Spring, deserted garden and our neighborhood

Flowering crab apple across the street

It has been the earliest spring here  in the north, no snow in February and a balmy March.  The flowering showy tree to the left is the view we see out our front living room window.  Isn't it like a painting?  So beautiful.  But the dark contrasts are the breaking hearts in the house behind it; sadly, my neighbors are in the midst of a impending grief, keeping the watch, in a dim situation, as their beautiful 26 year old daughter fights  for her life.  Elizabeth has stage IV terminal lung cancer, diagnosed in September a month after her marriage; she never smoked was healthy and boom!  That hand of fate deals the death card.  No one knows what to say or do and they look at me and another neighbor, because we have lost adult children, us a son and they a daughter and so that  makes us experts, officers if you will in this gruesome club into which none of us ever sought membership.  The father, Steve,  is being stalwart, reasonable as one can be under the death watch; he  is an ER Nurse highly regarded in the area and active Army after being  in the reserves; while Monica, the mother is barely functional.  Steve can talk but Monica cannot.  She already has that look in her eyes that Mary and I know.  Their lives will never be the same.  I think we have done remarkably and I take that from a lifetime of faith, but I know that there are times when a tingle of a memory tries still to snatch our spirits, to rattle us.  We did the best we could, we were not able to save an adult and neither were Mary and Randy, nor will Steve and Monica.   So we talk, quietly at times and listen when others talk around and around.  These are times that silence is comforting.  There is nothing to say but to listen and pray with and for them.  To point out the beauty of spring around us amidst the impending.

There's a new bug for my rose garden there to the right, isn't she sweet.  It's her job to twirl her wings madly in the breeze and watch over the leafing rose bushes, which are way ahead this year making me  early to remove the mulch and trim the winter deadwood.  And yet last night we had a short time of freeze.  People worry and ask if I am not concerned and will I be covering my bushes at night.  Yes and no.  I figure I did not tell these bushes to bud out so early  they know they live in Minnesota, and they chose to leaf out so they will have to live with the consequences of their actions--just like people ought to do.  I call  2012, the year of tough love for the roses in this garden.  They can take it or they will have wasted their time.  I am not one to pander to weaklings.

Lady Bug whirl a gig with Bon Chance

We are thankful for the beauty of spring each year, the renewal even with the  work it brings, outside pruning, clipping, hauling  carloads up and down the hill.  Good exercise in the fresh air, but then  resultant acheyness for a day or two the protest of muscles not used enough over the winter.  Doses of Advil are a good thing and allow us to go on the next day without too much grumbling. 

April showers bring May flowers is an old child's poem but what brought the March and April blooms this year?  Not showers and certainly not the snow.

Lilac bush between our houses

The house next door sets vacant like my Uncle Carl's home in PA.  Both Frank and Dorothy are dead and their adult children do not appear to be in any rush to clear it out or  list the home for sale.  We will have new neighbors someday.  But for now, I am left to smell the wonderful scent of lilacs without Dorothy's chatter warning me to not take them inside.  When we moved here I asked her if she minded if I cut bouquets from the bushes on my side, the lilacs are between our houses.  Not at all, but she could not understand my  bringing those flowers inside, "..they have bugs.  You will not like that. " You know she was right,  she knew these MN lilacs were to be enjoyed outside, unlike my later blooming Miss Kim bush or the ones we had in CA.  She was quite the gardener, an old farm gal really.  And at the last when I saw her in the nursing home when she was so wasted away and hardly knew herself let alone anyone else, I knew it would be mercy if she could pass on; Dorothy who loved her old fashioned and would raise a glass in  toast, a drink to the garden and who was opinionated and certain, died at 90 a month ago. Frank died two years ago so the place is empty. 

I will be unlikely to ever dig around here without remembering them and especially her.  She was just my kind of woman.  Crusty and testy at times, and really one of a kind.  We have two front door to our home, built that way by the original owners.  Dorothy would never use the big front door, she preferred the garage door that comes into the kitchen but it our garage was closed she would come to the small front door that enters into a hallway and then the kitchen.  I can still her say that she wished Frank had built such an  entry to their home, because when people come in the front door it just tracks in everything.  When she was failing before she went into a care facility she locked herself out of the house, she was out in the yard.  Fortunately we were home so she came right over and announced her dilemma.  It took some time to reach one of her sons, it was quitting time and they were en route.  Dorothy was very stirred up and I suggested we have a glass of wine while we waited...that helped  calm her down but when the one son arrived she chewed his ears for delaying.  We laugh about the strong lady and her activities.  It was so sad to watch her fail  first using a walker and then into the facilities and as I said, the last, well it was not the Dorothy we knew.

