Omaha - Union IL

Left Omaha by way of the Zoo heading East. Terry called saying my Passport* had just arrived. I returned to Omaha and departed for the second time heading to Union IL. 

RON Kellogg IA

When I woke the morning of July 13 I encountered a dozen or more strange looking beetles. The fields around this entire park were green with tall and mature crops. Not corn, but I was unable to identify as I could seen no vegetables or melons. Searching my iPhone for insect-identifying apps. Insect ID was the best one. Take a picture of it, and it gives you the detail including the degree of certainty and a high-quality image as seen here below. The app says this critter doesn't bite and is one of many Ladybugs.

* At this point my plan was to reach Maine via a trip through Toronto and Montreal. I realized I'd left my Passport at home. Texted Anna to ask her to send it to Randy's home in Omaha.

 Diesel  Coralville IA

Resting at the Illinois Welcoming Center on Interstate 80 with a view back to the west overlooking the Fred Schwengel Memorial Bridge over the Mississippi. Fred, a Davenport IA US Congressman, had led the charge for the Interstate Highway Act of 1956.

Kickapoo Slu a return trip in late August

In more of a hurry driving east than I thought. Compare for instance the Green (East-bound) path zooming thru to Chicago, to the return trip (Blue West-bound) in late August when I spent the night at the Kickapoo Slu. Drove all around Rock Island, crossed the bridge into Davenport and spent the afternoon at the Figge Art Museum.

Arrive: Union IL

A very pleasant overnight and welcoming visit with Anna's cousin Paul Psilos who lives in Union IL just outside of Chicago. A former college professor and a man of wide interests in the arts, politics and he likes baking bread as do I. We chatted over several beers. In the morning I cooked a breakfast I'd learned from Rod Bell: Caramelize a medium thinly sliced onion in olive oil & butter (very little oil & butter and very low heat: forever), add and brown up 2-3 sliced potatoes and when done, a bit of Gruyere; cook over low-med heat, then on top of all that add 4 raw eggs and cover till they are done. Sticks to your ribs.

Paul's home

Back in the truck in the morning after Paul had left for work, I drove thru Chicago down toward Valpariso Indiana and Route 30, the Lincoln Highway.

Headed to Fort Wayne and without a plan would go till I stopped. I ended my day and remained overnight (RON) in Defiance, Ohio. 


Not a very pleasant drive along Rte 30 nevertheless I persisted. It got worse. Even the Lowe's posted a sign "NO OVERNIGHT PARKING" so I moved on. I grew more bummed and in a defiant manner betook myself to a chick-wings-type-sports-bar, ate two orders of wings, drank one beer too many, lost a hearing-aid and slept by 9PM.  

Anna sent me an email with the above image: Be Strong! The morning found me in low spirits, plus a dilemma. I had no planned stops until reaching Burlington, Vermont. I thought, OK I'll got to Chautauqua! Checking the webpage I found that no plays were running, Darn it! I'd already missed the Ottawa National Wildlife and State Park, a fine stop along Lake Erie where we'd stayed during our 2011 crossing for my 50th high school reunion. I diagnosed myself as slightly bummed...after so very many pleasant visits with old friends.
There was no option to stay where I was. I drove to Cleveland, had lunch and decided to go to Buffalo then Canada crossing at Niagra Falls. That sounded OK even though it would be a 5 hour drive. 

               Next Stop - ???                

Omaha, NE - Randy & Terry - Ann after 50 years

Arrived Omaha late morning anticipating my visit with Randy & Terry Ferlic. As you saw on the previous post, Randy sailed with us as Ship's Surgeon on the USS Forrestal CVA-59 for the 11 month cruise to the Mediterranean Sea, the fabled waters of Odysseus and others.

I'll setup this chapter by briefly returning 50 years to 1969 and the ending of our 11 month Med cruise. Here’s a photo of my fellow shipmates around late July, 1968 as we crossed the Straits of Gibraltar and entered the Med. I’m still in touch with many of these guys today.

