Les Girls...Les Memoires...Le Paris Scrapbook

Beginning with the finale, here we are on our much-anticipated Bateau Parisian dinner cruise, which lasted about two and a half hours on the Seine River. We saw so much of Paris by night ... illuminated, gorgeous, drenched in romance ... while enjoying our wonderful gourmet meals.

To a woman, we selected the foie gras appetizer; Linda Kay and JoAnn had the pike entree, Raenell had the veal, and I went with the Black Angus filet, sauteed a la Parisienne. Three of us were hooked by the dense, rich chocolate dessert, while Rae had a wonderful looking pear, baked and covered in rich buttercream. We were also served and enjoyed champagne, white and red wine with dinner, along with coffee and brandy afterward. (hic)

For the view from our table, in addition to the glorious full moon which rose just as the boat was leaving its mooring and followed us throughout, we had Le Petit Palais and Le Grand Palais, Les Invalides, the timeless Louvre, several gorgeous ponts (bridges), including the truly spectacular gold-leafed Pont Alexandre, as well as Ile d'la Cite and Ile St. Louis, with the strong, familiar ediface and the less well-known magnificent flying buttresses of Notre Dame. And just as the cruise was ending, we were treated to the wonderful sight of the replica of the Statute of Liberty near the Grenelle Bridge on the Ile des Cygnes (Isle of Swans). There was lovely music provided by the band, and featuring Madame Marie and her consort Alain ... glorious songs ... almost anything in French sounds romantic, and they could have been singing Three Blind Mice hauntingly andante and we would have loved it!!!

Madame Marie, singing La Vie en Rose on the Bateau Parisian.

Of course we were not disappointed when at the end of the cruise Madame Marie rendered a truly soulful, heart-melting version of La Vie En Rose (see my post on the main blog, La Vie en Rose ... the Two Towers ... and the City of Light..., posted March 17, 2008). Guys ... you were sorely missed, although we still had a great time.

Little bit of a rip-off by the cab driver we engaged to take us back to the hotel ... but by that time we were sated and happy and full of the special magic that is Paris by night ... so we just chalked up the extra Euros we paid to a good deal to keep from standing in the soft rain that had begun to fall toward the end of the cruise, trying to find another cab.

JoAnn and our really cute waiter at a brasserie on the Rue du Rivoli ... across from the Tuilleries and the Louvre.

We didn't get this guy's name, and I wish we had ... but he truly was charming, spoke more than just un peu English and was joking and laughing and flirting with us in tres French fashion the entire time we were there, not to eat but just to enjoy cups of cafe avec creme to warm up in the chilly weather. We had so hoped that we would catch Paris at the real beginning of Spring ... but although there were some flowers beginning to bloom, winter hadn't given up yet, so most of our time there the weather was on the inclement side. Still ... Paris is Paris....

From Rue du Rivoli, we wandered across the street, through the Tuilleries, at one time one of the royal parks and gardens for the Palais de Louvre, which of course is now the home of the world-famed museum. Got a great picture (actually two, but the one shown here is the better) of Rae and Jobey and the Louvre Pyramid designed by I.M. Pei.

JoAnn and Raenell with the Louvre and I.M. Pei's Pyramid in the background.

Like the Eiffel Tower when it was first constructed, Pei's Pyramid generated much controversy when the museum was expanded and the Pyramid was dropped into the center of the complex, but it is absolutely stunning and quite a feat of engineering.

Of course the Mona Lisa and the Venus De Milo, along with "Winged Victory" (the Nike of Samothrace) were high on the list of things to see in the vast museum ... and there is simply no way anyone can possibly see everything on a single visit, or even several.

I so enjoyed les girls' reactions to the patisseries of Paris ... the bakeries ... with all of the wonderful, cream-filled and -covered, butter-laden, sometimes liqeuer-saturated pastries, which became a true afternoon (and sometimes evening) treat. Believe me ... the bakeries of Paris are head and shoulders ... and croissant... above those in this country ... and are justly considered treasures of the City. IMHO, anyone who can keep to any sort of diet with such an array of wonderful offerings in almost every block is waaaaaay more Stoic than most ... even the Stoics .... (grin)

The Paris Metro certainly facilitated our travel around the city ... although the stops avec "Escalator Sortie" seemed a lot fewer and farther between ... and the stairs back to the street a lot looooonger and steeper ... than I remembered them. I must say that by our second day there, I realized that my "wishful" itinerary (see the aforesaid post La Vie en Rose... on the main blog) might have been challenging for us if we were in our 30s ... as I was when I pretty much followed it on my first trip to Paris in 1984. But it was waaaay overly-ambitious for women of a certain age ... joie de vivre notwithstanding ... two of whom have undergone hip and knee replacements. Raenell (who takes long walks with her Jim every morning) probably was the most mobile of all us of ... and I become more and more convinced that she has a portrait stashed somewhere in her attic, as she hardly seems to age at all....

Sainte Chapelle, the upper (royal) chapel.

One day we went to Ile d'la Cite and Ile St. Louis ... islands in the Seine where much of the French government apparatus is situated, along with charming apartments, cafes and the aforementioned patisseries... as well as the legendary Cathedral of Notre Dame and the stunningly beautiful Sainte Chapelle, where the French royal family worshipped when they were in from Versailles. The lower level of Ste. Chapelle is gorgeous is its own right, but that is the "lower class" and more lightly decorated area where the palace servants and retainers attended Mass. The true marvel is the royal chapel upstairs, which is surrounded by magnificent stained glass. Unfortunately, the day we were there was heavily overcast so the totally overwhelming beauty of the place was muted; however, as you can see from the picture, even with less than optimal light, it is still one of the loveliest places around.

Notre Dame de Paris, from the quay (Rive Gauche).

After taking in the glories of Ste. Chapelle and Notre Dame (with a cafe break in between), we wandered across the bridge to the Rive Gauche (Left Bank, where our hotel, Le Grand Hotel des Gobelins, was located) and found Shakespeare and Company, as Nicki had charged us with doing in her "scavenger" hunt. The best we could do for "all four of us" in front of Shakespeare was a shot I took (I was there, holding the camera) with JoAnn holding the door open, Raenell to the left in the shot, and Linda Kay almost invisible in front of Jobey.

Nevertheless, I consider the shot a technical "score". I didn't do so well with getting a shot of us in front of a McDonald's ... although there are many of them in Paris, including on the Champs Elysees, near the Arc d'Triomphe. Seems like every time I spotted a Mickey-D's, there were only a couple of us around for the shot, and I thought I'd wait until I could at least shoot the three of them (seeking the technical "score" again) ... but McD's ubiquity (and my own sensory overload) bred forgetfulness, and it was on our way back to CDG Airport for the flight home that I remembered I'd never taken the photo at any of the several opportunities I'd had.

Between Ste. Chapelle and Notre Dame we stopped into a sidewalk cafe (although the weather kept us in the glassed-in sitting area facing the street), where a really cute French waiter took our picture while we warmed up with cafe creme again. He was so sweet and solicitious and cooperative ... but busy, busy, busy ... so we didn't get a picture of him ... nevertheless, the garcon on the Rue du Rivoli more than met our requirements.

A door or so down from Shakespeare & Company (on the quay, just across from Notre Dame) we found a wonderful little bistro ... with a fire (oh joy!) ... where we had a really good lunch, including a creme potage (soup) to die for. That afternoon, les girls ventured to La Tour Eiffel ... but unfortunately, the wind was so strong the upper deck was closed. Win some, lose some ... although Rae and Jobey did make it to the top of the Arc d'Triomphe one day when they branched out on their own.

JoAnn and Linda Kay (look close) entering Shakespeare and Company, with Raenell to the left, moi behind camera.

Soon after our "interesting" arrival (see my post As You Like It: Le Holiday ... Ours (Bears) ... and Face to Fang..., posted on the main blog March 27, 2008) we wandered next door to the hotel to Au Petit Bar, a little brasserie where we took more than one meal ... and several coffees ... during our stay. Although it served wonderful lunches during the day (the plats du jour with salad, entree and dessert were particular bargains), in the evening it became its name ... "a little bar" ... and an Internet cafe.

