about this blog is that nobody can really disagree with my choices…..because nobody has lived my life…..except me! Like they say, “It’s my ball. If you don’t want to play my game, I will take it and go home.”

As I was pondering which events to include, I had to stop and sort through an entire life time of events, happening, occurrences, circumstances, coincidences……

Some of the obvious choices….choices that I am almost sure other people would be quick to include….simply were not that life-changing to me. Sorry.

I would be willing to bet that one of the first events a lot of people would have chosen would be graduating from high school. Actually, I can barely remember my high school graduation ceremony. I know I graduated because I still have my diploma….and it is signed. I also have copies of the programs for both our Baccalaureate service and the actual Commencement ceremony. As I look at them, there is nothing on either of them that even remotely rings a bell. But….again…..I know I was there not only because I have a signed copy of my high school diploma…..but I also have pictures of me in my graduation robe. And, I am pretty sure it wasn’t just something I used as a Halloween costume that year!

For those of you who are perhaps wondering what a Baccalaureate service is: It was a religious service that was usually held about a week prior to the actual Commencement ceremony. They have faded away over the years. In fact, I am assuming they are not permissible…or legal….today….because it involved local pastors offering prayers and sermons to the graduating seniors. Back when I graduated from high school….in 1956….they were not only common…..they were a regular part of the graduation process.

So…..No….high school graduation was most definitely not one of the “Sign Posts” of my life. In fact, my life changed very little after I graduated from high school. The most memorable reminiscence I have of my high school graduation is that I came down with mumps the day after the Commencement ceremony……and I spent the next few weeks in bed….in a darkened room…..with very little to do.

After the recovery process began, I would try to read….I would watch TV…..I would lie in bed and listen to every Kansas City “A’s” baseball game. From 1955 – 1967 Kansas City was home to an American League Team known as the Kansas City Athletics. They moved to Oakland, California, in 1968. The Royals began to play in Kansas City in 1969…..which, coincidentally, was the year I moved to Valley Falls.

But, wait…..I am getting off the subject.

After graduating from high school, I continued to live at home; I continued to work for Dillons; I continued to have the same friends. No…..I don’t think that can really qualify for a major life-changing event….and significant Sign Post of my life.

But…..Hey! What about college…..and I AM a college graduate! Surely, college must be a life-changing experience for everybody. Perhaps…..everybody, except me. I went to Sterling College in my hometown. I continued to live at home; I continued to work at Dillons; I continued to have the same friends. Maybe you are asking why I didn’t have a lot of college friends. Let’s face it: Most of the students attending Sterling College back in those days were there studying to be pastors, missionaries, youth leaders, etc. And, most of them lived in the dorm. I went to Sterling College for economic reasons: Dillons, the company I worked for, gave me a scholarship all four years…..and I had the luxury of living at home, like all of my fellow Sterling High School graduates did. I felt….and I think I can even say WE felt….that we had more in common with each other than we did with the majority of the student body. All of us were enrolled in Sterling College because we were receiving local scholarships…..and we could live at home. Again economic and financial reasons…..not because we wanted become any sort of religious professional…..and most certainly, there is nothing wrong with that.

While I was in college….and this includes my entire four years at Sterling College…..I made one friend with whom I am still in contact today. And, except for that one guy, I really have no idea where the rest of my class is…..or what they are doing. And, I don’t really care. No….back in those college days, my life went on pretty much as usual. At that time, I would have been content to live in Sterling for the remainder of my life…..and work for Dillons.

I recall one Saturday morning in one of our drug stores. A few of my friends and I were sitting in a booth drinking Cokes. One of our recent high school graduates…..a member of our graduating class……came in and sat down with us. After high school she had joined the U.S. Navy, had recently finished her basic training, and was now in college (at government expense) studying to obtain a degree in nursing. She had been away from Sterling for a while, and she was home on leave. During the course of the conversation, she said something to the effect, “You guys need to get out of this town. I would never come back here and live.” Wow! We were all highly offended. How dare she talk that way about our beloved little town! She went on to tell us what a hick town it was….and how, once we had gotten away from it, we would never want to come back there and live.

It would take a few more years before I would come to realize that she was right….before all of my graduating class except for one person…..would realize that she was right. Our life was too familiar, too safe, too comfortable to even think of leaving it behind. “Come on, you little snob…..if you don’t like it, then go back to your Navy and leave us alone.”

So…..No…..neither high school or college was a major Sign Post in my life….nothing life-changing about either one of them.

 

 

 

The first major intersection I encountered in my life……a Sign Post that pointed me in a way that would become my life was the decision to enter the field of education: to become a teacher. (But….I suppose my college education had something to with that.)

It is a little too late in life to debate the merits of my choice. It’s all in the past. It is a done deal. I can’t turn around and go back how. I’ve already been down that road…..and it was a one-way road. It’s like any other journey. After it is over…..you are back home….and the car is in the garage….you can say, “I should have gone here…..or there. I should have done this….or that.” Of course, you COULD have….but you didn’t. And, as long as you enjoyed your journey…..as long as you completed the journey safely…..as long as your “snap shots” turned out OK….. Why worry about it?

And, believe me….I have had these second thoughts…..plenty of times. I probably should have stayed in the Army; I could have kept working somewhere overseas; I could have been a travel writer; I could have been quarterback for the Denver Broncos; I could have been the organist at the Mormon Tabernacle (if they would actually let a United Methodist be the organist).

When I was in high school and college, teaching was the only profession that I ever seriously considered, although I would have been just as happy back in those days if I could have continued to work for Dillons. I loved my job….sacking groceries, stocking shelves, running the cash register, trimming produce…..all of the mundane little tasks that were associated with working in a small grocery store. I loved my job back then….but I am not sure I would want to go back and do it now. Of course, “back then”, I didn’t know anything else. I knew practically everybody in Sterling…..and what kind of car they drove. It was a comfortable and familiar situation.

Of course, Dillons didn’t pay my way through college just so I could work in one of their stores for the rest of my life. Not “back then” anyways….. And, the district supervisor…whose name was Duke….who came to our store about once a week more or less…. let my boss know this. District supervisors dealt only with the manager…..not us commoners. I saw the handwriting on the wall, as they say…..and I began to look for a teaching job.

The first job I interviewed for was a job in a one room school house somewhere out in Western Kansas. I have even forgotten where it was now…..or even what they offered as a salary. But…..it was out in the country, of course. The school was on the upper or main floor…..and I would be living in the basement, as a sort of caretaker, janitor, whatever you want to call it. This did not seem very appealing to me…..and I didn’t accept the job.

A job which I accepted was at a little two room school north of Lyons….Fairplay School. I taught grades 5 – 8….everything except music. And, I was also the softball coach, the basketball coach and the track coach. We didn’t have a gym…..but we did have an outdoor asphalt slab with two basketball hoops….and that was our “gym”. We did have a softball diamond….and even a backstop. Since there were only twelve students in the entire school, 1 – 8, everybody played on the team. They had to or there wouldn’t have been a team.

Fearing…..and realistically fearing…..that I would be drafted that summer, I did not sign a contract to return for the next school year. It was getting late in the summer….and still no draft notice. Wow….I had better start looking for another job. I accepted a job as 7th and 8th grade teacher at Prosperity School, just north of Hutchinson on Plum Street. This job was pretty much like the job I had at Fairplay School, except I was teaching only 7th and 8th grades. I still taught all the classes except music; still coached softball, basketball and track….without a gym.

 

Sometime during the year, I received a draft notice. I appealed it…but assuming that it would probably do no good. Somehow I had the feeling that the clerk of the Selective Service Board in Rice County…..a Mrs. Zima….was determined that I would be the one and only guy drafted from Rice County. However, I was granted a deferment for the remainder of the school year. So at least for that year, I did not have the draft breathing down my back.

Again, summer came…..and no draft notice. “Maybe I got lucky and they gave up on me,” I thought. I went ahead and signed a contract to teach the following school year. So far….so good. But sometime in the autumn of that year, the inevitable happened. Why did I think I should be so lucky? This time, I knew there was no point contesting the obvious…..I was about to become a member of the U.S. Army. I was instructed to report to the Induction Station in Kansas City on December 11, 1962. And, on December 12, I was officially inducted into the U. S. Army.

Upon my release from the Army three years later…..on December 12, l965…..I was faced with looking for another job…..in the middle of the year. And, you know what? There are not a lot of teaching jobs available in the middle of the year….at least, not a lot of desirable ones. I interviewed for a job in Chicago…..a job which would have placed me in a school in an inner-city slum. As a small-town boy, that was not exactly what I was looking for. I found another teaching opportunity in Kansas City, Missouri….in George Caleb Bingham Junior High School…..and experimental school. I accepted a position as a Core Curriculum teacher in grade 8. Core Curriculum is another name for language arts and social studies.

I stayed there for one semester…..and that was enough. Enough both of the school and the city. All of the instruction centered around large group instruction using only audio-visual methods: film strips, slides, movies, overhead projector, guest speakers…..anything and everything except actual books. It was interesting….but I wanted a class of my own…..a class that I could become to know and identify with and work with and enjoy and appreciate. So….at the end of the semester, I started looking for another job……again.

At that time, the only college I had attended was Sterling College. That is probably not the college where all the schools of the Mid-West….or even Kansas…..rush to list their job vacancies. But, at the time, it was the best I could do. When I got my first job vacancy bulletin….and keep in mind, this was probably not the most comprehensive list…I saw a job available in Valley Falls. I didn’t have a clue where Valley Falls was located. I had never heard of it before. However, I looked it up on a Kansas map and found that it was actually quite near Kansas City. “Ah ha,” I thought. “I could stop there for an interview on my way home to Lyons some weekend.” So…..I asked for an application form….filled it out….mailed it in. A couple days later, I had an appointment for an interview on a Saturday morning.

Because it was easier to follow the highways, I took the long route….I-70 to Topeka and then K-4 to Valley Falls. I found the school quickly…..it is actually hard to miss. But, my interview was at the house of the Superintendent of Schools…..a block west of the school. It was still rather early in the morning, but the Superintendent, Dr. Ted Jones, offered me a glass of water…..and then asked if I would like to go look at the school. “Yes, of course,” I said. The new gym (It is now the OLD gym) was under construction….as well as the library, lunch room, music department…..etc. We looked through the existing building….and then Ted (I call him that because we quickly became friends.) gave me a tour of the “under construction” part of the building. All of the time we were walking, he was telling me all the good things about Valley Falls….all the advantages of teaching at USD 338. He was selling me the job! This was back in the days when there was an authentic teacher shortage. And, later on, I would come to see just how desperate they were to find teachers! (Oh well….I am sure they probably thought the same thing about me!)

At the end of the tour, he asked, “Well, can I have Betty send you a contract to sign?”

Actually, I don’t think I to stopped and think about it. Now I could relax. “I had a job. Now, I don’t have to look any more.” It happened just that quickly…..without a second thought.

I continued on to Lyons. At the time my mother lived next door to my aunt and uncle (her brother). When I arrived, they were all sitting in the backyard of my uncle’s house. I announced happily, “I got a new job!

“Where?” my aunt asked.

“In Valley Falls.” I told them.

She looked at me skeptically and said, “There is no such place as Valley Falls.”
Apparently, she had ever heard of it either.

I convinced them that I actually had a new job…..and that I was leaving Kansas City.

This was probably one of the times I did not even stop to read the Sign Posts….let alone consider their consequences. I went careening down the road…..never looking back.

Did I make a mistake? Did I make a stupid choice? Should I have looked at several jobs before I accepted the job?

I don’t know. I have asked myself that question at least a thousand times over the past four decades.

Of course, these are questions that will forever remain unanswered.

Let me start with the negative side. When writing something like this, I am aware that I have to be very careful what I say. I realize that even little things can turn into big things…..a molehill can become a mountain if you keep piling on enough dirt.

When I first arrived, I immediately liked the three or four colleagues that I met that summer. I rode to Lawrence to the University of Kansas every day with the high school principal and the P. E. teacher. They became two of my closest friends that year. Our grade school principal was top notch….calm, knowledgeable, in quiet control. Our superintendent of schools was one of the best administrators I ever worked for…..always willing to help and to give advice. He had a remarkable grasp of how schools should work….of how to assemble a budget that would please the school board, the public….and the teachers. But….teachers always came first. My fellow social studies teacher, who lived in the same house as I did, was smart, friendly, well liked by the students….and always ready to offer a helping hand when I needed it. And……it probably helped that all of these people were avid K. U. fans!

I was hired to each two classes of United States History at the high school level….and the remainder of the classes teaching social studies and English in the junior high school

It didn’t take long before it was clearly evident that not all the teachers were dedicated to teaching…..or even competent to be teaching young people. Many classes were simply chaos. In one of the coach’s classroom….across the hallway from mine…..it was a common sight to see students sitting on his desk as they discussed the sport he was coaching. The rest of them were doing pretty much as they pleased. The hallways were always noisy….even during class time. Many teachers seemed to have little or no control over their classes.

Back in those days, Valley Falls was known (and not in a good sense) as the “basketball school”. Or maybe simply as a “sports school”. It was no secret that athletics came first…..even to perhaps bending the rules in order to pass football and basketball players who would probably otherwise be ineligible.

It was very common that when I attended meetings, conferences, etc…..other teachers would ask where I taught. I would say, “Valley Falls.” Almost invariably they would give each other knowing looks and smile (or snicker). It seemed that most of the boys looked upon themselves as being little “Michael Jordans”. Yeah….they were basketball stars. Funny, that in my almost four decades of association with the school district that only ONE student ever played on a major college team. I can count probably a dozen of our “star jocks” who went to smaller colleges or community colleges…..and more or less bombed out.

At the end of the school year three teachers were fired: Two who should have been. But one.….my good friend, the P.E. teacher and J.V. Basketball coach…..was fired because he did not….would not…..give one of the school board member’s son enough playing time…..even though he was an outstanding teacher and well liked by the students and faculty. In protest, the high school principal and the elementary principal resigned.

Both outgoing principals urged me to resign….to get out while I could….to go somewhere else. But, this was my first full time job after coming back from South Vietnam, and I was hesitant. I needed to built my resume. So….against my better judgment…..I stayed.

There were only two times that I can remember that I made serious efforts to find another job. On one occasion, I applied for a position as counselor in a high school somewhere south of here. I really don’t recall the name of the school. They offered me a job as high school counselor……but: I would have to take a pay cut….and I didn’t feel that I could afford to make less money than I was already earning. That was back in the days when teachers were hired according to a salary schedule: a chart or graph on which the vertical axis was the number of years in the district; and the horizontal axis was the amount of education the teacher had acquired. Where ever these two points met…..then that was your salary. And most school districts would only allow incoming teachers to start at a predetermined spot on the graph. The reason for this was, of course, to keep salary costs down…..and usually to find beginning teachers who could be paid a lower salary. As fate would have it, my present

salary was quite a bit above the salary they would offer an incoming teacher. So…..I didn’t accept the job.

The only other job I applied for….and was offered…..was a position as counselor, vice principal and transportation director (and maybe the official dog catcher, too) of a small….but very wealthy…..school district in southwest Kansas. The school was rich with natural gas revenue…..and was apparently much better off than many other school districts of its size. It was very isolated from…..well, everything. It was actually closer to drive to Wichita Fall, Texas, that it was to drive to Wichita, Kansas! But, I would have…..and could have…..endured it for two or three years. It would have been a great place to gain some experience…..in counseling, in administration…..and in being a transportation director, whatever that entailed!

The old superintendent of schools showed me around. And….he was old! Could have been one hundred, for all I know. This little town was the only town he had ever taught in…..forty or forty-five years. Two things in particular stand out in my mind about the trip. One: Once I reached a certain point in southwest Kansas, EVERYBODY I met on the highway waved at me. This was back when the “wave” was to simply raise a finger or two off the steering wheel. Friendly people, I guess…..or lonely. The second thing: The superintendent said they still regularly used corporal punishment in their school system: Not only in the elementary school, but also in the high school! I asked him specifically if I would be expected to spank high school kids. “Yes,” he said.

“What do the parents say about this?” I asked.

“They are perfectly fine with it.”

WOW!

Anyways, he offered me the job……and told me how much money I would be making. It was considerably more than I was making in Valley Falls…..enough at least, to accept the job. Before I left, he said he would check with the school board members over the weekend……and I should give him a call on Monday.

I drove back to Lyons to my mother’s house to spend the night. Of course, I told everybody that I had a new job…..as an assistant principal! They were all delighted, and were full of congratulations to me.

On Monday afternoon, during my break, I called the superintendent, as I told him I would. Well, he said. The school board was OK with him hiring me…..but they were willing to pay much less than the amount he had told me…..actually, not much more than I was making at current job as a sixth grade teacher. I was shocked, to say the least. I really didn’t know how to respond.

Looking back, I suspect that it was probably a sort of “set up”…..a sort of “bait and switch” operation…..although, of course, I don’t know that as a fact. I can imagine they thought they had a real sucker! A guy who wanted to be an administrator so badly that I would accept anything they offered. Well…..I didn’t take the bait. I told the superintendent that I was no longer interested…..and hung up. I hadn’t told anybody at the school that I was applying for another job……but I did have to explain to everybody back home that…..No, I wasn’t going to be a principal, after all.

So……I ended up spending thirty-four years working in the Valley Falls school district.

Who knows what would have happened if I had left and taken another job in the field of education. Could I have achieved more? Had a more important position? Made more money?

And, even more important…..to me, at least…..what would have happened if I had followed a Sign Post marked Army? Or writer? Or foreign aid worker? Or Peace Corps volunteer? Or political science? Or park ranger?

Would I have had a more satisfying life? A more exciting life? A more fulfilling life?
Would I have made more money? Met more exciting challenges? Made a greater contribution to society?

Working in the public school…..at least, back when I was working….can be compared to making a long trip. Once you reach a certain point, it just doesn’t make any sense to turn around and go back. You are too far from your starting point…..closer to your destination….whatever that may be.

In the case of working in a public school, it all has to do with that salary schedule I talked about. Is it worth it to change jobs….to turn around and go back….and lose a great deal of salary….and have to start from the beginning again? Or is it better to simply keep going…..and hope for the best?

But….wait!

Here I am, at the end of the road…..still in Valley Falls. And, as I look back, it wasn’t all bad. Please don’t get the impression that it was a miserable journey….the kind where you end up in a miserable motel room with no hot water and dirty sheets!

The fact is: a lot of it has been a great experience. I think I was a reasonably good teacher and had the respect of most of my students and parents. Today, a lot of my good friends are my former students. We enjoy being with each other and carrying on a conversation as equals. It is rather strange: back in 1969, when I first arrived, these people were kids……eighteen years, at the oldest. I was thirty-two…..and at that point in my life, that was an eternity. I wasn’t old enough to be their parent…..but I was certainly old enough to be their youngest uncle! Today, these same students I taught as juniors and seniors in high school are sixty-two years old! It boggles my mind. Most of them have overcome the habit of calling me “Mr. Darrah” and simply call me by my first name. And, I like that. When we talk with each other….we have forty-five years of shared experience…..forty-five years of memories. And, another startling fact is…..to me at least…..is that I taught many of their grandchildren. Well, if I didn’t teach them, I came into contact with them when I was counselor.

Valley Falls is where I built my first….only only….house: a place where I have lived for the past forty years. Valley Falls is the place where I had the privilege of building a summer track program and coaching Junior Olympic athletes for many years. Some of the kids were very good and won medals. Some just had the fun of working hard, trying and participating. To me, all of them were equally important.

Aside from teaching, I am sure I was, at one time or another, the chairman of every committee ever formed in the Valley Falls school system. I got to do a lot of interesting things…..and meet a lot of fascinating people.

Upon my retirement, I was elected to the school board for a four year term….beating out my opponent by a 3-1 margin.

So…..Yes…..I would have to say that Valley Falls was good to me. And, I would like to think that I was also good to them. There is no point speculating on “what might have been”. I look back with many happy memories….a lot of good friends….and a sense that I also might have made a little contribution to the community.

The next life-changing junction in the road of life was a Sign Post that, at the time, I would have preferred to ignore. Actually, I did not want to take a journey down the road……but all the other roads were blocked. And….the were blocked by big army tanks……and probably a drill sergeant screaming, “Take that road…..and drop and give me ten!”

Yeah…..the only Sign Post I could follow….the only road open to me…..was the road to the United States Army. I resigned my teaching job…..the students and parents threw a party for me…..and I headed to Kansas City. On December 12, l962, I was inducted into the good old Army. I received a draft notice….and this time there was no getting out of it.

