Isn’t That How Life Goes?

The weatherman swore that rain would reach southern Ohio yesterday. Depending on who you listened to, it was an eighty to ninety percent probability. I drifted off to sleep Saturday night, excited at the prospects that rain would wash away the pollen, dust and fatigue that had settled in with the 100 plus heat index.

It was still dry when I woke up but it felt like rain. A stiff breeze bent tree limbs, rustling the leaves hard enough to make us think it was just minutes away. And then the breeze moved on, the promise of rain passed, leaving us feeling teased and cheated by Mother Nature. 

I waited all day, reading social media accounts of rain in areas all around. Friends sat on their porches and watched a downpour while others sent their kids out to play in a light shower. Finally, nearing bedtime, I filled my watering cans and headed out to water container plants and some of the younger plants that were looking a little pekid. 

And then it happened. Just after I surrendered to the idea that at least the grass would die before it needs mowing, I heard the hard knocking of a downpour against the windows. It was sudden, overflowing my aging gutters and reminding me of how badly they need to be replaced. It also reminded me of childhood summers when my folks kept a rain barrel and of hot days when my mother would wash my hair in the rain.

Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. The experience is refreshing. 

Isn’t that how life goes? 

You wait for the thing you have no control over but want most. And you wait and wait and wait some more only to not see your wishes realized. And just when you give up, life gives you the thing you hoped for. 

At least the rain came, even if it was a few hours late. A small river flowed through my backyard, washing away the dust and pollen and perhaps even the extreme heat for a little while. All the flowers got a good soaking thanks to Mother Nature’s generosity. It did cool off some. 

For all of this I am grateful.

Adventureless Summer

Back in 2020 when most places were covid closed, I developed the habit of just getting in the car and driving to see what I could see. A covered bridge, some murals, an interesting building and even a pretty field were all potential subjects for my camera. When things began to open up, I would seek out museums, shops and other places that looked interesting along the way.

This is how I spent most Saturdays and sometimes even a weeknight here and there and honestly, some of these random search and see trips were the most fun I’ve had. 

I somehow have fallen out of this habit and am barely going out and seeing stuff at all. This needs addressed sooner rather than later. The open road calls my name. 

There’s a long weekend trip on my calendar soon. As I prepare for that, the list of things I want to see is growing but I’m equally excited for the things we might see along the way. I’m hoping it’s not so hot that we can’t just park the car and wander around a neighborhood. It’s on foot that you see the flower growing in the sidewalk crack or the secret garden tucked down a narrow alley. It’s on foot that you smell the fresh roasted peanuts that draw you into the corner ice cream spot and that you hear the town clock ringing on the hour. 

In the beginning, this blog was designed to tell you about all the neat things you can do and see that are unexpected. It started with pictures of great old theaters and covered bridges and encouragement to just go nose around your area. Now I write more about other stuff and less about adventuring. It is my goal to get out soon and start adventuring more. 

It’s part of my lifestyle I don’t want to lose. 

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After all, what is life without learning? And what is learning without exploration? And what is exploration without a sense there is something awesome to be found just around the next corner?

Where will you adventure this summer? What bend in the road needs exploring? What’s keeping you from going? Seriously. It’s time to go!

The One That Got Away

The neon sign still looked good against the blue Colorado sky. November weather in Denver can be a crap shoot but we won that day. It was jacket weather but sunny and beautiful – ideal for the cowboy that looked like he might tip his hat from atop the Davie’s Chuck Wagon Diner sign.

I’m a sucker for vintage signs. And for diners.

Really, for anything that harkens to an earlier time. That’s the only reason we were there. To see an old diner with a gorgeous old sign.

I promised my friend that I would buy her lunch if our diner breakfast was bad. That’s another crapshoot. Diner breakfast is either delicious or your basic greasy grub. 

There’s little middle ground. 

Davie’s is the kind of place that sells cold cereal alongside pineapple by the slice and something called the Chuckwagon Breakfast. 

Our waitress was an older lady who called her regulars hon. It seemed like she had a lot of regulars. She neither approved nor disapproved of my veggie omelette but she brought it quickly and kept my Diet Coke topped off so I liked her. I don’t drink much pop but an early morning after a long day of traveling is one exception to the rule. 

Our corner booth was situated just inches from the table next to us where an elderly man studied a newspaper crossword puzzle. His pencil, slow and deliberate, scratched in the letters. He never erased and never looked up from his work except when a coffee refill was offered or when he took a bite of hot cereal.

I had an irrational desire to strike up a conversation with this stranger but it wasn’t as strong as his apparent desire to be left alone.

And so I did. 

Later, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and admired the tile work behind me. The wall tile was a mid-century pink but a closer look at the floor revealed some tiles featured images with a western theme. 

I wondered how long that man had been coming here. Does he not have cereal at home? Does he just enjoy the atmosphere? Does he have pleasant memories of bringing his children here to admire the cowboy sign out front? What does he think of the cowboy tiles scattered around the restaurant?

That man will always be like a good fishing tale to me. He was one that got away without telling me his story. 

Memories like this are etched in my mind’s eye. Like snapshots in a photo album, they flip through my consciousness and make me appreciate the pure delight of the places I’ve been and the near encounters I’ve had. 

Who needs a resort vacation when you can find neon, a great  breakfast and an intriguing character all in one place? 

Not me.

Coping With Summer

Summer began yesterday but the heat arrived early and has been wailing on us for a while now here in southern Ohio. In case you’re new here, I’m not a fan of this season where I live. 

