Fayetteville KOA

As we motored down I-95 I thought about where we might be just before sunset. I don’t cotton much to setting up in the dark anymore. It was then that I phoned my old friend Tom Dreyer. We met Tom and his wife Nancy four years ago while we were at our first working stint and they were visitors to the campground. We made fast friends, kept in touch, and visited when they returned to their home just outside Raleigh. I hadn’t seen them in a year, visiting just before the brain surgery.  Tom and Nancy are now the managers at the Fayetteville KOA. His voice was welcoming, they were looking forward to seeing us, and they had plenty of room for a short stay. I told Tom we’d be there in four hours.

We spent two glorious days in their company and they couldn’t have been more gracious hosts. Tom and I traded a site for a photo shoot opportunity, hoping that some of my work could help market the campground for them in the next brochure. We feasted with a small group in the social hall on Thanksgiving leftovers, met some new folks and chatted until the late hours. The next day Robin and I set out for some photo work, explored the campground, made a food run to Walmart. Tom and Nancy have completely turned this campground around for the better. Anyone traveling up and down I 95  needs to mark this as a waypoint. The campground is easy off and on, being a mere 1/2 mile from the interstate. All the sites are flat, graveled, well maintained with aesthetics that are pleasing to the eye. They make you feel as if your royalty when you enter the office and it is in evidence very much that the customers well being is the main tenet of operations here. Saturday night we were hosted at the site of John and Yuko for another round of “tales around the fire”. Hitting me like a Louisville Slugger, it was then I realized again what makes this life so special.  We’ve done it in two dozen states, amid a vast amount of differing flora and foliage, under stars and moonlit skies.

The fire is always brilliant orange and hot, the names of the people are changed from one venue to another but the stories, the laughter, the camaraderie is always “the holy grail” that we seek. Cynthia and Jim joined in and as the stories unfolded I had to laugh at the common thread that ran thoughout every get together by the fire. They’re all the same and yet, each one different. We left amid morning hugs and kisses, Tom and Nancy proving hosts hard to leave. But we’ll return. On our journey north to Christmas with the children, we’ll stop again and spend some time. Thank you, my friends, for just being you. 

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Leaving Yankees

We had a wonderful time with family and friends in western PA. We exchanged gifts with my sister’s family as we won’t be back that way for Christmas. Jay and Chris once again housed us for days and it was time well spent as mourning was still playing a key role there and close friends are necessary. We journeyed East to New Jersey to visit with the young ‘uns for the final time before the end of December. Saying goodbye and giving one last hug to our new grandchild was heart wrenching and neither of us could hold back tears. On our final day at Lake in Wood, Jerry stated he would pick us up at 5 and we would meet Cheryl and we would all go to for dinner one last time. Little did we know that he foiled us when we arrived at the home of his daughter and son-in-law, Mindy and Kevin and a great home cooked lasagna meal was had. Great friends are priceless. The next morning we had all packed in anticipation of leaving when we realized the bedroom slide failed to come in. Nothing, Broke, No Noise, Nada. I got out the large rachet and cranked it in by hand. Much to my chagrin I had awoken that morning with the flu. It was all I could do to move let alone deal with the slide. Thank goodness for Robin’s penchant for all things mechanical. Finally, we crossed the Mason-Dixon, heading for Dixie and sunny skies. On the road for about four hours and could only make it to Winchester, VA as the body was giving way to misery and discomfort. Driving wasn’t easy either as my eyelids felts as if they weighed in by pounds. Candy Hill Campground proved a welcome respite. The next morning I drove to Walmart for onions and vinegar and it was all I could do to muster that much. As I lay and watch television, Robin made turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, creamed cucumbers, and a pumpkin pie as we dined on a veritable feast for Thanksgiving Day. Feeling gulity, I mustered enough energy to help her clean up. The next morning we headed for points South again.

