Month: September 2009 Page 1 of 2

Japan erupts into civil war! Australia destroyed by accidental nuclear blast? Yankees/Red Sox collapse/Rays make playoffs!

Any or all of this could have happened (other than the statistically impossible last item) over the last few days and I would have known none of it. All our usual sources of news have been cut off.

Barb and I get a daily paper, which Barb reads from cover to cover and whose headlines and lead articles I scan. Traveling about town, I listen to the radio and pick up on various news broadcasts. At night, Barb visits internet new sites and I throughout the day have access to several news focused blogs.

By such means we keep up with the daily news. On this trip, and especially over the past few days, we’ve had access to none of this, and we feel particularly cut off because of it. We’ve been completely without newspaper and internet, and to cap it off, until I fixed it last night, the radio in the car has not been working.

Of course, ordinary life does not require constant news updates, other than to keep up on the marital harmony of our celebrities and law-breaking of our NFL stars.

I suspect that the news over the past few days includes the fact that we continue in an economic slump, that Congress continues to wrangle over health care reform, that soldiers are still sadly dying in Afghanistan and Iraq, and that the Rays are finishing up a lost season.

But I think I’ll buy a newspaper today just to be sure.

Typical highway speeds tend to be around 5 MPH above the posted speed limits. That is the window I usually shoot for in long trips. Or should I say ‘shot’.

When one travels at such a typical highway speed, he needs to occasionally shift lanes, or slow down, to accommodate the occasional car going the actual speed limit.

I have now become the guy others switch lanes to avoid. I have become Speed Limit Guy.

I’ve learned that to travel the speed limit is much more relaxing. One normally need not worry about which lane to get into to get around the slower traffic in front, for generally there is NO slower traffic in front. And, of course, one need not ever look at his speedometer in a rush of momentary panic when spotting a state trooper.

So, I’ve settled into this new identity and am comfortable there. I’m not yet ready, however, to become Under the Speed Limit Guy. I’m leaving that to others.

After dinner Thursday evening, at a place called Harry Buffalo (the bison burger was very good!) we headed to the Coast Guard station where our son is happily stationed. He had asked us whether we wanted to go out on a boat, and we had, of course, said yes.

So, the on-duty crew of Fairport Station of the United States Coast Guard loaded us and the family members of another man on their 47-foot boat for what they call a ‘dependents’ cruise’. In essence this meant going out into Lake Erie at 18-19 knots and driving in circles.

For those of you who are old boaters, this will not seem much a thrill. For us, however, it was a blast, especially when we were offered the opportunity to drive (i.e. steer) the boat. We have pictures of us all – me, Barb, Colin, and Alissa – sitting in the driver’s seat steering.

Some could make a case that this was another example of government waste. But I could make the case that this was a small reward for my son’s now five years of active military service.

I especially want to thank the crew that took their evening time to give us this treat, and BM3 Greenwald for arranging it. What a memorable delight.

On Wednesday night as we were waiting for our table at Cleveland’s Melt Bar and Grilled, across the room on a large screen TV VH1 Classic was running footage of the 1985 Live Aid concert from Wembley Stadium in England. Matthew, my son, and I were watching but we could hear no sound. We identified Elton John and Paul McCartney – they were easy. But there was one group, particularly theatrical and animated, that we could not identify, though I felt that I should. After all, at the time of the concert itself, I was 29. Matthew gets a pass for having been only 1.

So Thursday morning, sitting by an open window in Matthew and Alissa’s cozy home, I was looking through YouTube videos of the various performances from that concert trying to figure out who this had been. I eventually identified the mystery group as The Who. (Like I said, I should have been able to identify them without the internet.)

But one thing led to another, and I began watching a clip of Led Zeppelin singing “Stairway to Heaven” at the US Live Aid concert. Barb sat down to take a peek, and as we sat there, a very distinctive odor began to surround us.

Marijuana smoke.

No, we were not doing anything improper. Either a neighbor was and his smoke was drifting through the window, or YouTube has begun to offer a new ultra realism feature.

Regardless, it was so appropriate. We weren’t watching clips of Andy Griffith. We weren’t watching The Sound of Music. We were watching a rock concert for goodness sake. Senses of sight, sound, and smell all fit as one. And we were, I should note, sitting within metaphorical shouting distance of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame.

