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My son’s eyes

October 21, 2011 //
1

It’s the crystal clear blue October sky which comes to north Georgia after  cooling temperatures start its magic on the trees causing their leaves to change  into brilliant autumnal colors of red, gold, yellow, orange (and everything in  between), when the air has been swept clean by the blustery wind that  produces that particular blue  matching my son’s eyes. For the 15 years he was  missing, it was this blue October sky that helped me feel connected to him.  Strange, but not, that it was on such a day with such a sky that we buried him.

Not the best picture of his eyes but close enough for now. Can't look any more through old photos right now.

With the passing of each day of the 15 year wait to find out what had happened  to my son, I was sure that the “system” would fail him. I was not disappointed.  The system failed all of us… miserably. Not only did the largest county police  department in Georgia botch his missing person’s information on Georgia  Crime Information Center (GCIC), but they actually removed his name from  the only link I had to the world to his whereabouts. They also altered his  physical appearance on the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) when I  protested his removal forcing them to re-establish his profile on their network.

The irony? If my son had been 2 months younger, I wouldn’t have had to solely  rely on the government “system” as my only source to help me locate Carl. I  would have been able to use National Center of Missing and Exploited  Children to locate him. The “system” never asked me for a photo, childhood  fingerprints, dental records or anything which would actually assist “them” in  locating my son who was merely 45 minutes away from me the whole damn  time buried as a “John Doe” in a pauper’s grave.

What had happened to Carl started to unravel in the most unlikely way on  Saturday, September 11, 1999 at 8:00 AM.

Carl was sitting in my lap as I rocked him like you would a little, scared boy. I  felt his breath on my face and the weight of his 18-year-old body on my lap. I  urgently told him telepathically over and over how much I loved him as I  stared, unblinkingly, into those October-blue-sky eyes of his. I was holding  my  boy in my arms and that was all that mattered. I told him I didn’t care  where  he’d been or what he’d been doing. It was my body’s rocking motion,  tears and a mother’s pain strangling my breath which jerked me from sleep with the wonderful feel of my child’s 6 foot, 170 pound body sitting in my lap.

It was the bitter-sweet dream of my missing 18-year-old son and my immediate  conversation with my daughter (then 22) which triggered me into action once  again in search of him. My daughter told me she’d had a dream a couple of  days before where Carl had come to her as well. It was then she reminded me  of my associate at work who was dating a P.I. That was as good a place to start  as any.

I emailed my associate saying I’d had a dream and would she ask her  boyfriend, Ed, to assist us in our search for my lost son.  He called me the next  day.

From the onset of our conversation, Ed confidently said, “I think I can help you  put some closure to this. You really need closure”. Even though I knew next to  nothing about Ed, I “knew” he could and would be the only person to help  connect me with Carl again. How? 100% instinct… or God’s hand guiding me.

In our first phone conversation, I described Carl’s appearance, approximate  date of disappearance, where I’d last seen him and under what circumstances,  what I knew of his lifestyle, what I had done in my search for him over the last  15 years, etc.  And, by Thursday (9/16/99), Ed asked if I could meet him on  Saturday (9/18/99) to look at a composite drawing done by a famous police  artist to see if there was any resemblance between a “John Doe” found about  the time of my son’s disappearance in Ed’s hometown of Barnesville and my  son.

Ed had known about this “John Doe” as he’d been the Chief of Police of  Barnesville, Georgia when John Doe’s body had been found outside the city  limits in an abandoned house. Ed’s wife at the time, Rene, had been the lead    investigator of the Lamar  County Sheriff Department’s homicide    investigation team. And, in those 15 years, Ed had gladly left the area; his now  ex-wife, Rene, had gone to work for the GBI and had recently rejoined the  Sheriff’s office wherein she immediately started working their “cold case” files.

To prepare for the meeting, I needed to have the last known photo of Carl  enlarged 400% so as to accurately compare his likeness with “John Doe’s”  pencil composite drawing. All I had to work with was a picture taken by my  dad of  Carl, my daughter and me in April, 1984. This was the photo I showed  to many passersby in town during my lone search for Carl the long, hot  summer of 1984. I’d moved to Mom’s to hopefully add some stability to Ava’s 6-year-old life and so it was after I’d put Ava to bed that I’d go downtown looking  for any clue as to his whereabouts not knowing anywhere else to look. Having  to examine the photo closely was a painful reminder of my failure to find my  lost child. I had looked at it every single day for 15 years but not like I did on  this day.

Carl, Ava and me April 1984

As I pulled the photo out of my wallet, the exercise served as a painful reminder  of the lost third musketeer, lost years, lost love, lost child. Looking at it had  always brought tears to my eyes and a great pain to my heart but when I  experienced the full force of his sole image roll out of the copier in 400%  enlarged full-living color, I started crying.

I had somewhat prepared the kind lady at the photo shop assisting me by  explaining why I was in no shape to operate the simplest of machines at this  moment. As I fumbled for the  money I owed, my heart remained gripped in  pain from the after-image of seeing that enlargement of my beautiful child’s  face and from not knowing his fate.  As I left, this wonderful woman said as I  ran from the store, “God bless you. You’ll be in my prayers.” Her words echoed  through my soul as I raced to the privacy of my car to totally break down.

Saturday morning, 9/18/99, I awoke with fear, nausea, relief and pain all  shrouded in a sort of dislocated sense of non-reality (or surreal-ness – I’m still  not sure). My man-friend drove me to the pre-designated Jonesboro meeting  place with the enlarged photo of Carl staring back at me as each mile  brought  me closer and closer to knowing… or not.