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Friends

We left Lake In Wood last weekend, leaving the rig on site for the insurance adjuster to address. We headed West in the truck for a few weeks of visiting friends. Our plans were to meet up with Tom and Deanna at Table Rock Lake in western Missouri. Tom and Deanna are friends we worked with at the Elkhorn Cafe in North Dakota and haven’t seen them since January of 2010. Traveling through the Midwest is a mesmerizing endeavor, such that I had forgetten that one needs constant stimulation in the form of music or conversation to keep from running amuck. There is not much to visualize in the bread basket, especially at this time of year. We made it to St. Louis by Sunday and that evening bunked down in Sullivan, MO. By midday Monday we had encountered our guests, stopping at Tom’s new purchase first. They had bought a storage facility and were in the process of remodeling it. They plan on adding an apartment for their stay between jaunts to North Dakota and Arizona.
We were guests of Deanna cousins who own the Big Creek resort actually on the lake. The honeymoon suite was our abode for the next four days and just a stone’s throw from the lake. Luckily it was a full moon this week and the evening shots made for some great photos despite a constant downpour for the first two day. We visited their relatives, friends, and were hosted in homes for dinner as if we’d been going there for years. I met the most interesting of men….Uncle Lester. Uncle Lester is a throwback to the inventor of days gone by. His shop is meticulous, he has every tool imaginable and some unimaginable. However, he buys almost nothing, making it all from scratch or inventing whatever he needs. There were too many items in the shop to discuss but his air powered, homemade tricycle caught my eye the most. He even gave Robin a performance in the yard as his pride in workmanship showed through.  Tom and Deana took us to out to lunch, out to dinner, shopping around and even a long day trip to Branson, the Nashville of the west. We scoured through store after store so the ladies could continue to put things into the RV’s and took in a show that evening. An Indian powwow, put on by Lakota Sious out of Brule. The costumes and dancing were great but the music was wonderful. What I thought might be a so-so experience proved quite entertaining. We had planned to stay longer but a call from Florda prompted our stay be held to four days. We had been offered jobs in Naples as resort directors and the owner asked they we arrive a bit earlier than expected. After spending the last night chatting and playing board games with Tom and Deanna we headed back to western PA for the final visit of the year to family. We spent our first travel night in Indiannapolis. And I was reminded of how much I needed to see some hills again. Be thankful for where you are….as you shall miss it when you’re gone. Back in western PA now for a weeks visit with friends and relatives since we won’t be here for Thanksgiving. Christmas shopping, visitations, football playoff games will be the key words for the week.

 

 

 

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Mean Mother Nature


Saturday was our last day at work in the Gnome Cafe. Plans were to work breakfast and lunch and the close by 2 pm. This would give us preparation time for the big Halloween dinner and party being held later that evening. By 9 am. the snow started in a drizzle and in an hour, everything was white. At noon, there were at least four inches. The snow was wet and heavy and you could begin to see branches bow due to our late summer and an overabundance of leaves still on the trees. Directly before closing the power went down and clean-up was not an option. Things had gotten severe in a short time such that traction on the paved roads was nearly impossible, golf carts were rendered useless, the we took on blizzard-like conditions. It soon became apparent that the great Halloween party and any subsequent evening activities were going to be cancelled. The park was full this weekend so this came much to the chagrin of all residents. However, this act of nature could be blamed on no one. We left the cafe and headed back to our rig only to find a 40′ long tree had broken and placed itself across the top of our roof, rendering the rear slide out useless. Things continued to worsen and the crack of trees breaking outside sounding much like a shooting range. Sounds were ominous and every few seconds another loud “crack” would sound and you had to look to see if anything around you was going to come down nearby. We fired up the generator and I was wise enough to load up the water tank so we would be fine for awhile. I began thinking however, that it was one thing if I couldn’t move the bus, but another if the truck should encounter damage and we be without any transportation. It was then that we decided to move it to the main parking lot, safe from the possibility of more falling trees. Lock it into four-wheel drive as no one was going anywhere without it. In fact, the heavy and now ten inch blanket was making even four wheeling a bit unnerving. Driving to the parking lot I found many vans, and cars spinning in place, trying desperately to make their way out somehow. Where they were going was a surprise to me as the main road outside the park was even more of a disaster than the manicured ones inside. I spent much of the evening towing people out of their misery and into the parking lot whereby they could get a bit of traction. We parked our truck and started walking back to the motohome. While we were gone another problem posed itself. A large limb went thru the front of the grille, knocking off our hood covering that houses the wiper apparatus, fluid tanks, and other mechanical instruments. How fortunate we were that both tree fallings happened while we were not at home. We hunkered down for the night, found one channel on the TV as the cable system went out and started to return emails. It’s been four days now without water, the electricity was restored yesterday, and the damage to the park and units in the thousands. But the skeleton crew is doing yeoman work in restoring as much as possible. We had planned on leaving early this week but are still awaiting a backed-up insurance adjuster. We’re doing our best at lending a hand with anything needed. Sure our plans are altered but being retired, there’s no time table. Shortly we’ll head for the midwest and visit some old friends we haven’t seen in two year. More on our travels shortly. Enjoy the slideshow.

