Category: Texas

How I Got My Beads – Day 18

How I Got My Beads

Day 18 – April 18, 2003 – Friday

trip 2003 04 25 CA San Diego Bill Windsor and his beads 640

I was just doing my thing at 11:45 am on April 18, 2003 in the extremely remote area between Del Rio and Big Bend, Texas.  In this area, I’d go for long stretches without even seeing another car.  My thing consists of driving as my eyes scan 180-degrees ahead enjoying the view and looking for anything that my mind considers especially interesting at that point.  I came across a car that was moving slowly on the two-lane road, so I spent pass #8 to get around them.  As I drove by, I saw a long web address painted on the side of the car.  I thought to myself that this was very interesting to see on a passenger car, and I wanted to know what it said.  So, I pulled off the road to take a photo just so I could read the web address when they passed me.  They passed, but there was no web address.  Uh oh, 18 days on the road and I’m beginning to hallucinate.  I knew I saw a web address, so I spent pass #9 to go around them again.  It said “floatingneutrinos.com,” and there was some other writing on the car that I couldn’t make out.  Floating Neutrinos???  I wonder what in the world a Floating Neutrino is!  I was anxious to get to a hotel so I could check out the website.

 

I motored on, and it was several miles before I saw something that I wanted to photograph.  So, off the side of the road I went, and out of the car with the camera.  A few minutes later, I saw the Floating Neutrinos car approach and pass.  As the car drove by, I was able to see an Ernest Hemingway-looking driver, with a woman riding shotgun, and a dog in the back seat.  They drove slowly past, and the woman’s arm was sticking out of the passenger side window gently waving Mardi Gras beads.  They stopped 50 feet ahead of me, and I walked up to the car, and I met Poppa and Aurelia and Buckaroo the dog.  They gave me the beads as a gift.  How special was this.  I knew from looking into their eyes that this was going to be interesting.  I can’t remember everything that was discussed as I kind of felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.  Buckaroo kept barking, and Aurelia told me to avoid eye contact, as he would not bite me unless I looked him in the eyes.

I donned my new beads, and we began to talk as I tried to remember to avoid making eye contact with Buckaroo.  As I recall, they were especially enthusiastic about my odyssey, but we very quickly began talking about them.  I learned, among other things, that Papa Neutrino and Aurelia (aka Captain Betsy) took a trip from New York City across the Atlantic Ocean to Ireland and then down to Spain.  Many people have taken a trip across the Atlantic Ocean, but Poppa and Aurelia did it floating on a RAFT!  Poppa opened the trunk of his car, and he pulled out a yellowed laminated newspaper story from the New York Times with their picture and a picture of the raft (that looked like something out of a Steven Spielberg movie).  What an amazing adventure, and what stories they have to tell.  I tried to remain focused, but I just kept thinking how incredible to be on my unique journey by land …to bump into on the highway literally in the middle of nowhere…two incredibly interesting people who risked their lives while making an incredible journey by sea.  Going to the river with Fast Freddy paled in comparison.

 

Poppa said he wanted to give me a song that he had written.  I noticed a guitar case in the trunk.  (And after Fast Freddy and the giant hedge trimmers, I’m sorry to say that the thought of there being a machine gun inside rather than a guitar did skate through my mind.)  Poppa gave me a photocopy of the words and music to “Thanks to the Yanks of the USA.”  He asked if I would like to hear him sing it, and I said absolutely!  Poppa played the guitar and sang; Aurelia smiled; Buckaroo barked; and I thought how sweet and what a truly unique experience…and scrambled to get a photo of this as no one would ever believe it.

 

When the serenade ended, I had to ask Poppa his views of the Iraqi War.  I anticipated that Poppa and Aurelia would be anti-war.  His response was fascinating.  Poppa and Aurelia are not “meat eaters” and would not even kill a mosquito…and though President Bush “is a hunter” and eats meat and hunts and kills, they both support the President, voted for him, and believe his actions will dramatically change the world for the better.  I didn’t expect to hear that.  Poppa talked about a lot of things that I didn’t fully comprehend there on the side of the road, but I am anxious to explore the website.  The back of their car has this painted on it: “Let those who know tell those who don’t know.”  The front of the car has a symbol about the “seven levels” that I believe conveys their philosophy of life.

Before we parted, Poppa and Captain Betsy gave me a videotape of their raft trip across the ocean and a CD of great jazz music by their children, the Flying Neutrinos!  The CD is excellent; I’ve played it several times since, and we will continue to enjoy it.  Boz and I watched the video, and it is better than many of the movies we have seen.  I could have stood there for hours, but I had a long way to go and no hotel reservation, so I said goodbye.  I just kept thinking about what an amazing encounter this had been.  To see and learn more about Papa, Captain Betsy, and Buckaroo, see www.floatingneutrinos.com.

 

The Impact of The Beads

 

I’ve worn my green, purple, and white beads ever since I met the Floating Neutrinos.  The Floating Neutrinos have to be really lucky to have survived their float across the ocean on a raft, so I consider the beads to be a good luck charm.

 

The beads have added a whole new dimension to the trip.  Women smile and many men look at me with a “can you believe that ‘weirdo’ look.”  Kids stare.  I’m meeting far more people with the beads.  Those of you who know me know how conservative I am, so the beads are a walk on the wild side.

 

I felt that I needed a gift for people I meet, though I will say that most of the people I have met seem surprisingly excited about having their name in the book.  While the business card and a little fame may be gift enough, I ordered a case of beads.

 

The first case of beads was gone in no time, so we ordered three more cases.  It’s nice to be able to share a little good luck as we travel.

The Floating Neutrinos – Day 18

Day 18 — April 18, 2003 — Friday

The Floating Neutrinos

Day 18 was PHENOMENAL!  Best day yet for me; my only regret is that Boz was in Atlanta and missed it.  It’s interesting that I can consider it the best though I had three significant problems and one big travel disappointment: (1)  I found the BADlands Hotel to be BAD and the top nominee for worst use of money on the trip. (2)  There was neither electricity, nor water, nor telephone service at the BADlands Hotel.  (3)  I seriously injured my left eye.   (4)  It was an overcast day (only thing worse is rain when you are going to see beautiful natural sights).