Dorothy's hoe at her garden

 I did not set out to memorialize Dorothy today but I did snap some photos of her deserted garden.  It is poignant because she kept everything so neat and now, well it is askew is the best I can say.

She oversaw Frank at his assigned tasks there to be sure everything was done just so.  Her particularness reminded me of my Aunt Jinx.  After Frank died, she took hoe in hand  against the wishes and admonition of her family.  The photo to the right is what I snapped today.  It tells a tale of desertion and neglect, when the  primary person is gone and no one else cares.

Dorothy's deserted garden

 We never found her stumbling or falling down out there as happened all too often to my Uncle Carl before he went into assisted living.  I suspect she would not be happy today to see her garden abandoned to becoming the mess that it is.  If she has any  power from the beyond I know her family's ears are burning,  "get over there and  fix my garden"  She grew tomatoes and gave them away which we appreciated; Frank did not like them but Dorothy could not imagine not growing tomatoes anymore than she could imagine weeds in a garden.   RIP Dorothy lady of our hood!  As her eldest son Gary said at the funeral, "no peace for Dad now in the hereafter...the boss has arrived."

Bleeding heart

I close with the last blooming photos of today, the first bloom is peaking through on the bleeding heart bush in my back flower garden.  It just started.  This is never in abundant bloom until  late May...showing just how far ahead of things we are this year. 

Finally my tulips.  When we ived in Newcastle, CA I could not grow tulips but had nearly every other bulb.  We had an abundance of gophers and moles there who would dine on the  tulip bulbs considering them a delicacy. Everytime I planted some Jerry would say, "feeding the gophers?"  I tried all sorts of remedies,  chicken wire, adding moth bulbs, and to no  avail.  I never saw a tulip come up in spring.  So I was very excited to have a tulip bed in Minnesota.  Today I caught some of them swaying to the breeze. 

That will close my post for the day. 

Some of my swaying tulips

I've been everywhere.man, I've been everywhere...

That is my ear worm today--I can hear and sing along with the words, Johnny Cash made famous...."I've been everywhere, man.  I've been everywhere, man.  Crossed the desert's bare, man. I've breathed the mountain air, man.  Of travel I've had my share, man.  I've been everywhere.    I've been to:
Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa ...." and on the song goes..  

I have  friends/acquaintances  who use Facebook as their blog posting very lengthy editorials, collections of hundreds of photos and  those who scour the internet copying trivia and sharing it as  their wisdom of the day; then there are those who feel compelled to document stages of their lives for all to see.  Too much information.   I find this behavior strange and a regular occurrence among a limited few within my age group who seem to need to get a life or perhaps just don't comprehend  the purpose of  social networking and brevity. So it goes, to each their own.  For a time I thought I'd migrate to twitter where at least brevity rules.  The positive side of this is that I spend less and less time on FB which can be a giant time waster and I do not even play those ubiquitous games.  I went to FB to stay in touch with a few keystokes daily and save individual emails.  It is great to use traveling and it streams seamlessly to my Blackberry.  Do people really need  instruction in how to use FB?  Has anyone else noticed this strange FB phenomena?  My  solution is to not read these things and no one is the wiser. 

Meantime, a little levity here where I share this comical meandering with my own observations including an addition of a most unfunny experience I had yesterday.

 Places I Have Been!

I have been in many places, but I've rarely been in Cahoots. Apparently, you can't go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone. Actually there used to be a chain of restaurants/bars in California named Cahoots.  A friend had a birthday gathering there but we were not able to attend and so passed our opportunity to be in Cahoots.  Likely proving the adage opportunity knocks but once because we never did go there.


I've also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there. Our 50th High School reunion is on the calendar for September.  I wonder how many of us will be in Cognito there. 

They say one cannot be in Visible, but I disagree.  I have been there a time or two or so it seems.  Occasionally while shopping when I cannot find a store clerk to give any assistance, such as happened at Walgreen's last week, I do believe I was invisible. 


I have, however, been in Sane. They don't have an airport; you have to be driven there. I have made several trips there, thanks to my friends, family and work. I live close so it's a short drive.  I find that even the price of gas ever escalating does not deter folks who want to drive me there. 


