April 2021: AL/TN/KY/IL/MO

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May 7, 2021, Branson, Missouri.

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see all the places you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” -Terry Pratchett, English Humorist, Author

I haven’t posted in more than a month because we were traveling, and just doing that was enough. We left Bandera in mid-March and arrived in Branson April 25th—1,921 miles and 11 stops in eight states later. Except for the explosive poopy fiasco in Meridian, Mississippi that was described in the previous post, this trip went very well. No flat tires, no awnings suddenly giving way for no apparent reason. We were blessed with good weather and not much highway construction or congestion to deal with. I drove at least half of the time (!) and I’m really enjoying it. All in all, it’s been smooth sailing.

The greatest amount of time spent in any one area was Hopkinsville, KY, where two weeks flew by way too fast. We spent as much time as time would allow hanging out with Kate and the grandkids (Bobby, 14 and Maeby, 12), going to Bobby’s baseball games, eating out, etc. It felt wonderful to be with family again.

We had just arrived in Hopkinsville when we got a phone call from the park ranger in Branson, notifying us that the opening of the Visitors Center was going to be pushed back from May 1st to the 16th.) Did we still want to come? They would understand if we didn’t want to for just two weeks; another couple had already bowed out.

Since this is the only volunteer opportunity we accepted for this year, it is disappointing that the 3-month position which was supposed to start March 1st has been whittled down to just two weeks. But it is what it is, and if the last year has taught us anything, it’s that things don’t always happen as planned.

We’ll make the most of whatever time we have. The location is beautiful; the Visitors Center is right by the dam, so we’re around lots of water. Volunteer RV pads are lovely—paved, spacious and shady—and back up to the trailhead of the Lakeshore Trail. And there’s enough to do in and around Branson that we won’t be bored. If the past couple of weeks are any indication, a lot of it will have to do with food, and ice cream in particular.

The area circled in red is where the Visitors Center is located. It’s also where we’re living this month.
Shady, paved, full hook-up site in exchange for 24 hours/week/each.
Free pup cups at Andy’s Custard. Victor and Biscuit make us go there.

While we were in Kentucky, we bought a vehicle that we can flat-tow (all 4 tires rotating) behind Felix. Totally unplanned for, but something we had agreed to doing ‘someday’ months earlier. Well, someday comes when you least expect. This is a huge change from towing our car on a 20’ car hauler! I don’t know if everything that needed to happen would’ve happened if we hadn’t been in Kentucky, but once the ball started to roll, it took just five days for it to be a done deal (including driving to Maumee, Ohio to get it, almost 1,000 miles round-trip.) It must’ve been meant to be! (PS The car hauler sold in less than a week, the Juke went into storage for Bobby who’ll be 16 next year, and Kate inherited Dave’s scooter. And, our new vehicle is a 2019 Jeep Cherokee Trailhawk and we love it. So much so that I’ll probably write a blog about it someday.

Being able to disconnect the car quickly and easily now allows us to get into back-in spaces.
Until now it’s been either a getting pull-through site or having to disconnect the trailer (after driving the car off first. Could be an ordeal.)

Speaking of Kate…some of you are genuinely concerned about her and always ask how she and HBC are doing. That really warms my heart, it truly does. (By the way, the business is doing great. She and Joey can’t brew beer fast enough. In fact, they just ordered a bigger brewing system.)

So she said it would be okay to share her exciting news with you: She was chosen by Samuel Adams as the winner of its 8th Brewer Experienceship program. Each year one craft brewer is selected to learn the art of brewing and business alongside Jim Koch, Samuel Adams’ Founder and Brewer, and others. In addition to one-on-one mentoring and financial support to attend industry events are also part of the Brewer Experience, Kate will be flown to the Samuel Adams Boston Brewery and have the opportunity to brew a collaboration beer with the Samuel Adams team. We are so proud of how far Kate and Joey have brought HBC in less than five years. Congratulations, Kate!

When we leave here on June 1st, we’ll begin a summer of two weeks here, two weeks there. We had planned to go on a 30-day tour of the Great Lakes starting in mid-July. When we originally made the reservations, the first leg of the tour was to start from Niagara, New York and cross into Canada for about 10 days. But since the border is currently closed with no reopening date in the near future, the trip was re-routed to places we’ve, unfortunately, already been. We debated and debated, and finally decided to cancel, rationalizing that going to Canada was a big reason for going on the tour in the first place.

So, the summer will be spent exploring Army Corps of Engineers’ campgrounds in Missouri, Kansas, and Iowa—not the most exotic of itineraries, but all new experiences for us anyway. September will be spent in South Dakota. That’s the plan, at any rate. As always, time will tell.

Until next time, peace, love, hugs, and now, SMILES. No mask mandates here! –Maria 😃

Always expect the unexpected.

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March 31, 2021

It’s the stuff that happens right in front of your face when there’s no routine and everything is unexpected. That’s what I want to write about. – Harvey Pekar, American underground comic book writer

I’m writing this post from Deerlick Creek, an Army Corps of Engineers park near Tuscaloosa, Alabama. We arrived here Tuesday after four days of easy traveling and one-nighters here and there. Two hundred miles is usually the most we drive in any one day which, at 50-55 miles per hour, takes about four hours. When there’s no real rush, there’s no point in hurrying. Besides, I’m doing a good bit of the driving now, so I take my time. By the way, I don’t drive with my “Caution: Student Driver” sign plastered on the back anymore!