The power failure was in the town of Lajitas where I found a hotel room.  No electricity, no water, no telephones.  Even if all the utilities had been working, my Internet service didn’t work there.  (I will not have Internet at several points along the way, so please don’t worry if a day or two goes by without a website update, and if you are really worried, call me at 404-606-1885, but recognize that the area I have been in for the last three or four days has been essentially without cell phone service.)  I injured my left eye on a hike in the middle of a sand dune in Big Bend when the wind hit and knocked out the power in Lajitas.  My left eye was scratched so badly that I couldn’t even open it, and it was very painful.

Big Bend is incredibly beautiful (even on an overcast day), and it is the ultimate sunset spot, as you can drive from location to location while the sun is setting and see a variety of spectacular sights from heights that provide the ideal view.

I met some really interesting people on Day 18, including a Jehovah’s Witness at a gas pump (Ricky Bowman); a Border Patrol officer (Officer Hart); five fine young missionaries (Katy, Pete, Claire, Chris, and Katie) who I met at a gas station and then saw down the road when they had a blowout; two delightful ladies running a gas station in Sanderson Texas (Gennie Merrifield and Deanna Seager); a man who went to Texas Tech the same years I did, and his wife (Dalton and Pearl Hobbs); five park rangers (Ranger Rob, Katrina, Ranger Don, Casey, and Anita); the Tulane University tennis coach and her husband (Mary Lee and Brian); a former missionary and his wife – a Harvard-educated attorney (Ruben and Karen); a nurse/pilot and her doctor husband (Britton and Dan); Mike the night manager at the Study Butte “Mall;” a great bartender/waitress (Yvette); a couple who are in the unconventional lapidary business (Cindy and James); the Floating Neutrinos (Papa and Aurelia); and several others (including tourists Carol, Duane, Stan, and Roma as well as Jeannie and Steve).  While I enjoyed meeting all of these folks and learning a little about most of them, the Floating Neutrinos may be the most interesting people I have ever met.

The day began in Del Rio at 8:30 am.  69-degrees and dusty.  I met Ricky Bowman at a gas pump.  Ricky’s a big barrel-chested 100% Texan-looking man.  He saw the sign on the car and asked what I was up to.  He is fairly new in Del Rio – moved there so they could be near their grandchild.  We figure that’s about the best reason to live anywhere!  He told me the sky isn’t always gray there.  We talked for quite a while before he said he would like to give me something.  He went to his pickup and brought me two magazines – “The Watchtower” and “Awakenings.”  Ricky is a Jehovah’s Witness.  I’ve never had a real conversation with a Jehovah’s Witness, so I asked about how and why he chose that religion, and I asked what his view is of the war in Iraq.  He chose the religion because of the warmth and sincerity he felt from the members of the group.  That sounded like a good reason to me.  As to the war, he informed me that the Jehovah’s Witnesses believe we are “at the end of our days.”  (I don’t believe I will join up as I would much prefer to look on the bright side.)  We talked a little more about this, and Ricky admitted that the “end of our days” could be a period of a million years or some such huge number.  Ricky asked if I was going to Hawaii, and I told him it would be the 50th state to visit.  He said the first Kingdom Hall (aka church) was in Hawaii, so I promised to go see it and get a photo for him.  I wished Ricky the best for his grandchild and for our own and for their grandchildren and their grandchildren and….

I ran into Officer Hart of the Border Patrol at the mini-mart,  He confirmed that the Border Patrol needs more people.

Not far outside Del Rio is the Amistad Dam and reservoir.  The terrain became pretty — going from flat white desert to brown to green with some hills and gullies (Is that the right term for a small canyon?).  There wasn’t a safe place to pull off for a good photo.

26 miles from Del Rio was another Border Patrol Checkpoint.  I guess I don’t look like I’m smuggling any illegals in my little car as they just waved me through.

Not much in the little town of Comstock.  I did see a Deer Storage place.  The terrain is so flat and barren in this area that it just doesn’t seem fair to the deer.

When I reached the Pecos River, I realized I missed a bet when I didn’t pull off at a “roadside park” that wasn’t billed on the highway as one of the best scenic overlooks in the state.  U-Turn (what the car now does best), and I found myself at the top of a little mountain meeting Dalton Hobbs and his wife Pearl.  Dalton had a double T on his shirt, so I assumed he went to my alma mater, Texas Tech.  He did.  And we were there the same 4’ish years.  He was in advertising, and I was in marketing, so we probably had classes together.  I’m counting it as the second meeting  of “an old friend” in two days!  The Pecos River Bridge is the highest in Texas, and it is really an impressive sight, especially after several days of choking on the dust in the border towns.

Mountains appeared on the horizon as I took Loop 25 off the highway and headed for Langtry.  Langtry was the home of Judge Roy Bean, and his courtroom, saloon, and pool hall have been maintained by the state.  Judge Bean is well-known to Texans and anyone interested in the Old West as he was a notorious judge who dispensed his own brand of justice and profited from his position.  In addition to the building, there is a very interesting Cactus Museum on the grounds.  I never stopped to realize there are so many different varieties.

I wrote two days ago that I was in the wide open spaces.  I wrote yesterday that it was wider and opener.  Today it is the widest and openest.  It will be 265 miles from Del Rio to the entrance to the one million acres that are Big Bend National Park and Big Bend Ranch State Park, and there are only four towns on that route.  The four towns are tiny, and only two had anything that I could see (Sanderson and Marathon).  Look on your Road Atlas, and you’ll see a huge area in Texas with not much in the way of dots.

Outside of Langtry, the speed limit increased to 75, and so did I.  There just isn’t anything to see alongside the road.  I did pass an RV at one point.

I reached Sanderson at 11:30.  The sign said “Cactus Capital of the Southwest.”  I didn’t see any increase in the amount of cactus that had been for as far as the eye could see for 125 miles, but I mentally applauded Sanderson for “celebrating what they got” – something we have noted numerous times on the trip.  Inside the gas station, I met Gennie Merrifield and Deanna Seager, two delightful ladies.  We had a nice talk about the trip, and Gennie suggested that I go see their train depot.  She thought showing it in the book might help them raise money to restore it as the city was having trouble getting money.  I enjoyed it and a few other things I saw due to that detour, and I hope I might help them raise some money as great old buildings like this need to be preserved!

My lunch consisted of a Goodarts Peanut Patty.  These babies are good!  If you’ve never had a peanut patty, you’ve been missing a great Texas treat.  A high school and college friend, Robert Taylor, used to own Goodarts.