I would like to go to Conclusions, but you have to jump, and I'm not too much on physical activity anymore.


I have also been in Doubt. That is a sad place to go, and I try not to visit there too often.


I've been in Flexible, but only when it was very important to stand firm.


Sometimes I'm in Capable, and I go there more often as I'm getting older.


One of my favorite places to be is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenalin flowing and pumps up the heart! At my age I need all the stimuli I can get!


And, sometimes I think I am in Vincible but life shows me I am not.


People keep telling me I'm in Denial but I'm positive I've never been there before! Isn’t it a river in Egypt?

I have been in Volved many times and try to avoid it now as I find more time stealers than I have time.....well you saw my post last week on tempus.


I have been in Deepshit many times; the older I get, the easier it is to get there. I actually kind of enjoy it there. Except yesterday on French Island, town of Campbell which we all know as French Island area of La Crosse, WI. I was “awarded” my very first ever traffic citation for going over the speed limit of 25 mph; well driving 25 on that stretch of road gets you passed by serenaded by the impatient horn of other drivers and the finger wave as though there were am orchestra near to conduct.  While sitting there in my SUV on the balmy day, window rolled down as the officer went to his car computer to scan, download, and print my ticket, I could see I was an example for all the other drivers who immediately hit their brakes. This is revenue that the town needs and since I was guilty as charged, I will be paying my first ever traffic ticket under protest.   I remembered both my Uncle Carl and Aunt  Jinx who hated being tailgated when they  drove the speed  limit which no one pays attention to.  Uncle Carl would get his Polish stubborn on and go even slower just to "piss them off."  Today I see the effect of illiteracy on  the population--obviously no one can read because no one drives the posted  speed limits on any road in any part of the country.  Don"t even try to keep the posted speed on the interstates, you will be immediately in Sulted in many ways. 


So far, I haven't been in Continent; but my travel agent says I could be there someday too. 

Sepia Saturday 119 My Aunt at WORK



1951 Aunt Virginia,aka  Jinx with the  PPG Forklift

This week, Alan plucked us from leisure with that 4 letter word that makes me shudder in retirement land, work. I have  many photos I could have contributed, but this week, I feature one I have previously shared of Mom's sister, my Aunt Virginia (Konesky Irwin) who worked over 40 years at the Pittsburgh Plate Glass (PPG) factory in Creighton, PA.   I particularly like this photo of her with the forklift because of the story she shared with me  to encourage me to never back off from learning something new nor shirk responsibility.  I was blessed to have a forward thinking strong, independent  woman like her in my life, but then our family was filled with such women.   She  volunteered to learn to operate the forklift  because she knew that whatever she learned could only benefit her in the long run, the more skills the better off she would be. She was working in a factory and making good money for herself but she was ambitious too.   While the rest of the factory workers, predominantly men by that year,  declined to  do anything extra, she was eager.  But, as she related, her new skill generated lots of ill will towards her, especially from the women who thought she had over stepped her boundaries.  She never accepted  that because she explained during  the war, the women ran the factory while most of the men were off fighting and so why wasn't she just as capable now, especially when no one else wanted to do this.  But   jealousies and bickering can be part of any workforce,  factory or office.  Jinx figured she could  make more money at this and it would be easier than some other tasks.

I found this clipping among her photos after she died in 2009.  This would have been in 1945 by the reference to her age and address.  I never heard this story and would have been a baby when it happened.  I thought it interesting that this accident would have been reported in the local newspaper.  I also found this photo with "ready to go to work at PPG" on the back, from 1943.  I remember those dresses in the 1950's as a kind of chambray.  I don"t know how the women worked in those, but perhaps they had coveralls that they changed into at the plant.  

1943 Virginia "Ready to go to work
at PPG"

1971 PPG Virginia, left with a friend, right, at  their shop floor Christmas Party

 Above is another of my aunt with an unknown woman in 1971, at the potluck Christmas party that they enjoyed on the shop floor.  I cannot determine  what the other woman is holding up near her head because this photo is not very clear.  This was the year that Jinx played Santa  adorning herself with full costume because no one else would do it.   Jinx never weighed more than  100 pounds and was about five foot  six inches in height, she was strong, muscle and bones.  That makes it all the more humorous that she would be Santa, but she did.  Again, doing what no one else would do, not learning more but just doing this for some fun.   So here is "Skinny"  which was one of her nicknames all her life,  as Santa.  She certainly worked hard at a nontraditional place for women, but she could enjoy herself too.