Barnesville's John Doe

As I compared the pencil composite drawing of the Barnesville “John Doe” to  my son’s color image, a strange thing happened. As an art major in college  with an art  history minor, I guess, for me, it was somewhat normal for my art  history training to kick in. I kept staring at the drawing, reaching for where I’d  seen it before as if I was taking that all  important final exam… searching my  mind to identify the artist, time period and medium. Finally, when I was ready  to accept the task at hand, I was able to put the “student” aside and take the  features from each and compare  them. The hair was similarly parted in the  middle. The eyes had a slight droop on the outer edge crowned with proud  brows. The noses were the strong, straight Roman type. The ear  size and  placement was the same on the head.

“What about eye color?” I grasped explaining to Ed that Carl’s eyes were as blue as the sky on a clear October day. Why couldn’t anybody confirm eye color for me of this “John Doe”?

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Categories family

I was his experiment. Was he mine?

September 17, 2011 //
7

EXPERIMENT.

According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Dell  Publishing Co. paperback, July, 1974 (obviously my college copy), the  definition of “experiment” is: “A test made to demonstrate a known truth,  examine the validity of a hypothesis, or determine the efficacy of something  previously untried.” 

There were very few times my ex-partner went with me to one of my therapy  sessions but, to give him credit, he did go when I requested. It was this last  request for him to attend with me AFTER the break-up that produced his  epiphany about the 16 years we spent together. I’d hoped that the session  would give me (if not us) some much-needed closure to this long, often  wonderful but rapidly deteriorating energy between us so we could move  forward more smoothly into our tomorrows.

It was as we walked after the session to our respective cars that he said blah- blah-blah “… it was an experiment…”. I can’t tell you what was said before  because I was still in very deep thought, processing the last ninety minutes to  “hear” much of what he was saying until he said the “e” word. Then, my brain  screamed, “WHAT?”

It wasn’t until I was in the confines of my car, safely in my own space, before I  could allow my brain to “go there”. Experiment. I chewed hard on his word.  After all, the man is a master craftsman of words (has to be — he’s a lawyer by  trade). And, after 16 years, he deserved my contemplation of his intentional use of this word, especially at this  moment in time. It was a pregnant concept.

As I’d witnessed my mom, the biologist, conduct many  scientific tests in the  zoology labs at Georgia State, my first gut reaction to his choice of words  produced a visual perception more akin to a clinical, sterile, intentional,  psychological labratory-rat-in-the-maze kinda’ thing than what I thought we’d  lived to suit me  but, in all reality, that’s why we were in this situation.

THAT’S when I got mad.

Believe me when I say it took me  m-o-n-t-h-s  of digesting, regurgitating,  spitting, spewing, chewing and, some internal and external screaming, before I could actually  think from my perspective if I felt the same about him. Was he MY  experiment? NOW I was getting somewhere.

Why months? Well, it took me a great deal of time to condense all those years  into one word, especially that one. It was such a  foreign concept to me. And,  slow isn’t always a bad thang when it comes to changing your thinking,  lifestyle, direction and choices (especially in the type of man you want or tend  to attract). Which brings me to the core of the process which I chose to work  through this whole epiphany. E-dating.

Purely in the interest of “research”, I joined a “free” on-line dating site, a  “average cost” one and the more advertised “costlier” version so as to see  what the 21st century experience would reveal to this Baby Boomer.

In a nut  shell? Not much of a surprise. I’m complicated. I know what I want  and, more  importantly, I know what I DON’T want. I’m looking for  the proverbial “needle  in the haystack” and I don’t mind waiting. I even stated  as much in my profile.  I was extremely honest from the beginning knowing I  didn’t want to attract the usual kooks.

From the free site, I was deluged with so many “matches” I couldn’t believe  these men were seriously interested. Some were thousands of miles away and  wanted me to come to them. Yeah, right. I’m the one who said I wanted to take  it slow in my profile, remember? Plus, I’d stated I wanted a  serious  relationship and marriage so why all this popularity? Fresh meat?

I changed my profile to be even less appealing and still got way too many  matches so  I started responding to some of the overtures with poignant  questions as to  their intent or how they intended to maintain a relationship of  quality with over 2000 miles between us or asking if there really was anything  in my profile that  led  you to believe I wanted to raise your children? Geez. I  never heard of so many widowed men looking for mothers for their children!

Finally, I settled  into getting to know via email several men within the  confines of  the site, careful to never give any revealing info. It was fun in a  voyeuristic kinda’ way “peeping” into someone’s life and  superficially getting  acquainted. Some were more genteel in making known their intentions by  insinuating “all my parts work” in the hope of luring you  into some response  that would encourage them into some 60-something-sex-craved evening with  aging bodies imbued with the little blue pill.

There was one man who was a very simple, less educated, retired military  country man who reminded me of my rodeo winning,  bronco riding cowboy  uncle. The man couldn’t type and I really don’t know  how he made coffee  without the help of his daughter but he was entertaining  for the mere fact that  he reminded me of my favorite (and only) uncle. I used  the “*67” code on my  cell phone to block my number and called him because of  all these reasons. He  was my exception.

He rarely knew what to say to me so I took the lead by asking him questions  about his life. At first, we talked about his horses (a soft spot in my heart), his  dogs (yet another) and what he did in the military. I loved listening to his  plain-spoken ways. It was refreshing after living for 16 years with a multi- lingual, overly articulate, deliberate, intentional being.