As I started to pull away from the gas station in Sanderson, I noticed a group of young college-age-looking folks.  I asked which way they were headed, and they said Big Bend.  I walked over and met Katy, Pete, Claire, Chris, and Katie.  They are all missionaries working in the McAllen area.  These are really fine young people, and it was so great to hear about the good they were doing.  It struck me that there is a lot we can all do to help others, and it doesn’t have to be with money.

In this part of the country, there are all kinds of things that you don’t see elsewhere.  For example, I drove over “Three Mile Draw,” as well as places called gulch, arroyo, bend, creek, and many others.  Not many rivers, but a lot of gulches.  You see windmills from time to time; these are kind of like lighthouses in that both are a sign of life.  In the desert, the windmills provide the energy to pull the water out of the ground, and where there’s water, there’s usually life.

I was just doing my thing at 11:45 am.  In this area, I’d go for long stretches without even seeing another car.  My thing consists of driving as my eyes scan 180-degrees ahead enjoying the view and looking for anything that my mind considers especially interesting at that point.  I came across a car that was moving slowly on the two-lane road, so I spent pass #8 to get around them.  As I drove by, I saw a long web address painted on the side of the car.  I thought to myself that this was very interesting to see on a passenger car, and I wanted to know what it said.  So, I pulled off the road to take a photo just so I could read the web address when they passed me.  They passed, but there was no web address.  Uh oh, 18 days on the road and I’m beginning to hallucinate.  I knew I saw a web address, so I spent pass #9 to go around them again.  It said “floatingneutrinos.com,” and there was some other writing on the car that I couldn’t make out.  Floating Neutrinos???  I wonder what in the world a Floating Neutrino is!  I was anxious to get to a hotel so I could check out the website.

I motored on, and it was several miles before I saw something that I wanted to photograph.  So, off the side of the road I went, and out of the car with the camera.  A few minutes later, I saw the Floating Neutrinos car approach and pass.  As the car drove by, I was able to see an Ernest Hemingway-looking driver, with a woman riding shotgun, and a dog in the back seat.  They drove slowly past, and the woman’s arm was sticking out of the passenger side window gently waving Mardi Gras beads.  They stopped 50 feet ahead of me, and I walked up to the car; and I met Papa and Aurelia and Buckaroo the dog.  They gave me the beads as a gift.  How special was this.  I knew from looking into their eyes that this was going to be interesting.  I can’t remember everything that was discussed as I kind of felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.  Buckaroo kept barking, and Aurelia told me to avoid eye contact, as he would not bite me unless I looked him in the eyes.

I donned my new beads, and we began to talk as I tried to remember to avoid making eye contact with Buckaroo.  As I recall, they were especially enthusiastic about my odyssey, but we very quickly began talking about them.  I learned, among other things, that Papa Neutrino and Aurelia (aka Captain Betsy) took a trip from New York City across the Atlantic Ocean to Ireland and then down to Spain.  Many people have taken a trip across the Atlantic Ocean, but Papa and Aurelia did it floating on a RAFT!  Papa opened the trunk of his car, and he pulled out a yellowed laminated newspaper story from the New York Times with their picture and a picture of the raft (that looked like something out of a Steven Spielberg movie).  What an amazing adventure, and what stories they have to tell.  I tried to remain focused, but I just kept thinking how incredible to be on my unique journey by land …to bump into on the highway literally in the middle of nowhere…two incredibly interesting people who risked their lives while making an incredible journey by sea.  Going to the river with Fast Freddy paled in comparison.

Papa said he wanted to give me a song that he had written.  I noticed a guitar case in the trunk.  (And after Fast Freddy and the giant hedge trimmers, I’m sorry to say that the thought of there being a machine gun inside rather than a guitar did skate through my mind.)  Papa gave me a photocopy of the words and music to “Thanks to the Yanks of the USA.”  He asked if I would like to hear him sing it, and I said absolutely!  Papa played the guitar and sang; Aurelia smiled; Buckaroo barked; and I thought how sweet and what a truly unique experience…and scrambled to get a photo of this as no one would ever believe it.

When the serenade ended, I had to ask Papa his views of the Iraqi War.  I anticipated that Papa and Aurelia would be anti-war.  His response was fascinating.  Papa and Aurelia are not “meat eaters” and would not even kill a mosquito…and though President Bush “is a hunter” and eats meat and hunts and kills, they both support the President, voted for him, and believe his actions will dramatically change the world for the better.  I didn’t expect to hear that.  Papa talked about a lot of things that I didn’t fully comprehend there on the side of the road, but I am anxious to explore the website.  The back of their car has this painted on it: “Let those who know tell those who don’t know.”  The front of the car has a symbol about the “seven levels” that I believe conveys their philosophy of life.

Before we parted, Papa and Captain Betsy gave me a videotape of their raft trip across the ocean and a CD of great jazz music by their children, the Flying Neutrinos!  The CD is excellent; I’ve played it several times since, and we will continue to enjoy it.  Boz and I watched the video, and it is better than many of the movies we have seen.  I could have stood there for hours, but I had a long way to go and no hotel reservation, so I said goodbye.  I just kept thinking about what an amazing encounter this had been.  To see and learn more about Papa, Captain Betsy, and Buckaroo, see www.floatingneutrinos.com.

I’ve worn my green, purple, and white beads ever since I met the Floating Neutrinos.  The Floating Neutrinos have to be really lucky to have survived their float across the ocean on a raft, so I consider the beads a good luck charm.  The beads have added a whole new dimension to the trip.  Women smile and many men look at me with a “can you believe that ‘weirdo’ look.”  Kids stare.  I’m meeting far more people with the beads.  I need a gift for people I meet, though I will say that most of the people I meet seem surprisingly excited about having their name in the book.  While the business card and a little fame may be gift enough, I am ordering a case of beads.  Those of you who know me know how conservative I am, so the beads are a walk on the wild side.

15 miles further down the road, and I saw a car with a blown-out tire.  I put the car in U-Turn mode, and there were my five missionary friends.  All they had was a little donut spare, and it was 25 miles to a town.  I had learned that the three young ladies were on a year-long program that paid them $60 a month, so I felt good about giving them the money for a new tire.  After I reached the next town and saw how small it was, I hoped the money was enough.  I can see how they might not have been able to find a tire for 150 miles.  But they are all good people, so I figure the big guy was watching over them and Marathon would have a tire to fit their little car.