 

 

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Hearts Scarred Forever

Ann Bakker. She was both crystalline and mercurial. Her beauty, her shimmer, simply dropped out, leaving us all with only cold clarity. We met Ann a year and half ago. She is the wife of Jerome, my supervisor, who has become a friend. We grew close over this recent twenty months. We laughed, we cried, we visited, we dined. We cajoled with each other, whined and complained, and in turn, rejoiced at all we were thankful for. We grew to be true friends, those that you would do the unthinkable at the drop of a hat. Yesterday, life was stolen from Ann’s body. Her family suffered a week of misery by this unannounced fate.  She was a youthful fifty-two. We are cheated, all of us. For the personnae that she embraced, was not enough. The last time we encountered Ann we were leaving the park for our trip west. She was walking her beloved Samson. Jerome rode along with her. As our eyes met theirs, we laughed. A practical joke was fielded, and without words, glances were enough. We all burst into laughter. That’s how it was with Ann. There is a reason far beyond my thought process for this “void” life has surrendered unto us. In time, we will learn this. And Ann’s purpose in our lives, the fate of our meeting, shall be rejoiced in ways too numerous to calculate . We love you, sweet Ann.

My photo pays homage to Ann’s spirit. It was taken at the 2010 Halloween party in the cafe. I chose it for this was she; witty, quiet but fun. You can see the enjoyment on her face at the height of her “Jerome” season.

 

 

 

 

 

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Brutus’ Bantering

I am just so exhausted. The past three weeks have been a whirlwind for me and I’ve spent most of the weekends alone. I’m missing my Robin severely. You see, she and Larry are the only cafe caretakers in the park. The other cooks have gone South, East, and West. So they work on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. They seem to like it but when they return home, I find them too tired to take me out to play. Sure I get my walk in, but I want to lift my leg on everything in the park and they just don’t seem into it. At the beginning of the week I attach myself to Robin as I know we’re headed for Jersey. I’m not crazy about this trip and especially Sadie, but I have to be near Robin. Larry has started calling me by a pseudonym…….”Velcro”. I don’t like that name. And get this. Mom bought a park model. It’s nice, much more room, but I don’t know where I live anymore. Larry vaccilates between the motorcoach and this new “lakehouse”. I’ll have to get a photo for you. You can’t believe the trips in the golf cart I have to take back and forth from the coach to the new house, bringing in my beds, my toys, my food, not to mention all the chotchkies that mom brings in for decorations. Give me a blanket and a set of outstretched legs to lay on and I’m in doggie heaven.  So we babysit here in NJ the first part of the week. I have to admit that little Xavier is a succulent face. He smiles and laughs a lot and all I want to do is lick that little shit. However, he’s garnering all of mom’s attention while we’re there. I think she enjoys playing with him far more than me. And how does she get that energy when she’s around the new baby…..she doesn’t have it for me anymore. On the few off days they have, I get all excited thinking we’re going cruising the countryside. But noooo, all we do is run errands, get to shop for items for the cafe and rest. Mom left the back door open by mistake the other day. When they went off to work, I went out the back door, down the steps and headed back to the motorhome in search of them. Just as I was trotting by the mini-golf, a camper picked me up and deterred my journey. They carried me to the cafe and asked if anyone knew of this lost dog. Hell, I wasn’t lost. I was on a mission, heading back to my old home. Larry came to the door, thanked the campers and Robin took me back to the new home. This doesn’t end. We headed back to Pittsburgh at the beggining of the week. I’m snuck into a hotel room in a bag, only to have to sit at my aunts house while these two give me some kind of bullshit story about going for checkups. I get checkups and hate them, so I know they have to be lying. No one would intentionally go for a checkup. The next day we go to their friends to stay. I don’t know where I live anymore, everyday a different venue. And not much attention I’m getting. I can tell you that. So we make the trip back to Lake In Wood earlier than expected, not staying in western PA very long. A phone call to mom has us packing up and heading back rather quickly. I hear a sadness in their tone as we mesmerize down the turnpike. We get back, and Larry spends his first night in the new lakehouse. It’s a somber place. They’re both shedding tears and I don’t understand the dilemma. A softness has dampened the campground. Something is wrong. I can’t put my paw on it. I’ll soon find out.