Our last stopover of any length was in Livingston, Texas, where we stayed eight nights at Rainbow’s End, an Escapees’ park. Weather-wise, springtime in the South can be volatile, and that was the major reason we stayed there so long. It was a wise decision; there were at least three days of bad weather in areas we’d be heading to, even tornadoes in some places. While there, we learned more about Escapees’ CARE (Continuing Assistance for Retired Escapees), a safe haven for members whose travels are impacted by age or temporarily interrupted because of health problems. We’ve become realistic and have realized we can’t keep up this vagabond lifestyle forever, so we’re looking at potential options for when the time comes to park Felix once and for all.

Another benefit offered to Escapees’ members is their SmartWeigh program that determines individual wheel weights for one’s RV and tow vehicle, which are very critical factors and something that I’m very concerned and practically anal about. Kris was competent, efficient, witty, and diplomatic. Especially when she explained that Felix was very near its maximum weight and that she’d “suggest” dropping some weight where we could. Whenever I suggested doing the same thing, Dave blew me off. But I guess since he figured Kris knew what she was talking about, he listened. One thing we did right away was drain about a third of our 100-gallon fresh water tank. That was a lot of weight right there. And now that we’re in one place for a week, we’ll go through from stem to stern, top to bottom, and purge what we don’t need. I’m going to love it; not so much for Dave.

In Monroe, Louisiana we stayed at another Harvest Host, the Chennault Aviation and Military Museum. It was fabulous, and you didn’t need to be a history buff to appreciate the more than 11,000 military artifacts from the Civil War, World Wars I and II, all the way through current conflicts. The museum is housed in one of the last school buildings from the Selman Navigational School, the largest navigation school in the country during World War II from which more than 15,000 navigators graduated. A retired Naval veteran and one of the volunteer guides there, Kay, gave us a personal tour as she escorted us through the museum. She was so personable and animated, it was easy to pay attention and be interested in her stories. An unexpected fact we learned was that Monroe, Louisiana is where a regional crop dusting service, Huff Daland, developed into one of today’s largest and most respected airlines, Delta.

The highlight of the museum was all the memorabilia belonging to Major General Claire Chennault, the legendary pursuit pilot and leader of the famed Flying Tigers in China, for whom Chennault Air Force Base, Lake Charles, Louisiana, is named. Chennault’s Flying Tigers–the first American Volunteer Group of the Republic of China Air Force in 1941-1942–are credited with destroying as many as 497 Japanese planes at a cost of only 73 of their own. Of all of Chennault’s mementos, I thought the most fantastic was the jewel-encrusted dragon robe that belonged to China’s last emperor which was given to him as a token of sincere gratitude from the people of China. It’s entirely, 100%, hand-stitched; the thread is actually gold and silver, not gold- or silver-colored. It’s an incredible work of art. (Enlarge the photo, if you can, and be amazed!)

When I started writing about our adventures, I promised myself I’d write about all of it: the highs as well as the lows, no matter how embarrassing. And I have…various and sundry tire failures, the time in Colorado when one came off the truck and bounced across the interstate, another time in Texas when the awning support unexpectedly gave way and the whole awning unfurled like a giant sail as we made our way down the highway. All of this is to say that **it happens, and even though the RVing lifestyle might seem exciting and maybe even a little enviable, there always awaits the element of surprise. It’s just a matter of “when.”

Such was the case Monday. We had stayed the previous night at a campground in Meridian, Mississippi, but didn’t connect our sewer hose to the in-ground sewer because it wasn’t long enough. We just figured we’d do it the following morning; we’d back up the RV, connect, and dump our tanks then. Now, our RV has three tanks: one for fresh water, one for grey water (wastewater from sources such as laundry and kitchen), and one for black water (wastewater from toilets.) For quite some time, the handle to the shaft that opens the valve to the black water tank hasn’t closed completely (by about an eighth of an inch.) Replacing it was on Dave’s to-do list (someday.)

Since Monday’s run was going to be only about a hundred miles and check-in time at our next stop wasn’t until 4 p.m., we took our time preparing to leave. By the time we were all set, the other RVs that had come in for the night (5) had already left, and we were the only ones remaining. I’m the one that usually empties the tanks because, ever since Dave’s knee operation, it’s easier for me to bend down and do it. I removed the cap to the valve so that I could connect the sewer hose, but a steady drip (of black water) seeped out, so I asked Dave to help me close it completely. Well, for some reason, he shoved it in with all his might and, you guessed it, the fitting connecting the waste valve to the black water tank broke off, and all the contents of the black water tank came spewing out mercilessly, all over our hands and onto our shoes before hitting the ground!