Was it a subliminal impulse that led me to search next for Peter, Paul, and Mary singing “Puff the Magic Dragon”?

I’ve been out of internet reach since early Friday morning. Since I have a stupid phone, not a smart phone, I’m dependent upon whatever connections I can find. I could easily be persuaded to purchase Verizon’s cool little device that allows me to connect wherever I might be.

I now am writing from a McDonald’s in Caro, Michigan on Saturday morning. McDonald’s advertises WiFi, but it is not FREE WiFi. $2.95 buys me two hours. No, thanks. I’ll attempt to head to the library later today to make a connection. [Sunday update: I got to the library five minutes after it closed. Still no connection.]

This McDonald’s is otherwise a wonderful place. Apparently, I look old enough to deserve a ‘senior’ coffee. Gray hair does have its virtue.

This post, when I find access, will post with several other reports on our journey. Our objective in coming to Michigan was to help my mother-in-law with several projects around her house. That is being made difficult now by rain. Painting is definitely out. The good news is that after spending about 37 hours in transit in 4 1/2 days, we can stay put for the next three days. And then, of course, as everyone knows, the return trip is easier because we are coming DOWN the globe, and not pushing up as we have been.

UPDATE: I am preparing to upload this post and several others which have been written but not posted. I confess to be unsuccessful several times to connect to the internet at the library, and so I find myself having to spend the $2.95 at McDonalds. It is Monday, September 28, at nearly 4:30 PM.

The title of this post is taken, as some of you will recognize, from a John Steinbeck book It seemed an appropriate title in that I am traveling, and not, some have noticed, blogging. For Steinbeck, though, ‘Randy’ is ‘Charlie’ his dog. But I’ll accept that.

I am on a 3000+ mile road trip with my wife and son the goal of which is, in it’s northern extension, Barb’s mother in the ‘thumb’ of Michigan. Along the way, we will see my son and his wife in Northeastern Ohio, my sister and brother and families in Southwestern Ohio, and my daughter and her husband and child in Northern Georgia, where the entire family will gather for their son’s baptism.

As I post it is Thursday morning. A quick log of our adventures thus far may interest a few of you. For the rest, this is at least an explanation why posting is currently infrequent.

Monday we drove 600+ miles to our daughter’s in N. Georgia. The problem was getting through the flooding. We had heard it was bad, but as we approached Atlanta, we discovered that it was so bad that I-75 was shut down through downtown Atlanta. We had to find our way around not only that blockage, but others on our way.

The greatest irony to arise from this was a note sent to my daughter from a Facebook friend noting that the “Noah’s Ark Day Care” near her was closed – due to flooding.

Tuesday found us back on the road, on a nearly 700 mile leg of the journey, bringing us to the shore of Lake Erie. We stopped for dinner at a Cracker Barrel just south of Columbus, Ohio, and asked the waitress if there was a bookstore nearby, as my wife needed a particular book. The intersection was populated with all types of national stores – Best Buy, Wal-Mart, Bed Bath and Beyond, so certainly, we thought, there would be a Borders or something.

No dice, but a couple at a nearby table overheard our question, and directed us (albeit wrongly, but that is another story) on an adventure to a Columbus landmark, The Book Loft, billed as one of the nation’s largest independent book stores. We could have easily gotten as lost in the store as we did trying to find the store, but we had a journey to complete.

And we had the promise of another, similar, bookstore. Our daughter-in-law Alissa works at one of the most wonderful stores in the world – Half Price Books. If anyone wants to start one of these in the Sarasota/Bradenton area, I’d be a customer. We walked out of there with a stack of books three feet high.

On Wednesday night, we took in a Cleveland institution, Melt Bar and Grilled, an entire restaurant dedicated to the grilled cheese sandwich. Yum. (I had the Westside Monte Cristo, which is dipped in beer batter and deep fried. I should say that Barb and I split this!)

Today, we are lounging around. We will probably take a walk to the lake, which is a few blocks away. Later today, we will go boating on Lake Erie, courtesy of the United States Coast Guard.

Tomorrow it is back on the road and on to Michigan. Posting is therefore erratic, and I may not get a chance to post my weekly Friday post on preaching. We’ll see.