As it is throughout tout Paris, the people-watching is on a par with the great food, so our meals at Au Petit Bar were always interesting. We were particularly taken under the wing of a sweet, spirited little waitress, Anouk from Burgundy, who made it her personal mission to see that we ordered the best of the specials and tried different things from the grill, including the ubiquitous Croque Monsieur, the toasted ham and cheese sandwiches on baguettes, which are completely unlike (believe me!) any toasted ham and cheese you've ever had. Raenell had a tomato-basil soup with her sandwich one day, and it was killer. The creme brulee house specialty dessert was heavenly, and enjoyed more than once.

Anouk and Raenell at Au Petit Bar.

On our first day in Paris (March 17), and our first meal at Au Petit Bar, Anouk was so looking forward to getting off work about mid-afternoon so she could head for the Marais District and the St. Patrick's Day festivities planned for that evening. (See Guinevere the Druid Goddess's post St. Patrick's Day ... the Shee ... and "Kiss Me, I'm Druid!!!) Anouk asked us if we wanted to come along with her to see how Parisians celebrated the Celtic holiday. It was tempting, I must admit ... but by that time we had lost track of GDG, and after our landing at CDG, thought a little "quiet time" might be in order that evening. Still ... the pipes, the pipes were callin'....

[Side Note: Anouk told me she was named by her romantically-inclined mother after the beautiful French film star Anouk Aimee (A Man and a Woman, 1966), who had the good sense to know that time is fleeting and that "You can only perceive real beauty in a person as they get older." I like that....]

I sadly had to bow out of making the day trip to London. I had slightly wrenched my knee (the "good" one) the day before, and it was swollen considerably by Thursday morning. And I figured that if I tried to do the London gig, I would either slow the other girls down, or have to spend most of the day sitting in St. Pancras Station while they saw the Tower of London and other sights (and sites), and did the "high tea" at the Ritz. And ... I had done London quite nicely on an earlier trip with Yahn, including seeing all the celebrations and fireworks for Guy Fawkes Day (commemorating the infamous "Gunpowder Plot"), so it seemed more important to me that the others not be encumbered by me. Sure enough ... they were moving fast, and still didn't make it to Harrod's, Hyde Park or some of the other places we'd hoped (overly-ambitious on the agenda again). So ... any tales (and/or photos) of the London Adventure will have to be done by another of Les Girls...

Would we do it again, the landing and smaller problems notwithstanding? Does La Vie en Rose dissolve me into a puddle every time I hear it??? Yeah....)O(

Posted by Nicki Wilcoxson at 1:33 PM

6 comments:

Sheila Davis Martinez said...
Great Pictures...Thanks so much for sharing them with us. You girls look great. To me, it looks like you had a more than wonderful time...inspite of the weather.

March 31, 2008 1:27 AM

Floyd Dakil said...
Viva La France. You girls look like you are having the time of your life. that's great.!!!!
March 31, 2008 10:29 AM

Jennifer Johnston Smith said...
Floyd, great to hear from you again ... and "les girls" were indeed having quite the time in the City of Light!!!!I must say our great time began with seeing you for brunch at La Madeleine on the morning before we left for Paris. It was wonderful to have time to talk and catch up with you, even briefly ... although an hour and a half is only a beginning. Just after you left, we all realized to our chagrin that not one of us had brought a camera to get a picture of all of us at brunch. Well, duh!!!In any event, perhaps we can make up that deficiency if you are able to join us at the planned dinner with Phil Tutor and his wife at Pappadeaux's on April 9th. We do hope you'll be able to make it ... and I know from our recent conversation that you're looking forward to seeing Jimmy/Willie again, and meeting Nicki. You've got my number if you need additional details. We do hope you'll be there ... although I don't think you could EVER be square! (grin))O(
March 31, 2008 10:44 AM

Nicki Wilcoxson said...
You guys have had the vacation of a lifetime! I know so well the feeling of being somewhere wonderful and wanting to soak up every bit of the culture, the tastes, the sights, and the sounds so you can store it all away in your very core to remember for always in case you don't get to come back. I doubt very seriously that Paris is a place that you can totally experience in such a short time, but you guys made a fantastic start. I would love to hear from Linda Kay, JoAnn, and Raenell sharing their first time impressions of Paris. The photos are awesome. Where is the Morgenstern? LOLWelcome home everyone and thanks for sharing.
March 31, 2008 10:54 AM

Jennifer Johnston Smith said...
Ah, the elusive Morgenstern. A true will-o'-the-wisp....Difficult to pin down ... always a few steps ahead, just around the corner ... in the "fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man ... a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity ... the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition ... between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination."There! At the signpost up ahead.... Yep .. we're talking the Twilight Zone.... (grin))O(
March 31, 2008 1:28 PM

clara robinson meek said...
I just discovered this post today----keep forgetting to check "short notes".I'm so thrilled that "Les Girls" had such a treasured experience! Thanks for sharing with us. I well remember the pastries and the wonderful sidewalk cafes. I had students with me, and we forbade them to go to McDonalds for food------photos yes, food no.
April 12, 2008 1:33 PM

As You Like It: Le Holiday ... Ours (Bears) ... and Face to Fang ....

The main pool at the Acapulco Princess. There is a swim-up bar behind the waterfall. Photo by Yahn Smith

Obviously still in French mode after my recent sojourn with les girls in Paris ... and what a lovely mode it was.... Nevertheless ... been there, done that (again) ... now on to other things. Poor Yahn. Over the many years we've been traveling together, we would no sooner get home, drop our bags, and then drop ourselves into bed for a looong rest ... than I would be up and planning our next escape. Before our first trip to Paris, I told myself that if I never got to see anyplace but Paris, I would die happy. Well ... I didn't exactly lie ... but I truly failed to reckon with just how badly the travel bug would bite.... I hesitate to use the word "addiction" ... but I suppose as addictions go, it's one of the more benign. I could have picked worse....

If anyone saw my two brief (error-ridden) blog comments made in Paris, then you know that we had an "exciting" landing at Charles De Gaulle Airport. As to the "error ridden" part: Don't get me started on the difficulties of the French keyboard ... it's not the qwerty we're used to ... the q and the a are reversed, the w is on the bottom row under the q (which is where the a should be), the m is where the colon and semicolon should be, and among other challenges, there are various key combinations to strike to make certain punctuation marks, including the aforesaid colon and semicolon, as well as the @, and others. Jeez Louise!!!! Strictly hunt and peck ... then hunt for the controlling key.... Even Mrs. Denny would have been at a loss.... But I digress....

On final approach to CDG, our plane suddenly pulled up just before touchdown, heading back into the wild blue yonder (my Daddy the pilot drilled me in the Air Force hymn from a young age) and pouring on the gas in a steep climb. Flying with Daddy when I was a child, and my air travel in later years, told me immediately that something untoward was happening. We made a wiiiiiiiiide circle over the airport, and finally came back on another approach ... landed and bounced ... and then saw all the emergency vehicles arrayed on either side of us ... fire engines, ambulances, paramedic vans, etc. It seems the light on the control panel which indicates the landing gear is properly locked failed to register. So ... there was no certainty that the wheels wouldn't collapse when we touched ground. (It was also not a good time to remember that I was once told by a commercial airline pilot that a landing is nothing but a controlled crash....) We had to disembark via stairs onto the tarmac, rather than via the usual jetway, and then were bused into the Customs terminal.

I must say that after our landing experience, it was NOT comforting to hear yesterday that American Airlines, the carrier we flew, pulled 300 (300!!!) or so of its planes from service for "maintenance issues", canceling many flights in the process. So ... right after being thankful that AA didn't kill us on landing, I am glad we were not stranded in Paris (although there are worse places) when AA scrubbed those 300+ flights.

When we planned this trip, I broke a long-standing rule to NEVER again fly an American air carrier ... ANY of them ... if there was a decent foreign alternative. Unfortunately, American carriers simply cannot hold a candle to foreign airlines such as Cathay Pacific, Air France, Singapore, Thai, etc. As with all rules, I make an exception to that one in the case of Aeroflot or Egypt Air (when they serve dinner, you know what happens to old camels who can no longer carry tourists around the Pyramids). Indeed, our AA flight to Paris had been delayed leaving Dallas for "maintenance problems" as the pilot announced, and all during the flight my reading light and others in the cabin failed to operate, which meant I couldn't read on the flight .... NOT a good thing. IMHO, it is basically a good rule of thumb to do everything possible to fly on a good foreign airline in your travels, if at all possible. But again I digress....