If this book does well, perhaps I’ill follow it up by just returning to this stretch of road and write another.  I’ll just get a couple of lawn chairs and put up a sign that says “Writing a Book – Stop to Chat.”

Marathon is a neat little place with a very impressive restored hotel, The Gage Hotel.  I met Carol, Duane, Stan, and Roma out front.  Roma frowned and asked where my car was from.  I told her I was sorry to say it was a German car with French tires.  Both will be my last!

At this point, the scenery is great.  Flat land on both sides of the road with mountains surrounding me miles back from the road.  When I saw a sign that said the entrance to Big Bend National Park was 72 miles, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  Talk about the middle of nowhere!  The scenery was wonderful.  I passed a ranch entrance with nothing but three stars on the entrance gate; I figure a general must live there, or maybe someone who rates movies, hotels, or restaurants.

Most days, I will see roadside memorials.  I saw one on this really remote stretch of road, so I hooked a U.  It said Aguilar.  There were flowers and beer bottles and money and a stuffed animal and more.  I had no gift to add, but I took a photo.

At 2:30, I reached the entrance to Big Bend.  I was greeted by Ranger Rob.  He looked like an actor – tall, tan, big smile, enthusiastic greeting.  I told him that I was thoroughly enjoying Big Bend…that the scenery was fabulous.  He informed me that I was just entering Big Bend and that all the really good stuff was inside.  Was he ever right!

I later met four funny Big Bend ranger-like folks at one of the few visitor centers in the park.  Katrina, Ranger Don, Casey, and Anita.

Photographs simply cannot do justice to Big Bend.  The views are 360-degrees.  I’d get out of the car to take a picture of a beautiful sight, and as I tuned to get back in the car, I’d be knocked over by something equally beautiful.  It was an “oh ****” day.  I don’t cuss much, but when I topped a hill to see one breathtaking sight after another, I realized I was saying “oh ****” out loud again and again.  I drove for hundreds of miles in Big Bend.  I have not yet been to a place that I have found to have scenery as spectacular as Big Bend.  Since volcanic activity is responsible for much of the landscape, the diversity is what really got my attention.  You can look in four directions and see four totally different types of terrain.  I think Big Bend is probably the best-kept secret in the United States.

I drove to Study Butte and Terlingua but I didn’t see a motel that appealed to me, so I drove on to Lajitas.  Lajitas, I later learned, is being developed as a “resort town.”  I stopped at the first place that appeared to be a resort hotel, the Badlands.  There was one room left.  I was relieved to know I would have a room for the night, and it was 4:45, and I had just three hours of time to see more of Big Bend, so I took the room even though I was shocked to hear $195 for a room in this dusty middle of nowhere spot.

I did meet a very nice young lady while waiting for service at the Badlands.  (And you can wait a looong time for service there.)  Britton is a nurse/pilot, and she introduced me to her husband, Dr. Dan.  Britton told me a number of places to go, and Dan said the area was filled with great characters.  He said they are like rattlesnakes; you may not see them, but they are out there.  Britton told me a great story about a man who moved to Lajitas from Chicago.  When he moved to town, someone asked his name, and he said “Jake.”  They said “Jake what?” and he replied “Just Jake.”  He died after 20 years or so there, and when they buried him, no one knew his name, so the gravestone says “Just Jake.”

I asked everyone I came in contact with where was the best place to see the sunset.  I was surprised that no one had a particular spot.  Most said to just walk outside, and Mike at the Study Butte “Mall” (gas station and convenience store with a gift shop) put it best: “To see the best sunset, walk straight out this door…and sit down.”

I raced back to Big Bend and took the drive down to the very end of the park at the border of Mexico.  Just fantastic.  When I got to the end of the road, the wind was really blowing.  When I began hiking down to the canyon and river, I was in the middle of a sand dune when my eyes became absolutely filled with sand.  My left eye was badly scratched, and tears were streaming down my cheek, but the sun was starting to set, and I pushed on.

On the climb up the side of the mountain, I met Ruben (a former missionary) and Karen (his Harvard-educated attorney wife) as my prized one-of-a-kind Round America cap blew off and disappeared down the side of the mountain.  That made me unhappy, but the sun was starting to set, and I pushed on.

A little further up the mountain and I met Mary Lee, the coach of the Tulane University tennis team, and her husband, Brian.  Very nice folks, and I had a chance to chat with them for a while after I came back down the mountain.

I got some pictures, but the wind was blowing so hard that it was impossible to hold the camera still.  There wasn’t as much water at that spot as I had pictured in my mind’s eye.  Had I known that and that there would be a gale-force wind in the middle of a sand dune, I wouldn’t have gone.  But ya pay your money and take your chances.  Sometimes ya win, sometimes ya lose, and sometimes ya get rained out.

When I returned to my car, my cap was under the windshield wiper.  I know Ruben was my good samaritan!  It’s so refreshing to meet so many nice, kind people.

I spent the next hour chasing the sun.  I couldn’t believe that none of the people I had asked about the best place to see a sunset had suggested that I go to Big Bend and drive from point to point to see 50 different sunsets.  I cannot envision a better place to see the sunset than here, due to the ever-changing terrain.  The beauty of sunsets is the combination of the color in the sky and what it is framed against on the ground.  Big Bend just can’t be topped in the sunset department!  The wind continued to blow hard, and I was disappointed to later see that many of my photos were too blurry to use from the wind making it impossible to hold the camera still.  But I thoroughly enjoyed the sights I was able to see with my right eye!  My last sunset for the day was at 8:36.

Big Bend is humongous.  Over one million acres!  It was at least an hour’s drive out of Big Bend and back to Terlingua where I had my heart set on a big bowl of chili.  I began to panic as I was running low on gas; I wasn’t sure I could make it out, but there were no options.

I made it.  I met Jeannie from Arkansas and Steve from Austin as I stopped at the Study Butte Mall for gas and several soda pops.  I should have asked whether they had anything for my eye!

