Stopping by the Chicago Marathon

Those who know us would not immediately associate us with marathons. We’re just not marathon people if you get my drift. But hey, we are retired and when we learned that our friend Walt was going to run 26.2 miles in Chicago. We said, why nor drive to Chicago and watch. When you retire, you can do things like this too. The marathon was on October 5th, and since we going to a wedding practically next door in New Jersey on September 30th the timing was perfect.

The camping road from NJ to the Delevich homestead in Lake Geneva was fun. Two things we learned. Pennsylvania is one hell of a long state. (beats Connecticut by a mile, many miles actually) and Boston is actually not the worst city in the world for traffic on a Friday night, it’s Chicago.

Anyway we made it chez Delevich in time for cocktails. Elsie always seems to know exactly when to announce cocktail hour. It’s a gift she has. We offered not to drink in solidarity with the marathon man, but fortunately we were over -ruled. Walt has mastered the art of Manhattan mixing since we saw him last. I don’t know how he found time with all the training for his big run.
Saturday was the day before the race and we helped  Walt train by going to breakfast at a great place in Lake Geneva to bulk up on carbs.I can only imagine how someone would feel the day before a marathon. I mean someone who is actually running. Svend and I felt fine.


Walt is an interesting guy, very funny, very smart, very crazy for running a marathon after 60 (just barely the whippersnapper) Of course he was nervous, but also philosophical  -“ If I don’t finish, so be it” sort of attitude. We love to joke around and make fun of Walt, but really we were very impressed by his decision to participate in a marathon! Again! You see this was not the first time we watched him run. He ran the New York City Marathon some time ago and we went to a few different spots to cheer him along. The fact that he wanted to do yet another was amazing to us. So here we were a good many years later in a different time of life and in another major city.
Chicago IS that toddling town which we found out the day of the Marathon. Walt was running with his good friend Mariano and Mariano’s daughter, Paula. He smartly stayed downtown the night before at Paula’s apartment so as not to be distracted before the big event.

We, the cheering squad, were up early the next day to take the commuter rail to downtown (via the cute town of Woodstock, IL in which Groundhog Day was filmed.)

Through the miracle of cell phone and GPS we were easily able to connect with Mariano’s wife Pinky who was waiting on the corner with a huge balloon with her daughter Paula’s big smiling head on it. She was easy to pick out of the crowd.

There were other marathoners in their group of friends. Some of them actually all the way from the Philippines. So we were actually a part of a larger group of onlookers. Of ocouse there was an app that many had that could track each of the runners o we knew when to expect our heroes. Life is interesting when you are tracking marathoners in a major US city with friends and new acquaintances. Beats lying on the couch.

Still smiling

The three compadres appeared on cue and seemed happy and still healthy. After a few quick pictures they were off to continue on their 26.2 mile journey. Elsie, Svend and I cut across the city to hang out at the wonderful high rise home of Pinkie and Mariana right near the finish line. Tough life, but we suffered through. Some of the members of the “Filipino mafia” as they called themselves started to appear with their beautiful marathon medals and smiling faces. 


Our hero Walt finally appeared intact and a second world class marathon successfully completed. We knew he had finished a while earlier thanks to the GPS, but surprise, surprise he found himself at the beer tent for awhile. A well deserved reward for an amazing feat.

 .

Honest and Amazing Abe

People ask, "What was the best part of your "Follow the Mississippi River" (sort of) trip. And I immediately say Springfield Illinois. What's in Springfield? The Abraham Lincoln Museum.

 
Now we all know Abe, the tall guy with the stovepipe hat. And yes we all know we have to revise history and say he really wasn't so great after all.. But I challenge you to go the Springfield Illinois and read everything you can about Abe and you will know, -he WAS great.