When we booked our trip, we arranged for transfers via van from and back to the airport, and by the time we cleared Customs after all the delay, I feared (justly it seems) that our driver had given up on us ... so I chased down a really cute little French guy at baggage claim, and using my fractured French in counterpoint to his fractured English, managed to persuade him to use his cell phone to call the company which had arranged our transfers. Sure enough, our driver had left and was just exiting the airport when his company called and sent him back for les travel-frazzled girls. And so, at last we left the airport and ventured into Paris itself. But ... more on that (and pictures!) in a few days. Today the topic is other vacations ... specifically, summer vacations during the late '50s, early to mid-'60s....

Our private plunge pool at sunrise in our villa overlooking Jimbaran Bay, the Four Seasons Resort, Bali Indonesia. Photo by Yahn Smith

A looooong time ago when I was at CHS (not quite early Jurassic, but getting close), and experiencing my heretofore acknowledged teenage angst and the stifling sense of ennui I felt within the confines of Childress County ... I made a sweeping vow (as teenagers and those who have flown American air carriers are wont to do) that one day I would get as far away as possible from from that dusty little town. And I've done my best to live up to my promise. Happily, in later years I rediscovered the treasures to be found in that particular corner of Texas ... lifelong friendships and relationships, commonality of experience, shared memories ... but we are talking now of a teenaged mind ... questing, questioning, dismissive of authority (now that I think of it, still got all of those)....

The poet Sylvia Plath (a taco or two shy of a combo platter in many ways, but a brilliant talent before she turned on the gas and put her head in the oven) articulated such feelings in her poem Ennui when she wrote:

Tea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,
designing futures where nothing will occur:
cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning she
will still predict no perils left to conquer.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.

The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,
compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;
and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,
while bored arena crowds for once look eager,
hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizes
shall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.

Ah ... The Lady or the Tiger ... one of my favorite stories ... first read in Brownie Kimbrough's class at Childress Junior High School. I remember we had some spirited discussions in class about it ... the guys were all sure the tiger came out of the door, and the more romantically inclined girls just knew it was the lady.... Despite my deep-seated romanticism, I could never quite make up my mind ... still can't ... depends entirely on my mindset when I ponder the question, and perhaps my pervasive Libra tendencies to see and weigh all sides of an argument ... which can get a bit tedious as Yahn will tell you, particularly when we're just trying to pick a place to go to dinner.... But once more I digress....

I remember I always looked forward to summer vacation ... getting away from the everyday, the quotidian, all things Childress.... We nearly always went to Denver in the summer, to visit Daddy's family. And there was soooo much to do there ... the Denver Zoo and Museum of Natural History (two of the best in the country, IMHO) ... Elitch's and Lakeside amusement parks (those roller coasters ... the old, rickety wooden kind!!!), exotic things like the Lotus Room (there wasn't even a semblance of a Chinese restaurant in Childress then) and the Fuji-En (Japanese, with tatami rooms ... where I persuaded Daddy to buy my first set of chopsticks so I would know how to properly eat with them when someday I made it to Asia) ... so many wonders....

The summer of 1960 (between my freshman and sophomore years at CHS) we actually branched out with my aunt and uncle and their two daughters and went from Denver to Yellowstone National Park ... they slept in a tent and Daddy, Scott and I took the little Airstream camper ... for which I was extremely grateful the first night as you could hear bears rustling around the campsite. The rangers (and the signs all over the park) warned ... repeatedly and in dire terms ... of the dangers of feeding the bears, or not securing your food ... and yet there were always those who just refused to heed the warnings. I remember one day we had gone to see the Fountain Paint Pots, and when we walked back to the car we found the parking area cordoned off by rangers ... some fool had left a picnic lunch in his car, and left the windows down ... and somehow a bear (resourceful critters, like their "cousins" cats) had managed to climb into the car and was chowing down (and excreting) lustily ... rendering the car uninhabitable, even once the bear was permitted to amble lazily on his way.

At Yellowstone (which I remember as having the best vanilla ice cream in the world, later acquaintance with Blue Bell notwithstanding), I was absolutely fascinated with the college kids (called "savages") who worked there during the summer. I thought that would be such a cooool summer job ... but missed out on that particular aspiration, although our dear Clara (Robinson Meek, of course) did achieve it. And BTW, Clara ... I am sure we would all be interested in your stories about that ... if we can persuade you to write them ...?

Of course, the 1960 film Where the Boys Are, a story of college girls (and guys!!!) on spring break in Fort Lauderdale, was the uber adolescent female vacation fantasy. It starred Dolores Hart before she became a nun, George Hamilton when he was only medium well done, Yvette Mimieux at her loveliest and most vulnerable before she owned a sweatshop in Haiti, Connie Francis, who also sang the killer title song, and others, and I know my friends and I were certainly inspired by it. Then in 1962, the film Rome Adventure (Troy Donahue, Suzanne Pleshette, Angie Dickinson) proved the genesis of my vow to someday spend a magical summer in The Eternal City. (Another vow ... with all that vowing, perhaps Dolores Hart is not the only one who should have entered a religious order ... grin.) By the time I did make it to Italy, I was well beyond teenaged, and I only got two weeks, but the magic of Roma, Napoli, Pompeii, Sorrento and bella bella Venezia (one of my very favorite places) was just as strong as I'd imagined so many years earlier. And BTW, Troy Donahue and others of the 1960s "heartthrob" persuasion were never really my cuppa beef tea when I was younger. JoAnn had Paul Newman, but I went for dark, sensitive, brooding types ... the recently mentioned George Maharis of Route 66 springs most readily to mind; or the bald, sensitive, brooding Yul Brynner (never cared for him when they slapped a wig on him); or the variously toupee'd or bald (doesn't matter), sensitive, brooding, utterly magnificent Sean Connery. And so I married a blond, sensitive, brooding type.... Go figure....

In 1988, our 25th year after graduation from CHS, I prevailed upon a very popular DJ friend of mine in Houston to make a special tape (now expanded and transferred to a set of three CDs) for a "slumber party" Linda Kay was hosting for the gang in honor of the occasion. The rock bottom criterion I set for myself while compiling the music was that it all had to be popular music from our junior high and high school years, containing nothing after the summer of 1963. I was also pleased that the music I selected did not repeat any single artist, difficult to do with some performers like Elvis, Roy Orbison, the Four Seasons, Chuck Berry, Ray Charles, et al. Those who know me well (and who have heard the tape or CDs) were not surprised that the very first song on the set is Where the Boys Are ... and the beautiful Al Di La from Rome Adventure (sung meltingly in Italian by Emilio Pericoli) which speaks of a love beyond all others, a love "beyond the beyond", is also on the CD set. And ... the Theme from Exodus (Ferrante and Teicher), which I named as my favorite song in my Senior Profile in The Corral, is also there ... and remains the song I would pick if stranded on a desert island with only one song I could hear for the rest of my life. Some things deserve constancy, despite the imperative for change.... But again I digress....

Balinese rice workers near Ubud, Bali, Indonesia. Photo by Yahn Smith

If you are a regular reader of the blog (and why wouldn't you be?), you know I recently inaugurated a continuing (albeit finite) series featuring my humor column As You Like It, which I wrote for two years for The Corral at CHS, and during the summer of 1962 for The Childress Index. So, as I continue decompression after le holiday in La Belle France, I've decided to share with you a column I did on the subject of summer vacations during my Index summer. As I have previously promised and averred (difficult though it may be), I have not changed one embarrassing, cringe-inducing word of the column as it originally was published (shortly after Gutenberg's marvelous invention ... grin), and only hope again that you will deal with me kindly in regarding this modest effort. Of course, I do hope you enjoy it ... and that perhaps it brings back some memories of your own vacations ... which BTW, we would be delighted to publish under 'Cat Tracks, or as "comments" to this post. That is a hint ... not to say a heartfelt plea....

As You Like It
by Jennifer Johnston

Aloha! Thought you got rid of me, didn't you? Oh well, smile -- you can't win them all ... snarf, snarf.