Soldiers who were drafted had two year active duty obligation….plus some reserve duty. Soldier who enlisted were required to serve for three years…..with a some reserve duty.

Back then I was very naïve….I knew very little about the military and how it works. Before we took the oath to be a solider, they gave us a little speech telling us that if we chose to enlist for three years, we could choose from all these wonderful and exciting career options…..in other words, choose our MOS…..Military Occupational Specialty.
I was an innocent, unsophisticated country boy…..or maybe I simply wanted to believe them. Anyway, I chose to enlist. It was first of many lessons I would learn in the Army. Sure…..they told us that we could CHOOSE any MOS we wanted. They just didn’t bother to tell us that this meant nothing! They would….and could….put us anywhere they wanted. I wish I had had my attorney with me!

My Army experience was sort of like eating spinach or Brussel sprouts. At first sight and first taste, they don’t taste so good. Get them out of here. But, the more you eat them….the better you like them. In fact, after a while, they taste pretty good. This, in a way, can describe my three years in the Army.

This was the first time I had been away from home for any length of time. I had gone to visit my sisters or other relatives…..or college friends…..or I had taken a trip with friends. But, I always knew that I would be going back home in a week or two. And….I liked the people I was with. And, I more or less knew what to expect.
And, during my four years in college, I had lived at home…..so I had no experience with “communal living”. The first night I slept in the Army Induction Station in Kansas City was a rather intimidating experience. Take my word for it….it was not a Five Star Hilton Hotel. No friendly, accommodating front desk clerk; no chocolate on my pillow; no TV to watch; no recliner to relax in. Hey…..is this any way to welcome a guy who is going to defend our country for the next three years? No…..our sleeping quarters was a cavernous room with maybe fifty or one hundred beds in it…..I didn’t think to count them. There was a bed on the left….a bed ton the right….a bed in front….a bed behind. I can imagine that a few of the guys actually wanted to be there……but I also suspect that the vast majority of us did not want to be there.

Nothing really changed when we were shipped out to our basic training posts. In our case, I think most of us ended up at Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri….in the middle of the winter. Our barracks were old wooden, two story frame buildings…..probably left over from the Civil War…..or something earlier. Each building housed the platoon we were assigned to. There were absolutely NO interior walls in the building….except the basic walls to hold up the roof and to separate the sleeping area from the shower area. Even in the shower room there were no walls or divisions. Everything was an open area. Privacy? There was no privacy.

Everybody had a “bunk mate”…..one on the top bunk and one on the lower bunk. We were responsible for each other…..making certain our bunk was made to specification each morning; making sure our foot locker was arranged in precise order; making sure our clothing in the wardrobe locker was hung in an explicit manner. If one of got into trouble….we both got into trouble. Well….let me assure you: I had no desire to get into trouble! I followed their silly regulations to the letter! My bunk mate….well, let’s just say that he was not so concerned. I really don’t think the problem was his lack of concern as much as it was his lack of competence….or his failure to grasp exactly how the Army wanted this to be done. He tried….I think he really did. But, he was sort of like the kindergarten kids I taught: Give them a picture to color….explain to them carefully that you want them to “stay in the lines” when they color. When they finish, they bring their picture up to you…..so proud of it! But….is was terrible! At any rate, I managed to keep the poor kid out of trouble most of the time. He was such a nice kid….good natured….easy to get along with. It was almost impossible to get angry with him. Looking back, I wish I had done a better job keeping in contact with him.

But, in retrospect, it is easy for me to see that the Army was training us…conditioning us….to always look out for our buddy. It could, I suppose, potentially mean the difference between life and death in a combat situation.

It was not until after I completed both phases of my basic training….after I received my permanent assignment….that I was assigned a room of my own.

Although at the time, I did not consider this to be my ideal living arrangement…..as I reflect on it, I can understand the Army’s motive. They were trying to build a cohesive unit….one that would function as a solid team in case of war. “All for one….one for all”….or however that cliché goes.

In my own case, this was the first time that I had to really “grow up”. It was the first time I had truly been by myself without some sort of support unit to fall back on. It was the first time I had to totally rely on my own instincts and judgment…..or depend on the judgment and support of my fellow soldiers.

It was in the Army…..and especially in basic training….that I was first exposed to a literal melting pot of humanity: rich and poor; white, black and yellow; educated and uneducated; high school drop outs and those with college degrees; city boys and country boys; boys from the North, from the South, from the West and from the Midwest; the smart and the not so smart; the shy and the extroverts. We were all lumped together into one group….and everyone with the same responsibilities and the same opportunities.

It was a dramatic awakening for me. This was the first time I had ever been exposed close up to black people; the first time in my life that I ever met a Jew; the first time I had ever been exposed to a New England drawl or a deep South accent; the first time I had ever met somebody from a ghetto. Not only was it an awakening…..but it was a very valuable lesson in tolerance and awareness that would serve me well later on in life.

If I followed orders….if I did what I was told to do…..if I did my job to the best of my ability….I quickly found out that the sergeants would leave me alone….not give me “special attention”. I also learned…..Always look busy! Act like I am doing something….and do it earnestly….and the sergeants would leave me alone.

Also, I discovered…..and I don’t know why this surprised me….that my education was a valuable asset when the Army starting assigning permanent jobs…..at least, it was in my case. At Ft. Benjamin Harrison (Indianapolis) I went through the basic Army administration school…..training to be a company clerk. Every company has a clerk….whether it be in a suburban Army post like Ft. Benjamin Harrison…..or a jungle outpost in South Vietnam.

When I finished the course, it was time to receive orders for our permanent assignment. Most of the guys in my class were being shipped to South Korea, West Germany…..or South Vietnam. Any of those place….except for South Vietnam….would have been an acceptable place to be transferred, I suppose. But….the powers that be noticed that I had a college degree…..and that I had taught school for a couple years. They pulled me out of the regular assignments and kept me at Ft. Benjamin Harrison as the administrative assistant to the Commander of Troops…..not a bad assignment.

Even after I received orders to serve in South Vietnam, I had the same experience. My original orders were to report to an Army base in the southern delta region of the country. But…again….the people in the personnel office saw that I had graduated from college….that I had taught school…and that I had been administrative assistant to a commander. So….my orders were changed. I was permanently assigned to the Headquarters of the U.S. Army in Vietnam as the secretary to the Adjutant General. And, that my friends….was a lucky surprise! And, I might say…..a very welcome surprise.

However, I quickly learned that I could…and would…succeed by doing the best job I could possibly do: To take care of my boss….to make him look good. His reward was was that he looked good to his superiors (and Yes, generals have superiors, too.) and he also looked good and gained the respect of all those under his command. It made him look more competent, skilled and authoritative….more worthy of their respect. And….I was rewarded generously for it. At Ft. Benjamin Harrison I was placed on the board of directors of the Indianapolis Service Men’s Center, our local USO organization. I was sent to the Indianapolis airport to escort important military visitors to the post. I was invited to the commander’s house for dinner. I was highly encouraged to date my sergeant-major’s daughter….although I never took advantage of the offer. In South Vietnam, I was never on guard duty, because my boss wanted me on-call twenty-four hours a day. That plus the fact, that we…the commander, the sergeant-major, myself….would sit and just visit in the closing minutes of the day when our work had been completed. At times, I felt more like their friend that I did their subordinate. And, they both acted as sort of a father-figure to me.

Even though all these lessons were important and lasting, probably the most important change the Army made in my life was that it instilled in me the love of travel….to see and live in other places. Just like the Navy nurse from my graduating class, I would never be content to simply move back to Sterling and live out my life and be one of the local yokels. As I said in an earlier blog…..while in South Vietnam, I caught the “travel bug.”

I returned home after my enlistment was completed…..and was immediately restless. I wanted to go back to South Vietnam….or to Hong Kong…..or to Tokyo…..just any place. The “travel bug” had become chronic…..and I have never succeeded in curing it.

This was one Sign Post I was forced to follow…..and it was a road to enlightenment, awakening, awareness and satisfaction that I will never regret taking.

An unexpected Sign Post presented itself one afternoon in July back in 1992. It was a fork in the road that took me by surprise. I found myself in a place where I did not expect to be. I had never seen this road before…..and I certainly never thought I would find myself staring at a sign post wondering, “Should I go down this curious new road…..or had I best just let well enough alone and stay on the road I am familiar and comfortable with?”

I looked down that road marked “Exchange Students Blvd.” and tried to imagine what it would be like. Was it a straight, wide, smooth road? Or would it be a rough and bumpy road filled with holes? Just over the horizon, would it take some weird, unexpected turn? Or would it take me somewhere I didn’t want to be…and leave me stranded there.

After pondering these questions for an uncharacteristic short time….at least, for me…..I made the decision to plunge forward….and see where the road would eventually lead. And…..I am glad I did! It was an exciting road….full of adventure and intrigue and drama. There was never a dull moment…..and the journey passed by so quickly. Even after the journey had ended, I was motivated to take other shorter…but no less interesting….trips. And, they continue to this day.

Over the years from 1992 through 2001, I hosted nine foreign students. Two them simply didn’t work out…..and they were gone quickly…..and relatively painlessly. The other eight brought a degree of satisfaction and fulfillment into my life that greatly overshadowed any negative issues I had to deal with. These seven young men became the sons I never had…..who eventually gave me the grandchildren I will never have.

These students…..six Germans and one Chinese….brought adventure and satisfaction and cheer into my life and gave me a sense of responsibility that I had not had before this time. I formed lasting friendships not only with them…..but also their families….their parents, their siblings, their wives….and now their children.

One of the great aspects of opening my home to foreign students for ten months, was that no two of them were the same…..different personalities, different temperaments, different identities, different egos, different backgrounds, different family histories….. Each one of them was a unique individual…..and remain so today. I always looked forward to meeting each of my new students…..and I always hated to see them leave.

Much has been said about fostering international understanding. Previously, this was a rather remote and abstract concept…..words that looked good on paper, at least. Through my involvement with my foreign students, this concept transformed from the abstract to reality.

These students….the Germans in particular….opened a new avenue of travel to me. It introduced me to a new and fascinating world……the continent of Europe…..and especially the country of Germany…..and more specifically, the city of Berlin. Over the years, I have traveled through eleven different European countries……each of them with its individual charming and intriguing characteristics, identities and ways of life. I have walked down the Champs Elysee in Paris; seem the Little Mermaid in the harbor of Copenhagen; sat through an opera at the Vienna Opera House; driven through the snowy peaks of the Alps Mountains, walked along the Danube River and browsed through the Rembrandt Museum in Amsterdam…..among other things.

The visits to any….and each….country in Europe are delightful and compelling. But….it is always Germany that has the magnetic attraction to draw me back time after time. And….and again….more specifically to the city of Berlin. When I add up the total time I have spent in Berlin, I find that I have spent more than one year of my life in that city. It probably is not an exaggeration that I know Berlin better than any other city in the world…..except for Topeka, Kansas.

There have been at least two other opportunities for exciting travel. I turned them both down…..and I am still kicking myself for it. My old boss, who was promoted to be military attache to Turkey, asked me to be his assistant near the end of my enlistment. At that time, I just plain did not see the advantages of it like I see them today. You know the old cliché: Hindsight is always 20/20. Well….I wish I had had my glasses on the day I told him that I was going to go ahead and get out of the Army. Shortly after I arrived back in Sterling after leaving the Army, the United Presbyterian Church extended an invitation to teach English in Ethiopia. At the time, that seemed to me to be highly undesirable…..given the unrest and unstable governments in that area. But, I have never been to Africa…..and I have always wanted to go to Africa. This would have been a good opportunity to do this.

After I got home from South Vietnam in 1969, after working for the International Voluntary Services, my dream was to start a private English language school in Hong Kong. I even wrote letters to the Ministry of Education….and to my Congressman….and probably some other people, too…. Nobody was adverse to the idea…..but I was amazed at the unbelievable sea of red tape which was required. That…..and the staggering amount of money it would take. Wow….it seemed like it would take “All the Gold in California”. So….you guessed it! I ended up in Valley Falls.

I realize that not everybody wants to travel….and not everybody can afford to travel…. cannot afford it in regards to both time and money. I was lucky. Teachers only work with a contract of nine months a year. However, we have the option to divide our salary into twelve equal payments so it will make it easier for us to live in the summer. (NO….we do not have a three months paid vacation….free and charged to the tax payers! Anybody who thinks that needs to become a teacher…..and find out first hand!)

During the summer, teachers have a couple choices, I suppose: become temporarily “unemployed” until the school year begins in late summer……or they can get a summer job to supplement their meager income from teaching. Many of those with families to support, of course, look for a summer job. I spent most of my summers coaching Junior Olympics….and traveling. With some discipline and some sacrifice, I was usually able to save enough money for one basic major trip….i.e. Camping….where ever I traveled.

My usual destination of choice was usually the Oregon Coast. The spectacular, breathtakingly beautiful Oregon Coast. I did this until I had my first exchange student. Once I made my first, wonderful trip to Germany….I never looked back. Europe was the place to go. Yes….I still travel within the U.S.A…..but my eyes are always set on Europe.

Throughout my life, I have traveled thru twenty-three countries of the world. No two of the countries are the same. And, in each of them I think I grew as a person, expanded my horizons, became more aware of, and learned to appreciate, different cultures and different ways of living. And, maybe, most important, I have come to the realization that people everywhere are basically the same. To type-cast or stereotype people is almost always inaccurate.

So….Yes: Choosing to following the road marked “Exchange Students” was one of my better choices. It has enriched and enhanced my life…..not only by their presence in my life, but also through the by-product of fulfilling my love of travel.

And, I would be negligent if I did not also mention the twenty or twenty-five other short term foreign guests who have shared my home in the years following my retirement. They also have played an important part in this story.

So…..there you have it. A sort of road map to the directions I have taken in my life. So….what do you think? Quite frankly, I think I did a pretty good job of deciding which road to travel. I am pretty good at reading Sign Posts. I don’t even use a GPS. But, actually, I don’t think I need one. Chances are….it would have always routed me to the easiest, quickest, dullest, most uninspired route. It is so much better to simply throw the map away……and rely on your own instinct  for your life’s journey.

 

                 

 

     

 

 

E

 

 

 

 

 

Every day  of the year there are events taking place that are going to change the lives of individuals, of families, of nations….of the world.Some of these events will be noticed by a single individual or a single family or perhaps a single community. But, other events will affect the lives of nations or even the world. They may end up in history books because they have changed the course of history.

Unless you were born only yesterday, you have probably experienced such an event. If you haven’t…..you soon will. It will be an incident or a development from which other events in your life will be measured. If not this, at least it will be one of those “Where were you when……?” type of event. You may not recognize these incidents immediately. It may be months, if not years, before you will….or can….recognize how important they are….and what a profound effect they had on your life. In one’s personal life, these events may be very happy and positive kinds of experiences…such as a marriage, the birth of a child, or….in very happy circumstances….winning the lottery. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, they could be very sad events: a death, loss of a job, a devastating accident…..

It seems that on the national level or the international level, many of these milestone are serious and often negative events….although this not always true, fortunately.

In my own personal life, we can rule out marriages….or divorces. And, insofar as I am aware, we can also rule out any children. (Now that definitely would be a life-changing circumstance for me.)

The life-changing milestones in my life can be divided into some personal landmarks….and also historical landmarks. And, since this is my story….let me tell you about four of them. In this blog, I will talk about the historical landmarks.

There are many people who are convinced that my list of important life references begins either when I accompanied Moses in parting the Red Sea…..or when I was with Noah in the Ark. But…sorry, I can’t lay claim to either of those events…as important as they were.

 

 

Without a doubt, the earliest landmark which took place in my early life was the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese…..and our subsequent entrance into World War II. Yes…..it took place….but I was a little too young to remember it. I was only three years old at the time that happened. The War ended in 1945, and that is my first recollection of a landmark event in my life. And…..I have to admit, those are only fuzzy, blurred recollections.

I have definite…..but again vague and indistinct….memories of my parents and my aunt and uncle…..my dad’s brother and his wife….sitting in our front room listening to the radio. Even at my young age, I knew by the serious expressions on their faces, that whatever they were listening to was heavy stuff. There was no laughing or joking. In fact, I recall very little conversation….and whatever conversation they engaged were in was somber. I was too young to ask what they were talking about, and I don’t remember them ever explaining to us kids what was happening. It is entirely possible….even probable….they did….but I don’t remember it.

I knew we were going through some tense times. There were “blackout” nights, when ALL lights had to be tuned out….or windows thoroughly covered to block any and all light. No longer do I recall how long these “drills” lasted….but I do remember sitting in complete darkness for a period of time….probably wondering why all this was happening. I vaguely remember that on other occasions, Mother covered our windows with heavy blankets…..while we sat with only a kerosene lantern as light.

Even as a kid, I knew this was not fun and games….that something grim and somber was taking place. I also remember rationing….rationing of food, of gasoline, of rubber. Each family was issued monthly “rationing” books….with little coupons which were required in order to purchase certain items. When the allotment of coupons was used up…..then we were unable to buy any more of that product until the next allotment booklet was issued. I still have some old allotment booklets with a few unused coupons in each of them.

In those war time days, we saved all of our “tin cans” and took them to a central collection point. These cans were lined with tin….I suppose. At any rate, they were melted down to recover the precious metal that would be used in the manufacture of war machinery. American families were also encouraged to plant “victory gardens”….to grow as much of our own food as possible, so that the bulk of commercially grown food could be used in to feed our soldiers fighting in Europe and Asia. Of course, we were already growing a garden…..a big garden. And, this was probably used as a motivating factor to make working in our garden less of a burden.

There were many other measures taken….things that I was probably unaware of at the time…..to ensure that there would be adequate resources to carry on the war effort. But, the restrictions and strictures applied to everybody…..so, to be sure, everybody was involved in supporting our campaign against the Nazis and the Axis powers.

Living in a rural area, my life was a rather simple, uncomplicated life. When we were not working in our garden….”victory garden”…. or doing other chores around the farm, we were undoubtedly playing with kids from neighboring properties. Along with the inevitable cowboys and Indians….more specifically Roy Rogers and Dale Evans or Gene Autry…..or baseball….or touch football…..or hide and seek……We were playing “War”….with the “Japs” and the “Krauts” being the bad guys. Of course, we older kids always ended up playing the good guys….while the younger kids were relegated to playing the bad guys. And, of course, the good guys….the Americans….always won.

That brings me to the first landmark event in my life that I actually remember….at least, sort of: The end of World War II….May 8, 1945…..more specifically the defeat of Hitler and Nazi Germany. After the official announcement was made over the radio, almost everybody took to the streets….or even the country roads….to celebrate. I can remember that my parents and our neighbors were all outside…..talking and laughing.

Even though we lived just outside of town, we were still able to hear the city siren which was sounded every day at noon…..and when there was a fire. And, we could hear the deep, coal-fired whistles of both the salt mines which blew to announce the beginning and end of the work day. These whistles…..both the siren and those of the salt plants…..not only blew once, but they sounded over and over and over. I do not recall how long we could actually here them….but it was certainly long enough for anybody to know that a celebration was taking place…..and that something indeed momentous had happened.

Parades and celebrations were held everywhere…..in every village and every large city. And, Lyons was no exception. A day or two after the end of the war, we went to watch one of the most joyous parades I had seen up to that time (I was only seven years old!)…..maybe even since then. It was a typical small town event. Every fire truck, every police car, tractors, horses, bicycles, tricycles…..the high school band….already discharged veterans…..pets…..and almost everybody and anything that wanted to participate joined in the festivities….all decked out in red, white and blue…..to a background of honking automobile horns, police and fire truck sirens, patriotic music, fireworks and the general raucous merriment of the crowd. Even as a seven year old boy, I was caught up in the excitement and filled with pride and excitement.

For succeeding decades, all time and events were referred to as happening “Before the War”….or “After the War”.

 

 

The next truly landmark event which has taken place in my lifetime was the assassination of President John K. Kennedy…J.F.K.

As the administration of President Dwight D. Eisenhower was coming to an end, the campaigns to choose the candidates to be the next President of the USA in 1960 had started in earnest. Richard Nixon was no doubt the obvious choice of the Republican Party, since he had served as Vice President for both terms under Eisenhower. Even though as far back as then, he had already displayed questionable ethical and character weaknesses. Nobody seriously contested his nomination, and he was ultimately selected to be the Republican nominee for President.