Terlingua is the home to the mother of all chili cookoffs.  I went to the Starlight Theater Bar and Restaurant.  The chili was good, and the Dos Equis beer was too, though I drank about five glasses of water since I failed to do as I knew I should and had no water heading into Big Bend and no place to stop to get any).  I tried Dessert Nachos – nacho chips covered with dessert sauce and a big scoop of ice cream in the middle.  Different, but I bet the homemade cobbler would have been better.  Yvette was my bartender/waitress, and she was one of the best yet.  She told me several places to go for great sights, and she has the vision!  She educated me to the beauty of both the sunrise and moonrise in Big Bend, and said, “You know, the great thing about Big Bend is that you can see so many different views at the sun and moon look different depending on where you are at on the ground.”  She knew what I had just learned and that so many others apparently never stopped for a minute to consider.  Yvette told me exactly where to go the next morning to see a great sunrise near Lajitas.

At the Starlight Theater, I sat next to two couples.  The first couple didn’t say boo, and the man overtly turned his back to me when I was exchanging stories with Yvette as if to say, “get out of my life buddy.”  Perhaps he is anti-bead.  The second couple was delightful.  Cindy and James are “unconventional lapidarists.”  I learned this means they create unusual cuts of various rocks and gemstones.  Nice people, and we had a great time talking.  They enjoyed a chance meeting that day with a world-renowned lapidarist, and they were overjoyed that he invited them to join him on a dig at a ranch near Terlingua that is known to have incredible gemstones.  This was to them like finding and seeing the Perky Bat Tower, meeting Fast Freddy and going to the river, bumping into the Floating Neutrinos, or happening upon Harry and the Natives is to me.  Cindy and James gave me a beautiful polished gemstone to have made into a ring for Bozzie Jane.  It was an imported stone, not something they found on the side of the road.  I again wished I had a gift other than my business card and camera lens, but I arranged with Yvette to pay for their margaritas without them knowing.

I finally pulled into the parking lot in Lajitas around midnight.  Man it’s dark in this part of the world.  When I say black, I mean black.  When I managed to stumble up the stairs to the front desk at the Badlands to get my key, I learned that the electricity, water, and phones were all off.  It took four people with zero personality forever to figure out what room I was in, etc., as I stood there with my eye hurting much worse than it had at the Starlight.  I was escorted to my room by flashlight.

The hotel was cheaply built.  For $195 a night, I expect top quality, but the room had hollow-core doors with dents and veneer peeling off.  The shower was a prefab tub/shower like you would find in a very inexpensive apartment.  The chairs were poorly made western-looking reproductions that felt like they would break as I sat down.  There was no AC, no water, and no phone service, but this place probably would have seemed worse if there had been power.  The lobby was nice – always a good trick.  The window was caulked shut, so it was hotter and stuffier than necessary.  I could go on.  I cried out of my left eye and tried to sleep.  I couldn’t set an alarm since we lost our battery-operated model, but I hoped I would even fall asleep and hoped I might somehow awaken before sunrise so I could go see what Yvette had promised – a fabulous sunrise.

The lesson for the day.  Man that’s a tough one as there are so many options.  I guess the lesson is that it’s not all about money, at least it shouldn’t be.  I will explain this when we write the book.

 

Old Friends – Day 17

Day 17 — April 17, 2003 — Thursday

Round America

It was a dusty day.  I don’t know if it’s always like this, but it was and still is ugly.  The sun never cut through the dust.

 

I asked the two Fernandos at my hotel what was unique about Laredo, and they both felt it was the significant number of vendors of Mexican products.  We also spoke about the huge flag that Laredo has – so tall that it has an airplane warning light on top.  According to the Fernandos, the folks just across the border in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico put up a huge flag, so Laredo had to follow suit.

 

I hit the road at 8:00 am as I try to get up and out earlier each day.  I drove to the border to get a photo of the Mexican flag, but it appeared that the flaghangers had not shown up for work yet.

All traffic was stopped at a Border Patrol Station a few miles outside of town.  The Border Patrol has a high profile along the border, but according to the officers I spoke with in Roma yesterday, there are a lot of places where it is easy for people to cross illegally.  Our borders with Mexico and Canada are immense, but I’d sure like to see the government increase the size of the Border Patrol staff so we will be more secure.  The real key, though, is to make it much, much harder for foreigners to travel to the US — as a protection against terrorism.

 

Once I made it through the line of cars at the Border Patrol Station, I saw a building on the horizon that looked like a Sadamn Hussein palace.  When I got closer, I realized it was a Texas Travel Center operated by the Texas Department of Highways.  Incredible place – fabulous building, fountains, park – really something.  Inside, Naomi and Ophelia were great fun, and they had brochures for anything and everything all across the state.  I loaded up about a 10 pound bag.  These travel centers and welcome stations are a great resource for roadtrippers.

 

I commented yesterday that the area between Roma and Laredo was really the wide open spaces.  Well, today I saw wider and opener.  There was very little to see other than flat ranchland for most of the day on the road.  Even little towns are rare in this part of the state.  Pull out your Rand McNally, and you’ll see.

 

I did pass twice today – same truck.  I passed because the truck was spewing gravel all over me.  Then the truck passed me on a photo stop, so I had to pass it again.  That’s six passes in 17 days.  It’s so nice to be out of the mode where I’ve always tried to get somewhere as fast as possible.

When I reached the tiny town of Catarina (population 45), I saw a Shrine to the Virgin Mary at St. Henry’s Catholic Church, so I stopped to take a photo.  It wasn’t on a Camaro, but it was nice.

 

I did another doubletake in Carrizo Springs.  I spotted a car wash, but it was closed.  On the side of the building was a hand-painted American flag.  I only counted 34 stars.  I guess it must be a really old car wash.

 

It took me a little less than two hours to get to Crystal City, the spinach capital of the world.  I drove up and down several streets looking for the world’s largest Popeye statue, but I couldn’t find it.  I saw two nice ladies in a doorway of a law office, and I stopped to meet Carol and Leticia.  They showed me right where to go.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that the annual Spinach Festival is such a big deal in the town that it has a big storefront office right on the main street.  I drove to the City Hall, and there was Popeye – a gift to the city in 1937, so they’ve been doing spinach for a long time in Crystal City.

 

As I drove from Crystal City to Eagle Pass, there wasn’t anything to see, so it was a big attraction whenever I saw the entrance gates to a ranch.  There are some palatial ranches in Texas, but I didn’t see any palatial gates in this part of the state.  What I did see, however, was a great variety.  The theory I developed as I drove along with nothing else to do is that most folks consciously or subconsciously reflect their personalities in their gates.  Some have names; others have artwork of animals; and some have nothing but the gate.  I wonder if any sociologists have studied this.  I haven’t seen any funky mailboxes since leaving Florida.