Skinny Santa 1971

Click here to go to the Sepia Saturday site and enjoy others posts about work.

 http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/03/sepia-saturday-119-work.html

Sepia Saturday 118 Girls Night Out

Long ago --back in 1962-63 my first year of Allegheny college I was really looking forward to being away from home.  The Campus was coed but  we lived in an all girls dorm, South Hall  and had room mates assigned by the college.  My roommate, Janet was also from the Pittsburgh area and we were similar but different,  as outgoing and busy as I was she was more cautious and serious. I was a Spanish major and she French.  I was experiencing the world around me and she was intent on studying and frequently reminded  me that was our purpose. I'd burn the midnight oil and she was an early to bed and rise. She would dutifully hike to town even in the snow to Catholic mass while I announced that I could  do just as well at the college chapel, which happened to be Methodist.  This really gave Janet fits, "but we are Catholic, that's another reason they put us together..."  Well, it was the start of my questioning many things, religion and faith among them. It was the 60's I would do many strange things, stretching my wings. Allegheny was  a top notch recognized Eastern college with vast curriculum emphasizing Liberal Arts, Foreign  Languages and pre-Medical.  It was a big new world for me, first time away from home. 


1963 Allegheny College  Ann, Janice, Janet and me

The two girls (well we were only 18) across the hall,  Ann  and Janice were from Maryland  and about as opposite as us, Ann more earthy and Janice far more worldly. Most of the time  the 4 of us experienced everything together but Janice and I seemed to push the edges more than Ann and Janet.   Here in a January 1963 photo  are the 4 of us girls headed somewhere for our girls night out.  You can see that Janet standing next to me was an unwilling participant but  at least weekly we would drag her along. I can almost hear her telling us that we had to be back on time.   Ann was being particularly playful  behind Janice' head.  I suspect this was a Friday and who knows if we were movie bound or what.  It was a way different time, we dressed to go out and to attend class; no jeans, no casual attire...so very different. In those snowy cold frigid winters with snow blowing off Lake Erie, we still were bound to wear skirts and dresses to classes, no slacks.  That really was dumb.

There were curfews at the dorm and often Janice or myself would find something to engage useven if it was only talking too long at the bidges across campus, but we'd  miss the door locking so one of  our roommates had to come down the side steps and let us in. The signal was pebbles tossed at the window. We must have been on the  4th, top floor because I noted  girls on 4B on the back of this photos, that was our dorm floor and section and we even had a jingle we sang, that went  something like, "we are the girls of Section 4 B---guys never get in our way, so give a great big cheer for the section of the year, Section 4 B we're OK..."   It got  to be easy to reach that  upper level and then again, our roommates came to expect it, we couldn't toss pebbles too high or we'd risk racket and breaking windows ans that would have blown our cover.  This was all in  prehistoric times, no cell phones, not even phones in our rooms, there was one phone a pay phone down the hall, no cars on campus and none of us had one anyway  and rules, OMG the rules.  Here I was looking forward to freedom from Mom's iron hand and there I was in a girls dormitory which could have been run by nuns.  It was strict.  To make matters worse, the floor warden, who was a senior  lived right next door to us and so although our room was near the stairway, she often had her door open and that challenged sneaking in and out.  I suppose she knew the tricks and had been through this same  freshman shenanigans.  Janet my roommate was the least devious of all and would let me know that  the next time I was late I could not count on her to sneak down the stairs and let me in,  Janet always threatened to leave me outside till morning but she never did.  And she was never late, ever.  We are still friends, in touch with each other, she was Steve's Godmother,  and  is still teaching French at a private school and lives with her husband near DC.  Don"t know what ever happened to Janice or Ann. 

This is my first time back with Sepia after a  busy time.  To see other posts on the international community, click here  http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/03/sepia-saturday-118-going-out.html     http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/03/sepia-saturday-118-going-out.html

Where time goes , tempus fugit, and other excuses

One of our many inherited antique clocks

Rolf-Dietmar Erhardt said   " All of us are aware of the phrases: "Well, that took a long time!", "That went fast!", "How much longer will that take?" and so forth. No conflict arises with the physical term of time, since we do have scales to monitor time, as we know it, with explicit accuracy. But, does time exist without the existence of a human being, who interprets what time is - with his human consciousness? Simply put, does time exist without someone reading the clock?"