The Democratic Party had been out of power for a long eight years, largely because there was really nobody to nominate who could come close to defeating the hugely popular Eisenhower. Even though his administration was largely a hands-off, do-nothing government with few accomplishments to boast about, Eisenhower’s success in the recent victory defeating the Nazis in World War II and his stint as Commander of the NATO forces had consolidated his niche in the annals of history. And….not to mention the famous, but largely deceptive and forged “Eisenhower smile”. Having no political affiliation prior to becoming a civilian after his military career, both the Republican and Democratic parties strongly courted his favor. Ultimately, he declared himself to be a Republican….which was probably an appropriate choice for him, given his style of governing.

Adlai Stevenson, a Democratic liberal, a former governor of Illinois, was chosen by the Democratic Party to run against Eisenhower not only in 1952, but also in 1956. He was convincingly defeated both times.

He would have dearly loved to have run again in 1960….but it was not to be. The Democratic Party chose John F. Kennedy as its nominee to oppose Richard Nixon.

John Kennedy had a lot going for him. He was a pseudo war hero, his exploits having been glamorized in a ghost-written autobiography….and another heavily “edited” senior thesis from Harvard University…..where he was at best a mediocre student. He was handsome; he had a winning, outgoing personality. His older brother, Joe, was slated by his family to be the “family politician”. But Joe was killed in the War…..and thus the mantle was passed to John Kennedy.

John Kennedy possessed all of the previous qualities….but most of all he had money…lots of money. Not his money…..but the money of his ultra-rich father. And, he had organization. His large family of brothers and sisters, along with an assortment of his ambitious college and navy friends, rallied to form a support organization that made his name and face a familiar household presence.

The margin of victory in the election was razor thin….one of the closest of any presidential election….around 100,000 votes out of a total of sixty-eight and a half million votes cast…..one tenth of one percent. Kennedy did not win by a landslide vote as some popular Kennedy “mystique” would have people believe. There were questions of serious voter fraud….especially in Illinois, where it was alleged that his father has bought votes.

In one of his rare displays of statesmanship, Richard Nixon chose not to contest the election and conceded defeat…..and the triumph of John Kennedy.

This was the first election in which I was old enough to vote….and the only presidential election in which I voted for the Republican candidate….probably as a result of the lingering influence of my parents. Looking back….and knowing what I know about both men now…..I would probably have voted for a third party candidate….who matter who they represented.

The “thousand days” that Kennedy was president was characterized largely by glamor and “style” rather than substance. But, that is a story for another day.

I was teaching school in a two room school when Kennedy was elected…..my first teaching job. After moving to another school the following year and teaching there for a year and a half, I joined the Army…..under the inevitable consequence of being drafted if I didn’t.

After completing four months of basic training and advanced training as an administrative specialist, I was assigned to the office of the Commander of Troops at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indiana, as his administrative assistant….or secretary.

It was a great job…..after overcoming my initial “breaking-in” period, when I struggled to learn my job…..and more important, in which I waited for my boss to gain confidence in me and to trust me. It was a happy place to work. I looked forward to going to work each morning…..although all I had to do was walk down a flight of stairs to my office. The sergeant-major, who was my immediate supervisor, spent a great deal of his day trying to get me interested in dating his daughter. It wasn’t that I was particularly opposed to it; it was just that I didn’t have any means of transportation….except the bus that went from the army base into Indianapolis.

My best friend was a guy who lived in the room adjoining mine. He worked in the logistics….or what normal people would call the supply….division. We hung out a lot together….mostly playing pool in our private pool room in the basement of our building; target shooting on the sound-proof top floor; working out in the base gym; running….. He also had a car…..but we did not use it often.

He had a wicked sense of humor….always a joke or something funny to say about almost everything. He also liked to tease…. He was known throughout our little kingdom as the resident clown. He got by with it, too….largely because he was also a hard worker and always did his job above and beyond what was asked.

It was a Friday…..a cold day in late November…..Friday, November 22, 1963, to be exact. We were all in our office that morning, doing our job. As usual, I was answering the telephone, greeting visitors, writing letters, looking up Army Regulations about various matters for my boss, the Commander. The other people where doing their jobs….whatever that happened to be. It was getting to be late in the morning….actually approaching lunch time. There was sort of a lull in the activity, as we were sort of winding down our busy morning…..just sitting around, engaging in light-hearted small talk waiting for the first lunch period to arrive.

My friend, who worked in another part of the block-long headquarters building, stuck his head in our office and said….I thought with a half-grin on his face…..”President Kennedy was just shot.” There was a rather stunned silence. I didn’t know if he was joking….or if he was serious. I knew he was no big admirer of Kennedy…but, on the other hand, it was not something one joked about….especially on an army base.

My boss, the Commander, heard him from his private office…..and immediately came bounding out of his office. “Are you telling the truth?” he demanded.

“Yes,” answered by friend. “We heard it on the radio just a couple minutes ago.”

My boss, who was a devout Roman Catholic, grabbed his overcoat and announced that he was going to the base chapel.

By that time, the gravity and the reality of the situation was sinking into our brains very quickly. Whatever light-hearted banter was taking place just a few minutes earlier had vanished….and was replaced by a dark, somber atmosphere. We quickly turned on our own radio….which for some unknown and uncharacteristic reason had been sitting silently the entire morning.

The telephone began ringing almost immediately. Of course, at that time, we had no more information than the caller did. My boss returned to the office….maybe thirty or forty minutes later, and immediately left to consult with the Base Commander, his superior.

In the meantime, orders came down from the Base Commander that all operations and activity were to cease immediately. Only a skeleton staff was to remain on duty to answer calls and to conduct….or defer….business. A Second Lieutenant was designated to stay in our office. The rest of us were free to leave.

The only ceremony that was held to commemorate the President’s death was a formation of all available troops on the parade ground the following morning. The following morning was a Saturday. It was frigid cold. There was a brief, pre-planned, according to the regulations ceremony…..lasting no more than ten minutes, as I recall. And, then we were dismissed. The next two days were weekend days….during which most troops already are not on duty. The funeral was held on Monday, also a day which all activities and work were canceled.

For the next three days….Saturday, Sunday and Monday…..there was very little to do. Almost everything was closed. It seemed as if the usually busy city of Indianapolis was semi-deserted. The mood was somber and restrained. And, of course, at Fort Benjamin Harrison, everything was also closed…..almost literally. Meals were still being served in the dining halls and church services were conducted as usual on Sunday. But any form of recreational facility was locked. And, to make it worse, my friend, the guy whose room was next door to mine, had gone home. His parents lived within easy driving distance of the army base.

I was more or less left alone….literally. Of course, the soldiers were still there….also with nothing to do. But…..they had each other. I didn’t know any of these soldiers who were stationed there only temporarily for training purposes. As permanent staff, we never associated with them. I had nobody. Except for my friend, everybody else in our office lived off-base….and, of course, that is where they stayed.

But, at least, I had a TV set in my room….something the “student” soldiers did not have.  I had bought the TV set….a black and white TV, of course….a few months earlier and set it up in my room….with the usual “rabbit ears” antenna. I had fashioned a sort of aluminum foil “flag” on each strand of the two-strand antenna to boost reception. With it, I could fairly satisfactorily receive each of the four VHF….very high frequency….channels; those channels from 2 through 13. With nothing else to do….except go down to our pool room…by myself….or go for a short run….I sat and watched TV almost around the clock. When I turned on the TV, I had no other choice. All commercial programming has been suspended…..including the commercials. The time was devoted exclusively to covering the events surrounding the assassination. Looking back it was reminiscent of watching one of the twenty-four news channels today….but without the commercials. A lot of it was repetition; a lot of it was purely conjecture and speculation. But, it did make for fascinating TV watching…..to see history unfolding before my eyes.

Sunday morning was no different than Saturday. The TV was turned on, and I was sitting with my eyes glued to the TV set. A suspect, Lee Harvey Oswald, had been arrested earlier in a Dallas theater as the main suspect in the murder. Late in the morning….around 11:20 A.M….police authorities were in the process of transferring Lee Harvey Oswald to another prison facility through an underground garage in the Dallas jail. He was being led to a police car by several policemen…with the characteristic smirk on his face…..when all of a sudden gun shots rang out. It was alarming; it was totally unexpected. Lee Harvey Oswald was holding his side and falling to the floor.

This was 1962, remember, and for some reason the basement of the jail was jammed with news reporters….and dozens of other people. Who knows who they were? Curious on lookers of some type. A situation of this sort is almost unbelievable in our day and age, but apparently it was acceptable at that time. Anyway, there was pandemonium as police and other by standers wrestled the gun from the man who had fired the shots…..and fired them at almost point-blank range.

If I was watching with only a casual interest before…..now I was totally alert! The man who shot JFK had just been shot…..on live TV. At that time, nobody knew the man’s name….why he did it….where he came from…. They didn’t know anything….only that Lee Harvey Oswald had been killed. The man who shot John Kennedy was dead. It would be later when the details about Jack Ruby, the owner of a Dallas strip club, began to reveal themselves.

All of this happened so suddenly and without warning. But, the reality began to sink into my brain: I had just witnessed important history being made.

Monday was the day of the funeral. Now everything was really closed! Again, there was nothing to do except to sit and watch the entire funeral proceedings…..and all of the accompanying hype. To me….from the very beginning….it appeared to be a highly staged spectacle…..staged to highlight and bring attention to its dominant leading character….Jackie Kennedy. That probably sounds cynical…..but to me there was a definite absence of sincerity….and an over-abundance of publicity seeking. But…that is only my opinion. Even with all the obvious “Jackie touches”, it was a moving and dignified final salute to the slain President of the United Sates of America.

 

 

The third defining event that took place in my lifetime was an event that had it origins back in autumn of 1957. It was on October 4 of that year that the USSR launched the first artificial Earth satellite…..Sputnik I.

The satellite was visible all around the earth, and since its orbit could be predicted, millions of people, including myself, flocked outside at night to watch as it streaked through the sky. It stayed in orbit for several weeks…..and soon the novelty of looking for it wore off.

Wow….surely the USA must have been expecting this to happen….but maybe not so soon. I was a freshman in college that year…..and I know I was rather stunned, even though I probably didn’t understand all the ramifications of what has just happened.

My college professors were also surprised. There was a feeling of gloom…and alarm….that pervaded the atmosphere. This was in the midst of the Cold War. Of course, no shots were being fired…..no bombs were being dropped. But, a real threat of both of these possibilities was always on our collective minds…..the minds of the people and certainly on the mind of the government. With this event, the common perception was that now the USSR had….or soon would have….the capability of launching missiles or even atomic warheads at the mainland USA.

As for our government……well, let’s just say we were not accustomed to coming in second…..in anything…….and especially second to the Russians, whose store shelves were bare…..and even their toilets wouldn’t flush.   An intensive effort was launched in order to catch up with the Russians. But….that was not the end of it. On April 12, 1961, the Soviet Union pulled off another “first”: They successfully rocketed the first man into space. Yuri Gagarin, a Soviet astronaut, was the first man to travel into space and the first man to orbit the earth. This was a major assault on the pride and prestige of the USA…..not to mention evidence that we lagging seriously behind in the “space race”.

The Kennedy Administration initiated an all-out effort to catch up with the USSR…..and to take the lead. And, of course, this was done with the type of face-saving public relations dazzle that the Kennedys were noted for. Physical fitness councils were formed and an emphasis was placed on accentuating physical education programs in schools, NASA was formed, and great importance was placed on establishing or strengthening mathematics and science programs in colleges and universities…..and also in the public schools.

If I had been a math or science major…..or even a PE major……I could probably have gotten a rather substantial scholarship to a good university. But….alas…..with my meager aptitude for those two subjects, there wasn’t much chance of that happening. So…..with a scholarship from Dillons…..I plodded my four years through Sterling College to become a teacher.

BUT….all of the this was merely an introduction to the main event…..a prelude to the symphony….an occasion that would become one of my life markers. On Saturday, July 16, 1969, the United States of America launched a spacecraft…named the Columbia…. into the vast reaches of the cosmos toward the moon. The three American astronauts in the lunar spacecraft were Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins.

Of course, the approximate time of the lunar landing was closely tracked and was widely reported on the three major TV networks. In fact, in the final hours, all three networks devoted their air time exclusively to covering the impending landing.

I had moved to Valley Falls only a couple months earlier. I had found a place to live: one room in a house only a block from the school. Although my “apartment” consisted of only one room, the elderly lady who owned the house assured me that is was perfectly OK to spend most of my time in the living room…..and I had full access to the TV, whenever she wasn’t watching it. She even had a large “lap board” that I put across my recliner which I used to grade papers while I was watching TV. She spent some time sitting in the living room at night watching TV with me. But, generally speaking, she was in her room at the back of the house…..or she was entertaining as assortment of her equally elderly friends playing a card game around the dining room table. In any case, if I kept the volume low….and I always did…..I did not disturb her….and everything worked out well.

Although school had not started yet, I had enrolled in a Masters Degree program at the University of Kansas, and I was commuting there five days a week with two of my future colleagues: the high school principal and the P.E. teacher. Without exception, as soon as classes had ended on Friday, and soon as I could get back home to pick up my suitcase, I would jump into my red Volkswagen Beetle and head off to Mother’s house in Sterling. I would spend Friday night and Saturday night in Sterling, and then after church on Sunday, I would eat lunch at Mother’s house and then head back to Valley Falls.

On this particular Sunday, July 20th, I lingered around for a while watching the coverage of the imminent lunar landing. Back in those days, there were always a lot of “ifs” concerning the exact time. I had to decide: should I simply stay at Mother’s house until the landing was complete….even though it might be much later than predicted? Or should I go ahead and leave…..and hope that maybe I could be back at my apartment before the lunar module landed.

I was in the middle of my first summer studying to obtain a Masters Degree. I had class the next day….and I had studying to do. I made the only logical decision that could have rationally been made: I started back to Valley Falls. Valley Falls is about a three and a half hour drive from Sterling. But….who knows? Maybe there would be a problem, and the lunar landing would be delayed. I mean…..I certainly was not hoping for any problems. But, like I said, there was a little bit of a question about the exact time. Maybe I would be back to my apartment in time to watch it on TV.

As soon as I got into my car, I turned on the radio to WIBW in Topeka. Even listening to the verbal descriptions was exciting. Of course, a lot of the coverage is much like it is on TV today……just peripheral and marginal chatter when there was no hard news to report. And….still like today…..a lot of repetition.

As events began to come together and predictions of the lunar landing became more definite, the intensity of the coverage increased. It was apparent that even though the scientists who were manning the flight center…..and those people who were in charge of the mission…..tried to remain calm and cool and professional, there was definitely an undercurrent of nervousness, excitement, anxiety and anticipation in their voices.

The historic moment had arrived: ten…..nine….eight…. Three….two…..one. “The Eagle has landed!” It was 3:17 P.M., Sunday afternoon, July 20, 1969. The first men had landed on the moon. The USA had landed on the moon.

Even on radio, it was not difficult to hear the collective sigh of relief that was being breathed in the control room…..the sense of satisfaction, of joy, of excitement….of the many dedicated scientists who had worked so long to bring about this historic event. A man on the moon had previously been science fiction fantasy…….but now….in this moment….it was a reality. I hadn’t seen it…..but I had heard it…..and I had seen it in my mind.

I was listening to the CBS Radio Network. They asked everybody traveling on a highway and listening to the coverage on the radio to turn on their headlights. Almost instantaneously the headlights of almost every car driving on I-70 flashed on. The sight was enough to make a shiver of pride run up and down my spinal cord…..if not bring actual tears to my eyes.

When I arrived back at my apartment, even my lady was excited. She had watched events unfold on TV with some of her friends….and normally she was not one to sit around and watch the news when there was a good soap opera or a situation comedy to watch…..or the chance to play one of her beloved card games.

Coverage of the event continued throughout the evening…..again, mostly repetition, commentary, speculation…..and just plain babbling by people who apparently had the desire to appear wise or to be considered as part of the “in crowd”. Late in the evening, when it became apparent that the first “man on the moon” was a very real possibility, the coverage became more urgent…..with the same undercurrent of excitement, anticipation…..and the same degree of tension that had preceded the actual landing.

The pictures being transmitted back to earth were sometimes blurred and grainy…..but all eyes were focused on the spacecraft, anxiously awaiting the appearance of the first man to ever set foot on the moon’s surface.

At 10:56 P.M. (Kansas time), history was made. Neil Armstrong firmly planted his foot on the surface of the moon. As he did so, he declared, “This is one small step for man….one giant leap for mankind.”

Mission accomplished. The United States of America had convincingly won the “space race”. History was made. And….I had been a witness.

 

 

The fourth….and latest….landmark event in my lifetime is a sad event which is still so fresh in the minds of most adult people that it really needs no explanation or background. It is an event has affected….and probably will forever affect…..the lives of not only the citizens of the USA…..but of the entire world.

Here is a brief time line of the horrific events:

7:46 CST: North Tower of World Trade Center attacked
8:03 CST: South Tower of World Trade Center attacked
9:37 CST: Pentagon attacked
10:03 CST: Hijacked airplane crashed in a field near Shanksville, PA

A total of 2,996 people lost their lives. There was a total of approximately Ten Billion Dollars damage to property and infrastructure.

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was attending a professional development meeting at the headquarters of the Northeast Kansas Educational Service Center in Lecompton along with our Superintendent of Schools. The meeting had barely begun when one of the secretaries came into the room where we were meeting and said that an airplane had crashed into a building in New York City. At the time, we assumed that it was a private airplane, and it appeared to be a tragic accident.

Soon after, she returned and said that another airplane had crashed into another building…..and that it appeared that it was not an accident…..but some sort of attack. The mood was somber as the meeting got underway. And very soon it became apparent that the USA was under some sort of attack. Several of the school administrators left the meeting to return to their schools. Although the meeting continued, it was apparent that the minds of those of us still there were not focused on the meeting…..but on what was happening in New York City.

At our lunch hour, instead of eating the lunch being served at the meeting site, I drove back to my house, turned on the TV…..and saw for the first time the devastating events which had taken place. It was shocking; it was appalling; it was horrifying….and it was frightening.

Even so, the meeting continued to its conclusion in the afternoon. After the meeting was over, I had to drive into Topeka to do some sort of errand. I was shocked….and somewhat shaken…..to see long lines of cars backed up at service stations, apparently waiting to fill up with gasoline.

Did these people know something I did not know? Had something happened during the afternoon that I hadn’t heard about? I was definitely on edge as I continued on into Topeka. I was even more amazed and disquieted when I saw that at some service stations the price of gasoline had been jacked up to more than double its normal price! (These service stations were later investigated, castigated….and fined for price gouging.)

I concluded my errand in record time and returned home where I spent the remainder of the evening watching TV coverage of the day’s disaster…..including an address by President George Bush. Even more moving was an address by the British Prime Minister Tony Blair, offering support and condolences to the people of the USA.

Looking back, there have been many important, history-making events which have taken in my lifetime…..but these four events are the bookmarks of my life…..the events from which I mark all other events.

Perhaps you detected a pattern to these events. I did. Good….bad….good….bad. With Good Fortune and with God’s Will, the next of these events will be GOOD.

 

 

 

Almost every year I go to an institution in Hutchinson. No…..it is not the one most people probably think I should be going to. Sorry. Almost every year, I go to the Kansas State Fair. This venerable institution was first held September 13 – 20, 1913. That is 101 years ago…..even before I was born. There were various forms of the Fair even before that…..but the first “official” Kansas State Fair debuted in 1913.

Forty-five of our fifty states have state fairs. State Fairs are a yearly showcase to display the recreational, educational, commercial, entertainment……and in Kansas, especially, the agricultural….resources of the state. There is something for everybody…..whether you go only to have fun or only to learn or only to look…..or all of the above.

As a lifelong resident of Kansas, I have probably been to the State Fair 40 times…..and maybe more. It has been too long ago to remember the first time I went to the Fair. But I am not too old to remember that it was a truly exciting day…..a day that I eagerly anticipated days in advance. I would have said “weeks in advance”…..but back in those younger days, I doubt if I ever anticipated anything that far in advance. This was before the days of television and its advertising blitzes. And if I didn’t see it on TV….how else would I have known about it? My parents….and most other parents….had too many other things to think about than to hear me constantly asking, “When is the Fair?” or “Can I go to the Fair this year?” Most parents probably felt the same. It was simply easier that way. You know….the old “What you don’t know, won’t hurt you” law. I can well imagine that there were years when I didn’t even know the State Fair was taking place until a day or two before we went.