The other thing you'll realize is that no matter how fractured we feel today, it was NOTHING like what the country went through in the 1860s. Abe had nothing but trouble all day, everyday

From the initial vitriol in the press when he became president, the scary horror of a war among citizens of the same country, writing and then trying to figure out when to drop the

Emancipation Proclamation on the world that was not receptive to it, losing his beloved son, and of course getting assassinated just as the war was finally ending! After following the part of the exhibit of the last train ride and being in the replica of the Capital rotunda with the Battle Hymn of the Republic playing, I was literally crying by the time I left that building. Oh and then I fell flat on the concrete sidewalk with my recently replaced knee (and the rest of my older body parts!)

Of course it was my favorite place!

Don't even get me started on Mary Todd Lincoln, that woman they like to call crazy. who lived in Washington where the other woman

made fun of her not perfectness. The one who lost two children, a husband at her side. The one whose only remaining child had her committed?  It's enough to make anyone crazy (or maybe severely depressed?) Anyway she gets a pass from me for what it's worth.

Camping musings

Camping thoughts

I’m pretending to read while actually eavesdropping on my fellow campers on this glorious Kentucky early afternoon. Within the last 10 minutes there have been 2 new arrivals and the bitching I'm hearing warms my heart. Couple number one was arguing about her instructions regarding the backing in process. HIM; “Why did you tell me to stop?” HER: You’re going onto the grass”..a minute later..”Now I’m up on the grass!” HER “why didn’t you listen to me, I know what I’m doing? 

Couple number two, upon arriving and getting the dogs out of the camper. HIM; You need to pick up the poop” HER; “I can’t hold onto to two dogs and pick up poop” HIM: “Well I could.” HER: “Well aren’t you talented.” (She’s my fav.)

Meanwhile Svend and I who never bicker are enjoying the gorgeous day.

The good news is that now 20 minutes later and there’s happy laughter coming from both campsites.

Tennesee

Our first camping spot for the Tennessee portion of our trip was in West Memphis which is actually still in Arkansas. The site at the Tom Sawyer Campground was right on  the  Mississippi and perfect for watching the barges going hither and yon  (or is it thither?) it was a great spot. Unfortunately, beyond the berm and after the industrial area, the city of West Memphis is really crappy. Some of the streets were desperately sad and one wonders about how people live there. A subject to ponder.

On October 28th we finally made Graceland. I always liked Elvis, now I love him.  Such a crazy, sweet, generous boy who died way too young. We really didn’t expect it to be so enjoyable! Tacky, sentimental, overpriced and enjoyable. Recommendation-I don’t believe the VIP tourers got very much more that us regular schleps. They had a guided tour, but  while eavesdropping on them, we knew everything the guide said was in some sign or mini movie we all could see. 
Bottom line Elvis was talented, sweet, kind, and he loved his mother.      

The next Memphis surprise was Beale St, the Memphis mini version of Bourbon St which in my opinion was a good thing. We went to four different places and each was wonderful. All different, a one man band from 
Alabama who was very versatile, a Johnny Cash cover band where the aging (or already aged) rocker had many interesting “I was there stories”, A 5 piece band with a female fiddler who went off on a wonderful fiddler tangent. oh and they served fried baloney sandwiches there, the perfect repast. And finally a trueBlues band, complete with an old blind man as the lead vocalist. That was my personal favorite, Svend liked the Johnny Cash band. Bottom line, they were all excellent. 

Now this brings me to a little aside. We were in Hot Springs Arkansas a couple weeks previously and were chatting with a very friendly guy about what we were doing etc. When we said we were going to Memphis. He basically said, aw what are you going there for? It’s not so good, Graceland Is commercialize Blah blah. We should go to Branson, Missouri, we’d hear better music etc. etc. And we did go to Branson and it was great, but Memphis was better. The moral of the story is don’t listen to old men in hot tubs. Unless you’re 
married to them. Even still..

Onto towards Nashville.

The trip to Nashville would be too long for one drive so we went as far as we felt like and decided to ask Mr. Goggle what was interesting in the area. (don’t correct me, I know it’s not goggle) It seemed Loretta Lynn lived nearby and she has a campground with full hook up. So off we go, over hill and dale trusting our lying little GPS. I knew she was pulling one of her little tricks on us when a large billboard with a giant Loretta Lynn head on this nice paved straight road said “ you're almost there just 5 more miles straight ahead.