What the heck is this thing we call time?   
     The one-after-the-other-correspondence of things.
     The succession of happenings, to be experienced as an irreversible sequence of events.       
       A  longitude of change,
       Incidents in nature and history.
        Something to be viewed, depending on scientific (philosophical) views, as finite or infinite, homogenous, divisible continuum, which      under specific points of view and appropriations act as a scheme of order.


All I know is I have been extremely  busy since we returned home  first of the month and have not been on blog which tugs at  me, but time is limited and I  have never been able to stretch a day beyond 24 hours. Someone might simply say, "oh use a planner, don't agree to so many things, and so on...."    Jim Croce sang about it in  1973, remember the ballad--Time in a Bottle also used by the Muppets in a comical routine..  sing along with me now,,,
If I could save time in a bottle  The following is an assessment of how time flies daily for me,  for those who wonder, (as I did in the past)  how can a person who is retired run out of time?  For one thing, I no longer arise at 4:30AM and get almost double the sleep I lost in the past.      
The first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you. 


If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them...... and that is my ear worm of the day.

                        
Begin with the 24 hours  each day                                                                         24

Slumber, "to sleep perchance to dream", 8 to 9 hours  or more, depends on how physically demanding  the day's activities have been                               -9

Each evening  1 or 2 hours pleasure reading                          - 2  

Now we are down to a balance of 13 hours available from which hours deplete --

-1 Waking up each morning, meditation/prayers, personal hygiene, Keurig brew, dressing for Curves workout,  making the bed prior to departure,  Jerry conversations

-2  Checking email, Facebook and reading my online newspapers                  

-2  Business papework our Financials, Estate work, business of and the like (can consume lots more time)  

-2.5 Working out/ and walking to do so  ( 1/2 this time if I drive)      

-1.5 Showering  after work out and dressing for the day 

-2.5 Our wonderful early spring weather means substantial outside  work  

-1.5 Domestic tasks like laundry, ironing, vacuuming, changing bed linens, unloading dishwasher, swabbing kitchen floor, dusting, etc.  I try to do a minimum daily because I have a fetish for a clean domicile and I do not have the attention span for  more time at that. 

-2 Planning/preparing meals, unless we are eating out 

-1 Eating and clean up afterwards 

-3.5 If  grocery or other  shopping beckons driving to and accomplishing    

-1.5  Nursing home trips for MIL, delivery laundry, other personal items, etc.

-1.5 Even a quick additional stop uptown to  post office/library while I'm  there  invariably expands with a conversation with someone about something  

-2.5 Special projects like the design of a book cover,  correspondence or photo sorting or closet or drawer clearing or research through records or online 

-2 Occasional  TV watching some evenings, varies depending on programs, March madness or a great NBA game or watching a movie/DVD 

-2  Visitors and this includes phone calls which I do ignore at times when I can't tolerate an additional distraction  

And well, there goes time despite multi tasking an hour here, a couple hours there and pretty soon the whole day is gone. I could use a 34 hour day. This is my free time, the time of my life, the time I coveted when career and family were all consuming and still there is just not enough of this thing we call time.  Frequently over the years others have told me that they cannot keep up with me--starting with my Mom when I was a child, that I do too much.  I suppose I do possess hyperactive tendencies,  all I know is I set a good pace of constant activity.   Any typical day is not typical to me and any day I always have a deficit of hours which is not inclusive of husband time and interruptions.  Ah time....there is just never  enough and I am careful to decline offers to  join many activities or organizations where there would be meetings.  I do  limit my time in the ones I to  which I belong . 

This was a clock from Uncle John which is very similar to
one my grandparents had...we have many clocks
just not enough time ever.

I also pledged to fix some of the genealogy particularly with  my female ancestors as March, honors  Women's History.  My ancestral tree/limbs/leaves on Ancestry has expanded so that  one log  in and  two to four hours vanish  along merrily as a fat worm pulled  from the wet springtime mulch by a robin.  March is filled with Birthdays for cousins and friends.  I spent  quite some time with greetings and a project for the  60h birthday for cuz Paul in  Colorado, for whom I  had old  photos copied and wrote  accompanying familial history he"d otherwise not know.  I have a new  found  cousin on my Ostrowski side (maternal grandmother) or Ostroskie as they spelled it, in CA of all places.  It has been great fun but time consuming meeting that limb through the photos Jacquie supplied. It occurred to me that as I wrote for Paul and as I fix my Ancestry.com link that I really am the family historian.  Much is on my  blog where people can discover for themselves and a great deal of that effort is attributable to Sepia Saturdays, which I really have missed first whilst traveling and now through NO TIME.


