Leaves and Shakers

Leaving upstate New York, we crossed into Vermont.  Almost immediately the roads improved - beautiful smooth highways lined with trees showing their finest colors.  Vermont is, I believe, not a wealthy state, but the homes and yards we passed looked more prosperous and better kept than we had seen in the countryside we passed through in Pennsylvania and New York.  There seemed to be a real pride in maintaining their properties. 

We crossed over into New Hampshire to walk around beautiful Dartmouth College - a classic campus with great old buildings and green open spaces.  There was an adjacent shopping street with a number of nice restaurants - much more upscale than we had seen at the University of Wisconsin in Madison but less interesting.

Some years back Nancy had taken a trip across country with her sister Diane, who has since passed away.  One of her favorite experiences then was a visit to a Shaker village in Kentucky.  Massachusetts was another center of Shaker activity during its heyday, and there is a Shaker village in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, so we headed there.

The United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing began in eighteenth century England and came to America near the time of our nation's birth.  They were given the name "Shakers" because of the gyrations observed during their charasmatic church services.  They were admirable in many ways, believing in equality of the sexes and kindness toward all.  They were very inventive craftsmen and are well known for their simple but elegant furniture production.  They lived communal lives.  Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the Shaker lifestyle is that they did not believe that God wanted them to have sexual relations.  This, of course, limited procreation rather severely and made the movement less attractive to the lustful.  Of course Nancy and I couldn't help but wonder if slipups were occasionally made, and if so, what happened to the offenders when a new little Shaker popped out.

The buildings in the village are wonderfully preserved, and the staff is great at explaining what things were like when the community was active.  No Shakers have lived there for many years.  There is one small Shaker community remaining in Maine.  Please contact me if you want further information on how to join.

A mighty wind blew that day, before and after our Shaker visit.  Swept most of the color from the trees, leaving bare limbs and diminishing the beauty of the drive back to assist Nancy's parents in their move to a senior facility.

Cooperstown

We left the Walmart in Exton, PA and drove out in search of fall foilage and found peak color in northwestern Pennsylvania.  We stopped at a campground there, and when I turned on the automatic leveling system to get us ready for the night there was a loud mechanical scraping sound, and the coach pitched left to right.  One of the four leveling arms got bent, so we will be unable to level the coach precisely until it's repaired.  The owner of the campground said, "I'm pretty handy and can fix almost anything."  He volunteered to unbolt the damaged mechanism and secure it to the undercarriage so we could safely drive the vehicle - and he and two buddies did just that!  Good samaritans are still out there.  I expressed our gratitude with a fine bottle of Ridge cabernet sauvignon.  He was not offended at the offer of an alcoholic beverage.

Driving through the countryside of Pennsylvania and upper New York state, the fall colors were spectacular.  Entire hillsides were covered with brilliant jujube pastels.  If you haven't been to New England during October, I highly recommend that you add that trip to your wish list.

We pulled into a campground in upstate New York.  When Nancy walked over to the office, everything inside was piled up in an ungodly mess.  It turned out that there had been severe flash flooding when hurricane Irene hit the east coast a little over a month before.  Many of the RV's in the campground had been damaged before the owners could get them to higher ground.  The same thing had happened at the previously mentioned campground in Pennsylvania, by the way.  Out on the West Coast most of us weren't aware of just how severe that storm had been on the Eastern coastal states. 

So the park was not in great shape, but the owners found us a nice level spot.  They mentioned that during the summer the campground is always packed, because so many people come to the area to see the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.  We weren't even aware that it was almost next door; that's what happens when you are on a schedule and don't investigate what there is to see nearby.

The next day we drove into Cooperstown.  It's extremely charming.  They haven't allowed any chain stores or restaurants to spoil the ambiance, so it's fun to explore.  Across the street from the Hall of Fame building, we saw four protestors - three elderly women and one middle aged man holding up anti-war signs.  We told them that being from Santa Cruz, California, their protest made us feel like we were back home.  They were Quakers, and one of them had been to Ben Lomond.  I joined their protest, briefly sharing a "War is bad" sign with the gentleman, while Nancy took a photo to commemerate my dedication.

The Hall of Fame museum is wonderful if you have any interest in baseball - and is quite nice even if you don't.  There are statues of many of the greats, and a lot of historical movies and photographs.  Sections honor African-American, hispanic, Asian, and women baseball players.  The all-time statistical leaders in hundreds of categories are listed.  There is a small section honoring the current reigning world champion San Francisco Giants.  In one room are bronze plaques for every player inducted.  All in all, it's fascinating and extremely well done.  See it if you can.

Family business in Pennsylvania

Nancy a few months ago: "Walmart is the devil. They drive all the local stores out of business. They pay their employees so little that they give them pamphlets telling them how to go on Medicaid. They are evil and I hope I never step foot in one of their stores."