It was in our last conversation (of about 5) when we talked about his need to  jump into the 21st century (a conversation I’d had many times with my ex). He  said his daughter was the one who got him signed up on the free site and was  really pushing him to start by texting her on his phone. Half the time, he didn’t  know what she was trying to tell him because she’d throw a bunch of letters  together that didn’t mean nothing to him at all (I fight the urge to type this  phonetically in his country southern accent for which I’m quite renown).

I explained to him it wasn’t so hard to type messages these days as there were  so many abbreviations people use like, “LOL” and “BFF” which I translated for  him. He seemed to like that so I continued down that road. But, it was when he  proudly announced (quite in the middle of my lesson), “My lil’ ole’ pecker still  works, ya’  know!” that I said, “LMAO”, followed by, “That’s TMI!” over and  over. He  wanted to know what “TMI” was but I was laughing too hard to  respond. I could  just hear my uncle saying that! When I finally regained my  composure, I told him it meant “too much information”. We said our “good-byes” and that was the last time we spoke.

All the while this occurrence was overlapped by the two other on-line dating  services giving off their own energy. The mid-line model male participant was  less aggressive in expressing his carnal desires (thanks, God). I actually got to  know a couple of these guys via email but none really of great interest. Yes, I’m  picky but I plan on continuing in that vein as I’m not ever making me more  complicated by inadvertently becoming someone else’s experiment… again.

The more celebrated service has inundated me with matches of a much higher  quality supposedly within my scope of personality requirements, likes and  dislikes, haves and must-not-haves, ad nausea all of whom are no where close  to a “match” to my liking. They’re either too O.C.D. about how their body looks (comparing it  to their weight from high school… really?) or their work or their religion or  their politics or their children or their grandchildren to LIVE.

After being a single mom to two children since I was 18, I’m not in the martyr  mode any more. I want to reside where I want to and spend my day pondering  my next Great Adventure or creating something that I may take apart tomorrow  just because I can. I don’t want to be harassed by news because it gives me  indigestion. I don’t want to talk politics because I HATE politicians. I don’t  want to be bullied into liking someone else’s opinion, place or thing.

Don’t get me wrong, if YOU like this stuff, that’s cool. I just chose to not have it  in my life. Hence, my conclusion that maybe, just maybe, my ex WAS my  experiment after all. I learned emphatically what I DO NOT WANT,  which to  my way of thinking, is so much more valuable than what you DO want.

A much happier ME!

I created the mantra, “I refuse to let your confusion to be my confusion” when  we first started dating 16 years ago. It saved my life. It was also when I devised  the  “1+1=2” theorem: life boils down to very basic elements wherein 1+1 MUST  ALWAYS EQUAL 2.  Over analyzing, over-theorizing, over-dissecting, over-evaluating and over-thinking cause us much stress and  confusion. Example.  Instead of wondering why a person does or doesn’t act in a certain way, turn  the focus on yourself by asking, “Why do I care? Should I let  it impact my  quality of life?”

Yep, I’ve come full circle but that’s a good thang.

And, always remember: If your  dog gives you more of what you need than your partner, you’ve got the right  dog!

Montana doggie park 10-10 taken by Maya

Happy Trails!

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Categories Baby Boomer

Boomer Dating… me, myself & I

August 15, 2011 //
5

It was a long time comin’, the break up I mean. We were together 16 years…    wonderful, adventurous, youthful, happy, miserable, exciting, dull, intimate,  frustrating, entertaining and distant years. We both knew that our differences would catch up with us one day but wanted to enjoy each other for as long as we would/could and then move on. I don’t believe anyone else understood that about us but I certainly did and I believe he did too, especially in that last couple of years we had.

At first, our differences were wonderful opportunities to explore another  thought process, or another perspective, or another way of living. I always  bought groceries for the whole week at once because time was precious to me  as a single mother of two. The kids always had something planned and I  wanted to be in the middle of whatever they were doing. He, on the other hand,  carried forth the European custom of going to the store every day to purchase  everything fresh. Once I adjusted to this concept, I was cool with it. It took a  great deal of heat off me to plan meals. I was tired of planning and cooking  anyway so this gave him the chance to do it “his way” which made us both  happy. That was one of those things that was different that I came to like.

The fact that he was Jewish didn’t interfere at all with my Christian beliefs  inasmuch as Judaism is the foundation of my faith. I enjoyed those early years  when he would read Hebrew to me and give me an impromptu translations  extremely similar to the verses taught in King James. But, I think it was the  fact that “faith” in something “outside the box” is a greater value in Christianity because you have to “believe”  in the virgin birth,  Christ as the Son of God, not to mention raising the dead, numerous miracles and, of course, the ascension. My understanding of  Reform Judaism doesn’t “require” their followers to “believe” in anything as remarkable (except maybe the parting of  the proverbial waters, which, if not  believed, doesn’t leave your whole religious convictions in a pile of ashes like it  would in Christianity).

My small town family farm upbringing in Sandy Springs, GA didn’t really seem  to be all that big a difference until the rubber met the road about 6 years ago.  His big city upbringing in Europe placed numerous colors on his persona  pallet including loving the “confusion” of smells, noises, activities  and bustle which are intrinsic in larger communities.

He took his “father of the family” role very seriously… too seriously to my way  of thinking. There comes a time when everyone is grown up. You allow them to  be grown up and to take the hits and tumbles that life deals out so they grow so  they’re strong adults. Blame the farm, if you will, but it’s life and anything  short of  this will make them delusional about their own futures.