Currently I am engaged in another ongoing project that is  taking hours of time, the online class on the Constitution and Principles in which I have enrolled through Hillsdale College.  While lectures online are  about  an hour and the Questions and Answers another  30 minutes, the readings demand  more hours each day than I have been able to garner, putting me  sadly behind on the  research.  This is a most interesting course and something I have wanted to do for a long time, but never considering the time dedication involved.  I could just skim and do online readings, but that has never been my way as a student; my alter ego,  the old girl, Patty emerges hands on hips--""well you're not gonna skip over this are you?  Remember you need 100% on tests?"  And she goads me on to continue reading--it has probably  been  48 years since I last read the Federalist papers.  Grades and perfect scores mean nothing to me now, but still I  persevere.   I recall much of history teachings from earlier college and high school years  but am learning more such as  our founding fathers understanding of the true human nature...and the fact that they all  had a solid base in the same educational experiences whether self taught or schooled--they knew the classics.  They shared a similar foundation.  We do not have that today.  Oh,  I have been  getting all the questions  correct on each  quiz.  No one knows my score but me and Patty and she is quietly pleased, dancing her little celebratory hop  when that perfect score shows online. 

My thoughts  increasingly nag to get back to the blog especially before March departs because this is the  100th anniversary of the founding of the Girl Scouts.  I have more to say about that tomorrow.   Here is the link to the Girl Scouts Blog where they claim that 2012 is the year of the girl. Hey, let's hear it for the girl  http://blog.girlscouts.org/2012/03/on-monumental-100th-anniversary-girl.html

Oh yes trying to  compose in blogger which is acting up with a vengeance.....timeless.

I know I am behind on postings and more later

Turquoise Mardi Gras costumes at MS welcome center

Thanks to my bloggy pals who ask me about catching up on posts...I will do that after we get back home tomorrow..and I get settled back in.  .I have just been far too busy traveling, enjoying,  seeing so much to take time at night to write about what we have done all day long.  Now and then I have pasted some to Facebook, but that's the limit.  I have some great photos to share especially of the Mardi Gras costumes on display in the Mississippi Welcome centers which are  like mini museums...above is just one, look at the beautiful furniture and display.  They do it up right.  I can think of other places in this country where it would be destroyed within a day with an over abundance of people, but everyone seems to be respectful touring around here.  Likely  extending a reciprocal appreciation for the wonderful welcome of Mississippi.



Plum Mardi Gras costumes at the staircase



 I have heard from Bea over at Frog & PenguInn that Blogger is requiring some additional or dual word verification.  I hope that does not discourage the comments some leave here and there.  It was not my doing, and Blogger gave us no option whether or not to participate in that which I  hear is to eliminate spammers.  We don't complain about much of anything when Blogpost puts out a restriction, because, well, the price is right to post here. 



Mississippi morning through the trees



I received some comments lately on older posts from unknown folks, always  brings enjoyment.  Hearing  from previously unknowns, such as  one from someone in SC who  just has discovered SAS comfy shoes yet good looking sandals.  So she left a comment on my  old post about Moody shoes.  That's the beauty of blogland, we search and find some common ground.  Or we find something we enjoy reading and  maybe  we  return again.  Maybe we  link and find out what we have in common.  Ironically something like this blog which I set up so family could track us on our travels has become much more. Truth be told, what "family" we have  pays not a  bit of attention to this, my ramblings.  My blogging has a  purpose beyond that. 

Au revoir from Bouvier

We are going to miss this warm spring weather we have enjoyed this trip.  Friends report that a wintry dusting and cold awaits us, not a worthy welcome back.  But such is the punishment for escape....that and the tasks that await...


More Louisiana

Pat in Manzur, La. with Mardi face

Tomorrow we depart south toward  Baton Rouge, Lakeside RV at Livingston, La, leaving this perfectly set RV site behind.  Here we have had  the cheapest rates anywhere, that our Passport America membership gets us $8 per night!  Full hook ups.  Cannot be beat!  Good Sam would only have been $15 but half is better.   However, I have encountered here some of the strangest people I have ever met strange talking when they do talk to you even if you are a customer and  strange to rude behavior. Remember I lived in CA over  40 years and so I know strange when I encounter it.  One example was the Wal Mart cashier who left us and her register mid way through checking us out to shoot the breeze with someone who appeared to be her friend.  No kidding she just walked off to continue her conversation without so much as a "just a minute."   Had I been shopping alone I would have left everything and given her the pleasure of figuring it out when she returned.  But Jerry is more patient than I am and so we waited.  This took only a minute or so but was very rude, I thought.  When she returned she resumed ringing up our items without any explanation or apology.  She seemed to have a chip on her shoulder that we and those behind us in line interrupted her time with her friend.  Wal Mart employees are usually known for courtesy and customer service but that cashier must not have been so trained.    