VF-11 aboard USS Forrestal CVA-59

Allen's Fighter Pilot Costume

After 11 eventful months, we headed home. As the carrier approached Norfolk, VA we flew all the aircraft off the ship to Naval Air Station (NAS) VA Beach, Virginia  the home-base of VF-11. After a couple weeks, I was tasked to fly Randy to the San Francisco Bay Area so he could take his Surgery Boards at UCSF, and so we did. It was a 3 legged flight for the F-4J Phantom, eventually landing at NAS Alameda, Alameda California. Randy and I cabbed to the Hilton in San Francisco where I stayed for 4 days. Those 4 days made me wish to move my family to the Bay Area which we did after I left the Navy in 1971.  On our return trip to VA Beach we stopped at Duluth AFB to enable Randy to see his family. We drove to St. Paul where I met Terry and their eight year-old daughter Ann. It was a short over-night stay. We flew the short leg back to VA Beach NAS the next day where my wife and son were. I never gave it much thought, but Randy had been away from his family for months!

Back to the present day in Omaha:

Terry had setup a dinner for us at their golf club, and Ann met us there. She’s an attorney, a healthcare leader and a human relations professional and last summer she threw her hat into the ring to seek the US Congressional seat in Nebraska's 2nd District. She and her husband Brad Ashford, a former US Congressman, raised three children in Omaha and are devoted to that city. I so enjoyed chatting with Ann who had very clear recollection of the night 50 years ago, and in a very charming way thanked me for “bringing my father home”. Dinner of Walleye was delicious and several of Randy and Terry’s friends stopped by our table to say hello. Randy and I share an interest in poetry and literature and we chatted late into the evening, renewing an old friendship.


Terry is a confirmed artist.  Below is a small sample of  her work.

               Next Stop - Omaha crossing to Union IL           

Destination Omaha. Exploring along the South Fork of the Platte - Detour to Broken Bow, back to the Platte; Grand Island

Evening drive to Lowe's near Brighton, CO on Rte 76 (24/7 Wifi) heading to Omaha, having contacted my US Navy friend Randy Ferlic. He and Terry live in Omaha. Randy was Ship's Surgeon aboard the USS Forrestal aircraft carrier during our 11 month Mediterranean cruise (1968-1969). A pilot himself, he was immediately welcomed by the squadrons. More on this later...

Nebraska can be a long drive.  

Sunday July 7th visit Fort Morgan, Colorado so named by Civil War General Pope after his attache' Colonel Christopher Morgan who'd recently died of suffocation while sleeping in a room served by a gas heater when the flame blew out but the gas flowed on.* The fort served to protect immigrants moving along the South fork of the Platte River toward Denver.  I drove North to Ogallala, Nebraska. The Platte, arising from snow melt in the Rockies flows through Ogallala, is 'yuuuuge' in the development of the West according to a known grifter. The North Platte, once a mile wide in places, is now muddy and shallow due to irrigation demands.

* If, like me, you suffer from bouts of nostalgia for the Old West, or the "way things were", please realize today it's safer and you live longer, especially if you play tennis and drink red wine.

Lincoln Highway Rte. 30

I'm low on water, got dirty laundry and need to dump my tanks. Seeking an RV campground near Ogallala. Brother Rich's recommended iOS/Android app: RVParky. The Sleepy Sunflower campground was everything I needed. In the morning I headed to Broken Bow. Again I'm on the fabled Lincoln Highway running just north of I-80 from Ogallala to North Platte. This old highway is, well, old and past its glory days of wanting wear except occasionally between towns, presumably less traveled by. 

 Leaving town of North Platte (the confluence of the North and South Platte Rivers) where the Platte begins its run to the Missouri, I was soon captive of corn fields, interrogating farm equipment and shooting decaying barns. The barns are beautiful. Amidst today's hi-tech devotion to Ethanol there would often be found an old barn of ancestral days preserved like an antique but useless in the current scheme. Still sacred like a great-grandfather's ashes in an urn on the piano.