I was always a writer, artist, thinker of fanciful thoughts and dreamer.  However, I was able to bring forth that “other side” of my brain to live in his  world of law long enough to support my family with the lifelong dream of  retiring early so I could do what I’m doing now… traveling, writing, creating  and any damn thing I wanna’ do when I wanna’ do it. As a very good litigation  lawyer, you’re cynical by nature and only believe in what one can see, taste,  touch or prove by scientific evidence. Vive le difference!

I believe that the DNA marker for creative energy brings along with it  wonderful gifts from God including telepathic communication, a “sense” of  things (I’ve got a “feeling”), as well as an umbilicus-like  connection with  those I love that can keep me up all night if they’re in distress or dancing all  day when they’re ecstatic. Some would call this Bi-polar  behavior but that’s  because “they’ve” been taught to think anything outside the  “box” is unnatural,  scary, treatable… or not, ; I’ve been known to lift up the “box” just to see  what’s under, beside, on top as well as inside it!

Now, to the point of my ranting. A couple of weeks ago, I saw my “ex” and he  asked if I was dating. I gave him that “Victrola dog” cocked-head look and  asked why he wanted to know. He proceeded to tell me he’d seen one of my  blogs about Ava’s fund-raiser and wondered if “Randy” was someone I was  dating. Frankly, I couldn’t remember a “Randy” and later had to go back to my  blog to figure it all out. Quickly shaking off his slant to the question, I told him, “Yes! I’m happily dating… MYSELF.”

Me enjoying dinner at Lucille's in Vegas - my first date with ME!

And it’s true. I’m thoroughly enjoying taking myself on long walks by the river  every evening, dining out, traveling, staying up late crying over a love story  gone sad,  watching anything on TV or not, sleeping in or not, working  outside keeping up my 7 acres or not. It’s liberating as hell not answering to  anyone about what you’ve done with your day.

Being raised by my father on that family farm made everyone accountable to  him for everything, every minute of every day. So did my work as a title  insurance underwriter or as administrator of a law firm or as a paralegal.  Creative people are not built to withstand such long periods of time with that  extreme  structure. Yes, education is different for us. We can handle that form  of  discipline as we love learning especially about our passions. We’ll get down  right reclusive when engrossed in our passions.

Some call it mania. I call it normal.

I signed up with Netflix for a free month after being introduced to it at Ava’s  this past trip. I love all creative energy that produces good thought-provoking,  healthy understanding of people, places or things. Movies with good casting,  script writing, character development, directing and filming about real people  are the joy of my evenings now that I have them at my fingertips.  “Nicholas and Alexandra” was the first biopic I fell totally in love with. It’s that  BBC accuracy and authenticity that “sends” me.

Well, this past week, I’ve taken myself to the movies every night. I’m still not  very comfortable with taking me on a dat to the theatre so I watched them in  my own living room. This week I’ve fallen in love with “Modigliani” (early  modernistic painter), “Amadeus” (Mozart),  “Pollock” (1940’s era modernistic  painter), “Frida” (early  modernistic painter), “Mrs. Brown” (Queen Victoria’s  years after Alfred’s  death), “Secretariat” (the horse that “couldn’t” but did), “The Soloist” (true story  of a genius cellist) and so many more.

These  movies gave me insight into my own sensitive, creative self I probably wouldn’t have gotten if I hadn’t taken the time to take me on those movie dates. It also helped me sort out a few other things about my own kids and life without the arts.

Both of my VERY creative, sensitive children suffered from not having more art early on in their lives… Carl’s painting and Ava’s music. It’s a retrospective view of my own life and that of my kids’ superimposed over these biographies which lend a new perspective of the importance  of creative energy in the world and how it helps to keep our equilibrium in the  midst of world insanity. I’d have to say my “ex” (or most men for that matter) would never watch and enjoy these movies which would, in effect, keep me from my next revelation: ONLY THROUGH DATING  MYSELF CAN I FIND MYSELF AGAIN AFTER BEING BURIED IN ALL THE  RUBBLE OF MY YESTERDAYS TO HELP CREATE A NEW TOMORROW FOR MYSELF AND THOSE I LOVE.

Ava performing her Junior Recital 12/10

My daughter, Ava (the opera singer), got me to thinking about this whole  concept when she said that Sarah Palin wanted to cut out funding for the arts.  The latest insanity comes from Michelle Bachman on this same line. What’s  wrong with these people? If they’re so “Reagonistic”, don’t they realize being  an actor is part of the arts?

The question then becomes, “What value do the arts  (writing, painting, sculpting,  singing, music composition, et al) bring to our  world?”

My conclusion is: “EVERYTHING!”

If we don’t have Mozart, our brains don’t  get smarter (right?). If we don’t have paintings, we don’t work that side of our  brain to enjoy being outside the “box” hence we don’t invent new ways of doing  things. If we don’t have sculptures, what adorns our cities? If we don’t have  ALL of the ARTS available to our sensitive, creative children they die a slow, painful death. How do I know? You’ll have to read my book when it comes out.

Ava and Carl in her swimming pool 1978

Europe has had, at least, part of “it” right in that it has centuries of history in  supporting the arts as a whole. The church screwed it up but the  Impressionists broke through that barrier and dared to be artists outside the  church’s realm. They weren’t  rich like the artists who did stay within the  “double yellows” of life but the ones who broke free were truly liberated enough  to explore their own genius. Take  Van Gogh. He suffered terribly, as most  artists who were driven to be true to themselves. Thank God he lived in an  environment not  totally alien to his genius and for his brother’s love and  support of him.