Now that summer vacation is actually here, you are probably spending your time doing the things you dreamed about during the school year -- mopping, dusting, hanging out clothes, making beds, washing windows and cooking meals for Momsie, or working your fingers to the bone for some slave-driving boss -- no offense, Mr. Higley. But -- BUT -- if you are one of the lucky ones -- one whose parents have several assorted maids, three cars, etc., and who has no desire for the material things in life -- you will spend your summer vacation doing various things which we all love and enjoy.

This column is dedicated to those people (like me) who must spend their summer in an office or under a clothes line. In it, I shall attempt to present a mental picture to those of you who cannot enjoy loafing and would like to see how the other eighth lives.

Picture yourself, far away from civilization -- beautiful thought, eh wot -- lounging around around a camping area, enjoying the beauties of nature in some mountainous wooded section. No one around for hundreds of miles -- all right, maybe two or three trailer spaces over -- but anyway, back to the topic. There you sit, at peace with the world, until you suddenly hear a buzzing around your ear -- and you discover you're camped three feet from a stagnant stream. Yes, dear people -- mosquitoes -- but this is a problem easily overcome. All you have to do is reach for the insect repellent. So what if you forgot it? You can always stay inside the trailer, or stand in the line of smoke from the campfire.

So the next day, you go into town and buy some mosquito repellent. Your worries are over -- until a bear smells your food -- you didn't know you were having company for supper, did you? And of course, no mountain vacation would be complete without a swim in a cool, clear mountain lake. The fact that the lake runs into a waterfall doesn't bother you at all. Mainly because you don't know that the lake runs into a waterfall. By the time you find out -- it's too late for you to be bothered about much of anything.

Now let your mind wander to the seashore. Can't you just see yourself, basking in the hot sun on the hot sand? Loafing -- to put it bluntly. You're so comfortable that you don't want to move. So you drift off to sleep. Of course the fact that you will probably wake up three hours later with a third-degree sunburn doesn't bother you -- until three hours later, anyway.

But, undaunted, you make your way into the cool, blue shark-infested water. Although you have been warned of several dangers you might encounter, you swim on -- nothing can happen to you -- you're just on vacation. Well, you're right -- nothing can happen to you -- unless you get caught in the undertow, washed up on the rocks, or meet a shark face to fang.

For those of you who stay home during the summer, but do not have jobs to do, you can always spend your time going swimming, and going bowling, and going swimming, and going to the show, and going swimming, and if you are still in a mood to continue with this, you're on your own.

Well, I'm running out of ideas, so I shall let you rest your eyes -- and stomachs. Snarf, snarf.

Purcell Castle, County Tipperary, Ireland Photo by Yahn Smith

)O(

March Madness: Let the Games Begin

Ah, Glorious March is here; spring has sprung; and love is in the air. Wait! What am I thinking; it isn’t Love, love that fills the air. It’s the love of the game---the crack of the bat, the bouncing of the ball, the cheers of fans, a constant barrage of games on television, and the swing of the club. Sports talk permeates every venue known to modern society. Around the water cooler, in the break room, standing in line at the grocery and at home, conversation seems to flow around the latest game score. In our house the wide array of sports on the menu makes decision making almost overwhelming!

Of course, at our home, basketball dominates with so many tempting selections on cable. It’s like dessert everyday during the NCAA Basketball playoffs. Last Sunday was spent anticipating the scheduling for the first round of the playoff games. Next came the time for Jim and grandson, Jordie, to examine, dissect, and discuss all 65 teams on the schedule in order to fill out their own brackets of winners and losers all the way up to the ultimate team to win the big prize. Then the remote and the brackets were ready so the games began. Now every day the games are watched or monitored on televisions, newspapers, cell phones, Internet, and if one is really lucky, it might be possible to snag a ticket to an actual game. As the clock ticks and days pass and winners and losers of every game are determined, personal brackets are noted. Sometimes it is necessary to take a few minutes to grieve for a favorite team (Duke! Say it ain’t so Coach K!) that has suffered an untimely defeat. This will go on until the final four when North Carolina wins the championship. LOL I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that the women’s collegiate teams are also in the middle of their final games and are watched and tracked as rabidly as are the men’s teams. Go UConn! We wish we could say, “Go Tech.” but that is another sad story. I dare not leave out the random games of golf that are squeezed in on nice days in March and the pro golf tournaments (Go Tiger) to be enjoyed via cable on weekends when or if basketball has a boring moment.

In addition to the sessions of basketball strategy, spring break has come and gone in Amarillo. In a moment of insanity or brilliance we decided to treat Jordie (and Jim) to a trip to Arizona to witness spring training games for the MLB (Major League Baseball) teams in the summer Cactus League. Both of our grandsons play on baseball teams. Cole is still learning and having fun as a second grader and Jordie is on a traveling club team (12/13 years old players) with a far more serious intent. For weeks in advance we scoured the Internet for schedules and other information. After much serious thought, Jordie selected the games he wanted to see so the three of us were off. Over the course of 6 days, 2 in Tucson and 4 in Phoenix, we saw 7 major league games with number 8 having been rained out. Jordie was in heaven. By the end of the week, Jim and I had slightly dazed expressions and all the games were running together. We saw the Cubs, Brewers, (see photo above) Rockies, Padres, Giants, Angels, Athletics, Diamondbacks, Mariners and Royals play (some 2 or 3 times). We, also, visited 5 different baseball stadiums. For two days we ate nothing but ball park food (hot dogs, nachos, burgers)! I finally had to draw the line and demand real food. Jordie spent a great deal of his time very patiently explaining the game to his grandmother who has never been a fan of the game unless the grandsons are playing. I really am working hard to use the terminology correctly. You know, it is runs not points, umpires not referees and batter not hitter. Much to my surprise, I actually enjoyed watching the majors play and will view the game with an air of “sophistication” that I lacked in the past. We have already made a list of things to do differently the Next time we go to ensure that we spend our time much more wisely with much less of it stuck in traffic. Sadly, I never made it to a mall and the only shopping that occurred was at Wal-Mart for an emergency item. With all that we had possibly the time of our lives.

During spring break Cole and his family traveled to Durango to enjoy a last of the season vacation skiing and dog sledding. We can’t wait to hear about that!
This could add a whole new dimension to the sports package.

Now that the last week of March is approaching and the winners and losers in basketball will soon be decided and our trip to Arizona is over, we will mark the month of March, 2008, as a winner and a month to remember in the scorebook of our lives. Memories have been made. My tulips are blooming. (What?)

I close with the verses of the seventh inning stretch ringing in my ears. Now stand up, stretch, and sing along with me,

Take me out to the ball game; Take me out to the crowd; buy me some peanuts, and Cracker Jacks……………

La Vie en Rose ... the Two Towers ... and The City of Light ....

Eiffel Tower, Paris and the White Tower, Tower of London

Dateline Paris -- Always dreamed of being able to write that, in homage to and in the great tradition of legendary news hawks like William L. Shirer, Christiane Amanpour, and "Gunga Dan" Rather. Such romance and mystery ... and danger ... inherent in those two words ... "foreign correspondent". At last, I have realized my dream ... at the beginning of this post ... grin.... When you read this, Linda Kay, JoAnn, Raenell and I will be IN Paris (perhaps with Guinevere the Druid Goddess, if she can be stopped from running off with the first gorgeous Gaul she sees and making like Irma La Douce ... 1963, Shirley MacLaine, Jack Lemmon, directed by Billy Wilder) ... so I can truly apply the term (if generously) to myself. I am on foreign soil ... and I am corresponding ... (grin) ... one more illustrious title to my list of great (ha!) accomplishments ... paralegal, go-fer, keeper of the flame, prognosticator, psychic, general factotum (and "toter" of facts ...), etc....

I am hopeful that we will be dealing only with the mystery and romantic aspects while abroad ... not the danger part ... although when I think about it, anytime you turn four cougars loose in the City of Light ... and Love ... you never know what may happen. However, as I ponder further ... the "romance" part may be in short supply too, as our beloved and significant others are back in the States ... soooo wish you guys were here!!! And ... thinking again (which in itself may be dangerous!) ... unfortunately, the "mystery" may be confined to trying to figure out from day to day just how much the dollar has fallen against the Euro and the British pound.... But hey!!! We are in Paris!!!