 “Take the next left” said the treacherous  GPS lady, so of course, Svend went left onto a sorry looking dirt road. Now, you must understand, Svend believes in his heart, that the GPS lady is always right because she is a computer. I’m just a human from Dorchester so I can’t know that much. But you you would think a giant Loretta Lynn head pointing him to her campground might have held some sway, but no. Off we go up the big hill, then down the big  hill. Around a steep curve one way, then around the other way. A few more hills and curves, lots of trees, etc. etc and suddenly the GPS lady says “ you have arrived!” And guess what. There is was. I big nothing!  Haha you thought it was going to be Loretta Lynn’s campground, but it was more trees and grass and nothing. The sad fact is the GPS lady often turns out to be right, but thankfully not this time.

However, after having said all that. We came out to a lovely road, still deserted but an easy drive in a pastoral setting.

Suddenly there was a water mill and a beautiful mansion. Yes, Loretta Lynn’s house. Where you can take tour around the gardens and museum until 4 pm. Naturally it was about five past four. Still 

the campgrounds were nowhere to be found. We did finally reach them by phone and due to the fact it was “chuck wagon weekend” the campground was full. Now we really wanted to be there, but alas we had to settle for the local Walmart parking lot. Next time...

The Trail of FriendsJan 2018

Why worry?

The problem with being "adventuresome" is it's a lot of damn work! Svend and I had this brilliant ides to buy a camper and retire. SO we bought a camper and are retiring. Sounds easy when you put it that way, but addd preparing to sell a house, clean, paint, repair and cull out said house, go through the process of selling a house, winding up our careers (OK his career, my part time job in a Catholic school - which PS, sometimes took up more of my time than his big-shot Port Engineer job -just saying) you can see how it gets to be a lot of damn work. Anyone who knows us, knows we have been threatening to retire get a camper and hit the world in a tin box.

So fast forward six months. We did the four months in Europe thing, holidays in Boston and now we are in out traveling villa. We are living the dream. Usually that is... there is the odd incident to report, like the time the back bumper bent  and the contents of the platform that was attached to it nearly splayed all over  route 95. 

We left the great state of Massachusetts on January 12 to begin the first of our crazy retirement camper trips. For many reasons our first stop was New Jersey, the most important being- that's where we have a lot of good friends. 

Sixteen years ago two students at Pope John High School were seated alphabetically in their freshman homeroom class.  I doubt the Misses Hansen and Hoffnagle could have predicted the parents would become such good friends, but so it has come to pass.We spent four cozy nights with Nancy and Terry at Hacienda Hoffnagle while the NJ temperature hovered around 10 degrees.

The Reverend Brown and PJ Middle school teachers still meet after school on Fridays to discuss a variety of professional best practices, the best of which is deciding which refreshing libation is best after a week in the trenches of teaching the youth of Sussex county. Mrs. Racioppi, Mrs. Gartland, Mrs Post, Mrs. Capasso, Mrs. McKeeby, Mrs. Velivus, Mrs. Hatvelis  and RB veterans Mrs. Lewis, Mrs Frey and Mrs. Hansen were in attendance along with “parent” Mrs. Hoffnagle. We could have started our own school right in Seridan's bar if we wanted to.

SO we had a great reunion for the afternoon and then the menfolk joined us for dinner.  It was one of those happy meetings where everything clicked. I'm sure we solved the world's problems from every angle that night. These people are wonderful friends that assure Northern NJ as a stop to and from the great state of Massachusetts. (where the woman are pretty and the taxes are high.)

Further down the east coast lies Virginia Beach, Virginia where we lived for six very important years. The first day I met up with my dear friend, Virginia from Virginia Beach, Virginia (that's her official name) I know she would not be insulted if I said she is a quirky woman, at least she doesn't seem to be when I say it to her face. She loves Sweet Adelines, her wonderful  family and being an Uber driver at eighty plus. She made a teenage girl stop "cussing" or she would throw her out of the car. See why I miss Virginia from Virginia Beach, Virginia?