I truly believe we must stop dropping important areas of growth and  development of our children in the name of economy. We’ll have an abundance  of dysfunctional people living on the streets because they have no venue within  which to express their own genius. Not everyone is created equal. Some of us  are created “outside the box”.

So, my children, lend me your ears… from the woman who thought love could  conquer all, I lied. From the woman who thought differences only made the  relationship richer, I lied. From the woman who still embraces everyone to be  true to themselves, I celebrate. From the woman who is excited to be dating  herself at 63 in an effort to continue to understand the inner workings of herself, I  celebrate and recommend it at any age.

Since my “decoupling”, I must say I’m quite happy. People are telling me how  much happier I look, think and feel. It’s true. I’m very happily dating myself  and exploring my next great adventure… myself. Would I “do” the 16 years all  over again? You betcha’ I would. I wouldn’t take all those learning  opportunities away for nothing in the world.

I’m just sayin’.

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Categories Baby Boomer

Sautee, Georgia back roads

July 10, 2011 //
0

As promised, Sautee, Georgia was my next Georgia back roads stop. I do have my favorites as I’m so not a shopper. Actually, I hate shopping but what I do like is seeing other artists with their talents displayed in a store with price tags on them.

Art, you see, comes in all shapes, sizes, styles, languages, media and methods. Music is an art that holds very few choices of notes but an endless supply of combinations,genre, rhythms, intensity, chaos, synergy, synchronization and style. As does sculpting, painting, carving, turning, throwing and turbulence.

For the size of the area, the junction of  a T-bone, back road intersection of two little known highways (255 and 17), it never ceases to amaze me, lo’ these last 10 years or more, how it holds jewels of art.

Old Sautee Store is the backbone of this small but growing community of stores.

Old Sautee Store, Sautee, GA

Old Sautee Store, established 1872 (www.oldsauteestore.com), has the absolute best Farmer Cheese on the planet. Farmer Cheese is a mild, tasty white cheese that’s fabulous with grapes, apples, crackers and wine. Yum. It also has some handsome Grog to be served with their ginger cookies, of course.

Shelves stocked with items from yesteryear.

When you walk into the front door, you’re reminded instantly of Little House on the Prairie or The Waltons. This general store was at a critical juncture for all who needed dry goods or tinctures in the late 1800’s living in this ancient Native American community. Old Sautee Store holds authentic treasures of the past with shelves stocked with products from days of old. It’s the charms of yesterday that beckon you to delve deeper into this quaint store.

Outside again, you are invited to have a snack or a delicious lunch inside the Deli inside Old Sautee Market which brings to mind an era of grass-covered roofs of the old country.

Old Sautee Market (and Deli)

Shapiro’s always promises a display of some of the finest artisans’ (local and not) wares of both the unique and challenging varieties. From delicate, unique hand-crafted jewelry to a huge moose sculpture made from wheel hubs and steel, this shop is one of my all time favorites. It’s always a surprise when you go inside!

Shapiro's at Sautee, GA

A peek inside Shapiro's.

My next stop is always to see my friends at Prairie Trails (706-878-8284). Fred Tinsley is always engaging and knowledgeable in the fine arts of Native American cultures. He is deeply steeped in their art, history and lives as he travels around to various reservations to collect only the finest items for sale in his shop.

Prairie Trails at Sautee, GA

As you can see, there is not only a fine display of Native jewelry but also music, weaponry, Kachinas, pottery, knives, drums, leather goods and other paraphernalia.

Fred Tinsley, proprieter

Next stop in this little area, all within easy walking distance from each other, is Sweetfield Mountain Company to meet Judy Hancock (706-878-3555).

Sweetfield Mountain Company, Sautee, GA

At Sweetfield, they have an eclectic variety of clothing, leather accessories, jewelry and home decor featuring favorites from Brighton and Pendleton as well as from local artists.

Judy at Sweetfield Mountain Merchandise in Sautee, GA

After leaving Sautee, my favorite easy and most breath-taking hike is just down the road a bit on my way home. It’s a little known place called Minnehaha Falls in the Seed Lake area of Rabun County.

Minnehaha Falls, Rabun County, GA

Full view of Minnehaha Falls

Now, it was time to get back to the cabin and crank up for the first day of our annual family reunion.

Happy Trails!

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Categories Baby Boomer, life adventures, southeast, travel, United States

Flaming Gorge, Utah in Ashley National Forest

July 1, 2011 //
2

This part of my trip is just too good to skip over so I’m dedicating this post just to the beauty and wonderment of Flaming Gorge, Utah located in Ashley National Forest. I was so excited that I took this 14 photo sequence of my journey into the park and going back out. These photos have not been published in this blog before. I hope these images sends to you what I felt as I drove into this wonderland… awe, respect, quiet, wonderment, excitement, joy and about a million other emotions. Enjoy the journey.

#7 of 14 in sequence

#8

#9

#10

#11

#12

#13

and, last but not least, #14:

#14

You can visit other photos taken that day of Sheep Creek, the cabin I stayed in and other great views in my earlier post named “From Wyoming into the arms of Utah” published 5/17/11.

Happy Memories!