Any of you who actually read the things I write for the blog ... and/or who know me well ... will know that Paris is one of my absolutely FAVE places in the world. It was the first place I chose to go ... the place I had lusted to see ... off the North American continent when Yahn and I reached the stage in life where we could do so. Yahn has told the story of how, when I proposed our first trip to Paris in the spring of 1984, he was not at all enthused at the idea and did his best to talk me out of it. Bless his heart ... by that point in our marriage he should have known how determined I can be and saved his breath ... but once I told him I was going to Paris, with or without him (of course with was preferable, but not a given at that moment), he decided that he would come along ... overcoming a long-standing fear of flying to subsequently join me in seeing as much of the world as we were able to reach before his health precluded flying. And we've had such fun together ... we've told some of our travel stories here ... and as I've warned, there are lots more.... But I digress....

Jobey, Rae, LK and I, hereinafter sometimes collectively les girls (1957 movie of that title starring Gene Kelly and Mitzi Gaynor), are currently and for this week ensconced at Le Grand Hotel des Gobelins ... a beautiful little hotel on the Left Bank (Rive Gauche) of the Seine, just on the edge of the fabled Latin Quarter ... home for a time and definitely a magnet (particularly in the 1920s and '30s) for wonderful writers, performers and artists, including but not limited to Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald (and his scandalous but spirited wife Zelda), Josephine Baker, Salvador Dali, Pablo Picasso and others.

We've been planning our trip for months (since last July, in fact), and for the most part paid for it around then (which is a really good thing given the aforementioned precipitous slide of the U.S. dollar). Airfare, hotel, breakfast each morning, a day trip to London via Eurostar "Chunnel" train on Thursday, March 20, a fabulous dinner cruise to see Paris by night (they don't call it the City of Light for nothin') on Bateau Parisien (think the lighted boat that Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn were on in the 1963 movie Charade) on Friday the 21st (a full moon night!) avec (with) Le VIP service ... sans (without) walking (a blessing by that time, I assure you) ... our private table at the front of the glass-enclosed boat to optimize viewing, and our own table attendants, a singer and a band, wonderful food and wine ... our major "splurge" after the trip itself. Yahn and I indulged in a lovely, romantic bateau (boat) dinner cruise on our first trip to Paris ... and it is definitely worth doing. So ... even though the "romantic" part is precluded this time, I know les girls will have a magical and memorable evening.



Bateau Parisian Dinner Cruise, Paris

[Note of possible interest: At one point in the river, near the Grenelle Bridge on the Ile des Cygnes (Isle of Swans) where the boat turns around, there is a replica of the Statue of Liberty, which was given to the United States by France in 1886. The Seine replica was dedicated on November 15, 1889, and is set facing west, toward the U.S. and its "big sister" in New York Harbor. A full-sized replica of Liberty's torch is placed at the Pont l'Alma, where Princess Diana was killed in a car wreck in 1997; the torch at the Alma Bridge thereafter became an unofficial memorial to her. And I find it interesting ... and comforting, particularly in trying times ... to note that "our" Statue has been replicated across the country and around the world, in such diverse places as Minnesota and Las Vegas, and on to more exotic locales such as Japan and Tienanmen Square in Beijing, where it was the symbol of the brief and ultimately brutally crushed student demonstrations against the Chinese government in 1989. Remember the terrible satellite pictures when the Red Army moved in, and the picture of that wonderfully brave man, standing in front of a Chinese tank? But again I digress....]

Now ... what else to do??? So many places ... such limited time ... decisions, decisions....

Of course, we must "do" La Tour Eiffel ... the Eiffel Tower ... originally abhorred by much of the Parisian population, but now recognized everywhere as the symbol of the city. It's wonderful to take the elevator up to the top (or as high as one is permitted to go) and look out at Paris literally at your feet. The boat traffic on the Seine, the broad expanse of the Champ de Mars leading to the glittering (literally ... gold statues) Trocadero. Off in the distance, the Arc d'Triomphe, Notre Dame, Les Invalides, Sacre Coeur.... I've got to tell you ... I've been on the replica of the tower here at Paris Las Vegas (think October Reunion), and although it's very nice, and gives a great view of Glitter City ... it simply cannot compare with being atop the real thing, IMHO. Just seeing so much history spread out before you is breath-taking ... and humbling....

Of course there are all the marvelous museums ... Le Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, Centre Pompidou to name some of the majors, but only a few of all the museums in tout Paris. The Louvre holds such works as Leonardo Da Vinci's Mona Lisa (smaller than you'd think), the Venus De Milo (where I was almost thrown out of the museum on our first trip to Paris, for trying to sneak a photograph where no flash was permitted), the Nike of Samothrace (a/k/a "Winged Victory", used as background in the 1957 movie Funny Face, with Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire), the Egyptian and Greek exhibits, Delacroix's massive canvases ... one could easily spend more a week (a month!) in the Louvre and still not thoroughly examine every treasure ... but, time constraints.... The Musee d'Orsay was transformed from the former Gare d'Orsay (a train station) and contains a concentration of French artwork from 1848 to 1914 (much of it formerly housed at Jeu de Paume), including works by Renoir, Monet, Manet (not a typo), Pissaro, Cezanne, Degas (think ballerinas) and the Dutch Van Gogh (think missing appendage and Don McLean's "Vincent"), among others. The Pompidou, the ultra-modern vision of the architect Renzo Piano, concentrates on the art of Picasso, Dali, Duchamp and Chagall, to name a few. At one time, one of its "exhibits" was Piero Manzoni's "masterpiece" “Mierda de Artista” ... which translated, loosely and circumspectly, basically refers to a "body waste product" (ewwww!) of the "artist". Merde!!! ... as the French would (and do) say.... I think we can skip that one ... IF it's still there....

Our other "splurge" will be the day we travel to (and back from, late that night) London. After we arrive at St. Pancras Station, we'll buy a day pass on the Underground (the Tube) and head straight for the Tower of London complex ... so massive, so brooding, so rich in history. The original "White Tower" was built by William the Conquerer in 1078. First up will be to see the British Crown Jewels ... dazzling!!! ... we are les girls, after all, and certainly have our priorities straight. (grin) The Tower grounds and buildings are haunting ... and haunted ... there were a lot of heads that rolled there, including the unfortunate Anne Boleyn (second wife of Henry VIII and mother of Queen Elizabeth I) and Catherine Howard (the fifth wife of Henry VIII) ... and many others who were killed sometimes by other means after imprisonment there. A flock of ravens has lived at the Tower for centuries (the yeoman warders even have names for them), and it is legend that if the ravens ever leave the Tower, the monarchy and the entire kingdom will fall.

From the Tower, we'll catch the Tube to the Knightsbridge station, just across from Hyde Park and a couple of blocks from the world-famed Harrod's department store (owned by Mohammed al-Fayed, father of Dodi, Princess Diana's companion in Paris the night they died). Although there are wonderful things to be seen (and bought) all over the store, the standout (IMHO) are the fabled Food Halls, featuring food and drink from literally all over the world. Perhaps we'll have time to "sit a spell", grab a sandwich or some more exotic "vittles", and just drink in everything, including a glass of wine to fortify us for the rest of the day. (Side Note: When Yahn and I were in London in 1989, we rented a flat for the week just across the street from the Knightsbridge station and from the park ... and we relied a lot on food wagged back from the Food Halls.) From there, we'll do our best to take quick looks at Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus, with the highlight of the visit being "high tea" at The Palm Court at the Ritz, before we have to head back to St. Pancras and our Eurostar return to Paris.


Lower Chapel, Ste. Chappelle, Paris

We must visit Ile d'la Cite (in the middle of the Seine) to see Notre Dame (sans Quasimodo ... although he can be the life of the party, a real "swinger"), and the beautiful, somewhat off the beaten track Sainte Chapelle, where the French royal family worshipped, before they totally lost their heads, with its incredibly beautiful stained glass windows which can render one absolutely speechless. Little bistro for lunch or perhaps a picnic by the river with pate and baguette (real French bread will spoil you) from a charcuterie (broadly, a deli), with mid-afternoon refueling at a patisserie (a bakery ... all over the city, and all to die for!!!).

I am so hoping that one evening we'll be able to stop for a light meal and a kir royale or two at Fouquet's, the historic restaurant at the corner of the Champs Elysses and Avenue George V, and watch the sun set behind the Arc at L'Etoile. Fortunately there are underground passages ... and Metro (subway) tunnels ... at L'Etoile ... otherwise, you would never get across that madhouse of a traffic roundabout.