 

My day changed when I reached Eagle Pass just before noon.  I’m sure my thoughts were affected by the dust cloud that was masquerading as the sky.  I drove right to the border (as the border is always the best-signed area in any border town).  It was a humbling experience.  I was embarrassed to have my car there as it felt showy.  I saw people digging through 8-foot high piles of old clothes.  I saw an open-air “shop” where shoes were being sold for 10 cents a pair.  It was very, very sad to see so many poor people.

 

I couldn’t have felt lower, but I really wanted to see the only casino in Texas – on the Kickapoo Indian Reservation.  There were a few billboards around town, but none of them showed an address.  I stopped at three gas stations for directions and never found the place.  I finally flagged down a UPS driver, and I finally felt like I was headed in the right direction.  I guess I should have realized that if the casino was on an Indian reservation, it wouldn’t be in the heart of the city.  I finally found a little sign with an arrow pointing to the right, so I turned off.  It was way, way, way outside town.  The dust was much thicker there as most of the roads were dirt or stones.  I drove for several more miles through the Indian reservation, and I finally pulled into the parking lot.  I had been expecting some glamour and glitter, but I didn’t find it.  There were very few cars in the lot.  The building didn’t look like a casino at all.  There was a big sign showing plans for several phases of construction, but I heard later that they ran out of money.   I also heard the Kickapoos had lost control of the casino to Mexicans…not sure what that’s all about.  I couldn’t imagine many people driving through those dirt and rock roads to get to the Lucky Eagle Casino, and it seems like they don’t.  Inside, there were several rows of slots, one operating blackjack table, an area that was apparently used for bingo, and a small bowling alley-like snack bar in one corner.  Gaspar and the others I spoke with were very nice, but I was just sorry for the Kickapoos.  I had planned to go in and plunk down my $100 bill on red, but there was no roulette wheel.  I gave about two seconds thought to putting it on one hand of blackjack, but t wasn’t the right place or time; I’d have been sick if I had won.  I felt like just giving them all the money I had in my pocket.  I pumped $10 into a slot machine, and I was relieved when I lost the money, as I wanted to leave so I could be sad in private.

 

My next stop would be Alamo Village north of Brackettville.  Population 2.  More wider and opener.  At 2:46 pm with 32,439 miles on the odometer, I spotted a big hill or a tiny mountain – first real rise in the landscape that I’ve seen since we left Atlanta – 4,403 miles ago.  I stopped and took a picture.  Alamo Village and the Shahan Ranch are what you would call remote – 7 miles north of the little town of Brackettville and then several miles down a dirt and/or rocky road to the movie location town.  It was built in 1951, and the first movie filmed there was “Arrowhead” starring Charlton Heston.  Over 100 movies have filmed there since.  It is best known as the site for “The Alamo” starring John Wayne.  I took a few photos at the Alamo area and then worked my way over to the western and Mexican town areas.  I would have normally taken a lot of photos at a great location such as this, but my attitude was in the dumper after Eagle Pass and the Kickapoos, and the air was so thick with dust that photos wouldn’t be very good.

 

As I walked down the main street looking at the simple (but very appealing to me) old western and Mexican architecture, I saw the town Marshal heading in my direction.  He was 50 yards away, but he looked familiar.  As he came closer, I thought for sure I knew him.  As my greeting, I blurted out: “What’s your name?”  He replied: “Rich Curilla…and your hair is a different color and you aren’t as thin as you were 20 years ago, but I thought I recognized those eyes.”  Boz and I had speculated about whether we would run into anyone we knew unexpectedly on the trip.  Well, here I was in the middle of a western town movie set shaking hands with a man who worked for me 20 years ago who I haven’t seen since.  What a treat!  Rich is a very talented actor and one of the nicest guys you will ever meet.  When he left our employ, he moved to the Brackettville area, and he’s been working at Alamo Village “forever.”

 

We traded a few war stories, and then he took me to meet Mrs. Virginia Shahan, the boss lady at Alamo Village and the Shahan Ranch.  She has the place for sale.  $6.5 million, and it can be yours.  I told her I wasn’t in the market.  We owned a ranch and western town 20 years ago when Rich worked for us.  I think one western town should be the quota for everyone.  It was really nice to meet her.  Then Rich told me that Ron Howard is doing a new version of “The Alamo.”  I was sorry to hear Opie chose a location near Austin rather than “Alamo Village.”  I’m sure I’m not nearly as sorry as Virginia.  I traded email addresses with Rich, and I hit the dirt and headed for Del Rio.

 

I drove straight to the border so I could add to my collection of border crossing photos.  Del Rio connects to Ciudad Acuna.  I also visited the Whitehead Museum, a small frontier village – 20 exhibits.

 

Alpine was scheduled to be my stop for the night, but I just wasn’t up for the drive, so I landed at the Del Rio Ramada Inn.  There are very few towns in this part of the state with a motel, and the pickings are slim even in a good-sized town like Del Rio.  Tommy Zapata was very nice at the front desk, and he recommended the best Mexican restaurant in town.  I also met Maricela at the front desk – beautiful name that I had never heard before.

 

I skipped lunch today — lost my appetite.  Dinner at Don Marcelinos was excellent.  Rosita’s on Day 16 is still the best Mexican food on the trip, but this was mighty good.  After dinner, I dropped quarters in the slot at a hand spray car wash and did my best to blast away the massive amount of dust and dirt that had built up since the last car wash just a few days ago.  After the gigantic boulder cobblestone street in Savannah on Day 1, the trip to the river with Fast Freddy on Day 16, and then the Indian reservation and Alamo Village today, I am seeing a front end alignment in the not too distant future.  I’ll have the car checked when I get to a city that’s big enough to have a dealership for our flavor of car.  On the way back to the motel, I visited a Hawaiian Shaved Ice (aka snow cone) stand.  I tried another mango snow cone.  I wanted to see how it compared to the one I had yesterday at Freddy’s Fast Lube and Snow Cone Stand.  Not even in the same league!  Freddy has something really special.