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Categories Baby Boomer, Baby Boomer, camping, camping with pets, dining, life adventures, northwest, southwest, travel, United States, west, woman camping alone

Georgia on my mind

June 24, 2011 //
0

It’s been strange trying to settle back into a life of not traveling! Instead of  planning  my next camping stop or hiking place, I’m doing loads and loads of  laundry,  pulling weeds (as Mother Nature is very possessive), cutting grass,  cleaning the  house and so forth. During all this labor intensive service to my  home, I’ve been  pondering my real love of Georgia. So, it will be Georgia’s  back  roads and flea  markets that I write about this summer.

This has really been my first day “back” where I’ve had time to think or drive  around since returning with my daughter on Monday. I’ve run back and forth  from  Atlanta delivering her and helping Mom and now, at last, I’ve got a couple  of days  to gather my thoughts and see some of my favorite spots that I truly  missed while  on my journey.

My home is about 12 miles south of Clayton, Georgia which is located in the  northeastern most corner of Georgia in Rabun County. Highway 441/23 runs  through the center of town bisected by Highway 76. If you continue north on  Hwy. 441, you’ll go through Clayton, Mountain City, Dillard and end up  heading toward Franklin, North Carolina. If you turn left  onto Hwy. 76  heading west, you’ll be going toward Blairsville over one of the  prettiest  highways in Georgia. If you turn right heading east onto Hwy. 76 ,  you’ll end up  in South Carolina in about 20 minutes.

It takes me one hour to get to I-285 and I-85 in Atlanta and another 30 minutes  to run the I-285 gauntlet to Mom’s house in Sandy Springs. It sounds further  away than it really is. Totally doable in a day but best when savored. I’m only  hitting MY favorite spots. There are so many shops to explore and so little time!

Driving north on Hwy. 441 is my favorite thing to do early on Saturdays until all  the venues close at the end of the “season” (winter). There are so  many shiny  objects to satisfy that A.D.D. itch I get.  My A.D.D. itch happens to be pet  friendly indoor and outdoor flea markets.  There are so  many friendly people to  visit with and interesting collections for  sale.

I also like driving north on Hwy. 441 as there is a creamery just across the  North Carolina state line that has the best ice cream on the planet because the  milk is from happy cows. Usually, milk products upset my stomach, therefore, I  don’t eat it much at all. This is my coming home treat. I get a half scoop of  Pralines & Cream and a half scoop of Espresso Fudge on a waffle cone and I’m  good for another couple of months.

Spring Ridge Creamery in Otto, NC

“Farm Fresh Dairy Products from Spring Ridge Creamery

Whole Milk, Butter Milk, and Chocolate Milk

Eggs fresh from the Farm, Hand dipped Ice Cream and a variety of Cheeses

Egg Nog available during the Holiday Season

dairy products,milk,eggs,cheese,ice cream

Just 1.5 miles north of the Georgia border on hwy. 441 in Otto, North Carolina

2 miles north of Dillard, Georgia

11856 Georgia Rd. (Hwy 441) Otto, NC— Phone: 828-369-2958

Jim Moore, Proprietor

Email: jmmooresr@msn.com“

(Copied from: inthesmokymountains.com/springridgecreamery)

You can sit outside overlooking this river, pasture and the "happy cows" just beyond the river and the trees.

On the way to the creamery, I go to Osage Produce in Mountain City (just north  of Clayton) on the right as well. Their fields are right beside the facility and  fresh produce is being delivered straight from the local farmers as I pick through  peaches, cabbages the size of a giant’s head, tomatoes of all varieties, honey  (their own) and fresh-baked breads. It can be tough turning left from it on  Saturdays as it can get quite congested but so worth it. (www.dillardgeorgia.com/osage-farms)

Osage Produce near Dillard, GA

On the way back south, I hit my two favorite flea markets. The first one on the way home is in Mountain City called Rabun Flea Market. It’s several (at least 5) covered but not enclosed long sheds with booths of everything from herbs to plants to jewelry to used tools to cool junk. They are only open on Saturday and Sunday but a great place to walk with Montana.

Rabun Flea Market in Mountain City, GA

Some of the open sheds at Rabun Flea Market

After a walk through this facility chatting with locals and venders, I get back on Hwy. 441 south toward my next favorite flea market in the area, Georgia Mountain Market.

Georgia Mountain Market inside flea market in Clayton GA

Montana loves to shop here. Everyone who knows her runs up to get sugar!

One of Montana's special friends who always has loving treats for her.

One of my newer dear friends, Lynn Scholl has a booth inside Georgia Mountain  Market where she sells “Bodacious Vintage Jewelry”. She has a display of my  own One-of-a-kind  earrings…from a friend available for purchase.  (lynnscholl@mindspring.com). Her booth is the first one you see when you  walk into the main door. Tell her “a Friend” sent you!

Lynn Scholl has plenty of "Bodacious Vintage Jewelry" (including my one-of-a-kind earrings) to sell to you!

Another one of my favorite places to stop and visit in Georgia Mountain Market  is with Janice Grant of Turning Creek. Her specialty is “natural handmade  soap”. (turningcreek@aol.com). It was a pleasure getting to know her better  today and finding out that her husband, Bob, is a beekeeper. She also sells his  “Raw Mountain Honey”. I see from his card that he also makes hand turned  wood. Check him out at Turning Creek Artisans (rivercg@aol.com).

Janice Grant at Georgia Mountain Market selling handmade soap & raw local honey.

To give you a "feel" of the place. It's huge!

We still had more errands to run and the rain was pouring buckets so off we  went to get our day done and write this little ditty.

Next adventure? Sautee, a little known eclectic shopping corner not far from home.