After I started to school, school was dismissed one day during the State Fair, so everybody could go on the same day….instead of a several kids being absent on several different days. Even then, I don’t think they told us until a day or two before “Fair Day”. Or maybe they did…..and I simply wasn’t paying attention. One thing I do remember, though….is that we….my brothers and sisters….were wild with excitement when we woke on the morning of Fair Day.

Having arrived at the Fair grounds, my younger brother and I were usually placed under the charge of our older sisters…..which essentially meant that we were at their mercy in what we looked and what we did. And, of course, there was the matter of our budget….our very limited budget. In those days, a couple dollars was a fortune…..and with careful management, would last all day.

But…..there were still major decisions to be made. Which carnival rides should we ride on? Which trinkets should be buy? Which junk food should we buy? Which side shows should we look at? There were side shows exhibiting all sorts of weird stuff: Two headed this, the smallest that, the tallest this, six legged that. Women who could ties themselves into knots. You name it……and there was a huckster advertising it. Of course, then like now, most of the stuff was fake. But we were kids; we were gullible; we were in a strange, exotic environment. And, these were major decisions to be made back in that day and age. Keep in mind that this was long before TV; long before cheap merchandise and video games started to be thrown at kids a hundred times a day on mindless kid shows. This was decades before the Internet and You Tube….where nothing is secret or mysterious any longer. The Fair was a captivating, once-a-year extravaganza……and we wanted to take full advantage of it.

Another not-to-be-missed event at the State Fair was the live performances by the troops of staff entertainers from various radio stations from across the state…..especially radio station WIBW in Topeka. The radio station employed an assemblage of entertainers ranging from country-western singers, pop singers, instrumentalists….and comedians. This was before the time of the formula-stations…..the format stations…..where recorded music is played twenty-four hours a day. Most of their programming…..and by far their most popular programs…..was by the coterie of staff entertainers employed by the station.

Three hundred sixty four days a year they were disembodied voices coming out of an electronic device. But, on our day at the State Fair…..there they were……real, live people, performing on stage where people could actually see them. Today, I suppose it could be compared to going to some sort of live concert….be it either a pop concert or a country-western concert. Except this was FREE.

Remember…again….this was long before the days of TV. The listeners were free to form his own mental image of the entertainers in their own minds. After all, on the radio, the were merely voices….not pictures. I have to admit that there may have been a certain “shock value” when we actually saw the entertainers in person. Quite often, they did NOT measure up to the mental image we had formed in our minds. They were either fatter, balder, shorter, uglier than we had them pictured in our mind. I suppose that is why some people who were popular on radio never made it on TV. Image is everything these days.

Live entertainment has always been one of the allures of the State Fair. In the days before TV….before You Tube….before the Internet…..before the days of the mega-touring superstars…..the State Fair offered a once-in-a-lifetime shot at seeing a world famous entertainer who would otherwise always remain an unachievable dream. It was an event that a person could talk about….and brag about….for years to come. Even after a TV set could be found in almost every home in this country…..the stars kept coming.

Throughout the years, there have been dozens of big name acts who have performed on the stage of the Kansas State Fair. Among these headliners were The Oak Ridge Boys, Bob Hope, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, The Beach Boys, Tony Bennett, Garth Brooks, CCR, Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris, The Judds, Britney Spears, Kenny Rogers, Trisha Yearwood….. And, this is only scratching the surface. One of the greatest thrills of my young life was watching Roy Rogers and Dale Evans…along with Trigger….perform. Roy Rogers was one of my boyhood heroes. I thought I was in a sub-heaven somewhere!

Times change, sadly. It seems that today, only the names of yesterday come to perform. These are the performers who can no longer fill a huge stadium or arena. These are the artists who can no longer command $150 for a ticket. But, nevertheless, they still appeal to large numbers of people…..especially in rural states like Kansas, where the top-notch stars rarely venture because they do not find them to be lucrative venues.

Stock car racing was once a major attraction at the State Fair. The afternoon air was regularly disrupted by the sound of racing motors and screeching tires, and the scent of burning gasoline and diesel permeated the area around the grandstand. But, they have fallen victim to the changing tastes of the public. There is still a Demolition Derby and a tractor pull…..for those so inclined toward this form of entertainment.

Perhaps the changes are due to a growing sophistication of the Fair goers. But, never fear, there are still pig races, diving exhibitions, wine stomping contests…..and enough other various forms of entertainment to satisfy even the most redneck inclinations.

During the years while I was a classroom teacher and working as a school counselor, my motives and rationale for attending the State Fair went through a notable change. I had more or less out grown the cotton candy, merry-go-round, two-headed cow stage. It occurred to me that the State Fair was an excellent source of free material that I could use as part of my job. During my classroom teaching days I became an avid collector of every free pencil, ball point pen, ruler, yard stick, note pad, eraser…and whatever else that I could use in my classroom.

Even more valuable were free things that I could accumulate to use in my position as counselor. Almost every government agency had free information they were begging for people to take: home safety, fire safety, playground safety, traffic safety. And pamphlets and brochures about health, exercise, sleep, diet. And still more helpful information about drugs, smoking, alcohol, prescription drugs. And let’s not forget the advice about self-esteem, depression, divorce, adoption. Wow….this was all welcome stuff for me…..stuff I could with the students I saw…..stuff that I could copy because most of had no copyright…..stuff that was written especially for kids….. And…it was free. In one afternoon I could collect almost enough material to last an entire year!

For several years I had a grand vision of buying a self-contained RV and spending my golden years traveling throughout the United States like a modern day gypsy, drifting from one scenic locale to another….the ocean, the mountains, the forests…..a curious and adventure-seeking nomad. In pursuit of this dream….or fantasy… I would spend a large portion of my time checking out the many displays of self-contained motor homes. Large ones….the half-million dollar kind….and the smaller ones….the kind one could pick up for less than one hundred thousand dollars.

Of course, they had to be self-contained. There is no way I could have backed a thirty or forty foot detached mobile home into a parking space. And…..there was no way that I wanted to learn, either. When I was young, I had tried to back hay wagons up to a barn. It took me more time to get the trailer where it belonged than it did to unload the hay. When I owned a little 12 ft. aluminum boat, I couldn’t even back it up to the boat ramp. Fortunately, it was light enough that we could pick it up and carry it! But, it really didn’t make much difference……I couldn’t afford to buy anything that expensive anyways. Unless I won Power Ball…..or knocked off a fairly large bank.

But, it didn’t hurt to dream…..and let my mind wander to what could have been. Of course, I have a suspicion that most of the other people looking through these luxurious motor homes couldn’t afford them either…..so I wasn’t the only one living in a dream world.

In more recent times, I have used the State Fair as an opportunity to meet and talk with cousins whom I would probably never have the likelihood of meeting otherwise: Betty Ritterhouse, my only surviving first cousin, and her husband, Fayne; Kathy Ritterhouse, a second cousin who now lives in Texas; and Terry Christner, who lives in Hutchinson. So…it is a fortuitous occasion…..killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. They always enter several exhibits in the Fair, so I get to see a large part of the fine arts and practical arts section by looking at their entries.

Their entries into the fine arts division have motivated me to consider entering some of my own artistic handiwork. Well, almost. Every year I check to see how many stained glass entries there are. And, every year the numbers of entries are sparse. In my own mind, the masterpieces that I have created are far superior to anything I have observed at the Fair. Of course, I suppose it is true that everybody is a legend in his own mind! But, who knows? One of these years, don’t be surprised to see me proudly flaunting a couple blue ribbons.

During the years when I hosted foreign exchange students, the State Fair was one of the cultural highlights they enjoyed the most. I think celebrations such as these are a uniquely American. And it gave them a quick image or snapshot of typical American life.

The past couple years, I have met up with Fayez Alruwaili. Fayez is my friend and recurring guest from Saudi Arabia….the guy who spends his breaks and vacations at my house. My personal expert on camels, goats….and sand…..not to mention the mysterious Arab women.

On our first trip to the State Fair, we mutually agreed that we would spend only maybe four or five hours looking around. That may sound like a long time….but at a State Fair, unless you are a very, very fast walker……and very good at dodging people…..it is really not very long at all.

We more or decided to begin our tour in the southeast corner of the fair grounds at the animal and livestock barns. I not sure, but I think anybody can enter “exhibits” into the Fair by merely paying a fee…..because many of the animal exhibits have the name of the farm or ranch displayed in a prominent place as part of their exhibit. There are long “barns” to accommodate various different animals: cows, pigs, poultry, rabbits, llamas, sheep, goats……and probably others that I have overlooked. For the most part, we did a quick walk-through. After all, to us a cow is pretty much a cow. We left the finer appreciation to farmers….and the judges. Well….we did linger a little longer at the goat exhibition, now that I think about it.

Several years ago, one of my nephews from Illinois was visiting. He raises rabbits….and we spent probably two hours in the rabbits building. If you have ever spent even a few minutes looking at rabbits….rabbits of all descriptions…… you will appreciate that this is a long time to spend with a bunch of rabbits. Fayez and I didn’t even spend that long looking at the goats. We stopped at the “birthing center” in hopes that maybe we would be fortunate enough to witness a cow or a pig give birth to a baby. Of course, this type of phenomenon is not something that can not be “scheduled” at 11:00 A.M., for example. We had neither the time nor the inclination to wait around, hoping it would happen.

One of the major purposes of the State Fair is to promote and support the 4-HClubs….and other farm related youth organization. The winners from the various 4-H Fairs from around the state bring their prize winning animals….and other prize winning projects…..to the State Fair to be judged. For the members, their family and friends, this is an exciting and important event. But, Fayez and I, of course, didn’t share the same sense of drama and emotion…..and this was easy to pass up in favor of something more exciting.

It seems that almost all of the major implement and vehicle manufacturers bring their biggest, baddest, most macho equipment to show off….probably knowing that they aren’t going to sell a lot of it…..but merely to attract the attention of the people as they wander around the grounds. And, we were no exception. We stopped and stare in amazement at the larger than life tractors, tracked vehicles, farm implements…..all the stuff we certainly have no use for. We even took pictures of Fayez sitting on an old John Deer tractor and a huge half-million dollar harvester. Nothing like dreaming big. And….nothing like sitting on the back of a camel.

There are also a myriad of smaller….but no less macho….vehicles: Four-wheelers, off-road vehicles, motorcycles, ATV’s…… We didn’t buy any of them…..but I did take pictures of Fayez sitting on a few of them. I passed up the opportunity. I am manly enough driving my 2004 Suzuki.

You probably won’t be very surprised when I tell you that we saw a lot of people wearing K-State t-shirts. A State Fair seems to be tailor made for them….considering all the farm animals, farm implements, pseudo-man toys…..and all the greasy food which proliferate the Fair grounds. There is, I suppose, very little to attract the attention of K. U. graduates. There are certainly exhibits of the professional nature…..medicine, law, business, nursing, engineering…. But, they are more subtle…..not the sort of flashy exhibits that lend themselves well to the carnival atmosphere of the State Fair. In other words, there are no huge inflated balloons depicting doctors or giant statues of lawyers or fancy business or banking structures. But, now that I stop and think about it…..all the amusement rides were probably designed by K. U. engineers; and all the building which house the cows, pigs, etc. were no doubt designed by K. U. architects; and the intricate electrical system is presumable a product of K. U. electrical engineers.The State Fair abounds with exhibits: agricultural exhibits, commercial exhibits, educational exhibits, political exhibits, public service exhibits, non-profit exhibits, recreational exhibits…… If you can think of it….if it exists in Kansas….and if it is legal….you can probably find it at the State Fair.

The first year Fayez and I attended the Fair, we spent a great deal of time walking through all the exhibition pavilions….. looking at everything. For the most part, there is really no good reason to stop and examine the stuff being displayed. I mean….I am not in the market for a mattress, a Jacuzzi, a set of non-stick skillets or steel-rail fence to keep my cattle (or camels) penned up. Nor am I likely to stop to get my hearing checked or a quick prostate exam. I have no desire to change my religion or take up a new one. I am content being a United Methodist. And, why would I want to go into debt for new siding, roofing, or landscaping? These are all things you will find at the Fair.

It is all interesting, though. But….if you are in a hurry, the secret is: Keep walking. Don’t ever look a salesman in the eye. Unless, that is, you want to spend the next thirty minutes listening to a salesperson earnestly trying to sell you his product…..and asking yourself, “How did I get myself into this situation?” This is a lesson I learned long ago….probably the hard way. Just keep walking….and never display any interest in the product. Sometimes, it may be OK to look at stuff with a cheery, non-committal attitude of amusement or ignorance. “Oh…..I am just looking. I don’t have any need for it.” And….then move on with no further discussion……unless you really ARE interested.

Fayez is still learning this art….or, in his case….the science….of impersonal indifference when it comes to dealing with the vendors at the State Fair. And….it has just about drawn us into some disastrous delays. However, my quick and clever thinking has averted most of these unsavory situations by saying things like, “You really don’t need that in Saudi Arabia.” or “How are you going to get that back to Saudi Arabia?” Maybe Fayez is simply too nice and polite….and needs to be come more callous in dealing with these over-eager salespersons. But….I can imagine that two or three unwanted, lengthy sales talks will to the trick. It is sort of like…..You only have to touch a hot stove once to learn a lesson.

There are two exhibits or booths that I actively and purposely seek out, however. They are the University of Kansas booth….and the Democratic Party booth. Both of these exhibits give away free things that I actually want! Pen, pencils, posters, bookmarks, note pads…..desirable little trinkets and souvenirs. And, also an excellent place to have your picture taken.

Outside, a person can roam through the exhibits rather freely. The cars, trucks, the farm machinery, the RV’s….. These salespeople are normally only interested in talking with people who seek them out…..people who are actually interested in spending a great deal of money. I am pretty sure they are smart enough to realize that not everybody needs a new combine or a five-ton truck or a half-million dollar self-contained motor home.

Undoubtedly, two of the most popular and traditional exhibits are the famous butter sculpture….and the equally renowned largest pumpkin. They aren’t very interactive…but they are appealing in their own red-neck way. Both of these attractions are found in the same building that displays the agricultural produce exhibits. Nobody is going to try to sell you anything. But, on the other hand, unless you are in the farming business, it is usually only worth a cursory look. I think Fayez would have found it to be more interesting is there had been some dates or figs on display.

Probably the exhibition that Fayez and I enjoyed the most is the Fine Arts Pavilion. This is the building that houses the handiwork of hundreds of talented Kansans. In this venue you will find paintings,

photography, crafts….dozens of different categories of artistic endeavor. Although there is one section of professional photography and one section of professional paintings…..by vast majority of the exhibits are being displayed by people who are simply showcasing their individual talents…..the product of their own unique hobby or pastime.

Every year when I go to the State Fair, I can’t help but notice that there is never a lot of stained glass art on display. I have promised myself…or at least suggested to myself…..that next year I am going to enter some of my own stained class masterpieces.

Walking around the Fair grounds can be tiring, and around 1:00 or so, Fayez and I started looking for a place to sit down and rest for a while….and eat. If you have been to a State Fair in recent years, you already know the almost limitless choices of food from which there is to choose. And, the overwhelming majority of these options can very accurately be described as calorie laden, cholesterol heavy, artery-clogging, heart attack inducing….junk food. If you haven’t had the joy and excitement of attending a State Fair, let me give you a list….and an incomplete list…..of food you can choose from:

Belgian waffle on a stick; deep friend Oreo cookies; deep fried banana split; funnel cake; chocolate-covered bacon; chicken fried bacon; corn dogs; fried avocados; deep fried Twinkies…… You think I am joking or making this up?   Check it out for yourself, and you will agree that this is only a partial listing. Just look around…..you can probably find a dozen more such culinary concoctions that are almost guaranteed to require a 9-1-1 call.

Fayez and I, being of reasonably sound mind and intelligence, opted not to indulge in any of these scrumptious delicacies. The first year we attended the State Fair, we ate in a popular Mongolian restaurant. This was a good choice. You choose your own raw meat and raw vegetables along with the sauce or dressing of your choice…..put it all in a bowl…..an take it to the grill to be….well….grilled.

Somehow I assumed that Fayez understood this process….and neglected to explain the procedure. My mistake. My memory is getting rather hazy on this matter…..but I think we got the problem corrected in time for him to start over and do it right. In the end…..it really didn’t make much difference. Fayez is a great lover of guacamole….and over a period of time, because of his influence, I also came to like it, too…..a lot.

So, when it came time to choose the dressing for our vegetables and meat, we almost instinctively chose the green sauce. Guacamole would be the perfect seasoning for our Mongolian buffet. And…..we both topped our bowls with a lot of it! I was the first one to take my bowl of raw ingredients to the grill to be fried. The cook who took my bowl looked at me and said, “Man, you must like hot food.” I had no idea what he was talking about, so I just looked at him and said nothing. And….he didn’t offer any more comments or advice.

Fayez was close behind me, and he also handed his bowl of vegetables and meat to a cook. My food was finished first, and the guy put everything back into the bowl and handed it to me….. I sat down….and being the polite guy that I am……I waited for Fayez to sit down before I took a bite of my food. Actually, I think both of us more or less took a bite of our food simultaneously. And, we both looked at each other with a look of shock! Something was wrong…..terribly wrong. The food was HOT…..blazing hot.

Let me take another taste….just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. No…..I definitely was not. It was hot. Something had gone dreadfully wrong! We had both topped our bowls with a generous volume of Wasabi sauce! We sat and looked at each other in disbelief for a minute or two. I told the waitress…..and she said, “Yes….other people have that mistake, too.”

“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to identify the sauce…..so other people don’t make the same mistake?”

“Yes….we are going to put a little sign up…..later today.”

Well……Good Luck to all the other people who made the same mistake….and had their taste buds assaulted. I went ahead and ate my food…..very slowly….and accompanied with a generous amount of water. Fayez refused to eat his. The waitress told him he could throw it away and get new food. I urged him to do this……but he didn’t do it. He just went hungry.

The lesson we learned? Looks can be deceiving. Just because something is green and looks like guacamole doesn’t necessarily mean that it guacamole. I mean…..Just because it looks like a duck….it may not quack like a duck.

The second year we went to the Fair, we opted to eat in Yoder….a little Amish community southeast of Hutchinson. Initially, my motive for taking Fayez there was so he could see some authentic Amish people…..the way they dress, the way they live….and above all….the horse and buggies many of them still use as a means of transportation. But, as it turned out, by far the biggest attraction in Yoder is their famous restaurant, Carriage Crossroads. Quite frankly, I had never heard of it before…..but many other people had. People I wouldn’t except to know that kind of thing.

We took the short drive to Yoder in the early afternoon after we left the State Fair. The restaurant was not difficult to find. In fact, it was had to miss. It was located just off the highway…..and the parking lot was full of cars…..and I mean it was packed with cars. Wow! This really must be a famous place. As we approached the restaurant we encountered a long line of people waiting to be seated at a table. Fayez gave the waitress our name…..and we were told that we would have approximately a 40 minute wait.

We used that time to drive to “downtown” Yoder to take a look. I had been there before…..but decades ago. Quite frankly, I didn’t remember it being so small….and empty. But….it was. In fact, the small business area consisted of only a handful of stores and shops…..and it was almost completely deserted. First of all, it was a Saturday afternoon, and apparently Amish people are at home either working or resting. I later found out that the best time to “Amish watch” is in the morning when farmers come to town to meet each other and to transact their business before going back to their farms to begin their day’s work.

Meanwhile, back at the restaurant, we were finally ushered to our table. Waitresses and waiters were bustling around, doing an efficient job of taking care of the packed dining room.

Fayez and I ordered our food…..and I don’t recall what it was. But, in all honesty, I have to report that the food was nothing special…..not as spectacular as its reputation would suggest. It was delicious….and it was plentiful……but all in all, it was just “food”. For some reason there is a mystique surrounding anything  labeled as “Amish”. The perception is, I suppose, that because these people are known for being so hard-working and honest, everything they do must be somewhat superior to anything found in the “outside world”. The experience of eating at Country Crossroads was satisfying and offbeat……but if I had my choice, I would eat at The Golden Corral any old day.