Has something ever happened so quickly that you were so stunned into silence that you wondered if what had just happened really happened? That was our reaction. It was disgusting. There were times, when the kids were babies, that I was peed on and pooped on. But compared to this, those incidents were miniscule. Once the worse was over, we burst into laughter and immediately connected the water hose and hurriedly cleaned up the nasty mess, all the while rattling off reasons to be grateful (that there wasn’t an audience; that the tank only contained a couple days-worth of black water, that it didn’t happen in front of all our friends in Bandera–they would never let us live it down–just to name a few.) Once on the road, Dave called the campground and reported what had happened. He’s such an honest man. The owner actually thanked him and said not to worry, that it had happened before.

I will never, ever, laugh at the misfortunes of others because, by the grace of God, there go I. This proves it. Also, there’s a silver lining: the fix-it project suddenly catapulted to the forefront of Dave’s to-do list, and he fixed it yesterday. The moral of this story is that truly, a stitch in time saves nine!

We will be here for another few days and then head up to Hopkinsville to see Kate and the kids, and hopefully some friends if time allows. From there it’s on to Branson for a month, and from there, who knows? Time will tell. Until next time, take care, stay safe, and be healthy. And remember to wash your hands!

Peace, love, and great big hugs, Maria

Olive Trees and Ice Cream

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Road trips are the equivalent of human wings. Ask me to go on one, anywhere. We’ll stop in every small town and learn the history and stories, feel the ground and capture the spirit. Then, we’ll turn it into our own story that will live inside our history to carry with us always. Because stories are more important than things. -Victoria Erickson

March 19, 2021

Ordinarily I don’t start blogging so early in a trip but the past two days have been so out of the ordinary, I wanted to write before the details escaped me. Also, I promised our friends that we’d stay in touch and, since I’m not on social media much anymore (only to post a daily update on the Facebook ‘Gratitude 365’ group page), this blog will be the bridge that keeps us connected.

We left Bandera Wednesday (3/17/21) after having spent our fourth winter there. This year was different compared to years past. Many regulars chose not to come (or, in the case of our Canadian friends, were prohibited by their government to come) because of Covid, the holidays were unusually low-key and uneventful, and then, of course, there was the week of unprecedented frigid temperatures and snow. All in all, a very weird winter, but a good one nevertheless.

If truth be told, I was anxious to get back on the road again. Don’t get me wrong–I love Bandera. But there are just so many places I want to see and experience before we park Felix for good. And since our workamping job in Branson won’t start until May, we didn’t want to waste precious time. That is something I truly cherish as I get older.

Our short-term destination is Kentucky, where we want to spend some time with family and friends and see some of our grandson’s baseball games. But since the season doesn’t officially begin until the last day of March, we have a couple of weeks to meander. When I plan our trips, I initially refer to Harvest Hosts to see if there’s somewhere interesting we can visit that has enough room for our big rig. We hit the jackpot on the first day when we moseyed east on Highway 290 to Elgin, Texas (pop. 10, 314), just a few miles on the other side of Austin. (By the way, Hwy. 290 is a wonderful alternative to I-10!)

Here we discovered Dell’s Favorite Texas Olive Ranch. As per the instructions on the Harvest Host app, I’d been in continual contact for several days with Renee, who owns the ranch along with her husband, Frank. Even before we arrived, I could sense their warmth and hospitality, and we couldn’t wait to get there. When we were about 30 minutes out, we texted them our ETA, and Frank was there at the gate to welcome us and guide us to our spot for the night. When it comes to a Harvest Host, we’re always a little anxious about whether there’ll be enough room for us, but here we had plenty!

We quickly settled in and took Biscuit and Victor for a short walk before meeting up with Frank to begin our personalized tour of the ranch. He began by telling us how he and Renee met, and that after dating a little while, she wanted him to meet her grandmother, Dell, which he did. He grinned broadly when he related that after meeting him, Dell told Renee that he was her favorite, and that he was ‘the One.’ And that’s how the ranch became known as “Dell’s Favorite Texas Olive Ranch.”

The tour began with Frank relating how the ranch came to be. We immediately could identify when he said that he and Renee had lived in every major U.S. city (it’s not often that we meet people who have moved around as much as we have.) I asked if it was because of his job, and he said yes, that he’d been an executive chef at Hyatt Hotels and had retired a year ago after 43 years. No wonder he grew olive trees–he knew his olive oil!

One of the best things about Harvest Hosts is that we meet the most interesting people, and Frank certainly is one of them. He told us about taking Renee on a business trip to Europe a few years ago, and that after his business concluded how they traipsed all around from one country to another in search of the perfect olives to grow. They found exactly what they were looking for in Madrid, Spain: Arbequina and Arbosana olive trees, which are pest-resistant and drought tolerant, two aspects critically important in Texas. They planted 1,200 olive trees in 2011, and Dell’s Favorite Texas Olive Ranch was officially born.

Being a city-girl, I never really gave any thought to olives. I was only aware that they came in a jar and that olive oil came in bottles. What an eye-opening experience it was to learn about the olive oil-making process from harvesting the olives to the extraction of the oil from the paste. Frank explained how the harvest of the entire ranch happens in just one weekend in early fall when the olives are half green and half black. Renee posts on Facebook that pickers are needed for that one weekend, and the volunteers that come are as unique as the task. Frank related how last fall, a trio of friends in their 70’s arrived, and that one of the ladies happened to be in a reggae band which was performing nearby that very same weekend. Everyone went to the club in full support, adding one more story to the already-memorable weekend.