 Va Beach is a wealth of friends for us, but of course Roe is our sister from another mother. She gave us her key so we could do laundry while she was at work, that's a friend!

The stars aligned so that or friends Andrea (and beau Steve) and Kim (we missed Don)  could meet us at a cool place called Repeal Burbon. Guess what they served there? And guess what we had there. I guess bourbon bars are the new thing, so chi chi.  They all came back to our Little Camper at the KOA. In the snow by the way.

Lots of super catching up, promising to keep in touch (praise  the Internet, texting and yes the occasional Facebook) I would call Va Beach a September location, after the non retirees leave.

Next stop was Raleigh and a couple of days with out beloved friend Elizabeth. We are friends from the years we spent in Sweden and our babies were 5 weeks apart in age. Despite all out efforts, it looks like Amelia and Anders will not be marringng and having perfect children, but you never know.

Svend Elizabeth and the Flea market Dog

Elizabeth is the quintessential positive person who works hard, exercises  eats right and yet, we still like her! Life is funny. Her house is lovely and we enjoyed a couple of days being "camper free." While there we also met up with Alicia, Amelia's friend who she met in Australia. This is what I love. I have seen Alicia probably 5 or 6 times, ranging from Australia, New Jersey, Denmark and North Carolina. The weekend was complete with joining Elizabeth's Mom Sue for a good old southern breakfast - yes with grits. Always enjoy seeing Sue,

Approximately three hours from Raliegh is Rock Hill SC which for some strange reason is the home of two of my first cousins and their families. It is never, ever dull to visit Mary and Patty who live on the same street. Mary's daughter Kathy was visiting and as luck would have it they were starting 1000 piece puzzle.  I, Svend, Kathy and Mary practically became addicted to doing that puzzle ("can we stop sight seeing now? I want to get back to the puzzle" - that was me!) 

1000 pieces!

We enjoyed getting to know the 2 princesses of Cole Ave, Olivia, 8 and Bailey, 5. They're sweet and funny and add what kids add -the knowledge that life is good.   

Rock Hill turns out to be a very cool town! Cool ladies too

Visiting with John, Randy, Ann, Milton and Kim rounded out the visit to the "Yankees in South Carolina" The whole clan from Boston is crazy and moving to Rock Hill SC did nothing to change that. But crazy is good in my book and sometimes Svend's. 

Am I not funny?

Our final portion of the "getting to Florida and using, (I mean reconnecting with) friends was a tree hour drive to Charleston, that wonderful low country city. Our former neighbor and forever friend Carolyn, or should I say Mrs. Head lives there (yes another Reverend Brown alumnus.) She and her husband John moved to that lovely part of the world 14 years ago to retire from Sparta, NJ. They had 12 wonderful years there, but sadly John passed away suddenly two years ago. Carolyn has moved to a super neighborhood near her supportive children. There are many sweet pictures of John in her charming home. Which by the way has an elevator! What a perfect home she has. Thanks do an unhappy knee, I was the elevator connoisseur for the three days. I'm positive I used it more than Carolyn has in two years.

We love Charleston. Such a charming city with wonderful history. Carolyn and her children actually live in Mt Pleasant, adjacent to Charleston and near the beautiful beach. All good! 

The last stop before Florida was two nights at Fort McMaster State park south of Savannah. It's a combination of an historical site and a pastoral setting nestled on the bank of a marsh and river that leads to the ocean. The fort was earthen battlements that survived several attacks during the civil war until General Sherman.

A Nod to Americorps -nice brochure

Next stop ... The Sunshine State

Make me a channel of your peace!

All Roads Lead to Rome!

Everyone knows we like to travel and have been many places, some near, some far. But personally I had never been to Italy, So the whole plan of our European Adventure was to end up in Italy. All the magical Eastern European midivil cities were preludes the the great and powerful Rome.