It is difficult to do justice to the atmosphere and scope of the State Fair. It is probably best to go check it out for yourself. But…keep in mind: If you want the full perspective….the deluxe experience……plan on being there for several hours. Unless, of course, you can walk very fast….and you don’t mind knocking down a few old ladies and elderly people! Most of the people who go to the Fair do not seem to be in any hurry….they tend to block aisles, stop and talk to each other directly in your chosen path, take their time inspecting junk they have no intention of buying….and sometimes it may be somewhat frustrating to the person who is in a hurry. So, it is better to relax and go with the flow. Or better yet…..become one of those people you would like to knock out of your way. There must be a certain amount of satisfaction in making life miserable for others.

There are a number of State Fair icons that you must look at…..if you want to receive maximum of benefit for your time and money. Icons such as the largest pumpkin, the butter sculpture, the chain-saw artist, the pig races, Ye Olde Mill…..an attraction that has been part of the Fair…well…forever….. And, to a lesser extent the marching bands, the political debates, the rickety old grandstand, the train ride through the Fair grounds. And…..I don’t know if one would call them icons…..but the unique and somewhat bizarre junk food. How can you visit the State Fair without at least sampling a snow cone or a corn dog?

For the regular Fair goer, like me….after a couple years, everything becomes more familiar….and manageable. The various categories of exhibits have their own little domain…..and they don’t change from year to year. So for a person who has a descent size memory…..like Fayez, for example…..it makes it easier to organize your day more efficiently….only looking at those things that interest you. But, the first time you go…..take your time and see it all.

A word of caution: If you plan to drive to Hutchinson, check into a motel and stay all night……..Forget it! You are not going to find a room anywhere in Hutchinson. Motel rooms are booked a year in advance. In fact, one motel owner told Fayez and me that he won’t even consider renting a motel room to an individual Fair goer. ALL of his rooms are reserved for vendors, workers, and other people connected with the Fair in an official capacity.

The second weekend, I attended the State Fair alone. In contrast with the week that Fayez and I were there….this was a cold, rainy, blustery morning. Not a very festive day. But, nevertheless, a few hardy people were on hand when I arrived. My purpose of going the second weekend was not so much to see the State Fair……but to meet my cousins and to visit with them. They had already commandeered a bench inside the Fine Arts Building by the time I arrived. We spent the larger part of the morning sitting and talking…..out of the wind and rain.

They are a very artistic family…..and they always enter several projects to be judged….photography, painting, historical exhibits, sewing projects…… If I missed anything the previous week……I have an ample opportunity to catch up while I am with them.

Around 1:00, as I was heading back to my car, I took a stroll through some of the exhibits that I didn’t have time to investigate….or didn’t take the time to investigate.

But……this only proves that there is something for everybody at the Kansas State Fair….even a guy from the deserts of Saudi Arabia! Yes…..there is virtually something for everybody to enjoy: carnival rides, junk food, exhibits, live entertainment, pig races, wood sculpture……. You are going to enjoy all of it…..if you don’t mind walking around amid a sea of K-State shirts!

There is a saying, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

And one that reminds a person, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”

Still another…. “One good deed will lead to thousands more of blessings.”

“Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

Most of you readers do not…..and probably will not…..have this experience. But, who knows? Maybe some of my experiences can be applied other situations in life. For like the old saying, quoted above goes: No good deed goes unpunished. Or, at least, it does not turn out like you thought it would…..or had intended it would.

Almost everybody who knows me is aware that I have hosted several foreign exchange students……and after I retired that I have hosted a wide variety of adult foreign guests. I first started hosting foreign exchange students more or less by accident….or at least, coincidence.

The year was 1992. I was the cross-country coach at Valley Falls High School at the time. A couple foreign exchange students had gone out for cross-country….and had done quite well. In fact, they may have been the best runners I had in their respective years. One summer afternoon, as I was walking out of the post office, I happened to meet the host parents of both of these boys. I asked if they had gotten back to their homes safely….and about their general welfare. Just polite small talk.

During the course of the conversation, they suggested that maybe I would like to host a foreign exchange students for the following school year. I immediately dismissed the idea as being impractical…..and somewhat confining. Actually, I wasn’t even aware that a single person could be a host to an exchange student. They persisted….telling me how much I would enjoy it….and how badly host parents were needed…..and how much they had enjoyed the experience…..how interesting and rewarding it would be.

“Well, just let the area coordinator come out and talk to you. Then you can ask her all your questions and make up your mind.”

OK,” I said very reluctantly. But, on the other hand, I told myself that I really had nothing to lose. So I agreed to let them contact the area coordinator and set up an appointment. In the meantime, I spent several hours cleaning the house. I wanted to make a semi-good impression. At least, I didn’t want to appear to be some sort of bum.
On the appointed evening, at the appointed time, the area coordinator drove into my driveway. She lost no time in spelling out all the advantages of hosting an exchange student. She seemed to answer my questions in a satisfactory manner.

“OK,” I thought. “Maybe this will work out.” I quickly filled an application form, using my friends as a reference. And, I asked her if she would like to take a look at the house. I thought she seemed just a little startled. But, Yes…..she would like to see it. She had BETTER look at it! After all the time I had spent cleaning it. She took a perfunctory look at the potential student’s room…..and said, “Yes….that looks very nice.” Thanks a lot….I am glad you approve.

“When can I choose my student?” I asked. “Right now,” she said. Upon saying that, she pulled a sheet of paper from her brief case and handed it to me. There were the names and a short….very short….description of TWO potential students. This was the first time I had done anything like this, so I didn’t think anything was strange. Both the students were from Germany.

Before going any further, let me interject something here. Later on, I also became an area coordinator for one of the foreign exchange student organizations. They flooded me with resumes…..and student profiles. I had literally dozens of students to show to prospective host parents. Boys and girls from all around the globe……each printed on a separate sheet of paper.

But, that evening, I had only two students from which to choose. With such sparse information to make a decision…..I simply arbitrarily pointed at one of them. “I will take this one.”

She told me she would have a decision within three days. The general rule is: If a student is selected by a married couple, the student has no choice. They must accept….or simply not be selected. If a student is selected by a single person, they can decide if they want to accept….or if they do not want to accept.

As fate would have it, I was leaving the next day for a trip to Colorado. The area coordinator gave her telephone number to me, and we arranged a time for me to call her from my motel room.

Obviously, the student accepted. And, now I was officially the host to my first foreign exchange student. One interesting little related story: The second student….the one that I did not select….turned out to be the best friend of the student that I chose. They had been life long friends and had attended the same high school.

All of this took place in a day and age before there was Internet….at least, in Valley Falls. Had there been Internet at the time, I could have….and would have….done tons of research on exchange students before making a decision. But…..it was probably a good thing there wasn’t Internet. I made a decision on the spot….using some sort of instinct or inner feeling. And, I made the right choice. One that started me on an interesting and rewarding path to hosting many more fascinating and delightful guests.

But, as the quotes above suggest…..sometimes things are not as transparent and straightforward as they might appear.

First of all, I will say that I have seven foreign exchange students live with me…..each for a ten months period. In all honesty, I can say that on a scale of 1 – 10, five of these students would rate as 10’s. The other two? Well, I am sort of reluctant to assign a numerical ranking. Both of them were great kids….we got along well….no problems. But, on the other hand, there was no “chemistry”.

And…..there were three students that did not work out. I simply kicked two of them out. It was apparent from the first few days that things were not going to work out. So, I cut the misery short…..for both of us…..and requested they be transferred.

The third one? Sort of a sad story. He was from Poland….which probably has no relevance at all. Looking back, I have no idea why I chose him. I don’t know if I was drunk….or whether I had been smoking something! But, why he ever ended up in my house remains a mystery.

When I first met him, I was a little startled. His appearance was nothing like the picture on his profile. And, as I describe him, I am in no way trying to be cruel. He was a stocky kid….wore very thick glasses. Quite often it was difficult to tell when he was looking at me. And he had a mustache, a rather unusual feature for a high school student. I had no problem accepting all these physical features. To me….appearance is somewhat irrelevant. It is their human characteristics and traits that are important.

If he had merely lived at my house for ten months…..without mingling with the public…..probably everything would have been OK. But, the problems was: He had to go to school. And, it is an unfortunate…..but sadly true….fact that high school students can be very judgmental. And, this is true even in a small high town like Valley Falls. And, maybe especially in a small town like Valley Falls. Students in a small high school have attended class together for the past several years: some of them the entire 13 years they have gone to school. They have grown accustomed to each other. They have developed their own expectations of each other….their own rituals…..their own set of values. Small town kids sometimes have a problem accepting anything different….anything they haven’t seen or experienced before.

This seemed to be the case with the Polish student. Yes…..he was different. Not only the thick glasses and the mustache. He had some other quirks that also set him apart from the “norm” and made him stand out.

I remember a meeting that the area coordinator had for all the students and host parents soon after he arrived. It so happened that her family had a swimming pool. While we host parents were having our own meeting, the exchange students were invited to go swimming. I was startled when I saw him emerge from the changing room wearing a pair of short…short-short….bikini swimming trunks. Everybody’s eyes got a little wider…both parents and students. Eyebrows were raised…..and there were a few shocked snickers. High school kids in small town simply do not wear this kind trunks. Unless perhaps you are on a swim team….on in the Olympics! I was embarrassed….but there was nothing I could do about it. Here was this stocky Polish kid….wearing thick glasses and a mustache…..wearing a pair of Michael Phelps swimming trunks. Except he certainly was not Michael Phelps.

I already knew, even at this early date…..just a couple days after he arrived….that he was going to be “different” from an other students I had hosted.

He immediately started having little problems with his high school classmates. I suspect they simply didn’t know what to think of him. Most high school students carry their books and belongings in a back pack. This kid carried a briefcase. A real brief case…..just like the ones that lawyers and accountants carry. Most high school students wear a jacket or coat of some sort. This guy apparently brought one sweater with him….the kind of sweater that buttons down the front. It probably looked more like a shirt that it did a “jacket”. I am not sure what they are called. Personally, I do not own one. He wore this same sweater to school each and every day…….over a perfectly good clean shirt. But the students started noticing it…..

It wasn’t long before his classmates started some mild teasing….probably testing him more than anything else. If he had met their remarks and teasing with good-natured laughter…..or some self-deprecating remarks…..they would probably have stopped their teasing. But….this was not his personality. He became defensive. That raised the stakes. Now the teasing became more relentless.

Here at home…..Well, we tolerated each other. He was the only student who never attended a K.U. basketball game with me; he is the only student who did not go to the YMCA with me. In fact, he is the only student who didn’t do anything with me. It was sort of an armed truce. When I was in the front room watching TV….he went to his room or to my office to mess around with the computer. When I went to my office….he went to the front room or his bedroom. Somehow, I got the feeling that he didn’t exactly enjoy being around me!

The closest that we came to actual hostility were the times he would use my computer…..and change the keyboard to Polish characters!! And, then not change them back to English! After a couple times, this became rather annoying. I rather forcefully told him that either he change everything on the computer back to the way he found it, or he would no longer be able to use the computer. I tried to say it as nicely as possible……although there is a possibility that he did not interpret it this way…..due to the tone and inflection of my voice.

He would often ride the school bus home….to avoid riding home with me, I suppose. One afternoon not too long after he arrived, I arrived home to find that he had turned on the air-conditioner. That was OK. I didn’t mind. It was truly hot outside. Except…..every window and door in the house was wide open! I am assuming that he did not have air-conditioning in Poland. Either that….or they had an outrageous electricity bill!

One Saturday I got on the riding lawn mower and started to mow the grass…..all 1.5 acres of it. I rather like to mow. It gives me a chance to think and reflect. He came outside and motioned for me to stop.

“Please….will you show me how to mow. I want to mow.”

OK…..I went through the steps. Showed him how to raise and lower the blade. How to stop….and all of that good stuff. I told him to climb on…..and I showed him which gear to use. They are numbered….so this is not a very difficult concept to master. I instructed him to leave the lawn mower in that gear. “Do not change it!”

“OK? Got it?” I stood and watched him for a couple rounds….and decided that I had done a good job of explaining the process to him. After all….I am a teacher! I went back inside the house. About 15 or 20 minutes later, I went outside again to check on his progress. Wow….I couldn’t believe my eyes! He was sailing up and down the lawn in the highest gear….careening around corners…..almost like he was a NASCAR driver.

“Get off the lawnmower!” I told him. And, this was the end of his lawn mowing experience….at least, at my house.

Every week the area coordinator would call to check on his progress. After talking to me, she would ask to talk to the student. I was never sure what was being said because he always took the telephone into his bedroom. But, I could hear him shouting into the telephone….his voice ascending a couple notes on the scale as he continued his shouting match. When he finished, he would calmly bring the telephone back to the front room.

“What did you guys talk about? I would ask him.
“Nothing……” he would reply….and go back to his room.

One Friday evening in mid-December, the telephone rang. I answered it. It was his area coordinator. She told me they were removing him from the school and from my home. It was just is not working out, she said. She asked if she could talk to the student. I handed the telephone to him. From his end, all I could hear was, “OK….Ok…..”

When the conversation ended he handed the telephone back to me. “Can you have him at the bus depot in Topeka at 9:00 tomorrow morning?”

Well….No. Actually, I couldn’t. The next day was Saturday, and I was in charge of the grade school Intramural program. It was a scheduled activity….and I was being paid to do it. “Can you find somebody else to take him down?”

I called one of my cross-country runners…..who was also one of my volunteer high school coaches for the Intramural program. He agreed to come out and pick him up and take him to Topeka. Saturday morning, I went into town to do my job. About 10:00 or 10:30, he came walking into the gym. Of course, everybody started asking him where he had been. When he said, “I took (this student) to the bus.” Everybody started cheering! So, the area-coordinator undoubtedly made a good decision in removing him from our high school.

She never volunteered to tell me what happened to him. And, I didn’t ask. I am assuming the shipped him back home….although I have no actual evidence of this. His twin sister, who was also an exchange student somewhere in the USA, was also having many problems. I suspect that both of them were reunited in Poland in time for Christmas!

That, was the only incident I had of an exchange student being removed from my home and from school without me requesting it. But……there have been other interesting experiences with some of the adult guests who have stayed here…..or wanted to stay here.

I always like to make clear that I got into this “business” of hosting guests knowingly and voluntarily. I was reluctant….and a bit skeptical….at first, but I quickly came to enjoy it…..and to realize that it added another dimension to my life.

Through the years, I have become a member of three or four hospitality organizations. Let me give you a general description of some of the requirements and expectations.

The most common breed is the “hospitality exchange” organization. It is sort of a “quid pro quo”. I let you stay at my house when you are traveling……and, in turn, you let me stay at your house when I am traveling. The room is always free. That is the major advantage for the traveler. The food and transportation are not necessarily provided in the agreement…..but can be discussed and negotiated between the two parties. This is only type of organization that I have actually reciprocated. And, even then, I have never actually stayed in somebody’s house. But…..it has been a welcome and pleasant and appreciated arrangement when I have traveled in Germany. Even though I have always rented my own apartment, I have had several local people who have served as guides and companions while I was there. All of these people were fascinating……and ranged from a retired teacher who was a member of an all-cello orchestra; the former director of the youth division of the STASI of East Berlin; a bitter retired banker whose parents and siblings has been died at the hands of the Nazis; and a very bright PhD physics candidate whose wife was a mid-wife. All of these people showed us an element of Berlin that we would have otherwise never seen.

The second type of hospitality organization with which I have been involved deals with foreign nationals who want to come to the USA, live with an American family, and improve their English-speaking fluency and comprehension. There are both free sites, where the two parties deal directly with each other. And, there are sites in which the foreigner must pay a fee to the agency for access to contact information. These organizations are strictly commercial businesses. Quite frankly, I don’t see how they manage to exist, especially considering all the free sites which are available. But…..they do exist. And, believe me…..they guard contact information rigorously. Just try to slip an e-mail address….or s Skype contact name…..or Facebook name….or even your last name (!) into a messages…..and it is immediately censored out. And, until the foreign guest has paid the necessary fees….ALL communication takes place through the agency. One agency threatened to bar me from their site because they thought I was trying to trick them and slyly slip personal information into my messages. OK….Yes I was. But, I just disliked the fact people were paying to obtain my contact information when they could easily get it for free…..if they only knew where.

In my case, I usually do not charge “rent”, but I do ask each guest to pay for the food they eat. In other words, they pay about half of the grocery bill while they are here. If we eat out, which we often do, they are expected to pay for their own food. To me….this seems like a very fair and workable arrangement. The only extra cost for me when other people stay here is the cost of food. It really doesn’t cost any more for two or three additional people to stay here in terms of electricity, or heat, or water. The lights are still going to be on; I am still going to watch TV; the house still must be heated or cooled.

But….it does cost more for food. Thus far, all of my visiting guests have found this arrangement to be satisfactory. In fact, many of the guests simply take over the kitchen and prepare food from their own country. This is one of the delicious advantages of hosting foreign guests.
There are times that situations are not exactly what they appear to be……or they work out differently that I had envisioned them.

One example that comes to mind took place a few years ago. I got an e-mail message from an Egyptian student who was attending K. State. (This should have been a forewarning in itself!) In the message he stated that he was working on his doctoral dissertation in economics. Would it be possible, he wondered, if I could meet him in Topeka so we could sit and visit…..and he could improve his English? Since this is one of the primary objectives of the hosting program, I readily agreed that it would be possible to meet him in Topeka to carry on a conversation in English.

We made arrangements to meet each other at a restaurant on Wanamaker Blvd. on a Friday afternoon. Having never met the guy before, I had no idea what he looked like. I suppose I thought he looked like an Egyptian….whatever they look like. Since my pictureappears in my online profile, I was rather sure that he would recognize me. I arrived at the designated restaurant on this cold Friday afternoon and stood near the entrance. Sure enough, a man soon walked up to me and asked if I was Beryl? Well, I am sure he didn’t say “Beryl”. None of them ever do. But, it was close enough that I was pretty sure he was looking for me. At least, the name is called me started with a “B”.

He ordered some food and a drink. I don’t remember what it was. We sat down at a table and began to make some pleasant, but inconsequential, small talk. He already spoke fairly good English…..a result of having lived in the U.S.A. for a number of years while working in his PhD. After a while, I told him that I had probably better leave for home, since I did not like to drive at night. We stood up…..and I fully expected him to thank me for meeting him…..and to ask if we could possibly meet again. But, as I turned to leave, he said, “OK. I will see you on Monday afternoon.”

“OK,” I replied. I could meet him again on Monday, I suppose.

“Don’t buy any food. I will bring all the food with me.”

“What?” I managed to stammer, taken by surprise.

“I will be staying for a week or two.”

I was rather stunned. But, before I could think of an intelligent reply,

he was already on his way to his car. Driving home, I very much considered writing him an e-mail message to tell him that it would not be possible for me to host him. But…..there had been a serious case of misunderstanding…..on both ends of the situation. He assumed that I knew he wanted to come and stay at my house. I assumed that he only wanted to meet in Topeka on a recurring as basis so he could practice his English.

And….no…..I didn’t tell him that he couldn’t come. And….yes….he arrived on Monday. Not only did he arrive…..he practically moved in with me. But, that is another story for another time.

Back in 2008, another more serious….but provocative….drama played itself out. I received a request from a guy in Tanzania, requesting to come stay at my house for a period of time. He, too, wanted to improve his English proficiency. He was employed as a bus boy or a porter at one of the more expensive hotels in his city. “Ah….not a bad job”, I thought….especially since he did not have a college education. I duly wrote a letter of invitation for him to present to the USA Embassy in Dar es Salaam, the capital city.

There was a few weeks delay, but eventually he informed me that he had been awarded a visa, and that he was indeed headed to the USA….and Kansas.

“Great! When are you going to arrive?” It would be a useful bit of information if he wanted me to meet him at the airport in Kansas City. Well, there seemed to be some doubt about the actual arrival date. He was first going to stop off in New York to visit one of his “best friends”, whom he had met at the hotel where he worked. They had, according to him, become very close friends while the guy was staying in the hotel. “OK….no problem. Let me know when you will be coming to my house, so I can make plans to meet you and bring you to my house.”

Some days went by, and one night I received a telephone call from a stranger in Albany, New York. “Are you expecting a visit from “this guy”? the man asked me.

“Yes…..” I replied.

“Well, we just want to give you some advance notice. There may be some problems.”