After the tour of the ranch we got to taste the fruit of Frank and Renee’s labor which was a first for me, since I’d never had a shot of straight EVOO (extra virgin olive oil) before. The taste was smooth and buttery and had a slight peppery kick–very good! I’ll never look at an olive the same way again, and I’ll certainly not take a bottle of olive oil for granted, now that I know it takes 380 olives to make one 8.5 fl. oz. of olive oil. Maybe we can come back and help them harvest in the fall; I think that would be an incredible experience to write about.

That night, out in the middle of nowhere, the night sky glistened with millions of stars and it was so dark and quiet, we slept like babies. The next morning, I mapped out our route and checked Trip Advisor to see if there was anything worth stopping for. My eyes grew big as I saw what was in Brenham (pop. 15,716), just 65 miles away: the home of Blue Bell Ice Cream! It was Divine Providence that it just happened to be on our way.

With plenty of parking available, even the biggest of rigs are welcome to stop. We arrived right around lunch time, and I can’t think of a better lunch than ice cream, especially when the generous scoops are only $1.

The Visitors Center is filled with all sorts of memorabilia depicting the history of the company, from its beginning in 1907 as the Brenham Creamery Company, where butter was made from excess cream brought in by area farmers, to 1911 when ice cream began being churned, to the present.

Brenham is The Baseball Capital of Texas, where baseball has been a tradition since the mid-1800’s. Fireman’s Park was built in 1884 and is the home field of the Brenham Cubs, who’ve won numerous district and state championships over the years. Since 1967, 32 Cubs have played professional baseball. Prominently displayed on the wall is a photograph of some local players used in Blue Bell’s 2017 advertising campaign. I thought it was extremely cool that all the names of the baseball players are listed, as they are in all the photographs in the Visitors Center. What a thrill for those residents of Brenham who are part of Blue Bell’s history!

The grand finale, of course, is the ice cream parlor, where 16 flavors of Blue Bell ice cream are offered. Scoops are HUGE, and it was the best lunch ever!

So now we are in Livingston, home of Escapees RV Club, for a week. That will give us a chance to explore east Texas, which is all new to us. I’ll write more as opportunities present themselves. Until then, take care, be safe, and remember to wash your hands!

Love, hugs, and peace. –Maria

Miles traveled: Bandera –> Elgin: 159. Elgin–>Livingston: 193. Total so far: 352 (and I drove at least half of it!)

Lemonade

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March 10th, 2021

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow forward in whatever way they like. -Lao Tzu

Our plan to be in Branson, Missouri by the end of last month was delayed, so we’re still in Bandera. Our original departure date was February 21st, but while we were putting the last of our things into Felix’s underneath storage area two days prior, we received a call from the park ranger up there informing us that the Visitors Center was not going to be opening until May instead of March, as originally planned. So we extended our stay here by another month while we figured out what to do in the interim; meanwhile, we continued volunteering for Meals on Wheels which the coordinators at the senior center really appreciated since they hadn’t yet found anyone to assume our route.

The plan-demic/scam-demic known as Covid-19 did not dramatically alter life in Bandera thank goodness, and most events proceeded as scheduled. Including RODEO, one of my most favorite things to attend here. Up until recently, all the ones we’d ever been to were of the traditional variety, where riding and roping were highlighted. On Saturday though, we went to our first RANCH rodeo—an all-women’s ranch rodeo, at that—and it was amazing.

A ranch rodeo showcases the working cowboy/cowgirl, and the skills and determination required to work a cattle or horse ranch. Many of the events are team-oriented to reflect the cooperative effort needed to perform ranch duties. There were five teams in Saturday’s competition, some mostly five-member teams with one four-member team. I’d estimate the ladies’ ages ranged from 20’s-40’s.

One event was to simulate the rescue of three ranch hands who’d found themselves in trouble at the far end of the ranch, across the river. The team member on horseback had to gallop from one end of the arena to the other, retrieve/rescue a teammate standing on a barrel by getting her on the horse, and then bring her across the “river,” which was symbolized by a blue tarp. One by one the ranch hands had to be rescued, and the team with the shortest amount of time won the event. The finesse of some of ranch hands to leap from the barrel onto the back of the horse was captivating, and not one missed her mark. It was also entertaining to see if the horses would step on the blue tarp, and thereby “cross the river.” Some did without hesitation, but a couple of them needed a bit of coaxing.

Another event was tie-down roping, in the event a sick or injured calf needed to be caught and immobilized for treatment. Ranch hands pride themselves on how quickly they can rope and tie a calf, and the good ones are fast sprinters as well as experienced horsemen. In this particular rodeo event, a calf was given a head start into the arena, then chased by the horse and rider. The rider needed to lasso the calf, chase it down, wrestle it down to the ground (called “mugging”) and tie three legs a particular way with “piggin sting.” The supposed “injured” calves were determined not to go down without a fight, and it took several team members to bring it down on the ground so it could be tied. The winning time was less than a minute and a half!