Nancy now: "Ah ... these prices! One of my favorite meals lately is the beef filets in those cute little packages. Their produce is nice, too, and the stores are clean. Oh, look. They have a hair salon in this one. If I hadn't made an appointment in town, I'd go here. And they're so nice to allow us to park overnight for free. Once we get back to the motorhome, I'll search the GPS to see where there's one close to where we're stopping tonight."

Nancy's parents live in an apartment in West Chester, Pennsylvania.  They are scheduled to move on October 22 back to Ashbridge Manor, a senior living facility down the road in Downingtown.  We had planned the timing of our trip so that we could assist in the transfer to their new quarters.  We arrived in the area about two weeks before the moving date and wanted to help them get organized, with plans to then head north to see the New England fall color changes and return a few days before the final move to be of whatever assistance we could.

On the internet Nancy located a Walmart just a few minutes from where her parents live.  It wasn't a Walmart Supercenter (meaning, for you non-Walmart-aficionados out there, that it wasn't as gargantuan as their biggest and didn't have a full grocery department), and it wasn't open all night - but it did have a huge parking lot and they graciously allowed us to park the motorhome there for several days.

Nancy's dad Ren is 92 and her mother Dotty is 89 years old.  Both have a few physical problems but they haven't lost anything mentally so I'm hopeful that with those good genes, when I go gaga Nancy will still be capable of taking care of me.

Ren is a very smart former engineer who loves jazz and keeps up with all the political and scientific news.  Dottie doesn't get around too well but still manages to run a pretty tight ship.  We had a lot of quality time with Nancy's folks but with all the talking I can't say that Nancy and I accomplished a lot in helping them prepare for the move.

Nancy's brothers are Rennie, an electrician who had a liver transplant some years ago, and David, an accountant who lost his wife to cancer last year, and both have great senses of humor.   Nancy and I got together with them on football Sunday at a sports bar to watch the 49ers game against Tampa Bay, which turned out to be one of the best performance by the 49ers in years.  Unfortunately for Rennie, who is a diehard Eagles fan, the Eagles and Michael Vick lost their game that day - a week after the 49ers defeated them - but he maintained his composure and good spirits, which goes to show that he's a far better man than I.  Good brew, good fattening bar food, and lots of laughs.

So after helping her parents not all that much, Nancy and I prepared to leave our Walmart parking lot - to which we would probably return in about a week - and head north, through upstate New York, and across to Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.

Muddy outside Cleveland

By coincidence a friend of ours from Santa Cruz was scheduled to undergo a procedure at the Cleveland Clinic just after we planned to drive by.  He arrived there a few days before his surgery for pre-op tests and evaluation, and we made plans to drive in and meet him at his hotel, catch some lunch, and hear the news from Santa Cruz.

The pickings for campgrounds anywhere near Cleveland were slim.  We settled on one about 40 minutes away from the hospital and pulled in and got settled the night before we were to meet our friend.  It was not one of your upscale RV parks and looked like what you'd find in the backwoods of West Virginia or Zayante.  The rain was coming down pretty good, and while our motorhome was on solid gravel footing, most of the campsite was wet and muddy.

At around eleven o'clock it was time to take the dogs out for their last run of the day.  Because of the stormy and sloppy conditions, and the fact that they sleep on our bed, I decided to carry them one at a time to a gravel pad for their late night business.

Tammy Faye was first.  She's kind of a load.  I was carrying her in my arms, in the dark, when my foot slipped.  I fell forward, banged my head on the slideout surface, and fell directly onto my back in the mud, still clutching Tammy Faye to my chest.

I took inventory.  No acute pains.  No loss of consciousness.  I knew the month and year, and while I wasn't clear on the day of the month and the town I was in, I knew who the president was.  I was pleased to note that Tammy Faye had held her bladder during the excitement and didn't seem emotionally damaged.  Nothing worse than a dog with PTSD.

Surprisingly, there were no aftereffects the next day.  Nancy and I met our friend in Cleveland, and we had a nice lunch.  Traffic in Cleveland back to the motorhome was nothing like Chicago, and we headed East toward Nancy's parents and family in Pennsylvania.

Days in Hell

Somewhere in Montana our dash heater/air conditioner went out.  Working fine one day, dead the next.  In hot weather, we were sweating; in cold weather, our toes were freezing.  I called Ford (the motorhome is on a Ford chassis) and they made an appointment for us at a Ford truck service center in Madison.  We dropped off the motorhome and while they worked on it, our dogs went to a local groomer. 

The technicians found that a wire had come loose, patched it, and we got back on the road, headed for a campground in Rockford, Illinois.  Then a weather front moved in.  There were gusts of over 50 mph, we found out later, and our motorhome was tossed right and left, terrifying man and beast.