Anyone? Know what this is?

Broken Bow's Museum sports a "fine collection of Indian arrowheads" according to Jack Nicholson in his 2002 film About Schmidt**, but I missed it. I did find an otherwise well-stocked grocery, but no Cornichon pickles, essential for my lunch of tuna fish on sourdough, lettuce and potato chips with Izzy my new favorite drink.

Main Str. Broken Bow, NE

** Missed it until Rod Bell put me on to this sad but ultimately redeeming film on getting older. Thanks for that my friend. My own getting older is alternately joyful, sad and redeeming; so long as I remember why I have walked downstairs to arrive in the kitchen, it's fine.

Grand Island, Nebraska: Visited the Stuhr Museum. Definitely worth a visit.

The Stuhr Museum -  art gallery

Taking some time out here to push my personal interest in taking and viewing stereograms. Below is a section of an old (1690's) lighthouse in Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. The photo is actually a Photoshop joining of two shots side-by-side taken only a short distance apart laterally. 

To view this stereoscopically (in 3D): 

While looking at the towers cross your eyes until the nearly identical images of the blue "keys" (in the lower center of each tower) appear to overlap one another. Focus on the middle image of the key moving your head along the longitudinal axis to perfect the overlap. Once the overlap is achieved move your head and focus along the lateral and vertical axes until the entire structure appears in 3D.  Be patient and you are in for a pleasant surprise. 

 Stuhr Museum pioneer's cabin stereogramed:

South of the Stuhr is Hall County Park campground with minimal RV services but what a great Park. Spent the night July 8, 2019

 Charles Joachin Clark Dutton is one month into life with daughter Jeanine and Travis Dutton. Having no post card handy I produced this. Later down the road I found some real post cards.


               Next Stop - Omaha               

July 4th in Cheyenne WY July 5th to Fort Collins morning of 6th on to Arvada CO

Arriving Cheyenne around 8PM in time to celebrate the 4th I was directed to a parking lot behind the Frontier Days Arena.  I had time to cook Spinach & cheese Ravoli sauteed in olive oil with chopped Poblano peppers, pesto and tomatoes as the fireworks were scheduled at 9:35PM. Tired, I had driven 359 miles from Evanston, so pasta and a welcome glass of pinot, and man was I set for the show?  

Well it was not to be; not yet anyway. Almost precisely (oxymoronics are needed here) at 9:35PM  the sky let loose with the threatened storm. Citizens of Cheyenne scrambled to collapse chairs and run to their cars as the storm dumped heavy rain, flashing lightning and near instant thunder. Several cars left, ambling slowly by, but most stayed.

High and dry*, I had a front-row seat; no need to move. After 35 minutes one could feel the storm abate and move East. Soon after the fireworks began lasting about 30 minutes. I left during the finale to park for the night at Starbuck (free WiFi) on 21st Street.

*After 7 years  and 80,000 miles the Swanky-Tank's roof began to leak when it rained but only when the nose of the parked vehicle was higher than the rear. The Pleasanton CA Mercedes dealer declined to look at it.  Calling around I discovered the Airstream dealer in Fairfield, CA had a positive pressure system they rightly claimed was near foolproof. High pressure air is introduced into the sealed-off cabin and the roof is showered with water. The bubbles indicate the source of  the leak. In our case it was the factory seal aft on the passenger side. Kaboom: fixed.


A morning visit to Cheyenne's Nelson Museum of the West located within a block of the Lincoln Highway. It was with the populist President Jackson a military leader during the War of 1812, later Military Governor of Florida, that the shameful treatment of earlier tribes began in earnest. 


My professor friend, Rod Bell, offered an intriguing explanation of populism. "Often an indication that significant change in governance is needed." James Monroe was elected in 1816 ushering in the post war "Era of Good Feelings" as coined by Benjamin Russell, in the Boston Federalist newspaper Columbian Centinel, on July 12, 1817, following Monroe's visit to Boston. But after the Monroe Doctrine so completely divided the country with the establishment of the Mason Dixon Line, it was anything but that.  Please see Dr. Bell's comment below.  