 

I didn’t have to give much thought to what I would comment about as the lesson for the day.  Humility.  It humbles me to see those significantly less fortunate.  I want the poor and the Indians to have a better life!  As sad as it was, I believe seeing what I saw today would be humbling and beneficial to others.  I’d love to see the President and his Cabinet go to Eagle Pass and the Kickapoo Indian Reservation for a meeting.  Then Congress could come down and do the same.  They should “look at the world in a different way” after seeing what I’ve seen today.

 

***

 

It’s been two days with no pie.  I’m going to be sure to eat some pie tomorrow…I wonder what the specialty is in the Big Bend area!

 

I don’t have a motel reservation, and I will be way out in the B-O-O-N-D-O-C-K-S, so tomorrow night should be interesting.  Could be the first night sleeping in a little white motel (the car).

Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro – Day 15

Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro in Elsa Texas - Round America 2003.
Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro in Elsa Texas – Round America 2003.

Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro

Day 15 – April 15, 2003 – Tuesday

Week 3 begins; excited to see the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.  31,650 miles on the odometer.  We started at 28,036, so, 3,614 miles are in the rearview mirror.

I bought a map produced by Texas A&M that shows ALL the state and county roads in Texas.  While I must admit some concern about using anything produced by Aggies, it’s bigger than a Rand McNally Road Atlas and very detailed.  It also includes some interesting statistics.  Texas is massive.  There is one ranch in Texas that is bigger than the state of Rhode Island.  The distance from Houston to El Paso is greater than the distance from El Paso to Cheyenne, Wyoming.  There are at least 294,833 miles of roads in Texas!  A little quick math indicates at my current pace, one could drive all 294,833 miles in 1,140 days.  But we’ve learned that there has to be some back tracking to get to the next road or town, so figure four years — 1,460 days.  You’d have to budget about $219,000 for gas (18,000 gallons), food, and motels…plus the cost of a couple of cars.

After seeing houses turned into shrines to the orange and to beer, you have to wonder if someone isn’t out there on the roads with this A&M map and a yellow highlighter… coloring in each segment as he or she drives on.  Now that I have hit the least populated areas of the state, I will see more road and fewer sights.

I’ve taken 1,195 photos so far.  Digital cameras are great, as all I have to do each night is dump the photos from the camera into my PC, and then I’m ready to go for another batch the next day.

Corpus Christi is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.  I’ve been to virtually all of the bigger cities in Texas, but never to Corpus until now.  The day began very overcast with strong winds, so I passed on a trip down to the Corpus beach.  Much of the skyline of Corpus is filled with oil refineries.  Downtown has a lot of big buildings.

In Driscoll (population 648), a “Fine Furniture” store caught my eye.  “Fine Furniture” was painted on the side of a small covered wagon suspended high above the building.  You’ve just gotta love the differences in perception from small towns to big cities.  I love the way folks in small towns advertise and do their signs.  Most just grab a paintbrush and do it themselves.  No pretenses.  Nothing fancy.  Just the basics.

Pops Jerky Store in Bishop Texas.  Round America. Day 15. 2003-04-15
Pops Jerky Store in Bishop Texas.  Round America. Day 15. 2003-04-15

A sign caught my eye a little further down the road – Pop’s Beef Jerky Store.  They advertise the best beef jerky in Texas.  Sorry, but dried meat just doesn’t have any appeal to me.

Bishop is a sad town.  The city limits sign says 3,305 people live here, but main street is a complete ghost town – maybe 20 buildings, and not a sign of life or business in any of them.  One or two had their roofs and walls caving in.  Just outside of Bishop is a huge refinery that is bigger than most of the towns I have driven through.  I guess all the people who work there do their shopping and business in Kingsville rather than Bishop.

Kingsville is the home of the King Ranch, the recognized birthplace of the American ranching industry.  I drove all around the town and visited the ranch, museum, and saddle shop.  I saw a very informative video at the visitor’s center at the ranch.  Captain Richard King founded King Ranch in 1853.  Today, King Ranch covers over one million acres!  The Texas ranch property is bigger than Rhode Island.  They have 60,000 cattle and a lot of horses, but King Ranch has significant citrus and sugar holdings in Florida as well.  It’s a HUGE business.  Deanna was very nice and helpful at the ranch, and then I met Sybil as I bought two books about interesting places to go in Texas.  I’ll do more research tonight so I can avoid missing any worthwhile sights when I get to the really wide open spaces in South Texas.

When folks learn about the trip, they usually ask questions.  We’ve gotten a lot of questions, but one of the most common is “How far along are you?”  Both Boz and I have noted that the people who ask this question have unanimously responded the same way – “Oh, well, you haven’t made it very far.”  It’s like they immediately discount what you are doing.  It seems to be a question asked only by pessimists.  Sybil was a pessimist.

My mind was set on eating barbeque in Kingsville.  I figured that beef had to be the specialty in a town that grew up around the largest ranch in the USA.  I saw a fancy western theme restaurant in downtown Kingsville, but I was concerned as there are places that have a particular look naturally and then there are themed places made to look a certain way.  This was the latter.  I opened the door to the Wild Horse Desert Cafe to see a huge place with music playing and themed décor everywhere, but not a person to be found.  Just down the street, I found where the locals eat – Linda’s Main Street cafe — a little storefront with folks standing in line.  The specialty wasn’t barbeque, so I moved on.  I stopped four times to ask folks where the best barbeque restaurant in town was, and no one could come up with one, so I left town.

Barn Door Restaurant in Riviera Texas. Day 15. 2003-04-15
Barn Door Restaurant in Riviera Texas. Day 15. 2003-04-15

A little further down the road, I spotted a restaurant with a bunch of cars, and when I saw bar-b-que written on the side of the building, I decided to stop.  It certainly wasn’t a tourist-oriented place; this was a real, honest-to-goodness small town restaurant — The Barn Door.

Nothing fancy about it; it’s just real.

 

The barbeque was fantastic!  They mesquite smoke it, and the ribs and beef brisket had a wonderful flavor and were as tender as could be.  Two nice ladies served me, and I’m sorry to say that I was so excited to record how good the food was that I forgot to get their names on my tape before my short-term memory lapsed.  I believe Janie was one of them; my apologies ladies.

The Barn Door is in Riviera.  The founder of the town named it Riviera because it reminded him of the Riviera in Europe.  I guess I missed whatever he saw, because it looked like every other small South Texas town to me.  But if it seems like the Riviera to them, that’s great, because we should all make the best of what we have and love where we live.