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9/11 In a Different Light

09/11/01 is stamped indelibly in our minds. We remember the morning, where we were, and the aftermath of that infamous date. Not to diminish those events, I commemorate that day in my own personal way. 9/11 was the date I chose for my cancer surgery and this marks my fourth anniversary sans the dreaded “Big C”. I celebrated with my son at the Bertil Roos Driving School by careening around the Pocono Raceway at speeds of 130 mph. Her purchased this day as a gift for my most recent birthday, sheduling it on this infamous of days. We drove the three hours to the Poconos on Saturday night, staying in a nearby hotel in order to be on time for Sunday morning. We arrived at the school by 8 a.m., registered, got fitted with our racing suits, helmets and sat in on the first of four lessons. Then it was off to the track, speeding first around the track in Malibu’s to garner a sense of the layout. Into the trailer for more instructions on handling, flags, and how to forget almost everything you were taught in regular traffic driving.  Fitting into a Formula racer was the first feat for this mesomorph. The first run we were only allowed to do 85 mph until we gained a feel for the track. We, (there were five others along with Ryan and I) motored the track for 20 minute sessions, taking hairpin turns, passing on the inside along the wall, and doing our best not to spin out. That doesn’t seem like much but believe me , at high speeds that twenty minute session took it’s toll physically. After each session it was back into the classroom to be critiqued by four instructors that monitored our progress on the track. With each 20 minute session we got better and faster. I didn’t spin out until my third session. That was due to the fact that I was feeling a bit cocky, able to get my speed up well over 120, and allowed the Formula roadster to get a little out of control. It didn’t flip, but I did a complete  360, four times in about 3 seconds without peeing my pants. By the final of four outings on the track, I was as confident as I could ever imagine rolling down the wall at 132 mph, as we were clocked. I was hooked. I was possessed at taking the turns as narrow as possible, and burning the rubber in pursuit of whomever was in front of me on the track. The experience was the most exhiliarating, yet exhausting one I can remember. Holding onto that 9 inch wheel at those speeds tested not only the triceps but today it feels as if every sinewy nerve and muscle was taxed. I will be back. I’d like to say this was one more item on the bucket list, but that term is too finite and mortal. I have a long way to go and much to experience before I begin my bucket list. Until then, I’ll continue to be on the lookout for the ecstactic experience,  what excites me or moves me to tears, that which makes the blood rush to my head, my heart skip a beat, my knees shaky and my soul sigh. Thank you, Ryan, for another day with my son, my friend, the thrill-seeker.

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Week of Weather Whirlwinds

We’ve run the gamut as far as weather conditions and climate alterations in the past few weeks.  Initially, it was the earthquake, pale in comparison to those along the San Andreas fault. But in Pennsylvania, those almost never appear so it was a big deal. I’m sure they would scoff at us on the Left Coast but it gave us something to talk about for a week. 

Klaas and Judy, owners here at LIW, hosted a fillet and lobster dinner for all the workampers in the Gnome Cafe.  Approximately 70 people showed for the event.

Mike Walling, known in these parts as the Porkmeister, presided as the main chef, grilling the steaks and handling the lobster. I assisted and was charged with the baked potatoes and salad for the masses.

Everyone seemed pleased with the meal and Mike was a great help to me in teaching me some great tricks when serving a large populace.

Not to be outdone by the earthquake, along came remnant of Hurricane Irene. She may have pummeled the east coast but the backlash of winds from her “eye” made a mess of things around here for a short time.

Power went down for a day and a half but we kept open the cafe in order for any wayfarer camper to have a safe haven from the winds. As quick as it came, it went. Jerome and his entourage of groundskeepers painstakingly policed the resort. A day after its exit, you wouldn’t have known we were a part of the aftermath. Two days later, I joined Ken and Pete for a round at The Hawk. Ken and Pat will be leaving tomorrow, so this would have been our last links encounter for the year. The competition brought out the best in me. They spurned me to turn in my best round of the season so far. Thank you, gentlemen.

Cheryl and Jerry invited us mid-week to a cuisine that was foreign to these taste buds. Apparently, low country boil is a revered entree in the Carolinas. They had talked about it for some time and promised to intoduce us to the Palmetto State’s finest. Skeptical at first, this quickly turned to a pleasant surprise. Keilbasa led the way into the boiling pot, stuff with Bay seasoning, add the potatoes some seven minutes later, followed by the ears of corn, boil a little more, and then add the shrimp as the coup de grace. Finish off the boil and its’ usually dumped onto newspaper. However, short of that, Cherly found a fine platter for us all to partake in the feast.

And just as soon as we were riding a high, along came the tropical storms. I’ve never seen such incessant rain for so long in my life. Apparently, from the studios in Harrisburg, reporters confided this flood had even surpassed the last great disaster of 1972. Confined to the RV, a lot of good downsizing was able to take place. Some reading, some computer time, some thinking, gave time for reflection. Although I didn’t realize it, I needed that. I was in a funk. The words of encouragement from some of you out there turned the tide a bit. Thank you for the challenge. Following the pelting, we couldn’t keep from surveying the damage. Like rubbernecks on a turnpike, we cruised the county. Isn’t it warped how we seek the unusual, the disastrous, the fearful, to see in plain view. Oxymorons are we.

 

 

 

 

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Change

In some way I need a change from this summer scene.  Another time another town  Another everything. I’m over the line, can’t define what I’m after.

 

 

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Green with Envy

Did you ever read about a frog who dreamed of being a king and then became one. Well, except for the names and a few other changes, you can
talk about me, the story’s the same one. But then came the hair, some where I don’t want it, none where I do want it, growing pains and aches, and then I found that all things come full circle.

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