While all the rodeo events are fun to watch, mutton busting is my favorite, probably because the riders are just babies, not much older than three or four, and the longest ride is just a few seconds. I don’t know if the little ones who are doing it for the first time have a clue as to what they’re in for, or if they’re scared for life afterwards as a result—but it’s hilarious to watch.

We are planning to leave Bandera next Wednesday, the 17th, and slowly make our way east towards Alabama, where we have reservations at an Army Corps of Engineers park near Tuscaloosa. From there we’ll head north to Kentucky and visit Kate and the kids. During our 2-week visit we’ll get to see half a dozen of Christian County’s baseball games, which I’m really looking forward to! After that, we’ll finally go to Branson where we’ll volunteer for only a month. Wish it could be for longer, but other workampers will replace us, starting in June.

At least, that’s the plan for NOW. We’ve learned that anything can happen, so ‘flexibility’ is the code we live by. I can’t say that we always have a Plan B, but we have made made lemonade out of lemons more than once. Of course, I’ll keep you posted on our whereabouts. Until then, take care, be healthy, and remember to wash your hands!

Different Strokes for Different Folks

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Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. – Steve Jobs

February 17, 2021

This is being written on one of the colder and more miserable days Bandera has had this winter, which makes it ideal for staying indoors and blogging. The nighttime low temps have been in the single digits and we had several inches of SNOW, which I understand hasn’t happened in this area for at least 30 years. I love writing, but I find it impossible to do when the sun is shining, so in that regard, inclement weather was welcomed. Besides, we’re scheduled to leave Bandera in just a few days. So, being stuck inside came at a perfect time.

February 15, 2021

Situations such as this bring to the forefront so many things I take for granted because, as the old saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got until its gone. Things like water, electricity, heat. Living in a mobile aluminum tube may not appeal to the majority of folks, but the past couple of days have made me glad we do. For one thing, I’m grateful that we’re able to be independent of public utilities; while much of the state has been experiencing rolling blackouts, we’ve had uninterrupted electricity, thanks to our workhorse of a generator. And our friends and neighbors do a good job of looking out for each another. Ours is a small and tight community.

On the topic of ‘community,’ it’s been more than a month since I quit posting on Facebook, except for what I put on the Gratitude 365 group page (and even that’ll be going by the wayside soon in favor of its own website.) I had thought that I’d feel a tinge of sadness at not being “in the loop,” but that hasn’t been the case at all. The more I learned about how social media companies mine and sell consumer data, the less information and fewer photos I wanted to share. The more the big tech companies shut down the accounts and censored people I wanted to follow, the less I wanted support their empire. The more intolerance and hatred my ‘friends’ spewed, the less I wanted to engage. For my own well-being and mental health, I backed off.

I realize my values, attitudes, and philosophy may not jibe with everyone, but when did common decency and respect for others’ opinions become obsolete? We’re all individuals, so it’s common sense that we all have different perspectives. I try to live by The Golden Rule: to treat others the way I wished to be treated. But today’s cancel culture, though, seems to encourage degradation, bullying and unmitigated elimination of not just differing opinions, but of the individuals themselves. It’s downright scary when you stop and think about it.

So, living a different kind of lifestyle, eschewing popular forms of social connections, and choosing not to take the experimental vaccine are just some of the ways I follow my heart. It’s been years since I’ve stopped caring about what other people think, much to the chagrin of people closest to me, but it’s been freeing. Standing up for what I believe in sometimes causes conflicts with people I love, but my own integrity and self-respect mean more to me than doing something I don’t believe in just to appease someone else. It really is okay to agree to disagree.

Never too old to learn

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A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. -Lao Tzu, Chinese philosopher

January 21, 2021

Of all the places I’ve traveled, none has been more incredible than the journey I’m on now…one of self-discovery. Recently—I can hardly believe it myself, and I doubt anyone who knows me would, either—I began exploring the Bible and all the truths it contains. Me, who’d disavowed the Catholic religion a long time ago. This is a major change in direction. Even though I gave up on religion, I never stopped believing in God—albeit my concept of such a Being was skewed, thanks to a combination of Catholicism and more than 13 years of parochial education.

For about 50 years I’ve considered myself a recovering Catholic, trying desperately reconcile the guilt and shame I felt because of rejecting the religion in which I’d been raised, while at the same time clinging to the belief in a Supreme Being who, I hoped, was as loving and forgiving as others professed him to be. It’s been a real struggle. But I couldn’t deny that something had always come through for me every time I’d prayed a foxhole prayer. And I hadn’t yet been struck down by a bolt of lightning for failing to keep the promises I had bargained with.

A mix of genetics and a deep-seated sense of inferiority led me into a dark period of my life early on, resulting in alcohol dependence, teen pregnancy, and tremendous insecurity. Somehow even then I knew my behavior was abnormal and initially sought relief in The Church by going to confession. But instead of receiving what I hoped for—comfort and guidance—I was admonished and berated by the priest in the confessional. I have not been to confession since. At least, not within the confines of a Catholic church.

You would have thought that my parents surely suspected something was wrong with me but—for whatever reason, denial, pride, ignorance, or just plain naïveté—they did nothing. (This was the late 60’s, and mental illness was a taboo subject, and there weren’t many recovery programs for teens.) Oh wait, I forgot…my mother did make me go to Perpetual Help novenas, thinking religion would help. I went. Twice. No miracle happened.