 It is Mardi Gras, evidently all over Louisiana. all month leading up to next Wednesday when Lent kicks in. This lady above, no not me, the one with the gold face is prominent everywhere with the colors of Mardi, green, purple and gold.  Many homes are lavishly decorated outside with the colors and the  party attire.  This was an out of the way antique shop of sorts in an out of the way tiny town, Manzur  sometimes spelled Masur, depending on which map one uses.  See what I mean, one tiny town, population of no more than 1000 spelled various ways. It is off Hwy. 1 close to Marksville, where we've set up at the Paragon  Casino RV.   The prices inside this Antique store surprised me because they were upscale for an area with limited traffic and off season.

We started out at some other local Marksville shops but found nothing we could not do without.  Although this handsome handmade  rocker, on the primitive side was tempting,  how to get it into the RV to take home was the challenge and so we passed on it.  I should admit, I passed with Jerry's adamant insistence that this would not fit anywhere.  Notice the sign  over it?  Some kind of sense of humor, don't you think for this handicap accessible rocker..And that was not all that caught my eyes at this shop, Treasures, in.Marksville which has spaces rented to those who would sell their collections. 

Remember the song, Coca Cola Cowboy?  It was  a 1979 single written by Steve Dorff, Sandy Pinkard, Sam Atchley, and Bud Dain and recorded by Mel Tillis. The song was featured in the film, Every Which Way But Loose, starring Clint Eastwood.  Well, here in the south where coca cola rules, this store offered a coca cola rooster.  Something else we resisted purchasing, but intriguing none the less, which is why I so enjoy browsing these places. 

One example of the strange culture of this area where the people are Cajuns and other mixtures, tied tot he swamps was this tourist center which was touted for several miles into town.  Isn't this a fine gesture, parking for tourists only the sign reads, by order of the Police no less.  Well, this is  the site of the Hypolite Bordelon Home Museum, a historic site.  It is one of the few surviving mud and moss homes and was built back between 1790 and 1810 in the French pattern of two rooms centered by a double fireplace  and a small back cabinet room behind.  The history of the Bordelon family in Louisiana and in the area  here known as the Avoyelles parish is   intriguing.  But let me continue.  We had looked for a tourist center as we came into Marksville but  decided wherever it was it must have been closed on Sunday.  Inquiring at the  registration desk at the Paragon gave us  the response "no such place in town that I know of." 

So I satisfied myself that there was no tourist center and that if we wanted to  know about the area and what to see, we"d have to try to look online and punt.  It is a quaint area and worth driving around, so this was not a big issue.  The levee roads are interesting drives, many aged  outskirt homes and some new ones here and there.  Then yesterday enroute to Mansur we stopped at  the 4 H Museum on Hwy 1.  There was a  full scale visitor center with several helpful women who showered us with maps and brochures about sites to not miss while we were here.  This Bordelon house is one the women explained we might enjoy seeing and they said,  the Marksville tourist center is inside.  On our return trip we decided to  continue to town to see this tourist center which we surely had missed repeatedly.  And we were interested in seeing a house that old with mud and moss walls.  What would the architecture resemble?  You can see it in the following photo right next tot he parking area reserved for tourists.  We'd passed this repeatedly and it did not register with us.     

This sign is prominent.   

Only one little issue,  the home/museum  is absolutely not open, closed and it did not appear to be just for the season.  Jerry was braver and ventured up onto the porch and tried the door which had no handle, just in case there was a way in.  There was not, but we could park there, here is Jerry looking around.     

Now to cap off our visit to this town, I had been noticing drive through Daquiri huts and buildings some along side bars and some free standing only similar to   drive up wondows at fast foods or coffee shops.  But this takes drive up to a new meaning, booze and beer right out your car window.  When I told a shop keeper I had to take a photo of the sign and the building she  said I would not be the only one to do so.  When people come from out of town they notice it immediately. 