We traveled from Medjugore back to Croatia to the wonderful city of Split. You remember the Emperor Diocletian from the early fourth century? Well for his retirement he decided to build a Palace on the Dalmatian coast. No travel trailer for hime. The amazingly beautiful peninsular on the Adriatic was his home away from home. And the layout of his palace is now the old city of Split. SO worth a visit! Alas we missed Dubrovnik, but we have been told that Split was as cool if not cooler.
That evening we got on the Jardrolinja, a ship that was to bring us to Italy.

The night was beautiful, the moon was full, and the ship was jammed packed. Apparently everyone in Croatia wanted to go to Italy that night.Very fortunately, we had gotten a cabin so we didn't have to hang out with the masses who where setting up camp on every square inch on the public areas. Restaurants, hallways, stair landings, the dance floor,  the outside deck, - all were strewn with blankets, sleeping bags, blowup mattresses and whatever else the crafty travelers could come up with to make themselves comfy.
While we were thankful for the cabin, we did remark the we could picture Amelia and Erik enjoying the floating pajama party. But we are at the age that pizza, beer, a deck of cards and a DOOR was all we wanted!

We are used to taking ferries in Scandinavia, always marveling at the efficiency of getting hundreds of vehicles on and off these ships in a short time and in an orderly manner. Ahem, how do I politely say our first AM in Italy did not measure up to the Swedish experience? First we stood forever waiting to get down to the car deck. When we finally got to our deck, it was a bit chaotic. The cars were forced to turn around in the cramped space because...wait, I really don't even know why! Did the ship come in the wrong way? Were the doors broken? Whatever the reason, Svend very smartly insisted I go ashore with the walking passengers and wait outside while he dealt with getting the car out.  So my first view of Italy was sitting on a cement piling  on a dock in Ancona, waiting for out cute little Nissan Juke to appear from the Jardolinja. Which it finally di.

But, so what, here we are in Italy! Everything is written in Italian! There are signs that say Roma- and I knew that meant Rome!

And yet there is still one tale to tell about the amazing hilltop town of Assissi. While driving along the pleasant motorway that Saturday morning, we spied a sign that said Assisi 30 km. We had to make a detour to see the great cathedral of Saint Francis. To tell the truth Svend is not really aware of the top 10 saint list, but we Catholic know and love Saint Francis of Assisi!

I can assure anyone who has not been to Assissi, it is magnificent. After a longish 30 km up some beautiful backroads, it was a thrill to spy the walled town of Assisi. As per our usual "seat of your pants" style, we just drove as close as possible and found a parking area. It was right outside one of the gates and a steep, but not long walk to the famous church. I couldn't say which of the various levels of the Cathedral are more beautiful or interesting. Svend would probably choose the one of the three he actually visited and then beat it to the coffee shop across from the main entrance.

We agreed I would meet him there after I wandered around a bit longer and worse case scenario, meet back at the car. Can you catch the foretelling here of a disaster waiting to happen?


After a good wonder around the various floors of the cathedral and a sneaky picture of one of the statues (I swear I did not see one of the ten thousand notices about not taking pictures until after the fact) it was time to leave and find the Viking driver of my chariot (aka Villy's Nissan Juke.) Don't ask me how I did it, but somehow I walked out a different entrance and could nor find the coffee shop that was directly across from where we went in. But my thought was, OK it's a walled city - how lost can I get. The answer turns out to be INCREDIBLY LOST!. Did I mention it was noon, August, Italy and hot!!!
 It was at least an hour or more of trying to figure out where the car was parked. Was I supposed to have noted the name of the car park? Should I be held accountable that there are several places to park around this ancient walled city? Finally I found my way to the main square and the tourist info office where a blessed millennial conjured up Google maps street view and I recognized the steep hill we walked down from the car park. After another half hour of hot, steep-hill, charming ancient city walking I found the car. Empty of course with no note. I tried to ask the several sleepy people who seemed to work at the coffee shop if they saw a handsome Swede recently, but they didn't understand my questions. So I bought a cold beer and waited. The aforementioned handsome Swede showed up, none too happy I might add. OK fast forward through that few minutes and we were on our way after an accidental turn onto a walking street. Now that's an uncomfortable situation - trying to drive down a very busy touristy walking street in charming Italian walled city, but it was a great story. That is until the ticket came in the mail months later. Apparently Big Italian Brother was watching and set a large bill to Svend's father who didn't think it was such a good story! HA!