Without help, time passed agonizingly. Still searching, I decided education was the ticket. I knew something was not right with me; I just didn’t know what it was. Let it never be said that an alcoholic isn’t persistent, because I was. Eventually I found the perfect fit: a college in my hometown that offered a Special Ed program with an emphasis in Emotional Disturbance and Behavioral Disorders. It had my name written all over it! The idea of finding out my problem and getting a college degree at the same time was such an incentive; it would be like killing two birds with one stone! I dug in with both feet and completed the program in just three years, instead of four or five. Sadly, what I’d been taught didn’t help at all. My behavior didn’t change for another 30+ years.

Everyone’s path is different, and I guess mine was to keep digging into the abyss until I hit finally bottom—a place that’s beyond human aid, where the only two options are either to accept spiritual help or continue on to the bitter end. I opted for the former, thank God. That was almost ten years ago.

So how does the latching onto the Bible fit into this story? Early in my recovery, a friend whom I was visiting in jail introduced me to the daily devotional, Jesus Calling. She said that each day’s reading felt like Jesus was speaking directly to her—it was as though He knew her circumstances exactly, and that it gave her so much hope. A true Missourian, my reaction was something along the lines of “Show Me.” In other words, prove it.

I bought a copy and lo and behold, what she said was true. It didn’t matter what was going on, either inside of me or in the outside world; each day’s reading was spot on. Each daily reading included Biblical citations pertaining to the reading, and I began to look them up. That’s how I started reading the Bible. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed to fill my head with truth, especially now. Things are just so crazy and uncertain.

This journey, like the ones we take in the RV, is opening my eyes—this time to a character I’d only thought I knew, but never had a relationship with. I’m gaining a different perspective as I examine certain passages, that being that they are as applicable today today as the day they were written. I’m learning that no matter how far I’d fallen off the path, there was hope of salvation and redemption. This journey has the potential to go on indefinitely, and like the ones we take in Felix, I know I will not come back the same as I was when I started. And that’s a very exciting thing to look forward to.

Taking the leap

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If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter. -George Washington

January 10, 2021

Like others who are fed up with having their right to free speech censored and suppressed by certain social media behemoths, I will be off Facebook by the end of the month. If it weren’t for the Gratitude 365 group page, it would be sooner, but I have to be sure that the new website is up and running smoothly before I cut the ties for good. It should be tweaked and ready to go in a week.

I’ll still blog on Midwest Gypsy at least once a month, and probably more since I won’t be spending time on social media. To satisfy my need and desire to stay connected with friends and family, I’ve vowed to go old-school—that is, make phone calls. There will definitely be a silver lining to this change.

I’m sure I’ll miss scrolling through my feed and reading what’s new, but then again maybe not, considering a very small percentage of my Facebook “friends” actually show up there. So good-bye for now…I wish you all peace, love, and harmony this year. Stay healthy, be safe, and remember to wash your hands. ☺️

The End!

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If it weren’t for the last minute, nothing would get done. –Rita Mae Brown, author

December 31, 2020

Typically I look forward to writing a monthly update to my online journal, but I’ve really been dragging my feet on this one. I’ll chalk up my reluctance to a general feeling of melancholy. I think 2020 is getting to me, and I’m ready for this one to end.

At least Dave and I are back in Texas where the weather has been wonderful for the most part. It’s always good to return to Bandera, a place we’ve become very fond of for a variety of reasons: the rugged beauty of the area, the town’s uniqueness, the warmth and welcoming spirit of the locals, and especially the people at this RV park. With very few exceptions, the same snowbirds return here year after year, and we’ve made a lot of friends. It feels like home.

Feeling a part of the community inspires the desire to ‘give back,’ and we were anxious to return to delivering Meals on Wheels, which we do every Friday. I am so grateful to my friend Priscilla for getting me involved with Silver Sage a couple of years ago. It’s been one of the most gratifying experiences I’ve ever had the opportunity to be a part of. It opened my eyes to what goes on behind the scenes of this massive endeavor—from coordinating the clients, routes, and drivers to all the work that goes into preparing and packaging the hundreds of meals that are distributed daily. It is impressive.

On most other days we spend an hour or two ‘keeping America beautiful,’ that is, picking up litter. It’s something that gets us out of the RV and moving. We take the pups with us, so they’re getting exercise, too. It’s a task we enjoy and find quite fulfilling, yet there is so much litter everywhere, which is downright disgusting and uncalled for. But I guess if there weren’t so many inconsiderate people, we wouldn’t have much to collect.

Our son lives a couple hours away and since we spend a few months here every year anyway, we decided to claim Texas as our legal residence. So, this month has been spent making address changes, getting vehicle inspections and registrations, and going to doctor and dentist appointments. Even the pups have been to the vet for their check-ups. The only thing remaining is getting Texas drivers licenses; we have an appointment on January 6 to do that.