One day in Paris, we can take the Metro to just past Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart ... not to be missed), then disembark and walk back to the Basilica, stopping for lunch at La Lapin Agile (the Nimble Rabbit), where Picasso used to hang ... then after Sacre Coeur take the funicular down the hill and wander around the artists' hangouts in Montmartre, picking up the Metro again at Abbesses. (Word to wise: If you see an elevator symbol with the word Sortie ... "Exit" ... and there is no escalator, believe the elevator is there for a reason. Take it ... NOT the stairs ... or as at Abesses and Ile d'la Cite you will find yourself on a loooooong climb back to street level. Most exits from the Metro are easy to negotiate, but those two .... Oy! It's a wonder Yahn's and my bones aren't still resting at Abbesses from that first trip, when we didn't know better. ) We must take in one of the French street markets ... probably Marche d'Aligre, or Puces, which are the most fun. Personally, I would love to wander around Pere Lachaise cemetery again ... the "final" (in this life) resting place of Moliere, Wilde, Piaf, Balzac, Proust, Yves Montand, Simone Signoret, Sarah Bernhardt, Delacroix, Isadora Duncan, Chopin, good ol' Alice B. Toklas, et al ... but les other girls might think I'm even weirder than they already suspect ... even if Jim Morrison (TheDoors) IS among the inhabitants.

Whenever I see the French Tricolor (flag), I am struck with a mental blast of La Marseillaise (the French national anthem). Remember that stirring scene at Rick's club in the 1942 film Casablanca ... arguably one of THE classic films of all time, with Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Claude Rains ... when the orchestra defiantly struck up La Marseillaise in the face of the Germans? And that heart-breaking scene at the airport where Bogie tells Ingrid that she must go with her husband, rather than staying behind, but that they'll always have Paris? And then he says "Here's lookin' at you, kid." Buckets ... buckets, I tell you ... of tears have been cried over that scene. (Although I must say that it was once posited to me that the ultimate chick-flick ending was really a "guy's" ending, because Bogie got to keep hangin' with his buds and left, stage right, with Claude ... "the beginning of a great friendship"). But I digress....



Excepting the odd bar or two of La Marseillaise, I am sure that the whole time I am there, I will have Piaf's marvelous, immortal song La Vie in Rose ("life in shades of rose" ... must see the movie with Academy Award winner Marion Cotillard) running through my mind ... another immutable (at least to me) symbol of Paris:

Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is La Vie en Rose
When you kiss me Heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see la Vie en Rose
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart...
And when you speak, angels sing from above
Every day words turn into songs of love....
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be La Vie en Rose.
I thought that love was just a word
They sang in songs I heard
It took your kisses to reveal
That I was wrong and love is real....


Arc d'Triomphe Paris at night

Ah, quelle romantique! Quelle passion!!! C'est magnifique!!! C'est ... C'est ... les girls .... oh.... Okay ... shift mindset.... Still, IMHO, it is impossible to be in Paris without having thoughts (many thoughts) of l'amour ... toujours (and ever) l'amour!!!! And, if thought transference works ... as I know from experience it does ... les guys we left behind ... our own true loves ... will be receiving some very distinct ... not to say overpowering ... messages. But you know what they say about absence ... and hearts ....

)O(

‘Cat’ Tracks: US 287…Road Trip …Rest Stops

Jim and I regularly make the trip from Amarillo to Childress to Flower Mound/Dallas. Neither of us has ever been opposed to making stops along the way unlike some others who might prefer to get in the car and drive stop-free to the end destination. In fact, age and caffeine have made stopping imperative at times. We have made a game of learning about the towns and cities along the way and we want to share our adventures with you so that you too can enjoy the trip a much as we do.

When embarking on any trip we arm ourselves with maps, and while a map is really not needed for our trip it is helpful when we decide to wander from the well traveled road for parts unknown. I have maps of most of the places we visit and thankfully, because Jim has no sense of direction when it comes to strange places, he doesn’t mind my consulting the maps or even stopping for directions. One of the few problems that we have in travel is that while I have a great sense of finding my way around when I am driving, I am prone to give directions very poorly, often saying right when I mean left and vice versa. Additionally, I have no idea where north, south, east, and west are except when I remember to look for the sun so when we are in strange places I often drive because I know where I am going even when I can’t articulate my plans to another driver. Luckily once I have explored a destination, it is placed in my mind map for future reference. Makes sense to us and we have learned to monitor and adjust. A GPS is most likely in our future.

Anyway, back to our trip that occurs almost entirely on U.S. Highway 287 which stretches north to south from Montana near the Canadian border to Port Arthur, Texas. Because we live in Amarillo, that is our starting point. I won’t bore you with Amarillo details, but should you ever decide to vacation here, I am more than happy to provide pertinent information. Generally, depending on the time of day that we leave home, our first stop is the Water Still about a mile from our house so I can purchase a large container of iced tea for the trip. (caffeine in the morning and decaff in the afternoon) and then we are off to I-40 with Jim driving. Did I think to mention that I can’t stay awake to drive until I have had a nap and caffeine?

One bit of information that I might share before we leave is that Amarillo is a part of Historic Route 66 as well as on the I-40 corridor. I-40 is heavily populated with hotels, motels, restaurants and other businesses. Historic Route 66 is also home to many of the same type of businesses, but I would recommend that only the brave at heart or the very uninformed would be found seeking shelter in that area.

As our trip unfolds we are soon at the edge of Amarillo where I-40 curves to Oklahoma City and we travel on to 287 to Ft. Worth. Thirty miles down the highway, we come to Claude, a small but friendly town. Our stops there have been brief, but there are several antique stores on 287 that when they are open are of interest to those inclined to sifting through the junk and old stuff to find a treasure. On the corner on the north side of 287 or is that the east side is a small drugstore that bears investigating from time to time. The town square and courthouse could lend themselves to photo ops to share with friends and family. The ever present Dairy Queen is available most times for coffee, drinks, food, and restroom breaks.

Travel continues for another 30 miles to Clarendon. On the hill entering town stands Clarendon College. Happily Clarendon is now the home of a Sonic for those of us who at this point need a Cranberry Slush, but most of the time the Outpost Pharmacy/service station/coffee shop/restrooms is a very popular local gathering place. Jim often finds that a good cup of coffee is in order at this point not to mention a restroom break from the previous early morning cups of coffee. Other points of interest could be Main Street for more antique shops and possible small cafes and restaurants.

One of the very best things about traveling 287 in Texas is that between Amarillo and Wichita Falls there are 2 new Texas Safety Rest Stops which are truly the best thing going and I am proud to see my tax dollars being spent wisely. (I really mean this.) There are 98 of these strategically placed on Texas highways. I highly encourage travelers to take advantage of these areas. The rationale for the stops is to provide places for people to stop in for rest and relaxation before continuing driving. Each is provided with clean and I do mean clean restrooms, computers for locating information and maps, Wi-Fi connections, snack machines, local history displays and attendants for assistance and maintenance. Additionally, tornado shelters are provided. Children’s playground areas and dog walking areas are available. The first on our journey is between Hedley and Memphis. The second is located between Quanah and Chillicothe. You will find one on each side of the highway for quick entry and exit. On my list of must see places to visit are the 96 other rest stops.

Memphis is thirty miles on down the road from Clarendon. Here you will find the usual photo op town square. I would have recommended a trip through a shop called Faux Pauts, but it is possible it has gone out of business. I would also have recommended a stop at the Back Porch Sandwich shop on 287, but alas, it too is no longer there. Gloria’s Mexican Food on the town square does provide an interesting dining experience for those so inclined to be adventurous.

One word of warning is in order. As you travel 287 on the outlined journey, it is wise to be vigilant of shall I say, “speed traps” for lack of a better phrase. In particular, Memphis, Estelline, Chillicothe, and yes, even Childress are places to obey the sudden drop in the speed limit as you pass through. Claude, and well, every tiny town between here and there can be hazardous to your pocket book.