I admit that this afternoon I felt  we could not leave Marksville without my trying the drive through.  A 20 ounce strawberry daquiri for only $4.  Brought it back to enjoy at the motor home, although since Jerry was driving, I could sip along.  Notice the guard alligators at the entrance and the teddy bears which were on sale for Valentines' Day. 

There is interesting architecture in town too, like the courthouse in the midst of the town adjacent to the district attorney and  the police station.  The town appears to have a flourishing attorney industry as the law offices have taken over several old homes   downtown. 

The last tidbit about Marksville"s  emblem, a broken wagon wheel.  Legend has it that the  founder of the town, Marco Litchie a traveling peddler from Venice Italy  who migrated to the area in 1794  set up a trading post when his wagon wheel broke.  He married Julie Carmouche in 1796 and obtained more than 400 Spanish land grants.  The area became known as Marc's place and finally Marc's ville to the name today.  There are more than 100 historical markers around the area.  This last photo of the sculpture alongside the highway commemorating Marc;s broken wheel  is courtesy of the local Chamber of Commerce.   

   

Southern and Louisiana journey, Paragon stop

Reposting this after pulling it because of incessant spam.  Now that I have blocked the ability to comment  anonymously on my blog, the spammers are no more...and I can repost the ones they seemed to target.  So tiresome...

So today Feb 2012,  we drove a mere 88 miles to Marksville, Louisiana  enroute to New Orleans and  visiting friends in Alexandria.  That has become another story for another time.  On our way into town we stumbled into the preparation for another small community Mardi Gras gathering; if we keep this up we will be in a Mardi Gras parade yet!

We plan to stay  here at the Paragon Casino RV Park  for a couple days  taking advantage of the cheap cheap RV rates, $15 per night with our Good Sam discount and full hook ups.  This RV site at the Paragon Casino run by the Tunica and Biloxi  Indian Tribes is first class, resembles the RV resort we pay top dollar for in Tucson.  The Spa at the Casino is beckoning me for  tomorrow.  Entertainment and restaurants are top notch.  Now if the casino itself does not stink from cigarette smoke, I might even  drop a few coins in some slots or find a card table, my preference for any rare gambling.

Several big motor coaches like ours are starting to pull in but there is plenty of space.

I"ll be taking advantage of their spa tomorrow for a pedicure, manicure and facial....maybe a massage too.  Now this is the life....

 Check out their website http://www.paragoncasinoresort.com/Home.aspx    



Tribe logo which I find intriguing. 

Godfrey, Jerry's latest and soon to be replaced again Garmin GPS did not recognize this place and would not direct us until we put in the co-ordinates.  It is a hard place to miss a massive structure near the tribal headquarters and reservation  off  Hwy.1 so we had no difficulty.  Nevertheless, there is no excuse for Godfrey Percival Stallworth this time as he was updated fine tuned online  before we left on this trip; the Paragon has been here since 1994.

Since the casino's opening, unemployment in Avoyelles Parish has steadily declined. The casino employs over 1,780 employees and offers training and educational opportunities that enable them to advance their careers and improve their quality of life.  The Tunica-Biloxi Tribe maintains a cooperative relationship with the community and looks for ways to strengthen those ties. Since 1994, they have donated a considerable amount of money to various nonprofit organizations on the local, regional and national level. In addition to monetary contributions, many associates at Paragon Casino Resort have volunteered their time and talents to local community organizations.  Marksville's transformation into a resort destination will continue as the Tribe dedicates itself to developing amenities

Ever interested in history, I learned the following about these Indians:  The Tunica and Biloxi Indians have lived on their reservation near Marksville for over two centuries, during which the tribes, though speaking completely different languages, intermarried. The Tunica exercised influence over a wide territory, encompassing present-day Arkansas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Tennessee, Louisiana, Alabama, and even Florida. They were traders and entrepreneurs of the first order. Under severe pressure from European diseases, famine, and warfare, the Tunica steadily moved southward, following the Mississippi River.   The Biloxi were a tribe on the Mississippi Gulf Coast at present-day Biloxi, Mississippi. They were the first people encountered by French colonizers Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville and Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville in 1669. The Biloxi, like the Tunica, formed a strong alliance with the French, which for a while brought them important economic and political benefits. Later, after the French were expelled, they allied themselves with the Spanish, rulers of Florida.

The shuttle is cruising which picks up RV'ers and transports them to the Casino.  We are about to depart for a browse at the big casino and a meal.