 

 I then drove south to Fort Collins for another night of storms. 12 seconds of a 25 minute hail storm that threatened to put dents in the Tank is recorded in the video, above.  This time from the Whole Foods parking lot (also 24/7 free Wifi). I shop Whole Foods with some degree of ambivalence. But the WF in Fort Collins has to be the best I've encountered. Not only do they have the organic vegetables, good seafood and all, they have a pub.  

The Ft. Collins Whole Foods has a pub.

On the road to Arvada CO to meet up with Nancy and Pat Godsil. Nancy is arranging a dinner with Lee and Frances Chouinard and David D., two additional mile-high residents who are classmates of our 1961 Stephens High School, Rumford, Maine. The valedictorian of the graduating class 25 or so years before that was Ed Muskie, Lee's uncle. Here are Nancy & Pat at my Maine destination, Webb Lake, several years earlier. This photo was taken after 3 sets of tennis on the clay courts in Weld, Maine.

Now back in Arvada, Colorado tucked into the foothills of the Rockies....

 We left to meet Lee/Fran and David at Angelo's Taverna in Littleton, about 30 minutes south. David and I had not connected since our high school days and it was good to meet him again. Lee, who once rode his bicycle from their Florida home to their Summer Camp on Worthley Pond, Maine, while Fran drove their vehicle stopping every night to meet up, is a tall, lanky, affable guy who must have chosen basketball rather than skiing as a kid. Those were the two team sports available in the cold Maine winters. He and I were on the verge of keeping up, perhaps on the tennis court but we never found the right time to do it. Nancy and Pat and I exchange holiday greetings, and occasional emails. Finding these people willing to share time together after 58 years is truly a blessing. We all enjoyed our evening swapping memories and catching up on our lives today. After dinner Pat drove us back to their home where Nancy opened a good bottle of Pinot and we chatted on their back porch watching the sun complete its arc on July 6, 2019.

  Next stop the Platte, Broken Bow, Grand Island, destination Omaha 

Park City July 2, 3, 2019

 We were besties when I was in the 5th - 8th grades in our hometown of Rumford, Maine. Dave was a year or two ahead. We've kept up occasionally over the years. Our visit this time, both in our later 70's, found us recalling exploits of our youth. Great fun. Dave's father was the District Judge. One August afternoon the judge was called to the Capitol, and he took the both of us along. The drive to Augusta, otherwise long, was made short by listening to Curt Gowdy call the Boston Red Sox game on the car radio. We skied together, both winter and summer. One summer we had a Scott-Atwater 7 1/2 hp outboard motor, his family had a Johnson 5 1/2 hp but neither could pull us up on water skis, so we put both motors on the same boat. To our great joy, it worked, we skied day after day.

A winter afternoon of my 6th grade found us ski-jumping together on Scottie's 25 meter hill. Somehow, maybe on a dare I don't recall, we agreed to climb the 55 meter hill to see what we thought. When we got to the top, I fastened on my skis determined not to walk back down. I felt ready, or rather I thought if I hesitated, I would never go. When Dave turned to peer off the back of the trestle (or maybe it was pee), I took-off down the ramp. Being somewhat anxious my technique failed me. I jumped but not hard enough and landed just past the knoll, then sped down the ever steep landing area. Dave soon followed. His jump looked pretty good; soon we met at the bottom. Looking up at that imposing ski-jump, where famed ski-jumpers the likes of Art Devlin, Art Tokle, Johnny Bower and many others competed in the '40's and '50's, Dave and I decided to scale those height's again but on another day. 

Dave continued his skiing career in Park City leading Nordic ski tours into the Wasatch all while holding down a day-job designing computer hardware for Unisys and later as Professor of Computer Science at University of Utah. 