At last we come to the first major stop on our trip. Entering Childress, it is possible to feel a hint of prosperity and growth. To the right or left of 287 you can catch a glimpse of the Roach Unit prison and while it is my understanding that it is not available for tours, a car trip out to the unit can be another photo op. The new digs for the Highway Department are very nice, also. It is hard to miss the new super store Wal-Mart which is another boon for the community. For those who love to peruse the aisles of a good Wal-Mart, I would recommend that you make this a stop on your trip if you have time. From experience, I know that many hours can be spent at this activity.

It is not uncommon for us to arrive in Childress in time for lunch. Thankfully, there are several options for dining unless you come on a Sunday or Monday and then the selection sharply drops. K-Bobs remains a favorite for locals and tourists. It has a fine reputation for its great salad bar, steaks, burgers, and good conversation with Marilyn Havens who greets us with a smile each time we go there. Down the street you will find the Wired Rabbit which has great Italian food, JT’s (Johnny Longbine) for the best hamburgers, the Childress Bakery for pastries, coffee, drinks, and sandwiches. If you go early in the morning or middle of the afternoon you can enjoy good conversation with the local coffee drinkers. For Mexican food you have the El Sombrero Restaurant. There are, of course, several other options available for both ethnic and American cuisine.

Sometimes, Childress is our end destination as our “vacation” home is located there. This gives us the opportunity to enjoy the many antique shops including Jitters, Wild Plum, and Amazing Grace, as well as Serendipity and the new Ballyhoo. Jim is delighted that Childress is also putting the finishing touches on a new 18 hole golf course, Stony Ridge, located on 287 east of town. Some of you might be surprised or happy to learn that Childress is no longer “dry” and liquor stores have begun to appear in town.

But for now, we continue on our journey down 287. Quanah is next in line. Upon entering the city limits, we see a smaller version of Dutch’s restaurant which is on our list of one of the places we might visit one of these days. Truthfully, we have not spent much time here on our journey since it so close to Childress, but we have visited the town square and a great antique store on the east edge of town. One cautionary suggestion is to never plan an antiquing trip to any small town on a Monday as a great many of them are closed on Sundays and Mondays.

One of the joys of traveling by car and taking time is that we can be open to exploring for the new and unexpected. For years we have passed through Chillicothe without taking the time to stop except at the Dairy Queen or when stopped by the town police officer. However, it is impossible not to notice that in a short stretch of 287 is lined with signs proclaiming “dang good candy” “pecans” and “Texas Valley Pecans.” One day out of curiosity we stopped at the small business. Big Mistake!! Much to our, well to my delight, we had discovered a wonderful shop filled with amazing gifts, books, ornaments and other home accessories that quite simply begged to be taken home to our house. Now our car never passes by without turning in. Thankfully, Jim is happy to visit their coffee bar and the pecans are fabulous! Since I have spread the word about this place, many of my friends and family have become addicted to making regular stops here, too.

After the excitement of Chillicothe, we usually fly through Vernon so it remains unexplored by the Wilcoxsons, but maybe someday… Happily, Vernon is one of the few towns that are red light free on 287.

Wichita Falls is next, and what can I say? Well, the new highway system allows you to literally fly over the city, so unless you plan to make a stop there, the traveler can miss a lot. If at this point you need a really good place to eat, you will find it in WF. All of the familiar restaurants are located either along 287 or tucked back in the city. The problem is that you have to know where you are going and be willing to detour off of 287 which we have done on many occasions—Cheddars, Olive Garden, McAlister’s Deli, Chili’s and I am sure you get the picture, but Dallas calls so we don’t tarry there for very long. One interesting observation worth mentioning is that between Electra and Wichita Falls, a large herd (if that is the correct term) of camels can be seen on the south side of 287 grazing and resting.

By now, I am usually driving, having had my caffeine fix and my nap. Jim is now asleep so we travel on down 287 side-stepping
Bowie and making only a quick stop in Decatur at the Starbuck’s for a last cup of coffee.

This is where we leave 287 and head for Denton. However, the promise of Ft. Worth on down the way on 287 is tantalizing as Ft. Worth is a favorite city for us to visit, but that has to wait for another time and another trip.

I leave you with a poem that I discovered in a 1963 highway map of the Scenic Highway U.S. 287
VIA 287

By Ray Rostron

If you’re planning a trip or just taking a ride,
287 is the route you should drive,
Convenience you’ll find, all along the way,
That’ll make your stop a most pleasant stay.

From Port Arthur’s shore to the mountains of the west,
Mother Nature’s scenery is at its best
Each city and community a congenial host
So Travel the highway that offers the most.

Whether you trip be for pleasure on a family vacation,
Careful planning will make it a momentous occasion.
You can go to the moon via God’s Blue Heaven,
But let’s travel the earth via 287.

Guinevere the Druid Goddess: St. Patrick's Day ... the Shee ... and "Kiss Me, I'm Druid!!!"

Guinevere the Druid Goddess and Lucan, facing side of mural by Yahn Smith ... or as he calls it "Bowling with the Tuatha De Danaan"

Back at last after my extended sojourn in Asia ... Chinese New Year ... met such an intriguing man ... "head" (literally) Lion Dancer in the Hong Kong New Year parade ... what musculature ... what moves!!! A bit much rice wine, too much dim sum ... bloat ... rescued (as is frequently the case) by my mystical companions the Eagles, who interrupted their own journey on the Long Road Out of Eden (subsequent to Hell Freez[ing] Over ... grin) ... extended recovery involving much hair of diverse dog, hot stone massage, hot masseurs.... Shee-sh!

"Fairy path" on the way to Torc Waterfall, County Killarney, Ireland
Photo by Yahn Smith 2003

Nevertheless, here I am, fit as an Irish fiddle and ready to play!!! I have pulled myself together (or am as pulled together as I ever get) in honor of the upcoming festivities for all Irish/Druids (or just wannabees), to be held March 17 on the perversely named St. Patrick's Day ... although the likelihood is slim to none that an old stick like St. Patrick would have approved, much less enjoyed, the modern celebrations held in his name.

I knew Paddy well, and I'm here to tell you that he could be ... and was ... just a tad pedantic ... not to say blue-nosed ... borrrrring ... about such things. His idea of a good time was driving non-existent snakes out of Ireland (and one must wonder what he was drinking or otherwise ingesting that led him to hallucinate snakes, of all things). Not to mention all that nattering about the spiritual aspects of those common, pedestrian shamrocks (three-leafed, rather than four, as some are misinformed). However, we may all be grateful that Paddy ... with his phallophobic visions and his ardor for the putative symbolism of trefoils (three-leafed plants) ... was lucid enough to pick the shamrock rather than poison ivy in attempting to explain the concept of the Trinity to the Irish.... Small mercies.... But I digress....

Paddy was born on an imprecise date in the latter half of the 4th Century, C.E. (Common Era, a/k/a A.D.) in either Scotland or Roman England. His birth name was Maewyn Succat, although he later took the Roman name Patricius, ultimately changed to Patrick. Paddy was kidnapped as a young boy in Wales by coastal raiders and sold into slavery in Ireland, where he languished in captivity for about six years before effecting his escape. It is said that while in bondage, Paddy underwent a religious experience, and upon attaining his freedom undertook study and training to equip himself for what he believed was his "calling" to convert the heathen Irish. (Snort, fume, grinding of teeth....) He was wildly successful in bringing Catholicism to Eire during the 20 years of his ministry, shuffling off that particular mortal coil on March 17, 461 C.E. By the end of the 7th Century, he had become legendary, and is generally considered the "Patron Saint" of Ireland.

However, despite all of Paddy's preaching and proselytizing, and to his eternal chagrin, he was unable to completely eradicate the Celtic affinity for things Druid and magical. The Irish have always retained (as if they could forget!) their ancient folkloric beliefs, which they can recite (in the finest traditions of the shanachie, or story-teller), pretty much at the drop of a shillelagh and a drap or two of fine Irish poteen ... effective in communing with the other illicit spirits who inhabit the stunningly green isle.

It has always seemed to me that the proper celebration for those of Irish/Druid descent would not be a drunken homage to the ascetic, upright and up-tight Paddy, but rather a celebration of the Tuatha de Danaan (literally, the people of the goddess Danu, the Celtic mother goddess ... and Tuatha De for short), also known as the aos sidhe (pronounced "ess shee" ... "Shee" for short, and collectively in all their diversity for our purposes here) ... powerful supernatural beings ... including but not limited to fairies, leprechauns and puca (a/k/a pooka, immortalized in the play and movie Harvey with the marvelous actor James Stewart ... and as with Shee, the singular is the plural). The Shee were the true gods and goddesses of Irish lore and legend. (Your applause at my entrance is gracefully and humbly acknowledged.) Although Shee are distinct and separate from human beings, they have always had extensive contacts and interaction with mortals.