We found out a couple of weeks ago that our application for a workamping gig in Missouri next year was accepted. And the following day we received a phone call confirming one in Kentucky the year after that! In 2021 we’ll be working at the visitors center at Table Rock Lake in Branson for three months, beginning March 1st. That means we have to leave Bandera in late February and head north, arriving in the Ozark mountains while it’s still technically winter. While neither of us are looking forward to that, it ought to add to the “adventure” aspect of it…and stories to be told. That’s why we do what we do, after all. Then in 2022 we’ll be volunteering at Wolf Creek National Fish Hatchery in Jamestown. God willing, of course.

The truth is that that could all change in a heartbeat, and if this year has taught me anything at all, it’s that Now is all we have. These days, I make more of an effort to stay connected with loved ones. I try hard not to let petty things bother me. I spend time outdoors as much as possible. To those I can hug, I do so for longer. And I express gratitude freely to everyone who adds something to my existence. I guess this is what living wholeheartedly means. It feels good! This pandemic isn’t going to last forever, but I hope all the positive things that have come from it do. Happy New Year everyone! I wish you all the best of everything in 2021. Be safe, be well, and keep washing those hands!❤️

Autumn wanderings…

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All my life I’ve always come back to one thing, my need to feel free and the need to feel the breeze. The ride provides the freedom this gypsy needs, where every road is another blessed memory, a new experience to carry inside my journey. A sense of belonging to a familiar tribe—a brotherhood that goes beyond a bloodline. –Jess “Chief” Brynjulson, “Highway Writings”

November 21, 2020

We’re back in Bandera, Texas, after being away for nearly six months—171 days to be exact. Twenty-eight of those days were spent on the road, where we covered 3,575 miles through nine states, burning nearly 447 gallons of diesel. That translates into roughly 8 miles per gallon (mpg), not at all economical, but keep in mind we’re lugging around all of our worldly belongings in a rig that weighs about 35,000 pounds. I used to calculate our mpg every single time we fueled up, but it got kind of discouraging, so I quit doing that.

For about a week after leaving our workamping job, we meandered near the Virginia/North Carolina border, biding our time until heading to Nashville where we were to meet up with our daughter and grandkids. There we saw a different scenic stretch of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and while we were disappointed that the fall colors had already faded, we were enchanted by the number of enormous rhododendrons lining the roadway for miles on end. Even though they won’t bloom for several months, it was easy to imagine how colorful and vibrant they’ll be come spring.

From atop the Parkway we could see a surprising number of Christmas tree farms, filled with row after row of trees of varying heights, from tiny to towering and everything in between. What was most unexpected, though, were all the private properties that appeared to lie right alongside the Parkway, as evidenced by driveways and mailboxes. It seemed awkward for them to be there—almost an intrusion to the otherwise idyllic scenery.

We stayed at a couple of Harvest Hosts along the way: a not-yet-up-and-running winery and a century farm, which is to say that it’s been continuously maintained by the same family for more than 100 years. What I love most about these places is the people we meet, talking with them and learning something about their passions. It’s nice to meet other dreamers. It also takes us along roads less traveled, to places we would not have passed otherwise.

Vineyard planted, but it’s going to take time

We had to spend a week in Arkansas so that Dave and his brother could take care of some family business. Usually we stay in either Little Rock or Hot Springs, but since I was going to be left on my own, I looked for a small town alternative where I’d feel safe and could get around easily. In an unfamiliar city, I get so flustered having a line of cars behind me while I’m trying to follow the GPS directions to someplace I need to go but have never been, like a grocery store.

El Dorado (population 18,000) had it all. A good grocery store (Brookshire’s), a quaint, yet bustling, downtown square, and the South Arkansas Arboretum, where I walked the pups everyday.

One of several book exchange “booths”
Entrance to Arboretum
Paved walking paths meander through the Arboretum make is a delightful place to be.

Most impressive was learning about “The Eldorado Promise,” an initiative funded by the Murphy Oil Corporation, wherein any graduate from the El Dorado School District is eligible for a scholarship that covers tuition and mandatory fees to any U.S. college/university of his or her choice. The scholarship is renewable for five years, as long as the student maintains at least a 2.0 grade point average. To date, The Promise has helped more than 2,600 students. The positive impact this must have on individual students, their families and the community as a whole must be phenomenal!

National average is less than 70%

While in Arkansas, I had a lot of time to think, and I decided I’d take a more proactive role in driving Felix. Up until now, Dave’s done all the driving and I’ve done all the planning and navigating, but because we’re going to be getting Texas drivers licenses, I have to be able to drive Felix because Texas is one of seven states that require a non-commercial Class B license for motorhomes weighing more than 26,000 pounds.

Have you ever heard the commercial for Trane HVAC? It ends with, “It’s hard to stop a Trane (train).” Well, it’s the same with Felix. It’s heavy and doesn’t come to a stop nearly as fast as passenger vehicles do. That, and speeding semi’s, have been showstoppers for me. But that thinking had to stop if I am to get a driver’s license here.

Perhaps not so coincidentally, last week I decided to take something called the 10-Day Miracle Challenge, with being able to drive Felix as my goal. But instead of 10 days, I needed my miracle to manifest in six, because we were leaving El Dorado on Tuesday. I’ve always been impatient.

I did everything the Challenge required, plus got a couple of signs from Home Depot to warn other drivers that I’d most likely be going under the speed limit. You can’t be too careful.