Happy Trails!

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Categories Baby Boomer, Baby Boomer, southeast, travel, United States, writing

Roanoke, VA

June 21, 2011 //
0

We’ve had the best time in this sleepy little mountain town visiting friends and getting to know the quaint town of about 150,000 they call home. Roanoke Virginia is a mixture of mountains, valleys, old buildings and houses with some new blood.

Yesterday, we had breakfast at Thelma’s Chicken & Waffles (www.thelmaschickenandwaffles.biz 540-343-8888) in downtown Roanoke. Not only was the food amazing but the lady who served us made the whole experience that much more wonderful. The sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face framed her fabulous energy. The cost was reasonable. Because it was Sunday morning, the place was packed and we ended up being there longer than planned but it was all good.

Issac’s Mediterranean Restaurant (theisaacsrestaurant.com) is one of the best of its kind. I haven’t had better Gyro… ever. The meat was fresh,tender, tasty and juicy. The sautéed kale was the best as was the Vegi Plate. Big recommendation.

Next, we stopped at Local Roots (localrootscafe.com) to try their Cherry-Tini martini-type drink made with fresh squeezed cherry juice, vodka and other good stuff.

The last stop was to see “Midnight in Paris”. The theater reminded me of a mini-Fox Theater in Atlanta. Nice atmosphere and a not-t00-complicated movie with great company.

We headed home via the Blue Ridge Mountains down I-81. The lush vegetation was a pleasant relief to all the vast arid areas I’d just been in for the last month. My daughter and I felt like our skin was sucking up all the moisture in the air like a fish gasping for oxygen when it’s outta’ water.

Blue Ridge Mountains I-81

GREEN!

Then you get into North Carolina and the Blue Ridge Mountains come alive!

North Carolina Blue Ridge View

North Carolina

As my home is nestled in northeast Georgia between North and South Carolina, I’m a little partial to the North Carolina Blue Ridge Mountain views. Just sayin’!

Happy Trails!

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Categories Baby Boomer, dining, southeast, travel, United States, woman camping alone

It’s Friday so it must be

June 18, 2011 //
1

We’ve had the hammer down these last few days trying to finish up our trip to  Atlanta as Ava has music to learn before leaving for Austria, people to see at  home  and I’ve got 6 weeks of accumulated mail to dig through and grass to cut.  I’ll be  glad to be back home but I’m already planning my next trip.

As for this one, last night was scary. We were outside of Memphis by about 70  miles when we noticed quite a “light show” going on. The more east we went,  the  worse the lightning got; I’d never seen cloud to cloud lightning before and  this was  scary stuff. Strangest part of it was the lightening skipped across the  sky like a stone across water… barely hitting briefly down before showing up a  little farther down an imaginary horizontal line. THAT’s what convince me we needed to take action.

Ava, feeling the same way, whipped out her IPhone and went on Weather.com  while I tuned into a  local radio station to see how bad the weather was ahead.  After all, we were still in Arkansas and they’re known for tornadoes and hail.

That horrible ehhhhh ehhhhh alert was coming out of the radio at the same time  Ava found hail and storm warnings on her phone. That was it. The radio told us  to find shelter immediately! I’d remembered there was a Motel 6 in Brinkley,  Arkansas just west of Memphis from my 2009 trip. Ava pulled it up on Google  map and we got there without difficulty. We checked in and went to bed  unscathed. That was a close one.

This morning we drove to Knoxville to visit family and tomorrow we head for  Roanoke to visit a friend and then we head for ATL. Whew! 10,000 in 6 weeks.  I’m ready to go again.

I’m hoping to upgrade to a more unpredictable weather friendly structure to replace the pop-up by summers end and explore western half of Colorado.

In the meantime, Happy Trails to you until we meet again.

Ready for action - 5/13/2011

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Categories Baby Boomer, camping, camping with pets, southwest, southwest, travel, United States, west, woman camping alone, writing

Santa Fe morning and I-40 afternoons

June 16, 2011 //
0

Ann (part owner of the Thai restaurant where we ate last night, Thai Cafe) had  invited Ava and me to her private 3 year anniversary celebration at Thai Cafe  today from 9:30 to 11:3o. After we broke camp, we drove into town where I  dropped Ava off and went to look for a parking space large enough for Silver (my  truck) with a pop-up attached. Good luck!

This is Old Santa Fe Trail (also Route 66 in some parts)

First of all let me say this about that. There is very little parking in Old Santa Fe,  the streets are very narrow and parking scarce.  It’s like New Orleans that way.  Finding street parking is because the “parking  Gods” are with you or there’s bad  weather! I understand they’re building parking  decks but that doesn’t  accommodate tourists in RV’s or with any kind of  truck/camper setup.

I proceeded to drive around and around. The good news is that Ava and I had  walked most of the area of Old Town that I was in the night before looking for  just the right place to eat (she won’t eat Mexican and I won’t eat Indian so we  settled on Thai). Fortuitously, I ended up at the Visitors Center where I found an  area marked “RV parking only”. Silver plus the pop-up certainly qualified as an  “RV” so I parked there while I went into the Visitors Center to tell them what I  was doing and why.

The woman at the Visitors Center put so many red markings of unsatisfactory  places of where to go on  the Old Town  map that I was totally confused by the  time I was leaving that I  pulled the “I’m a  writer” card. I told her I was going to  write about the parking  issue in my next  blog. She told me I could keep my car  where it was for a couple  of hours. So there it is; but there’s more!