Despite the fact that the fun-loving and aesthetically inclined Shee were driven underground or into the shadows by the conquering Gaels long before Paddy's coming, and Paddy himself did his best to stifle their spirits (grin), they have never lost their grip on the Irish imagination or their place in Irish folklore. The Shee always knew (and know) how to have a good time ... so long as they receive appropriate offerings for their amusement and nurture, and no mortal is foolhardy enough to provoke them. Believe me ... you want nothing to do with an angry Shee, although there are more running about than you might imagine.

Shee generally have a human appearance, but possess preternatural powers which may be used for good or evil ... or frequently, just mischief. Most mortals in these times visualize fairies as being diminutive female beings (think Tinker Bell); however, the Shee, including fairies in general, were originally if somewhat contradictorily described as being "tall, radiant, angelic beings ... or short, wizened trolls." (Which reminds me ... haven't heard from Blog since his comment to my "Festivals ... Fire ... and Bear Fat ..." post of January 22, 2008. Hope he hasn't changed bridges without a "Forward" again....)

The male Shee Aengus (who tended to roam), a member in good standing of the Tuatha De, is considered a god of love, youth and poetic inspiration. (It is said that Aengus always had four birds circling 'round his head, symbolizing kisses, and this may have been the inspiration for the "xxxx"s sometimes appended to letters exchanged by lovers.) The bean sidhe (a female fairy ... and a bit unstable, in truth), a/k/a banshee, is known for portending death and doom through her screeching, high pitched, hysterical wails. Leprechauns are generally old, ill-tempered, downright cranky, wealthy and cunning. (Somehow, these examples remind me of the upcoming U.S. presidential elections.... But I digress....)

The Shee lived openly above-ground for eons, frolicking and ruling the Emerald Isle back in those ancient days of Irish mist and fog and sacrificial forests, as my dear and very close friend William Butler Yeats, the great Irish poet, wrote, "... where time is drowned in odour-laden winds and Druid moons." Yeats also spoke of ... "a Druid dream at the end of days when the stars are to wane and the world is to be done." (Though the words were certainly crafted by Yeats, just how do you think he came to know about Druid moons and Druid dreams? Puh-leeze! Credit where credit is due....)

Yeats (affectionately known to me as Will-B) recorded for posterity the tale of the wanderings of the warrior/poet Oisin and the beautiful Niamh of the Golden Hair, who dwelt together blissfully in Tír na nÓg, the Land of Eternal Youth, for more than a century. Of course everything was just peachy until Oisin just had to leave Tír na nÓg to go out with the guys one more time and stepped back into the quotidian world ... where a hundred years of previously unfelt and unaccrued age suddenly and tragically caught up with him. You just can't tell 'em.... (Side Note: Oisin was the son of the legendary leader of the Fianna, Fionn mac Cumhail ... pronounced and later Anglicized as "Finn McCool" ... a truly cooool name, IMHO).

Portrait of William Butler Yeats, ca. 1900, by John Butler Yeats

Ah, my dear, beloved Will-B (as I called Yeats in that incarnation ... we have much unfinished business in future lives).... Adored the man.... His intense, absolutely killer Celtic eyes .... what gifts, what talent, developed and honed over many lifetimes, despite a few setbacks here and there to relearn ... or learn new ... life lessons. Among other eclectic interests in Theosophy (literally, "god wisdom"), Buddhism, Hinduism and Kabbalah, Will-B was absolutely fascinated with Irish lore, and with the Irish legend of Cuchulain, the offspring of both a supernatural and a human being, from whence he may have inferred the ultimate joining of the mortal with the metaphysical worlds. He intimated as much in many of his poems after he had a "fairy stroke" (fell passionately in love) with a stunning Shee posing as the Irish Nationalist spitfire Maud Gonne ... a leanan (defined as a sweetheart, concubine or favorite) sídhe ... sometimes described as a beautiful muse, who offers inspiration to an artist or writer. (And don't listen to any of that nasty gossip bruited about by numerous envious she-Shee about the leanan sidhe ... balderdash, I tell you. Shee-sh!)

Will-B carried a total torch for Maud for decades, and often wrote of her in his poems. He ended He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven with these expressive, wistful lines;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.


Dear Will-B also wrote in When You Are Old:

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crown of stars.

The poet described Maud as a "supernatural being ... belonging to poetry" (modesty restrains me from going further). Unfortunately, his love for her remained unrequited in that particular earthly existence ... since Maud also had some of her own karmic quirks to work out ... but that's another story.... However, I cannot leave the subject without showing you two pictures ... which some of you may find verrrrry interesting ... not to say "spooky" or "uncanny" ... at least to those of mortal mindset.

Maud Gonne, ca. 1900 and a "familiar" face, ca. 1973

Will-B wrote further of his love in The Song of Wandering Aengus:
...

It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.


Crank up some good old country music (actually "old country" music from Celtic lands was the genesis of the popular Nashville variety) and you can cry in your beer for hours.... But again I digress....

Despite my indignation at the slighting of the Shee in favor of Paddy, I have always believed in adapting to the customs of my (current) land of residence, and have with goddess-like fervor and abandon embraced your St. Patrick's Day forays into a place called Shamrock in the numinous land of Texas, where I think I had a really good time ... what I remember of it.... (Fortunately, Jennifer has her "infernal" memory, which I draw upon frequently.) Through the mists of time, I see interesting footgear and faces under strange wide-brimmed hats ... Paula, Linda Kay, JoAnn, Raenell, Lynn, ... perhaps even Joe Don, Harold, dear Jack Petty, "Teedle" and others ... Jim, was that you there??? I have also gamely consumed copious quantities of that odious green-dyed beer in scattered locales, as well a bit of Guinness here and there, along with good old Jameson's Irish Whiskey (which my good friend Willie Nelson ... not to be confused with my beloved Will-B ... tends to use for purposes of "drowning"). Let's see now ... whiskey on beer ... beer on whisky ... something rhyming....

The Torc Waterfall, County Killarney, Ireland
Photo by Yahn Smith 2003

Not to be a spoilsport .. but only in the interest of accuracy ... I do feel it is incumbent upon me to disabuse you of one myth ... namely, the idea that corned beef and cabbage (CB&C), a staple of your "Irish" celebrations here, is a commonplace, traditional dish back on the old sod. Just try to get it in your average pub in Ireland, as Lynn, Yahn and Jennifer found out in 2003; it's not on menus (except in really touristy places that cater to the Irish diaspora seeking familial roots). Good Irish pub keepers generally have no idea what you are talking about when you ask for it, since the "tradition" of CB&C was begun and is descended only from Irish immigrants to America ... specifically, New York ... who, in the late 1800s, were unable to find (and unable to afford, if they had found) Irish bacon to eat with their cabbage. They learned about the less-expensive corned beef from their Jewish neighbors ... and so a blended, if misunderstood, tradition was born.

As ever, and always, I have personally chosen the fun-loving Shee, rather than stuffy old Paddy, as my role models as I celebrate the day of the Irish/Druids ... in Paris ... Shee Paree (grin ... and groan) ... where at least the French have the good sense to refrain from dyeing the Seine a noxious shade of green.... I will be (Will-B!) counting on Raenell and JoAnn to do their best to keep Jennifer and Linda Kay and my own happy self from wandering into the river after a carafe or two (or three) of vin ordinaire. Of course, we will all be a'wearin' the green and snogging (that's kissing, lest you jump to any untoward conclusions) any handsome, remotely Celtic-looking guy with killer eyes who'll stand still long enough.... Sister Brigid has sent her regrets, and will no doubt be barricaded at home, trying to keep Bres from busting loose and carousing with the milkmaids, which he is wont to do at the drop of a bonnet....

Gotta dash ... sparks flyin' from my fingertips ... echoed voices in the night ... dancin' shadows, firelight ... sometimes it's hard to be a restless spirit on an endless flight ... but let's see how high I can fly.... Poof!

)O(