Well, it worked. Boy, did it work! I drove all the way from El Dorado to just east of Dallas on Tuesday (236 miles), and from there to Bandera on Wednesday (346 miles). Now, I’m not a religious person, but this is a testimonial to the prayer and the power of God, because I prayed. All. The. Way. Through Dallas. Through Austin. Through lots of construction.

An accident on the I-35 entrance ramp in Dallas
Passing an accident in Austin
Dave promised he’s stay off Facebook while I drove…and he did!

It hadn’t been 24 hours since the time we arrived when somebody asked me where we’re going to go next, even though that won’t be until the spring. Is our nomadic passion that obvious? Actually, I have been giving that some thought…there have been some interesting workamping opportunities I’ve been researching. Also, we’ve put a deposit down on a 27-day Great Lakes RV tour beginning mid-July, which we’re hoping Covid doesn’t interfere with. Meanwhile, we’ve taken on a Meals-on-Wheels route here and besides that, just enjoy being in Bandera. It’s a great place to spend the winter!

Until next time, stay well, keep smiling, and wash your hands! 😷

…and where it stops, nobody knows…

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Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “WOW! What a ride!!” – Hunter S. Thompson

October 27, 2020

Our time in Virginia is quickly winding down and we’ll be pulling out of the campground at Sherando Lake this coming Friday. Eleven weeks have gone by fast, and volunteering here has been one of most rewarding experiences Dave and I have ever had. With mountains on both sides—the Appalachians to the west and the Blue Ridge Mountains to the east—the location could not have been more heavenly. The scenery—particularly the fall foliage—has been stunning, and the views from the overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway have been spectacular. Seeing Virginia in the rear view mirror is not something I’m looking forward to, but if all the fallen leaves are any indication, winter is right around the corner and that’s our cue to head south.

Our departure has come at the right time, because we’ve had an infestation of Asian lady beetles for nearly two weeks. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in the woods, it’s that there’s never just a few pests…there’s always a massive amount, whether they be chiggers, or mice, or beetles.

We’ve killed hundreds and hundreds of these things. At first we thought they were ladybugs, which was a clever disguise—until we learned that they bite! Then I discovered I was allergic, evidenced by splotchy, red welts that itched like crazy. Being attracted to light-colored things, the obnoxious little buggers swarmed all over the RV and then made their way inside through any opening they could, like the seals around our slides. They were everywhere: on the windows, on the ceiling, on the dashboard, on the walls…one night I was awakened out of a deep sleep when one got in my ear!! And to make matters worse, they urinate something that smells absolutely obnoxious when gathered up. Ugh.

In an effort to keep them from coming inside, Dave sprayed insecticide all over Felix and we brought in the slides like we do when we travel. That makes our living area very limited and extremely tight, but it has effectively cut down their numbers, so it’s been worth stumbling over one another and the dogs to get from one place to another.

When we first knew we’d be coming this way, I dreamed of driving all 500 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway. The more I researched it though, I realized we could not do it in Felix. Besides being 2-lane all the way, driving this large of a rig up and down the steep inclines, around the sharp curves, and through the tunnels would be a 10 on the pucker factor.

Instead, I assumed we’d make reservations for a couple of campgrounds along the way south, unload the car, and explore that way. But, between being the busiest time of the year (because of fall foliage) and the fact that camper sales went through the roof as a result of Covid and there are campers galore, finding campgrounds with availability has been impossible. It’s on to Plan B—which hasn’t been figured out yet.

Other than driving Felix from Hopkinsville to Bowling Green when we first got her a couple of years ago, I haven’t driven since. I’ve felt intimidated, especially when we’re towing the car trailer and the overall length is 60’. It occurred to me that I have become much too comfortable being the navigator and leaving the driving to Dave; it was about time that I get over my fear. So, I made the decision to drive, not all the time, but sometimes. After all, I once had a CDL, so there had a time I had been capable of driving a big rig.

I reviewed information about the controls in the owners manual, watched a few YouTube videos, and felt my confidence returning. We had made appointment for last Friday to take Felix to Staunton (30 miles away) to have new valve stems put on the inside dually tires, and I decided that was as good a time as any to practice.

It was slow-going through the winding roads here in the campground and somewhat nerve-wracking on the narrow, 2-lane shoulder-less road leading to a nearby town where I turned it over to Dave, but we made it without incident. I felt good and, in retrospect, probably should’ve continued the whole way to Staunton. Next time I will.

Afterwards Dave commented that he was surprised that I wanted to drive through the campground. It’s almost three miles from our campsite through the park to the main road, and the park road is extremely narrow with several tight curves. I guess that’s how I had to prove to myself that I could do it. It reminded me of when I took a sewing class and decided that my very first project would be a pleated skirt, made with plaid material. I guess I figured that if that turned out alright, I could sew anything. 🤪 Though not 100% foolproof, the attitude of “what the worst that could happen?” has been the springboard to a number of adventures I probably wouldn’t have had otherwise, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Life is certainly interesting. So, even though we don’t know where we’re going, I’ll keep you posted on where we end up. Until then, be well and keep smiling…and remember to wash your hands! 😷