I also told the woman at the Visitors Center that I was glad to have experienced  “dog friendly” merchants in Old Town the night before. She indicated the “dog  friendly” part didn’t extend to any other facilities. Great. Now I realize that I  won’t be able to take experience the two places I came to see: Georgia O’Keefe  Museum or San Miguel  because Ava was busy and I had nowhere to leave  Montana. Oh well. I’ll just have to come back when everyone else is at home (like the middle of the night) and when it’s not 100 degrees (like October) so I can leave Montana in the car and do it all.

San Miguel from the outside :={

They were repairing San Miguel with adobe bricks to match the ones used in  1610.

adobe bricks

Another church I’ll come back to see is Loretto Chapel.

Loretto Chapel

There are at least a million little shops in the old area of Santa Fe selling  traditional southwestern items for exorbitant prices.

Lots of shops selling everything southwestern

and…

rugs, baskets, turquoise jewelry, silver bracelets, etc.

None of the goods for sale were anything I could possibly afford. A young man  who was selling his art in one of the squares encouraged me to come look closer  at his paintings. I said, “Thank you but I can’t afford any of it.” His retort was,  “I haven’t told you any prices.” To which I replied, “When you’re on Social  Security and Congress only voted themselves a raise and not you, and you’re  2000 miles from home, you can’t afford it no matter how much it is.” True dat!

Because Ava needs to get to Atlanta, we decided to skip Albuquerque. Mostly, it  was me because I was going to have to come back to Santa Fe when the weather  gets cooler (a lot cooler) to see what I missed. I’ll enjoy Albuquerque then. And,  as for Ava, she’ll come back on her own as she’s in love with Santa Fe.

San Miguel from the outside :={

So much for the Santa Fe part and now for the I-40 afternoon!

The first part of my trip was cold, snowy and windy until I got right outside of  Las Vegas. Then, it was just windy for about two weeks until right before I left.  Then it got baking hot with only some wind. When I was in Utah and Colorado,  the weather was kinda’ hot during the day but nice and crisp at night.

That’s all gone now that we’ve left the mountainous regions and headed south  for Santa Fe. There? It was HOT! Thank goodness there was enough of a cool  breeze last night to keep the temperature in the pop-up fairly nice. I think that’s  over. I think the Vegas weather pattern is following me 2000 miles to home.  Mom said it was 91 degrees in Atlanta today.

We made it to Amarillo, Texas to camp for the night and it’s HOT! We’re going to do the Trucker Dew routine tomorrow to get as close Memphis as possible without killing each other. Trucker Dew, you ask? Well, you must be a newby. Last year when I was driving back from Vegas, I got hyped up on Mountain Dew and only ate Slim Jims with a side of cheese and drove for 36 hours to get home. I stopped only at truck stops to nap for a few hours before hitting the Dew again. That’s what I call pedal to the metal, trucker style.

Object of the game is to get to Maryville, Tennessee by early Friday afternoon to see my sister and her family and get into cooler weather!

Happy Trails!

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Categories Baby Boomer, camping, camping with pets, southwest, southwest, travel, United States, west, woman camping alone

Back roads to Santa Fe

June 15, 2011 //
3

Silver does Durango

Leaving Mesa Verde was difficult as we’d had such a wonderful time there and  it’s the longest I’ve camped anywhere so far this year because of inclement  weather, namely strong winds and snow following me all the way to Vegas! We  took Hwy. 160 east toward Durango, Colorado which was only about 50 miles  from Mesa Verde.

Ava and me in Durango Diner

It was there that we discovered the Durango Diner on Main Avenue. Now  THAT’s the way to serve breakfast. I had the best bacon strips I’ve ever had…  ever. The pancake was twelve inches in diameter and the egg cooked just right.  The waitress was wonderful and the whole experience very pleasant and  reasonably priced. Ava and I both fell in love with this little Colorado town.

With bellies full, we headed east for Santa Fe. The countryside was amazingly  gorgeous Colorado style. This is a sample of the views we saw along the way.

on the way to Santa Fe via Hwy 160, 64 and 84

And this one.

mountains, lakes, rolling pastures, cows and horses... oh my!

We didn’t get through setting up camp until after everything was closed in Santa  Fe so we went scouting. We found the two things on the top of my list: Georgia  O’Keefe Museum and the San Miguel church. The bonus was finding a gallery  with has some original photos of Frida Kahlo. What a bonus!

After walking around Old Santa Fe for what seemed a very long time looking for  somewhere to eat that we both wanted, Ava whipped out her IPhone and found  this amazingly authentic Thai restaurant called THAI CAFE at 329 W. San  Francisco St., Santa Fe (www.thaicafesantafenm.com  505-982- 3886). As Ava had traveled to Thailand, she could authenticate the food as  being excellent and traditional. Please visit our new friends Ae and Ann at Thai  Cafe next time you’re in Santa Fe!

Ava, me and Ann (owner of Thai Cafe in Santa Fe, NM)

Not only did Ava and I leave Thai Cafe satisfied with the service, the food and  the atmosphere, we both felt like we’d just made two new friends with Ann and  Ae. A big “Thank you” to them for making our evening so special.

Tomorrow, we go back to Old Town Santa Fe and to Albuquerque to explore it as  well. I was hoping to hit the road hard tomorrow but I have a feeling we’re  going to fall in love with Albuquerque as well.

Happy Trails!

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Categories Baby Boomer, camping, camping with pets, dining, southwest, southwest, travel, United States, west, woman camping alone
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