It seems that this young man rang the door bell of their home a couple nights previously. They opened the door…..and standing there was this strange black guy…..somebody they did not know….and had never seen before. Understandably, they were more than a little bit apprehensive. In fact, at first, they wouldn’t let him come inside their house! I mean….neither would I. He explained that their son was one of his “best friends”….and that they had met each other during one of their son’s trips to Tanzania. He told them that their son had invited him to come and stay with him, if he ever had the opportunity to travel to the USA. Of course, typical of most Americans…..this was only “small talk”. Never in a million years did he expect to see the guy again.

Several months had gone by since this chance meeting in the hotel in Dar es Salaam. Their son was back in the USA….and had never heard from…..or thought of….the guy again. Their son no longer lived at home. He was living in California where is was working on an advanced degree. But, he did remember who his parents were talking about when they called to ask him. (And, they had immediately call their son.)

Here was this skinny young black guy, standing on their front porch…..newly arrived in the USA. Yes…..their son did indeed know who he was. So…..feeling sorry for him….and feeling they had no other choice…..at least, no other humane choice…..they invited him in.

After a couple days, they suggested that perhaps he would like to go visit some of his other friends…..some of his other “best friends”. It became obvious to them that he had no money….or at least enough money to buy an airline ticket to Kansas City. They immediately recognized that they had a dilemma on their hands. Do they: 1. Kick him out into the street? 2. Do they let him stay at their house? 3. Do they buy him transportation in order to get rid of him?

They chose the third option….and probably gladly so. Now he would not be their problem any longer. He would be my problem. They bought him a bus ticket from Albany to Topeka.

They were kind and thoughtful (and humane) enough to call me to. “You may have a problem on your hands,” they told me. “He is a nice young man. He doesn’t seem to have any signs of meanness or violence. (Good to know!) But…..he also does not have any money.”

It was a cool, crisp, sunny morning in early October when I drove to Topeka to meet the guy at the bus stop. I knew the very minute he got off the bus that he had absolutely no intention of ever going back to Tanzania. He had obviously brought every material possession he owned with him. He had a large military-type duffel bag along with a couple other assorted banged up suitcases….certainly not the sign of somebody who intended to merely visit and then return home.

I must admit: I didn’t like him from the very first time I saw him. Maybe I was already biased by the information the people in New York had relayed to me. But, I was determined not to let my initial perception overshadow my common sense. I was willing to give him a chance…..to let him demonstrate what kind of person he really was. Sometimes first impressions can be wrong.

It didn’t take very long for his true intentions to begin to surface. And…..I had not been wrong. My first impression was right. The apprehension that I initially felt was fully justified. It was the following afternoon as we were sitting in my front room that his story began to unravel. I casually asked him how long he intended to stay…..when he was planning to go back home. If he had a return ticket.

“No,” he said. He had an “open ticket”……no return date. I was a little surprised at this information…..mostly because I did not expect the USA Immigration Service to issue such tickets….especially to somebody from Africa….. Usually, in almost all cases…..no matter where the person comes from……he is required to have a return ticket before a visa will be issued.

I asked him about this. It was at that point that he began to make his “sales pitch”.

First off, he asked me is I would adopt him….change his name….become a citizen of the United States. “What?! Is he really asking me to adopt him?” I was somewhat astonished at the request. No…..I wasn’t just astonished. I was dumbfounded…..astounded.

Then he began making his arguments: He could live here with me….and take care of me. I was getting old, and I wasn’t able to do all the work around the house and yard. (Now…..there is an argument that works every time…..right? Just tell somebody he is old and feeble.)

He would so the housework, do the cooking, take care of the yard……. All I would have to do to was sit back and enjoy my old age…..my senility and frailty.

“NO….” I told him…..as nicely as I could. “I don’t need anybody to take care of me. I have been taking care of myself rather successfully for many years…..and I think I can handle it.”

(Yeah…..that’s me: Daddy Beryl; Papa Darrah. Has a nice ring to it…..doesn’t it?)

(STRIKE ONE!)

After failing to convince me of his first proposition, he moved on to his second plan.

What about going to college? The United States government lets students from foreign countries come to the USA to attend college. He had talked to former students who had done this. He knew it was true!

Yes…..it IS true. But…..you must arrange all of this before applying for a study visa. There is a matter of a high school transcript…..recommendations from teachers….prior acceptance by an accredited college or university. And money! Do you have enough money to pay for a year of college? Or even a day of college? High education in the USA is not free. It is very expensive….especially for a foreigner.

What did he plan to do? Walk into the admissions office and say, “Here I am. I would like one twenty thousand dollar scholarship, please. And…..Oh yes….throw in another twenty thousand for an apartment and food. And, if you don’t mind….I would like a car, too.”

“Of course……. Now, may we have a copy of your high school transcript?’

“Oh…..I am sorry. I didn’t graduate from high school.”

“That’s OK. Don’t worry. You look like a nice guy. We will just go ahead and enroll you.”

(STRIKE TWO!)

OK……he would enroll in our high school and become a student. He apparently did not have a valid high school diploma…..so surely the United States government would agree to let him finish his education in high school.

I outlined the requirements for a non-resident to attend high school in the State of Kansas….and certainly in our high school. Obviously, he came no where close to fulfilling any of the preconditions.

(STRIKE THREE! But, wait…. He is still standing at home plate with a bit in is hand.)

Having struck out on that scheme, too……he moved on to his third proposal. Well, that was OK. He would just find a job and go to work.

Do you have a work visa? Do you have a valid ID? Do you have a social security number? How are you going to prove to your potential employer that you are in this country legally……and have the permission of our government to work? How many businesses…..including McDonalds and Wal Mart…..are going to risk potential legal problems to hire you? Grow up, boy. Open your eyes……

What’s this? BALL FOUR! You walk! Yes….”These boots were made for walking…”.

He was determined he was not going to return to Tanzania…..that he was going to stay in the USA. I told him he could stay for a week…..but then he had to move on. He didn’t believe me. The week ended and he was still here. I told him more forcefully that he had one more week…..and that was it. (Kind hearted me…..)

“Oh, oh…..one of my “best friends” lives in Lawrence. He said I could come and stay with them.”

“OK….call them on your cell phone and make the arrangements”

I took him to Lawrence on a Friday afternoon to meet up with his “best friend”. We met a McDonalds in west Lawrence. The guy, who worked for a large communications company, met us. The guy took me aside, and told me: “I really don’t even know this guy. I ran into him at the hotel where he works and casually told him to stop and see me if he ever made it to the USA.”

Oh? Why wasn’t I surprised by this revelation?

And….”No…..he can’t stay with us!” In fact, he said he could stay one night….and that was it.

My mistake…..and I can see it now….was letting the matter linger on for so long. But….most of the time, I am a pretty nice guy. I like to avoid hostility and aggression whenever possible. But, as most people who know me can confirm: I can be pretty inhospitable….even heartless….when I am pushed too far.

Well, I had reached this point…..and any pretense of friendliness or generosity had vanished. “You have one more week to find a placed to live. You are not welcome here any longer.” And, I reminded him of this fact on a daily basis…..sometimes more than once daily.

He spent almost ALL of his waking hours sitting in front of my computer….looking for a place to go. If I wanted to use my own computer, I literally had to kick him off. Finally, I restricted him to using my computer to two hours a day.

But…..he was getting desperate. One time I went into my office after he had left only to find that he had not logged off. On the screen was a gay site. Like I said, he was getting desperate. (I think.) He was starting to believe me when I told him he would have to leave. On a Monday, I told him that if he hadn’t found a place to live…..he had two choices: He could go back home or I would take him to a homeless shelter in Topeka. Oh yes…..I also told him that if he refused to leave, I would call the county sheriff or homeland security or the Immigration Service.

On Wednesday, he told me had found another place to live. Somebody in Lawrence had agreed to let him stay there. On Friday afternoon, we loaded all of his belonging into the back of my car and headed off for Lawrence…..and the good old McDonalds in west Lawrence. Two guys were standing beside a car…..obviously waiting for him. I tossed his duffel bag into the truck of the car……got into my car….and sped away.

That was six years ago. Apparently no love was lost. He still contacts me occasionally on Facebook or by e-mail to say Hi. He is living somewhere in the Kansas City area…..illegally, of course. He has a job….being paid in cash, of course. And…..he won’t tell me where is is living….of course!

Although some people think I am being vindictive, I would not hesitate to report his location to the proper authorities. But…..that is enough about that mistake.

Now….let me tell you about a mistake I could have made…..but didn’t. This story also involves a guy from Africa. (Yeah….I know. I am not a quick learner!)

This particular guy contacted me early in the year, asking if he could come and stay for three months…..during his break from college…..to improve his English. He described himself as a college student. (True, I suppose.) and a fairly good soccer player. (Could be true.) and playing for a reputable soccer team in his home city. (Sounds good, at least.) He was living at home with his mother….and he had a girl friend. (All things that sound good to Immigration officials.)

He had even picked out the dates. All he needed to do was pay his fee to the booking agency…..and everything would be in order for him to apply for a visa. He wanted to make sure that I would indeed host him for three months. Yes, I assured him….I would. So he duly paid the fee to the booking agency….an amount that is an arrangement between the guest and them…..and never discussed with the host family.

The next step was to send him an official letter of invitation that he could present to the USA Embassy. This was easy enough. I have a standard letter that I use. All that I need to do is change the name and the dates. And, of course, the Embassy also wants a copy of my driver’s license, a copy of my passport, and some proof that I actually live at my present address. All of these documents have been scanned and saved on my computer. So……I had done my part. The rest was up to him.

There seemed to be a lot of foot-dragging on his part. Suddenly it was a week before his arrival date…..and he still did not have a visa….or an airline ticket. Finally, we met up chatting on Facebook again. “How are things coming along with the visa?” I asked him.

“Oh….OK,” he answered rather vaguely. “When I get there, I want to play soccer.”

“Well…..I don’t know. There aren’t a lot of adult soccer teams in the area. But, I suppose we can look for something. Maybe the YMCA…..or an adult soccer league in Topeka.”

“No…..I want to play for Sporting Kansas City…..and I want you to call them and get me on the team.”

“WHAT? You’ve got to be joking! There is no way I can do that.”

“Just tell them that you have a good player from Africa who wants to play for them.”
“It just doesn’t happen that way in the USA,” I tried to tell him.

But, he wasn’t going to take NO for an answer. “Will you call them and talk to them?”  Or if not Sporting Kansas City…..any team would do.

I tried to explain to him…..first of all…..that I had no way of getting him a job on ANY soccer team ANYWHERE. And second….that his visa would not allow him to work. He had to have a work visa…..have an official invitation from an employer…..etc., etc.

That evening, I sent him a lot of information from the US Immigration web site describing and explaining the various types of visas……listing all the requirements and qualifications.

Maybe he couldn’t understand everything I sent to him….or maybe he didn’t even read it….because he still insisted that I could find him a job as a soccer player! I have been to only one professional soccer game in my entire life….and that was in Berlin. I sat in the stadium struggling to stay awake. There was certainly nothing going on down on the field that would keep me awake. I didn’t understand what was going on…..if, indeed, something was actually going on…..and I found the entire soccer match to be supremely boring.

Finally, to put an end to his misguided presumptions and expectations. I told him there was absolutely nothing could do to help him….and that I would look foolish and naïve if I even tired. “You are welcome to come stay at my house…..but forget about the soccer. It is not going to happen.”

He apparently wasted his non-refundable fee to the booking agency…..because he decided not to come, after all.

Then there was the young man who was bicycling across the USA…..as part of a fund-raising effort for some charity. He had planned his trip so that he could stay with a different family every night of his multi-week trip. I was happy to let him stay in my home for a night or two on his journey as my contribution to his cause.

We communicated by e-mail, so I knew approximately what time I could expect him. Since I live in the country, we arranged for me to meet him at a gas station that would be easier for him to find. Then he could follow me to my house…..or we could simply put his bicycle into the back of my pickup, and we would drive to my house.

About an hour before he was scheduled to arrive, the telephone rang. It was the guy calling. He had experienced mechanical problems with his bicycle and he had also had to pedal into a 40 mph headwind. He was not able to make it to my house.
Ah…..too bad. But…..that was not the problem. He had no place to spend the night. He had not foreseen these circumstances…..and thus had not planned for them. He had no contingency plan.

“Where are you now?” I asked him.

“In Hiawatha, Kansas,” he said.

Well, at least he was in Kansas! As opposed to Wyoming or somewhere! Hiawatha is a little over fifty miles from where I live. So…..what to do? Should I say, “Oh man….that is too bad. Good luck.” OR should I do the good-guy thing and go pick him up? What do you think I did? Of course…….”OK, wait there, and I will come pick you up.”

He turned out to be a delightful young man….doing a worthy deed…..but hit with some unforeseen bad circumstances……and he never did stop thanking me for coming to his rescue. In this case, I felt good about helping him.

When I think back on the many foreign and domestic guests that have stayed at my house, there are examples to support the proverbs I quoted at the beginning of this essay.

I have told you about three which illustrate the first adage: “No good deed goes unpunished.” But, fortunately, these incidents are in the minority. I would like to think that I am fulfilling the teaching of the third proverb: “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

When I reflect on my German exchange students with whom I am still in frequent contact, the pleasant memories overshadow the bad experiences. When I consider the joy and delight that Fayez continues to bring into my life….the other incidents seem only to be minor annoyances or irritations.

Throughout my associations with many foreigners who aspire to come to the United States for one reason or another, I have been amazed by the often distorted, misguided and right down false impressions that many foreigners have concerning the United States and life in the United States.

This should not be surprising, though. Most foreigners receive almost all of their “knowledge” about the USA by watching American TV programs or American movies. Many outsiders….especially in under-developed countries…. perceive the people of this country to be rich, affluent, arrogant, entitled….not to mention violent, combative, and intrusive.

One of the major problems I have had when dealing with potential guests from poor countries is to convince them that I am NOT rich; I am not powerful. That I do not live in a mansion and drive an expensive sports car. That I do not have money to spend on frivolous luxuries. That I do not even own a gun….let along carry it through the streets looking for a fight. That I am not intent on controlling their country…..or robbing their resources.

More than once I have explained….mostly unsuccessfully…..that movies like “The Terminator” or “Transformers” or “Iron Man” or “The X Men” simply are not true. In fact, they are rather preposterous and childish products of someone’s imagination. Movies and TV program like this bear no similarity to reality; in fact, they are complete escapist entertainment….for those who like that kind of stuff…. (And I happen to be one of the people who do not like it.)

One of the greatest annoyances that I must deal with is the person who contacts me…..talks about wanting to come to the USA to improve his English and learn about the USA….and then asks me for money for their airline ticket or the fee to pay for their visa.

Even more disconcerting are the people who aren’t even that subtle. They simply ask for money….period. Or they ask for me to find them a job…..or get them accepted into college…..or to find an American girl friend……

I must tell them matter-of-factly….and as kindly….as possible….that I have none of these capabilities….that I cannot help them. And, I also try to point out that they have misunderstood the spirit and intent of the hospitality organizations. But…..here again….I suppose that I am reinforcing their assumption about the rich, greedy, selfish, arrogant American. Oh well…..

But, as I said earlier, the success stories that I have experienced through the years; the marvelous people that I have met….and still meet; the pleasant memories that I have accumulated; …..have made hosting foreign guests an awesome adventure…..awesome enough to continue for immediate future.

Yeah……it’s like people always say, “You win some…….You lose some.”  But, I am still playing the game.

 

 

(FOOTNOTE: Now….before I finally end this essay…..I want to remind you that ALL of the pictures you see in this blog are those of extraordinary people who have brought excitement, satisfaction and job into my life for the past twenty years…..my success stories.   The failure and the bummers and the downers have been relegated to mere footnotes, written in tiny print, and only conjured up to tell a good story.)

 

 

This is definitely one of those cases when I have to take the good with the bad. There are some things that I simply do not like any longer……and birthdays are one of them. But, if I look at it another way, maybe I can say that my “birthday day” ranks pretty high among the days that I DO like. It means that I am still around to celebrate. And, there is something to be said for that, I suppose. In fact, I hope that I am around to celebrate a lot more of them.

The birthday gift I had this year…..aside from another year on this earth…..was the fact that Fayez came up from Wichita to celebrate the

two weeks….with me. No matter how old I am…..and I am seventy-six, just for the record…..Fayez always manages to make me feel younger when he is around. And, that is a great gift. When Fayez spends his college break time and his vacations here at the Ranch…..you can bet that there will be a celebration….wine, women, and song. Well…..actually, there were none of those! But, you get the idea. There is always something happening from the time we get up in the morning to the time when we fall asleep at night.

Fayez showed up on Monday morning, July 28…..that day that everybody will remember as the day the world received a wonderful gift……the birth of Beryl Darrah. Fayez came bearing a gift…..a gift in the form of a Dairy Queen ice-cream cake. In recent history, the only time I eat Dairy Queen is on my birthday…..so this was a special treat. The ice cream was on the verge to turning into a liquid by the time he arrived. But, that did not discourage me….the sight of Dairy Queen was too much to resist. We ate one piece…..and put the rest of it in the freezer so we could “celebrate” more later.

For the next week or ten days….when we were at home….and when we thought of it…..we would help ourselves to a piece of the cake. It took longer to cut a piece of cake than it did to eat it. By this time, the cake had frozen solid again…..rock hard. It almost required a chain saw just to cut it. But….looking back, this was probably a good thing. If I had been at home by myself……the entire cake would have been consumed in two days….at the very most. When it comes to food…..I have to admit, I do not have a lot of self-control. I solve this problem by simply not keeping any sort of junk food or otherwise unhealthy food in the house. At any rate, we managed to make the cake last for a respectable length of time.

We also did something else that I would never have considered doing if I had been home alone on my birthday. In the afternoon, while we   town, we stopped, and after I looked around to make sure nobody

was looking,  Fayez jumped out of the car and casually took a picture of my name, which was written on a store front window…..as casually he could manage to do something…..which sometimes is not too casually. Anyway, he got back into the car and we sped away….leaving the scene of the crime as quickly as possible.

We headed to T-town….Topeka….where I had a coupon for a free meal at Coyote Canyon. After over-eating, we sat in Terry’s Bar and Grill….our favorite bar in Topeka….and talked for the rest of the night.

                                             

And….thus, that was my birthday celebration! Another special thing I always enjoy and appreciate on my birthday is all the greetings which I receive from my Facebook friends….and from former students and guests. It makes me feel good to know that people still remember me….and care about me….at least, a little bit.

One of the first major projects of Fayez’s visit was the Crestview Community Center Topeka Big Shunga 8K Run……which was held on Saturday, August 2. He had entered the race, hoping to win first place in his age division. I attended, hoping to win first place as the best spectator….whatever that is.

Soon after arriving at my house, Fayez started training for the race. We drove to Topeka to Crestview Park Tuesday afternoon, so he could become familiar with the course….the terrain….all that kind of stuff. It was a warm, humid day. I was dressed in as few articles of clothing possible, and still not be arrested…….And Fayez….my little desert dweller…..went dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeve K. U. pull-over…..attire that most Americans would wear in the mid-winter months.

“You are going to have a heat stroke,” I told him. I was hot just looking at him, in all that winter clothing. But, I suppose it is different when you are born and raised on the desert; where running in 100+ degree temperatures is common…..and running in 85 degree temperature must seem rather mild…..maybe even cool. At any rate, I was unable to convince him to remove any of this clothing.

So, off we went. He….running the approximately 5 miles course…….and me…..walking from Crestview Community Center to Gage Blvd and back…..a little bit over one mile. When I got back to the Community Center, I was hot, sweating…and very much in need of some shade so I could sit down and rest. I found a bench in the shade and sat down to rest and wait for Fayez to return……probably hot, sweating, worn out…..and probably wishing he had not worn so many clothing.

About ten minutes later…..here came Fayez, suffering no apparent ill-effects of the heat. In fact, when I caught up with him, he was barely out of breath….. I am going to take a wild guess and say that Fayez is probably in much better shape than I. And he had cut his time from an eight minute mile down to around a six minute mile. This was probably due to a combination of a couple factors: He is in better shape now; and he probably pushed himself just a bit more. At any rate, prospects for the Saturday race were looking good.

I can imagine that there was a time….way back in my ancient history….that I could have beaten…easily beaten…..Fayez in a one mile race. But….those days were in the distant past. Now I more or less live vicariously on Fayez’s success.