There is a looong stretch of road from Riviera to Raymondville with essentially nothing but dirt and trees and sky in between.  I did see some Border Patrol SUV’s and flowering cactus (cacti?).  It reached 85 degrees today — the warmest on the trip so far.

Raymondville has a nice smiley-face water tower.  I saw several trains today.  Bozzie Jane could have had a lot of ice cream cones.

Ernesto Gonzales and his flag-draped horse in Lyford Texas. Round America trip. Day 15. 2003-04-15.
Ernesto Gonzales and his flag-draped horse in Lyford Texas. Round America trip. Day 15. 2003-04-15.

Cruising through Lyford, I spotted a cowboy on horseback, so I pulled over to take a photo.  As I got closer, I saw that the horse was wearing an American flag “costume,” and the rider was holding a sign promoting his favorite candidate in the town’s election.  I met Ernesto Gonzales, “full-time attorney, part-time cowboy, part-time campaigner for his cousin.”  I also met his horse, Junior.  Ernesto was great.  I took his picture; he took my picture; we both took Junior’s picture.  I’ll follow up with Ernesto to see if Mr. Valdez wins.  I should have looked more closely at his attorney business card before I drove on; it has a bird on it wearing sunglasses.

There must be a story behind that.

 

Now the search began for the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.  I read about this in the book I bought at King Ranch, and it appeared to be only a few miles off my planned route in the town of Elsa, so off I went.  True to form, it was a little farther and took a little longer than I planned, but I was excited when I got there.  After all, how often does one get the opportunity to see a Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a panel behind the left rear tire of a Camaro!  With $3,000 in donations, Dario Mendoza and Santiago Quintero built a shrine around the car in their cinder block garage – red carpet, a ceiling fan, fifty or so folding chairs, and a little altar covered with flowers.  I figured this had to be a big deal in such a small town, but I drove from one end of the town to the other and I saw neither a sign nor a crowd.  I stopped where most men are unwilling to stop to ask for directions – a gas station.  The man there looked at me like I was a serial killer or something; he’d lived in Elsa his entire life and had never heard of any Shrine to the Virgin Mary, much less one on a Camaro.  As I drove back through town, I scanned the horizon for any clue.  The only crowds were at the Post Office.  So, like any good reporter, I stopped at the Post Office to find out what was going on and to get directions to the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.  Once inside, I realized the crowd was due to the income tax filing deadline, not the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.  I asked several people for directions to the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro, and they gave me that “this guy is nuttier than a fruitcake” look.  I noticed a sign for the Justice of the Peace next door, so I drove there, and I asked two people for directions to the Shrine to the Virgin Mary (left out the “on a Camaro” part in hopes the “you’re crazy” stares would stop).  I was delighted when one of them gave me the directions.  I drove a few blocks, but I knew she was wrong when I pulled up in front of the local Catholic church.  My next stop was City Hall where I asked five different people how to get to the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.  Nada.  Nothing.  Zip.  At this point, I figured I had spoken with at least 1% of the population of Elsa.  I guess I’ll never see the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.  At least I have a picture of it in the book.  None of the folks in Elsa were nice; no one even laughed.  Maybe they will laugh with their friends when they tell the story about the crazy guy going all over town looking for the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro.

As I drove out of town, I remembered our Rules of the Road.  One of them is when you get disappointed or things get boring, look again.  I saw flashing red lights ahead, so I drove SLOWLY out of town past the policemen working a speed trap.  Looked to be one of the biggest businesses in town.

I was disappointed that I didn’t see many flags today, but then I reached Santa Rosa.  Flags and yellow ribbons everywhere.  I saw a group of people holding signs and waving and cars were honking.  I pulled over to meet a nice group of folks with a big sign with the photographs of all the young people from the town who are currently on active duty in the military.  1,800 people in the town, and 40 are in the armed forces!  I met the father of one young Marine, and a number of others proudly showed me which of the pictured folks were their relatives.  It was very uplifting to be around these proud, patriotic Americans!  And I would have never seen it or met them if I hadn’t gone in search of the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro!

Next stop: Graceland!  Well, “Little Graceland,” to be precise.  Simon Vega loves Elvis, and he has turned his home in Los Fresnos on Highway 100 between Harlingen and South Padre Island into a shrine to Elvis.  (I guess I should have asked Mr. Vega how to get to the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro, because I suspect he would have the address.)  Mr. Vega’s house has signs all over his house and in his yard.  He has a doghouse-sized replica of the Tupelo, Mississippi home Elvis was born in.  He is especially proud of the gates to his driveway.  He has lighted display cases in the room above his garage with decorative Elvis plates, an Elvis doll in an Army uniform, Elvis sunglasses, and his Army good conduct medal.  My favorite was a sign next to the garage that indicates Simon Vega’s home is the sixth most-visited famous person’s home in America – just behind Abraham Lincoln’s log cabin.

South Padre Island was next – the best beach in Texas.  I was surprised to see how much the area has developed since we were last there with our children maybe 20 years ago.  It’s a big tourist attraction.  I took a picture of the Causeway Bridge, the longest bridge in Texas, and I got a nice photo of the Port Isabel Lighthouse.

Down to Brownsville where I took a picture of the border crossing station at Matamoros, Mexico.  From there, I drove 60 miles or so to McAllen to rest for the night.  I pulled out my list of hotel reservations.  One problem.  It seems my reservation was in Brownsville. Ooops.  I would have driven back, but our first road detour of any consequence was midway in Donna, Texas, and I didn’t want to endure that twice again, so I was pleased when Lizbett gave me the last room (even though a yucky smoking room) at the Residence Inn in McAllen.

I guess I learned a few lessons today.  I’m not sure which one is most important, though always making sure you know where you are going should be high on the list.  I was also reminded today to follow my instincts and always ask a lot of questions.  Most important, however, is to always try to find the best from each experience.  When possible, try to turn lemons into lemonade.  My trip to Elsa was a bust, though I suspect my search for the Shrine to the Virgin Mary on a Camaro could be one of the stories most told after the trip is over.  But that detour to Elsa took me to Santa Rosa, and it was really uplifting to see those nice folks celebrating in support of our troops and the 40 brave young men and women from their little town who are being brave so we can all be free.  It gave me that great feeling that we get inside when we our hearts are warmed by something that’s important to us.