Here's a published poem about this venerable ski-jump written by brother Rich Kent, a jumper himself who taught English, coached skiing, and soccer at the Rumford high school for many years. He's now a full at University of Maine where he teaches writing. His recent book "Words for a Mountain" celebrates the successor to Scottie's called Black Mountain; book sale proceeds go to the town-operated, non-profit ski area. Rich told me all these ski jumps were long ago torn down due to liability concerns.  (each link opens a separate page)

Some further exchange with brother Rich:

Rich:
I went through the blog and enjoyed it. Of course, I especially liked the section about you and Dave Hanscom. That poem of mine is about all jumps and ski jumpers, but the photo is of the 55m up at Black Mountain that was named the Aurele Legere Jump for his tireless work of keeping that jump and others up to snuff. Sadly, high school jumping died in Maine in the early 1980s, and I think I told you that I was the last high school jumping coach for Rumford. Also, Don__math teacher__ of EL and I held the last high school ski jump competition down in Auburn at Pettengill Park. They had a tower there... I think it was a 25m. I wrote an article titled "The Death of Ski Jumping" that came out in Maine Life and then later in Nordic Skiing magazine. Good work! Keep writing.

Response:
That big hill at Black Mountain wasn't 'up to snuff' on a windy day in the winter of 1961 when I jumped that hill and fractured my arm. The landing area had only a narrow path tamped down and the high winds blew me into the iced-over snowpack 6-8 feet from the middle. I sustained a compound fracture falling forward and putting my arm through the frozen snow. Because of it I missed the State meet the following week. Moreover, I had needed downhill skis for the State race and Ma had just paid $25 for those used 220 cm Kastles you have in your cellar. Probably a good thing though, I might have killed myself on the downhill race with those skis. No doubt I contributed to the end of the jumping DNA in the Chisholm Ski Club. It came near to being the end of me.

Rich:
I had always thought that you broke your arm on The Suicide. I didn’t even know the Black Mountain jump had been built by the ski area’s opening. Interesting.

  Next stop Cheyenne WY - Arvada CO 

We visited the Alameda County Fair this morning. I left on a 2 month crossing from California to coastal Maine and back this evening.

Horses racing at Alameda County Fair

Friends Bill & Kathleen (below);  Bill, Julia, and Anna each submitted art works to the juried art show. 

Julia's greeting cards (winning Honorable Mention!) sport inventive taglines

Always in front of busy goings-on in our lives, 

Anna received Honorable Mention for her pastel. 

Loaded in the Sprinter yesterday and finished up late afternoon 

after watching my winnings disappear on the third race.  Horse races!

Bill casually examines racing form after chalking up an artwork sale!

The long trip began around 8PM in time to catch the glow of sunset crossing the Sacramento River. My first planned stop was in Park City UT, at 750 miles it would take two nights. 

Stopped in Reno; pulled up tired and slept well. 

Woke early realizing: 
1). the drive to Park City seems long; and, 
2). dammit: I forgot my tennis shoes!



Scheels, which lies under the contrails of NAS Fallon NV military jets stationed nearby, is perhaps the world's largest sporting goods store having not one suitable pair of tennis shoes. 

Iinterested in contrails?  here's a   link:.

July 1 drove the 300 miles to Elko, Nevada. Stopped early in time for what passed as dinner. July 2 morning drove two hours to Wendover NV on the Utah border for a lunch stop at Peppermill Casino. 

It is very easy to get lost (and loss) in a casino.

Ate lunch and watched the Women's World Cup semi-final: U.S. against England, a formidable opponent. Youtube link (opens in new window; turn volume down for 10 secs: ads).

 Megan Rapinoe had led the US team into the semi's but she was benched with a hamstring. US Teammates Alex Morgan and Christen Press each scored a goal; England's Ellen White scored a goal but at 82 minutes Millie Bright's goal was reversed (off-side); the score ended 2-1 U.S..

  Next stop Park City Utah