On Saturday morning, we arrived at the race site….the Crestview Community Center….. at around 7:00 A.M. It was a beautiful morning….plenty of blue sky and the sun had just been turned on….and was still warming up. The temperature was in the low seventies. Perfect weather for a race. I don’t know if Fayez was nervous or not. Even if he was, he probably wouldn’t have admitted it.

In my life time, I have been to hundreds of cross-country races. I wasn’t nervous….but I was certainly optimistic….and anticipating that Fayez would do well. We looked around….or at least I did…..and tried to assess his prospects. He would be running in the 19 – 26 age group….a difficult division, for sure. How many would be in his age group? Did they look like runners? Of course, it is difficult….if not somewhat impossible…..to know this kind of thing with any certainty. But, I was confident that Fayez would do well. And…..in a worse case scenario….even if he didn’t place, it was still all good. This was his first race; he would get some valuable experience; he would get a T-shirt; he would have fun participating; it would give him an incentive to work harder for other races.

While Fayez was off doing his race thing, I more or less drifted around…..just trying to make time go by fast. And….it did. The first runner arrived back at the finish line all by himself….all alone. Wow….this guy blew everybody away! He was a skinny, wiry runt….and probably didn’t weigh much over 100 lbs. But, he had powerful legs…..and apparently powerful lungs, too. It was at least thirty seconds…..probably more…..before the next runner appeared. After that, the slow trickle of runner steadily increased to a virtual stream of runners.

I tried to watch to see who the early finishers were. After a while, it became a rather impossible venture. And…of course, once the first runner came across the finish line, I started to anxiously survey the runners for Fayez…..especially when the time was approaching the 34 minutes mark. I knew that Fayez was probably going to run somewhere around a 7 minute mile…..and, of course, I was hoping for something better. Finally, in the distance I spotted Fayez….wearing the Valley Falls shirt that I had given to him….. He was in a tight race with two other runners…..until the last 40 yards or so. Then he had hit his peak……and the other two runners easily out-distanced him. But….in the long run, it made no difference. They were in a different age division.

Fayez was in pretty good shape when he finished……much better than I had envisioned. After explaining how to spell his name to the official time keeper…..well, actually he ended up typing his name for her…..he said, “Come on….let’s go.”

“No, let’s stick around the awards ceremony,” I said. And, I am glad that we did. The race director began calling off the winners…with their times. As soon as I heard him call the third place winner….with his time……I knew immediately that Fayez had placed….either second or first. Then the name of the second place winner was called…..it wasn’t Fayez. That could mean only one thing: Fayez had taken first place…in his age division. Then the race director called off another name…..It wasn’t FAYEZ….but it was close enough! Actually…..he was the only runner from Saudi Arabia there that day! Surprise….surprise. Fayez had won first place in his age division….with a time of 36 minutes 55 seconds.

So…..Fayez took first place in his age division in the very first race he had ever run. And…..this race wasn’t too shabby, either. There were at least 200 runners who participated.

                                                          

We celebrated by going to the Golden Corral to eat breakfast…..and then to the Farmers’ Market. It was the first time I had ever been to the Saturday morning market…..and probably the last time, too. Fayez thought it was rinky-dink….compared to the markets that are held in his home town in Saudi Arabia. And, I also thought it was rinky-dink…and I think it was the first Farmers’ Market I had been to.

Another highlight of Fayez’s visit was our trip to Pleasanton to visit Sam….a friend of ours. Sam doesn’t actually live in Pleasanton……but he does own land there…..a farm, I suppose would be a proper name for it. Sam’s “farm” is not your ordinary run-of-the-mill farm. He doesn’t raise cattle or pigs or chickens…..or camels, for that matter……nor does he cultivate corn or soy beans. They certainly don’t call Kansas the Wheat State because of his farm. You are not going to find such mundane crops growing there.

Sam’s farm is basically devoted to growing pecans, chestnuts…..the kind you find at Christmas time….roasting on an open fire. I am certainly not an expert on chestnuts trees….or any kind of trees, for that matter. But, he has planted probably somewhere around two hundred little trees so far….with more yet to come. Some day, he will be able to harvest a lot of chestnuts. In the meantime, he spends a lot effort keeping them watered….and attempting to keep deer and other herbivorous predators from using them as a midnight snack.

Actually, I never knew anything about chestnuts until Sam started growing them…..other than the Christmas song I mentioned earlier. But, apparently when they first appear on the tree, they are encased in green outer layer covered with prickly little spikes. As they begin to ripen, the outer layer bursts open…..and the actual chestnut is revealed. And, the part about roasting them “on an open fire” is not merely poetic…..it is true. Before eating the chestnut, you must take a sharp knife and cut a slit in the shell…..put them into a heated place and wait for the shell to open. When I am by myself, I put them into the microwave for about a minute…take them out….remove the shell….and eat them. When Fayez is here, he puts them just inside the door of the wood stove and “roasts” them there. And, actually they taste better this way than they do putting them into the microwave. Of course, Fayez had more patience than I do, and he doesn’t mind getting a pair of tongs to carefully put them in……and then use the tongs and carefully take them out…..without getting burned. For me…..the microwave is the best….and simplest….option. Either way…..chestnuts could be described as an “acquired taste”. But….I like them.

It is rather strange. I want to attract deer to my property. One time I even set out salt blocks to entice them onto my property. Sam would probably do almost anything to keep the deer off his property. If it were possible, I would gladly bring all of them to my house. There is absolutely nothing they can destroy here……and maybe they would make good “lawn mowers”.

Sam’s farm is a combination of rolling hills, wooded land with a stream running through it, and some flat land, which is well suited for growing crops…..in this case: chestnuts and pecans….and other incidental crops. We took a short drive into a wooded area to look at some chestnut trees that he had grafted together…..joining one little branch onto a mature tree. I had never seen a freshly grafted tree before, and I must admit….it was somewhat different that I had visualized it. It is amazing to me how it works…..or that really does work at all. But, there was real-life evidence that is successful. Yeah…..I know, my explanation does not sound very scientific….and, of course, it isn’t. But, those people who know me would never expect a scientific account from me. And, in fact, they would be certain that I had plagiarized it if I had given one. But….if you ever have the opportunity…..check it out. It is interesting

The farm is a beautiful setting, and it would be an ideal place for building a rustic home, hidden away in the trees, with expansive green lawns with flowering shrubs and trees, a shady patio, some yard swings…..maybe a hammock strung between two trees. But…..someday, Fayez and I are going to buy it…..or something very similar….and turn in into a charming and delightful golf course. It has all of the necessary and desirable prerequisites…..flat land for fairways and greens, a pond and a stream as an ideal water hazard, and rolling hills and wooded areas to make it challenging. And, there is plenty of space to construct a comfortable club house…..all in a peaceful, graceful rural setting.

While we were there, we ate a delicious lunch which Sam had thoughtfully provided.  Indeed it was a mini-banquet served off the tail-gate of his pickup….and eaten while sitting on various upside down buckets and whatever else we could find to sit on. By the time we had finished eating all the food which was available, both of us were full and satisfied.

The time went by quickly….and all too soon it was time to leave. I had a doctor appointment to keep. Before we left, Sam gave us a sack filled with little pears that he picked from one of his trees. We know they were fresh….and we know they were from one of his trees….because he picked them while we were standing there!

I had already decided on the route that I wanted to follow going to Topeka. But, as usually happens, the GPS had a different idea…..and we ended up taking the exact route that I did not want to take…..the route passing through Kansas City. But, Fayez can handle it. And, we reached our destination with no problems.

For quite some time, Fayez had been bugging me to go to Manhattan with him….to see both the town and the college located there. It did little good to tell him that there is really nothing to see there. He was determined that he had to see it with his own eyes…. first hand. Last Christmas when he spend his winter break at my house, we had planned to drive over to take a look. But, bad weather intervened, and our trip had to be canceled. I was being overly optimistic when I thought he would forget about it.

This time, I was left with little choice but to take him to Manhattan. Actually, he drove his own car. I cautioned him that he would have to be careful while driving on the campus of the other college. There is always a danger to hitting a pig, running over a chicken, or having a door smash by a stray cow.

Nevertheless, we made the hour and half trip so Fayez could satisfy his curiosity. We did all the requisite things and visited all the obligatory places…..which, let’s face it, are few and far between. We walked into the nondescript place where they attempt to play basketball….took a quick glance at the football stadium…..and drove past the ubiquitous barns, silos and corrals. We drove down Poyntz Avenue, which I think is the main downtown street. We found the street to be virtually deserted. Not knowing what else to look at…..or if, indeed, there was anything else to look at, we decided to drive back to Topeka. I think that Fayez basically satisfied his curiosity…..and probably won’t be asking to go there again….at least, for a while.

Any time that Fayez comes to stay for a while, he is always more than eager to help me in any way he can. Me being such a weak, helpless old man. Generally, I resist asking him to help with major jobs. I prefer to use the time he is there to relax and have fun. I very much want to avoid using him as some sort of “servant” or “vassal”. But, on this visit, I made an exception…..one to which he readily and willingly agreed, I might add.

I wanted to make some major changes in my office. I had acquired an additional monitor and an additional keyboard….and I rather desperately needed to create some additional space for them. In my office, which is a converted extra bedroom, there is simply no extra space. But, that didn’t keep us from trying. We moved and partially reconstructed the computer desk….hoping to add some additional surface space. This was a heavy…..often dirty….job of moving items of furniture….disconnecting computers and printers and monitors. When we finished, I knew….although I did not want to admit it at the time…..that we had basically gained nothing! But, I tried to be optimistic and to conclude that our efforts had been successful. It would have been rather discouraging to say to Fayez, “Well, all that effort was for nothing. We wasted our time.” And, I must say…..it did help a little….although very little. But, nevertheless, I did appreciate the time and effort that Fayez spent helping with the failed attempt!

Our next project was a success. I switched back to burning wood a couple years ago, after a brief experiment with a wood pellet stove. During that two year period, I have struggled to find a dependable source of fire wood. I had been buying wood from almost anybody who would agree to sell some to me. Consequently, I had an odd hodgepodge of wood from three or four “suppliers”. Some of it was simply not suitable for burning in my wood stove. It was too big or oddly shaped or ….something. In addition, some of the wood was stacked on the front porch….with the remainder of being stacked…..or stored….or scattered…..in the garage. That is where the wood belongs….in the garage…. The problem was that the non-burnable wood was stacked in the place where the “good” wood belonged. That meant that the bad wood had to be moved before the other wood….the wood that was stacked on the front porch and various places in the garage….could be nearly stacked where it belonged. Let’s just say it required moving a LOT of wood.

OK…..this is where I needed help. And….this is where Fayez “volunteered” to help. Get rid of the bad wood…..and stack the good wood in its place. Not being able to give the wood away….which I would have gladly done……we decided that we could use this wood to burn in the fire ring on the patio. So…..with the help of a wheelbarrow, we loaded it up and stacked it outside. With this job completed, we brought the good wood inside and stacked neatly where it belonged. For the first time in more than a year, I now have enough room to drive my car into the garage…..which, I think…..is its intended purpose.

With those two projects completed, we devoted the remainder of the two weeks to fun and games…..and eating. We are always searching for good places to eat….and good bars where we can sit and talk at night. And, let’s face it…..Topeka is not the gastronomical capital of the world…..or the USA….or even Kansas. However, we did discover a home-owned Mexican restaurant in Topeka called Tacos El Mexicano. I am not very discriminating in my choice or expertise when it comes to food. But…..Fayez was impressed. He thought is was a good choice. And, if Fayez was satisfied and gave it his stamp of approval…..then so do I.

After the race, we ate breakfast at Coyote Canyon….something I have never done before. And. Something that I probably will not do again for a while. No, no….the food was great…..and plentiful. That is the problem! I do not need to frequently eat breakfast any place where the food is plentiful. But….it was a reward for Fayez for doing so well in the race. And for me? Well…..I am not sure what my excuse was…..aside from the fact that it sounded like a good idea at the time.

Of course, we ate at our old stand-bys: The Golden Corral and the Royal Buffet. On a Sunday afternoon we continued another tradition: We ate at the Alladin Cafe in Lawrence. The Alladin Cafe is a Lebanese restaurant that serves a buffet for Sunday lunch. Maybe you are starting to see a pattern here. Probably not a very healthy pattern either…..but one that will probably continue indefinitely. Yes…..these places are all-you-can-eat restaurants. We justify it by maintaining that they are obviously the best values….places where you get the most for the money.

 

 

Having patronized all of these restaurants……by far the best place to eat is at home. I will assert without any hesitation that Fayez prepares better food than any and all of these places. It is really too bad he aspires to be a doctor…..because he would make a terrific chef.

The bar scene in Topeka…..in my judgment…..is dismal. I admit that I am looking for something different in a bar than most people. A lot of people, I suppose, like bars with loud blaring music. Maybe it adds to the illusion of excitement or the adventure of being inside a bar. Maybe the loud music and the noise helps a person to relax and forget about their problem. I am sure that the noise and clamor certainly would help drown them out……or it drives them temporarily insane causing them to forget almost everything.

As for me…..I like a bar that is…first of all….safe. Yes….I have often thought it might be exciting….or at least interesting…..to be inside a bar during a fight. I saw plenty of them when I was living in South Vietnam. The Australians….and the South Koreans…..seemingly had adopted bar room fighting as one of their favorite past times. But, now, in my old age, I want to go to a place where there is no drama….and no bloodshed.

Second…..the bar must be relatively quiet. Quiet enough to carry on a conversation without shouting. Don’t get me wrong. Background music is good. It not only helps drown out extraneous noise, but it makes it possible to talk without the conversation being heard by everybody present. In other words…..some background music creates a shield of privacy. I really do not care what other people are talking about….and it nobody’s business what I am talking about.

Third….give me a bar where the prices are fair and reasonable.

And fourth…..it certainly doesn’t hurt to have some TV screens which telecast K. U. football and basketball games.

Through a process of elimination, Fayez and I have come to agree that the only bar in Topeka that meets all of these criteria is Terry’s Bar and Grill. It is a friendly neighborhood bar, with a regular clientele of mature people. It is a comfortable place to merely go and sit and talk.

On this visit, however, we decided to check out the Brass Rail Bar and Grill….and investigate its possibilities. I think we simply went there on a bad night. It was karaoke night….. And what can be worse that loud recorded music? Yes…..you guessed it. Karaoke. The Brass Rail is undoubtedly a neighborhood bar in the classic sense of the word. It was obvious that everybody in the bar knew each other…..everybody, but us, that is. And…..this is good. We were warmly welcomed…..no doubt about it. And, if that would have been the extent of it……it may have become one of our staple bars. But….Oh! The karaoke.

Everybody in the bar was welcome to perform. They even asked us…..
Fayez and me. No way! But, many of the patrons did perform…..or attempt to perform….over and over and over….. The bad thing was….to us at least….was that most of them couldn’t sing! And, the performers, sadly, were completely unaware of this fact. In fact, the opposite appeared to be true. Most, if not all, of them seemed convinced that they were, indeed, Emmy Award singers. As we sat there, we hoped that the impromptu performances would soon come to an end. But, if anything…..it picked up momentum as time went by. In all fairness, however, let me say that Fayez enjoyed it much more than I did. I am not sure why. Maybe it is because he doesn’t know how to sing, either. Or maybe it reminded him of the sounds that camels make back in his native Saudi Arabia. We will give the Brass Rail another chance, though……and maybe find it on a night when there is no karaoke.

We did two other noteworthy things while Fayez was here. One was go to a movie. Fayez had never been inside a real movie theater….ever. And, it has been many years….probably fifteen years….since I last attended a movie in the USA. So…..it seemed like a constructive way to spend a couple hours. We looked online to see what was playing at the West Ridge Theater. None of the movies sounded very promising…..to me, at least. However, we settled on a movie called “The Neighbors”. At least, I think that was the name of it. It was billed as a comedy….about the only kind of movie I would consider watching these days.

We arrived late…..so they let us in free. And, this, it turned out, was the only bright spot in the incident. We quickly figured out the plot once we had settled in our seats. Really….we could have arrived at any point in the movie and immediately figured out the plot…..because it actually had no plot. The entire movie turned out to be a simple-minded piece of trash, not even worthy for a dim witted moron to watch. We sat and watched the movie for perhaps thirty minutes……then we both decided that we had suffered….or had our intelligence insulted…..enough. We got up and walked out. Now, I think I realize more than ever why I haven’t gone to a movie in the past fifteen years…..and probably won’t go for another fifteen years. If I want to have my intelligence insulted……I can simply turn on Fox News.

The other major action that we took was to visit the newly renovated State Capitol Building in Topeka. This was a “first” for both Fayez and me. It was the first time he had been inside the State Capitol Building…..ever. And, it was the first time I had been inside the building since a major renovation project began about a million years ago. Actually, I think the work started ten years ago…..and was finished only earlier this year.

During this time the building was….well, a visual mess. And, it was basically closed to public viewing. For about ten years, the grounds were covered with scaffolding, barriers, construction equipment, piles of building materials, mounds of earth….and all the other ugly stuff associated with rebuilding and remodeling. Most of the sidewalks leading to the building were closed….as were most of the doors. While it was possible to walk around the building…..it was impossible to walk to the building….especially on the north, east and west sides. For all practical purposes, we had lost access to our Capitol Building.

The project cost somewhere around three hundred twenty million dollars. Yes, that is $320,000,000….more than a third of a billion dollars. Major changes were made to the building, including a new underground parking garage…..for legislators and employees only; significant restoration to both the House and Senate Chambers; the addition of a new visitors’ center on the bottom floor; replacing the copper dome….as well as other technical and modernization upgrades. The original estimated cost of the plan was $108.5 million…..but that figure was lost in the dust long before the project was completed.

Fayez and I entered the Capitol Building through the entrance to the new visitor’s center, which is located on the ground floor on the north side of the building.. Upon entering, visitors must pass through a security check point……much like the one found in airports. Fayez…an Arab….sailed quickly through. No Problem! But….I…..the American, the Kansas tax payer who is paying for the entire project….was stopped by the flashing red light and the alarm on the first attempt….and on the second attempt. Wow! Who is this guy attempting to infiltrate the security of the Kansas Capitol Building? Was it my wrist watch? Take if off. Try again. No….the alarm sounded for a second time. Surely these past-their-prime guards could look at me and tell that this old man with the kindly face, the white beard and winning smile was not a risk to any living thing. “Check your pockets again,” they suggested. Ah….the keys. Yes….they are made out of metal. They smiled and let me pass…..although Fayez raised his eye brows and was still looking at me suspiciously.

We spent an hour or so looking at the exhibits in the newly added visitors center which were prepared by the Kansas Historical Society. We took the elevator up to the main floor to scrutinize the famous murals which are painted on the walls. They are impressive in size and scope……and fairly self explanatory to long-time residents of Kansas. Well, at least to most of us…..if we have ever opened a book to read, paid attention in our school classes or just taken a look around while we were outside. Most of murals were obvious to Fayez….even though there are no camels or deserts in the pictures. Agriculture…oil….tornadoes….cattle…..wheat. Probably the only one that he really did not grasp was the picture of John Brown….the famous or infamous anti-slavery crusader. Just by looking at the mural, I think he got the general idea that the guy was probably somewhat radical….if not just a little bit crazy.

And…..maybe what I find to be so amazing is that he had no idea of who Dwight D. Eisenhower was. To most Kansans he is probably considered to be our “national hero”….certainly our state hero. But, on the other hand, I can imagine that there are many Kansans under the age or 30 or 40 who probably don’t know who he is, either.

We looked inside both the House of Representatives chamber…..on the west side of the capitol….and inside the Senate chambers on the east side. Both of these ornate meeting rooms have been restored. And, in the process of renovation, many of the original features, that had been long-hidden by coats of paint and other disguises, were discovered and returned to their initial, authentic state.

The House of Representatives chamber was open to the public….and apparently visitors were free to walk about and examine the room. Fayez, surrendering to his urge for power, wandered down to the front and sat in the chair of the Speaker of the House. He looked quite natural in this seat of leadership and prestige. As for me…..I was content to take his picture…..and suppress my own delusion of power. The Senate chamber was roped off, preventing people from entering the room. We had to be content with looking it from the doorway.

On the way out of the building, I stopped for an interesting chat with the guards and the volunteer hosts. They gladly explained the history of the restoration project….probably more than I really wanted to know at the time. I am sure they would have gladly talked for another half hour, if I would have had the time. What they had to say was definitely fascinating…..and as a tax payer, very informative. But, I am sure it was much more than Fayez wanted to know. He was impatiently pacing around…..waiting for us to leave and head toward the Mexican restaurant to eat supper.