The Magic of Medjugore

Smack dab in the middle of nowhere is wonderful place called Medjagore. My knowledge before I went there was - the Blessed Mother appeared to some children and that many people who come here find a spiritual renewal and some have miraculous experiences.

Now when you drive into Bosnia Herzegovina from Croatian, you actually leave the European Union and some of our pampered modern day wonders like our GPS disappear. Of course we're old enough to remember the Fred Flintstone days of pre-Google maps, Siri and the rest of the modern travel helpers but it did prove to be a bit troublesome. I'm sure that there is a GPS network that works in B/H, but we were not on that one.

The border crossing went fine. They did take our passports and did something with them, but it was not more than a 10 minute delay. We did need some sort of car insurance rider which, lo and behold one could purchase at a trailer behind the border crossing building for 20 Euros. No big deal - the  hidden cost of traveling.

All was fine until we got into the town and our hotel was hiding somewhere in the maze of new buildings and rosary bead shops. An honest description of Medjugorie is that it seems rather tacky at first and has that unplanned boomtown look that I'm sure many of these types of places have.  The town is not huge and we hoped we could just drive around and the hotel would pop out at us. And luckily one of the first signs we saw was the Pension Ivona, our hotel - or so we thought. It looked pretty nice and we thought this will do nicely for the $50 per night we booked. But after the person we first spoke to fetched the sleeping person who spoke English, it turned out the Pension Ivona was not to be confused with the Hotel Ivona - and he didn't really know where that hotel was. (yea right!) Eventually a little wandering, asking actual people for directions - and getting the most helpful advice from shop keepers and even other hotel people, we found Hotel Ivona, somewhat out of the main town, but very new, clean, friendly with a gorgeous pool in the back, an even better $50 choice.
Being us, the seat-of-your pants travelers, we just said, "oh let's walk up Apparition Hill, the site of the apparitions in the 1980's. The guy at the hotel said it's an easy 20 minute walk. Really??? I said to him later, did you actually look at us, you 30 year old skinny guy? ((I didn't really say the 30 year old skinny guy part) It was NOT easy, it was very difficult, we really should have paid attention to all those walking sticks being sold along with the rosary beads and we definitely should not have listened to the hearty young Italian family who said follow the red stone path, it's more direct. Direct means steeper in Italian, I guess. Of course it was about 95 degrees out too. Picture a rocky river bed, uneven and steep and then picture me and Svend - not pretty. And to add insult to injury, barefooted pilgrims passed us. Others, old and young, some saying the rosary, also passed us. But guess what - we made it and it was wonderful. Reverent, peaceful, moving and special in a way that's hard to articulate. There's a statue of the Blessed Mother and not far away a cross. People were praying, some in tears. It was a truly moving and gratifying experience.
There was a quite a felling of accomplishment when we finally reached the world of sidewalks after our decent from Apparition Hill.

That evening we drove down to Saint James Church and participated in a Mass that was in Croatian, but that fact didn't matter. It was wonderful being among several thousand faithful individuals.  There is a powerful felling of peace and belonging in Medjugore. 
After a delightful swim in the beautiful pool behind Hotel Ivona and a $4 over the top breakfast the next morning, we went back to the church for one more Mass (in English this time) and the priest spoke eloquently about the miracle of Medjugore in his once skeptical opinion. It's that despite all odds, in the middle of nowhere the faithful come and they won't be stopped. I hope to go back someday!