I like how green everything is and the act of discovery every day when I check the progress of my flowers is rewarding. I like not worrying so much about how the weather will impact my travels. My wardrobe of summer dresses makes me happy because they’re comfortable and cool. Baby animals, turtles and butterflies make life more interesting. There are lots of events and car shows throughout the season so there’s a lot of free entertainment at our fingertips.

This is all great. The rest of it kind of stinks. 

The heat and humidity here make it hard to go outside and enjoy any of those things I mentioned. Then there are the bugs and snakes. And poison ivy, allergies and the endlessly wasteful act of mowing. Plus, summer clothes are ugly and I really hate seeing everyone’s bare feet. The sight of toes in a flip flop makes me cringe. Did I mention that we spend most of our time running from one air conditioned place to the next just to survive?

It’s literally the worst season in Ohio. Next to orange season, of course. That’s when the Ohio Department of Transportation exhibits every orange barrel and cone they own along miles and miles of Ohio’s roads. This season runs approximately from mid-March through Christmas and is nearly pointless but does brighten the roadways, I suppose.

By the way, I never complain about winter so I have license to complain about summer.

I had Juneteenth off from work and a day free to do as I pleased. While I contemplated going out for a midweek adventure, my desire to beat the heat index and be cool won out. With temperatures in the mid nineties and a heat index over 100, I just couldn’t volunteer to leave the house for any reason. 

Instead, we stayed inside with the central air on and curtains drawn, watching movies and eating cold things. It was the most relaxing day I’ve had in ages. 

The summer solstice has come and gone and now we begin to see every day lose just a little light. While I despise the weather, I better get busy with some adventures. After all, if we wait for perfect conditions to do the things we enjoy, we may never get anything done. We have to make the best of our circumstances and try to enjoy life anyway!

Juneteenth

When I was a kid, history class was mostly about memorizing dates and names. There was little talk of the humanity behind those facts and no real effort was made to teach empathy or imagination.

The Civil War and slavery occupied a chapter in the textbook. It felt like a mere footnote in our nation’s history rather than a series of events that went on for centuries and that literally tore the country apart. I don’t even recall hearing the word Juneteenth until college history classes. Even then, I’m not sure how much I really appreciated the significance of the date or the events leading up to it.

A lot of textbook editors having a nasty habit of watering down the facts and minimizing the cruelty of slavery. There are still plenty of people in this country today who claim it wasn’t that bad. They say it has been so long since slavery ended that it doesn’t matter and the country needs to just forget about it.

I don’t understand this way of thinking. Then I remember the utter lack of empathy people have for anyone unlike them. And I remember how poorly this topic has been addressed in schools. And then I remember just how ill informed so many people are today.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised after all.

The Blennerhassett Museum in Parkersburg, West Virginia used to have two items on display that I think every American should see at least once. The first is a newspaper classified ad for a group of slaves being sold at auction in Clarksburg, West Virginia. The ad is designed to dehumanize the people, describing only the age, physical characteristics and abilities of each slave. They weren’t described as humans but as chattel.

There was nothing unusual about this ad or the language used to describe the “property being sold.” Maybe that’s why it bothered me so much. It was simply characteristic of the language, attitudes and procedures of the day. My mind cannot wrap itself around this idea that families could be split apart, people could be forced into captivity and human rights could be denied anyone simply for the color of their skin.

What kind of nation would allow this to happen?

The other artifact was a heavy cast iron collar. It was impossibly small and designed to be worn around the neck. I swear, if someone put such a thing on me I would panic and pass out. It was a monument to inhumanity.

My blood still runs cold at the very thought even though I saw these things years ago.

It was June 19, 1865 when slaves in Galveston, Texas finally learned that they were free. This was two years after President Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation and months after the war ended. This was the last Confederate community of enslaved people to learn of their freedom.

Juneteenth has long been a sacred day for many black communities and is celebrated as America’s other Independence Day. I am glad to see it recognized by our nation as a federal holiday.

I’m just sorry it took this long and that so many still don’t understand why the day should be celebrated. It is a joyous day and yet one that feels solemn to me.

Let us remember all those who suffered, who lost their lives, who were separated from loved ones, and who never got to taste freedom in their life on this earth. Let us learn something from this shameful chapter of our past and let us rejoice on this important day. It IS a special day and one that deserves celebrating.

Pizza Hut Classic

If you are an eighties kid who ever participated in the Pizza Hut Book-It program just to get a free personal pan pizza, I have a secret for you.

There’s something called Pizza Hut Classic restaurants that are like a portal back to 1985. Here the pizza comes out in a scolding hot metal pan, soft drinks are served in plastic tumblers and the vintage advertising on the walls will make you feel like a kid again.

Don’t even get me started on the red checked vinyl tablecloths and amazing Tiffany style stained glass light fixtures!

In an age where Pizza Hut has closed so many of their iconic red roofed dine-in restaurants, it’s down right refreshing to find one that feels like it has been mostly left untouched all these years. Most of their locations are just carry-out or delivery store fronts that rob us of the opportunity to sit and enjoy the dining experience.

We stopped at this one in Hillsboro, Ohio after I read about how Pizza Hut has been converting some of its locations to celebrate the vibe of the chain’s seventies and eighties heyday.

I felt like a kid again, nearly scalding the roof of my mouth with all that gooey cheese! Back in the day, my pizza would have been pepperoni. Now my choice is veggie or just plain cheese. This veggie pizza was excellent. In fact, I don’t know what they did to it, but it was way better than what you get at a carry-out location.

You can spot one of these restaurants easily because the pole sign says Pizza Hut Classic.

Who says time travel isn’t possible?