Only one part of the two weeks met in complete, outright failure. In fact, I feel like I have deprived the PGA….and indeed mankind….of a world of a world-class golfer. I had high hopes that Fayez would ultimately become the first Saudi Arabian golfer to join the PGS tour. And, I was confident that after reaching such a high status, Fayez would give me full credit as the person who first got him started…..his mentor, his adviser, his inspiration. But…..it was not to be. Despite my best efforts to teach him the game, he rejected it….turned away from it. Who knows why? Maybe he simply was not interested in the game; or maybe it was the fact that he was simply no good at it! I am sure that it could not have been the outstanding, expert instruction he received. But….let’s be honest: Some people have what it takes to be a good golfer….and some people do not! 

 

 

 

When Fayez comes to spend his break and vacation time, there is rarely a minute when we are not involved in some sort of interesting activity or enterprise. Whether it is celebrating another in a long string of birthdays with an ice-cream cake….driving down to Sam’s farm…or working out at the “Y”…..or sitting in a bar talking….of fixing supper outside in the fire ring….or getting a hair cut……waiting for Fayez outside his mosque…..or wasting some time looking around the campus of another state university…..or running in a cross-country race……life it always refreshing and invigorating.

Now it is time for settle back into a normal routine…..and get back on a more reasonable diet that will keep my doctors happy…..and my weight down.

                                                          

 

 

Our brief visit to “Sin City. Jr……Reno….. ended…..and now we are headed across the desert to the city without (any obvious) sin…..Salt Lake City.

We left fairly early on Tuesday morning. The trip across the Nevada desert can seem like a long one. About 520 miles, to be exact. And, the meaning of the word “desert” is relative, I suppose, depending upon one’s perception and experience. To me, the desert that blankets the state of Nevada is about as barren as I have seen. Several hundred miles of barren wasteland…virtually uninhabited, except for a few dilapidated, decaying small towns along the Interstate.

There are a few bright spots….oases in the desert….Winnemucca and Elko come most readily to mind. They are irrigated, green spots which offer a sense of relief and normalcy from endless stretches of desolate landscape that envelope most of the state. And, also off the beaten path of I-80 are fields of green crop land…..also irrigated by life-sustaining water which lies far beneath of the surface of the desert. But, for the most part, it is a journey that must be endured in order to travel from the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. People often say that Kansas is merely on obstacle to be tolerated to reach the state of Colorado. These people obviously have not experienced the desert that encompasses the state of Nevada.

But, like I said…..the term “desert” is relative in meaning to one’s experience. I can well imagine that this would appear to be fertile land to Fayez….maybe even like his front yard. I can just imagine…..Fayez relaxing in a comfortable lawn chair, admiring the cactus, watching the rattlesnakes play……

The desert was no obstacle to Fayez and me, though. To us it was another interrupted opportunity to continue talking and discussing…..and to watching the dust devils as they danced across the desert. The time passed quickly….and before we knew it….seven hours later….we drove into the parking lot of the Howard Johnson Motel in the heart of Salt Lake City.

But first, we stopped to take a look at the only attraction between Reno and Salt Lake City…..the Great Salt Desert. Before stopping there, however, we paused briefly in Wendover…..the last town before entering Utah. Wendover is not only the last town in Nevada before crossing into Utah. But, it is also the last town in Utah before crossing into the state of Nevada. How can that be? It sits directly on the border separating those two states…..half the town in Utah and half the town in Nevada. And, there is a line drawn across Main Street. On the west side of the lines lies Nevada, and on the east side of the line is Utah. And, the differences can be striking. On the Nevada side, almost anything goes….liquor stores, casinos….and other more physical pleasures. On the Utah side? Well, you have entered Utah…..and you are lucky you can buy a cup of coffee.

The Great Salt Desert says it all. It is a desert composed entirely of a layer of salt. This salt is the left over residue from an ancient inland sea which over the centuries evaporated down to the present Great Salt Lake. This desert is almost perfectly flat….flat enough that it is used as a major testing site in attempting to set world speed records for various land based vehicles. Of course, it is white….as white as a vast snow field…..just like salt is white. And, if don’t believe that it is really salt, go ahead and rub your finger over the surface and then lick your finger.

The Great Salt Lake, several miles east toward Salt Lake City, is one of the saltiest bodies of water in the world. Walk out into the lake…..and

you will have to walk quite a distance under normal conditions, because the lake is quite shallow….learn backwards……and relax! The buoyancy of the water, caused by the heavy concentration of salt, will support your body….and it is probably next to impossible to drown. Even for a non-swimmer like me.

 

It was relatively early when we arrived in Salt Lake City. Soon after we got settled in our motel room, only a few blocks from Temple Square, Fayez took off and went for a run. In the meantime, I got my laptop set up and checked my e-mail and Facebook page. Then is was nap time….a necessity for an old man of my advanced age. After Fayez returned, he also took a nap….so we would both be rested for the evening ahead of us.

There are some Middle Eastern restaurants in Salt Lake City, and we planned to eat our evening meal in one of them that night. We did a quick check on the restaurants, and to our surprise found that none of the Middle Eastern restaurants stayed open beyond seven or eight o’clock in the evening. And most them closed even earlier. Wow….what’s going on here? That’s a little early, isn’t it? It was already after seven o’clock….too late to locate them….drive to them….and order a meal. So….we went to my old stand-by favorite….Chuck-A-Rama Buffet. I had already been to this restaurant several times in past year….so I knew we couldn’t wrong eating there. It is a good choice: crowded, popular, hundreds of food options. It was a good choice. But….this will give you an idea of the amount and quality of night life in Salt Lake City.

Our night life was less than exciting. Night life in Topeka is wild and lively compared to that of Salt Lake City. Considering all that I already knew about Salt Lake City, we didn’t even attempt to go to a bar and sit…..although we would have liked to. Instead we walked the few blocks to Temple Square, only to find that it had also closed for the night. With nothing better to do, we walked back to our motel room and spent the remainder of the evening talking…..and planning our agenda for the following day.

Our only full day in Salt Lake City….a Wednesday…..centered around a few of the major landmarks of the city. We started our day with a visit to the state capitol building. It is located on the near north side of the city…..and sits in a prominent position on what could be the highest point in the city. Since Salt Lake City is seemingly built on a land that is more flat than the State of Kansas….this is not much of a distinction. But, it is high enough that it can be seen from most parts of the city. And, from the front steps of the capital building, one can get an excellent panoramic view of the city.

Like most state capitol buildings, it houses the governor’s office, along with both houses of the state legislature. The interior of the building is very simple in design….actually almost stark. But the highly polished marble gives it an almost castle-like atmosphere. The wide, barren public spaces give the illusion of being in the midst of a magnificent cavern….where voices and footsteps echo off the towering walls.

The design of the capitol building is in the traditional, classic design of most state capitol buildings….patterned after the Capitol of our nation in Washington, D.C. High in the center of the stately, imposing dome hangs what is probably the most ornate feature of the building: an elegant, sparkling chandelier. The sides around the dome are decorated with exquisite murals…..depicting the history of Utah….I suppose. In many of the long hallways there are informative displays also illustrating and interpreting the evolution of the state and its people and industries. Fayez and I voted, and our consensus was that Kansas has a far more attractive capitol building.

 

Foremost in the history and culture of the state of Utah is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints…..the Mormon Church. Indeed, the entire city of Salt Lake City was planned around Temple Square, the ten acre walled complex which is the headquarters of the

Mormon Church. This where we spent most of our day.

Temple Square has four entrances….North, South, East and West. No matter which entrance you choose, you will be greeted by a friendly greeter. Although most of these greeters are more mature people…..not very many seconds will pass before you are approached by a pair of sunny, smiling young women. They are “missionaries”, and they are devoting eighteen months of their life to representing the Mormon Church and spreading its message. They are ubiquitous…..everywhere. You can’t escape them….so don’t even try. But, do not worry, these young ladies…..”sisters”, as they call themselves, are very low-key and are eager to make your visit to Temple Square as interesting and pleasant as possible. They are nothing to be afraid of……or to avoid. They are going to engage you in some friendly conversation: “Where are you from?” “What is your name?” “What all have you seen on your trip?” “Where are you headed?”

It is all quite innocuous….and it can even be interesting. It is often fascinating to hear where these girls are from……and they come from all over the world…..and to hear about their lives in their home country. They are also quite useful. If you need information about Temple Square or even about the Mormon Church, they are more than willing to assist you. If you want a guided tour, they will personally escort you around the compound….or they will find somebody who will. They are never “pushy” or “preachy” with their religion. They are always low-key and unpretentious. So…..expect them. They are everywhere.

There are several buildings within the walled compound. And, all of them are worth a visit…..if only a brief one. The two visitor’s centers….the north center and the south center…..have a series of on-going high-tech audio-visual presentations on the doctrines and beliefs of the Mormon Church. Even if you are not a Mormon…..and I certainly am not….nor is Fayez….they are interesting, well produced, and presented with good taste and high class. You not going to find any fire and brimstone sermons or any pulpit pounding preachers around here.

The central building in Temple Square is the Salt Lake City Temple. This is the only building you cannot visit. You must be a certified card-carrying Mormon to enter this stately building. There are, however, many exhibits in the visitor’s centers displaying intricate models of the building, with pictures of each room….along with an explanation of its purpose.

The guides will tell you that on any given day, there will be as many as forty to fifty wedding ceremonies performed in the Temple. There is a special significance to being married in the Temple….but I am not the person to explain it to you. Take a trip out to Salt Lake City and find out for yourself. They do not, however, furnish the girls for you to marry….. You have to bring your own! Much to Fayez’s disappointment.

The most famous and popular building in Temple Square is the Mormon Tabernacle. It is world-renowned for many things. Not the least of which is its shape. It is shaped like a sort of dome….egg-shaped, almost. The building is built with no internal supports….leaving the interior of the Tabernacle a vast open space with unobstructed views from all parts of the building. The Tabernacle seats approximately 8000 people…each seat with a clear and open view to the front of the Tabernacle. With the domed roof and the absence of any obstructions, the audio acoustics are nearly perfect.

One of the highlights of the tour is an acoustics demonstration. The tourists are seated in the very back of the auditorium. The guide stands in front on the stage and drops a pin onto the podium. You can hear the sound of the pin clearly. The guide will also tear a sheet of paper. Again, you can hear the paper tearing just as clearly as you could if he or she was standing beside you. And…..all of this is done without the microphone or other amplifying assistance.

For me, the main attraction of the Mormon Tabernacle…..and of the entire Temple Square…..is the huge pipe organ that encompasses the entire front of the Tabernacle. This magnificent organ has five keyboards…..and thousands of individual pipes. It is one of the largest and most acclaimed organs in the world……not to mention having a brilliant and powerful sound. Each week day…..Monday through Saturday….there is a thirty minute organ recital at the stoke of Noon. On Sunday, these recitals are at  2:30 P. M. These recital are performed by one of the four staff organists at the Tabernacle…..and by prominent guest organists. Their purpose is not only to entertain….but to demonstrate the wide range of sound and the versatility of the organ. Always included in the recital is the official hymn of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints…..”Come, Come, Ye Saints”.

As you enter the door to be seated for the recital, the guides ask you to please turn off all cell phones….and all electronic equipment. Before the organist begin the recital, he, again asks people to be considerate and turn off their cell phones…..to please not record the recital. He (and there is also one “she” on the staff) will ask you to hold all applause until the end of the program…..and if you want to leave, leave during a pause after the first selection has been completed.

These all seem like reasonable requests. They make it possible for the people to sit and enjoy the music without interruption. But…..it is absolutely amazing how many clods, jerks, yayhoos and low-lifes come to visit these recitals…..and decide halfway through the program to pack up their stuff and leave…..crowding in front of people as they push their way to the aisle, usually muttering to each other as they leave. Remember…..this building has almost perfect acoustics…..and the sound carries over the entire auditorium. One has to wonder if this is the first time they have been off the farm…..or if this is the first time they have come out of their cave! I can imagine that most of the people who are trying to enjoy the concert are not having very Christian-like thoughts about them. I know I didn’t!

As I sit and listen to the recital….and even after I leave at the end of the recital….I often wish that I had taken my piano lessons more seriously when I was young….and that I wish that I would have stuck with them. If I had…..maybe I would be sitting in front of that great organ performing for thousands of people each year. But….no chance of that. I would have had to become a Mormon. You can also attend the choir rehearsal on Thursday evening—and also the nationally telecast program, “Music and the Spoken Word” on Sunday morning.

In the afternoon, we visited the Conference Center….directly across the street from Temple Square. This is a mammoth building which was built to accommodate visitors and delegates from the Mormon Church around the world who attend the semi-annual church conference. The main auditorium seats 18,000 people….. And, again, the chamber is constructed with no internal obstructions or barriers. A virtual masterpiece of architectural design and engineering. At the front of the Conference Center stands another colossal pipe organ…..every bit as powerful and expressive as the organ across the street in the Tabernacle.

 

 

 

 

Fayez and I were fortunate enough to have a personal guided tour through the buidling. Our knowledgeable guide…a woman who volunteers her time…showed us the major attractions of the building…..and then took us to the rooftop which covers close to a city block….and is the scene of a charming garden….complete with grass,

trees, flowers…..and a fountain. Here on the rooftop, it was quite peaceful and serene. Except for the cityscape in the background…..it has an almost rural feeling.

Our guide also showed us many works of Mormon art….again depicting important events and landmarks in the history of the church. All of the art work was original…and undoubtedly very valuable. Fayez liked the artwork much more than I did…..mostly because my taste in art favors more abstract painting.

Both Fayez and I enjoyed the time we spent at Temple Square. Neither of are Mormons….and neither of us have any plans of becoming Mormons….although the prospect of multiple wives did appeal to Fayez! However, the day was informative, interesting and enlightening….and it gave Fayez another insight into a phase of Western culture.

In the late afternoon we drove to the campus of the University of Utah. By the time we arrived, the building on the campus were closed. However, we were free to drive through the campus and look at the building that housed the science and math departments…..was well as part of the medical school. The campus does not compare in size or scale to the University of Kansas. It is much smaller. It is an attractive campus, set in area of shady trees and wide expanses of green lawn.

In the evening we ate our supper in a restaurant serving food from Nepal…..and appropriately named the Katmandu Restaurant. It was not quite a Middle Eastern restaurant…..but it was exotic enough to satisfy for culinary tastes at the time. Actually, I do not remember a lot about it, except we had to wait an extraordinary length of time for our food…..probably because they had to special order it from Katmandu.

Throughout the time we spent in Salt Lake City, we did quite a lot of driving in various parts of the city. I am always impressed by the cleanliness and orderliness of the city. Of course, Brigham Young laid out the city in a very logical fashion….making Temple Square the center of the city. All streets are numbered from that reference point. If you ever get lost, simply find one of the four Temple avenues, and eventually you will find your way back to the center of the city.

I also cannot escape noticing another rather obvious aspect of the city: the lack of ethnic and national and racial groups. Maybe it is better than it once was, however. I recall a trip that I made with some friends back in the mid-seventies. We were walking in the downtown area when one of my friends turned to me and remarked, “Have you noticed something strange about this town?”

“No,” I replied. “What is it”

“We haven’t seen even one Black person since we got here.”

Today seventy-five percent of the population is White. Two and seventh tenths percent (2.7%) is Black. However, approximately twenty-five percent of the population is Hispanic or Latino. So, there is some diversity of population in the city today. Although Utah has the seventh lowest crime rate in the nation, Salt Lake City still has a serious problem with gangs. And we drove through areas where we would not want to be walking after the sun goes down…..like most other American cities, I suppose.

 

OK…..it is Thursday…..we have our stuff packed….and we are ready to set off for our last scenic, vacation stop….Grand Lake, Colorado. We enjoyed our short sojourn in Salt Lake City. It was another of those cities that Fayez decided would be a good place to live. I think it was the academic life that abounds there….plus the fact that the city is orderly, manageable, full of educational, recreational and cultural activities. Since Fayez derives most of his pleasure from studying….the lack of social late night opportunities would not be an obstacle for him. And, also we have to consider its setting: an oasis in the middle of the desert.

There isn’t much to say about the trip from Salt Lake City to Grand Lake. More desert; more sage brush; more little towns dotting the highway. In fact, our stops between the two destinations were few. We stopped in Kremmling, Colorado, to buy a couple bottles of energy drink to keep us awake for the last few minutes of our drive….and then proceeded on to our final destination: the Elk Creek Campground, located just a few hundred feet outside the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had stayed in this campground the previous year, and I was already more or less acquainted with the woman who owns the place. She remembered me…..and also the cabin we had stayed in the previous autumn. On this trip she “upgraded” our cabin to the one nearest the showers….a thoughtful gesture, I thought. An additional advantage to having this particular cabin was the fact that it was near enough to the office that we actually had Internet access……something we did not have in the former cabin.

Because it was still early in the season, we had no campground neighbors. This gave us the freedom to behave normally….talking and laughing…..without worrying about disturbing our fellow campers. And, this was rather important because we tend to sit in front of our campfire rather late at night and talk. We always try to be considerate campers……and Do Unto Others as We Would Have Them Do to Us. With no nearby neighbors, this objective became much easier.

Following our established routine…..Fayez went for a run on some of the mountain roads, while I set up my laptop to check my e-mail…followed by a restful nap. Upon his return, Fayez took a shower…and then slept for a few minutes himself. We drove the short distance to the village of Grand Lake to buy some wood for our campfire. Then we retraced our route back south along Grand Lake, down the highway to the forlorn little tourist town of Granby. We needed to buy food for our evening meal. I have been to Granby on other trips, and I thought I was fairly familiar with the little town. But the grocery store was not where I remembered it….and I have a long memory. More than a little bit frustrated, we stopped in a souvenir shop to inquire what had happened to it. The owner of the store told us that with the development of a new mall about a mile south of town, the grocery store, along with other small stores, had been forced out of business. There are usually bad consequences when big business moves in….but what can I say? Is this the price we pay for “progress”? For his help….maybe because we felt just a little sorry for him…..Fayez bought some post cards before we left.

When we returned to the campground, we discovered that we still needed one item for our supper….and I have forgotten what it was. Anyways, I went back to the campground office….which also serves as a little store with some very basic items…..to buy it. While I was there, the lady owner told me quite proudly that they had bought two new chairs and had put them on the front porch of our cabin for us to use. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that we had brought our own camping chairs…..and that they were quite comfortable….and that we intended to use them. But, it was nevertheless a kind and thoughtful gesture.

At night, we enjoyed our last campfire of the trip; we enjoyed the last feast that Fayez would prepare; and we enjoyed the last opportunity to sit and talk late into the night.

Bright and early the following morning…..a Friday….we packed our belongings for the last time and headed for home. Elk Creek Campground will always be one of my destinations when I am traveling in the Rocky Mountain area.

Fortunately for us, the highway through Rocky Mountain National Park was open. And, with my valuable senior citizens pass, we began our last sightseeing adventure of the trip. This was my first trip through Rocky Mountain National Park in the “winter” season…..even though it was the last of May. It was certainly a different environment than the summer season. The green forests were replaced by a snow-covered landscape. There were no wild flowers growing in the fields and on the mountain slopes. There were no little chipmunks eagerly begging for food. And, of course, the traffic was sparse…which may have been the main attraction of the Park that day.

There was a kind of grandeur, however, of the snow-covered mountains that towered above the landscape. The day was cloudy…..overcast skies with thick dark clouds hanging in the sky and creating an illusion of an impending storm….a storm that never came, but still produced a dark, ominous, mysterious atmosphere. The popular gift shop at the summit of the Park had not opened for the

season yet, and the parking lot was still covered with the winter’s snow. But, that was OK……the rest rooms were open….and that was what was really important. We were in a hurry, so we continued our descent into Estes Park……and then somehow the GPS found the correct highway that would whisk us south to good old I-70…..and an almost straight short toward home.

Our vacation ended….sixteen days after it started….after driving almost 4500 miles…..to Paradise and back. It was an awesome sixteen days. Vacations are measured not only for the sights we see…..and, in our case, we saw an abundance spectacular, informative, and awe-inspiring sights. But, for me, they are also judged by the quality and quantity of time I spend with somebody I like and respect. When I consider these two criteria together…..this vacation would definitely be awarded an A+.