 We reached the campground after the office was closed.  According to information posted there, several sites were available, and Nancy selected the map for one of them.  It was a strange campsite - very narrow, with a big tree on the right.  In retrospect, it was entirely unsuitable for a motorhome, especially one with slideouts.  With the storm still blowing and night approaching, I gamely drove the unit into position.  There was a thunk.  Thunks are never good in the RV world.  It turned out that even though there was plenty of room between the tree and the right side of the coach at eye level, there was an upper tree branch that bent over and smote the awning roller over the rear slideout and scraped it pretty good.  Lesson learned.

We drove out, chose a different site, and proceeded to go through the usual setup procedures.  But the rear slideout wouldn't extend fully; the pooch had been screwed.  So we brought the slideout in, which left no room at the foot of the bed.  For me to get to my normal sleeping position, I had to crawl over Nancy and the dogs.  Not very elegante.  REM sleep was hard to come by.

The next morning we got up early and drove to an RV dealership in Rockford that sells some of the Thor motorhome models and has a well-reviewed repair service.  I threw myself on the mercy of the service department, and a very nice gentleman - who claimed to be a 49er fan - promised to try to get us on the road that day if at all possible.  Since it was Friday, if they couldn't get it fixed that day, I knew that it would be Monday at the earliest before we could resume our trip.

Happily, when we called some hours later, we were told that we were good to go.  A metal arm that allows the awning to extend over the slideout had been bent in the tree incident, and they were able to get things functioning again.  We were very grateful, and paid the bill with smiles on our faces.

But as we were climbing in and out of the coach, preparing to leave, the steps at the door - which are supposed to automatically lower into place when the door is opened, and retract when it is closed - just sat there, half in and half out, swinging in the breeze.  A technician came out and noticed that a bolt had fallen out of the hinge mechansim, and several components were hanging loose.  The technicians said that a half inch bolt had simply snapped.  Now Nancy and I may have picked up a few pounds on this trip, but we and the techs were certain that it was not our fault but most likely a factory defect that would be covered by warranty.  They worked on the steps for a while, but couldn't fix the problem.  They taped up the steps to keep them out of the way, and suggested that we get them repaired or replaced when we would be in one location long enough for a service department to order the necessary parts.  Without those steps, it was necessary to pull ourselves up and lower ourselves down - difficult but doable - and we hit the road.

Someone at the going away party had cautioned us to avoid Chicago traffic at all costs - and we tried, routing ourselves considerably south into the suburbs - but it wasn't far enough.  The traffic at that Friday afternoon was heavy and aggressive and frankly a little scary.  The roads in Illinois - in fact the highways all through that area - are terrible.  The ride is bumpy and noisy and unpleasant.  To add insult to injury, Illinois collects high tolls for the privilege of driving on those abominations.

Exhausted, we asked our GPS to take us to a Walmart, where we spent the night.

The following day, after driving over more bone jarring roads and fighting the winds, we pulled into a country campground in Ohio.  Finally I could relax.  We put the slides out, had dinner, turned on the furnace, and watched some television.  Then I noticed on that cold evening that the furnace had stopped after only a few minutes.  I looked at the control panel and was disheartened to see that not only was the temperature display on the thermostat blank, but the water heater couldn't be turned on, and most disturbing of all, the slideouts were inoperative.  This was not good.  We were in trouble.

I checked the circuit breaker panel; none had been tripped.  I even removed the control panel from the wall, looking for loose wires, thinking that the awful roads might have jarred something loose. 

We had been told that we had emergency roadside assistance available to us, although we weren't sure who was supposed to provide it.  Nancy began looking through our papers to figure out who we would call in the morning.  We were pretty sure that we would have to be towed in or otherwise transported.  Our spirits were as low as they could get.

As a last gasp attempt, I checked the circuit breakers again.  No luck.  At that point I noticed a little black plastic door that I hadn't seen before and whose function, if any, was unknown by me.  With some effort I was able to get it open.  Inside there were about 15 fuses, each 15 amps.  Each fuse had two metal prongs that should be inserted into two receptacles.  I saw, to my amazement, that beside one of the fuses a red light was on.  It turned out that that fuse had been installed improperly, most likely at the factory.  One prong was lying on its receptacle rather than inside it, and until the recent road trauma it had maintained enough contact to function properly.  When I stuck it in as intended, the red light went out, the furnace started up again, the slides became functional, the water heater came alive, the lame were made to walk, and the blind could see.

Nancy began jumping and shrieking, "You da man, you da MAN!"

As you can imagine, I don't get many of those.  From boob to brainiac in two short days.

After weeks with everything working, suddenly it seemed that we were under a black cloud.  Would things get better?

Stay tuned.

Madison

I was one of the Tallulah, Louisiana students involved in a high school exchange program with Madison, Wisconsin way back in the days before segregation was ended in my home state.  Tallulah is a relatively small town and Madison is a fairly large city, so I don't know how that came about, to be honest.  I remember the people as very nice but don't recall much about the city.  Because I'd read that Madison has been named as one of the best places to live in the USA, I was anxious to see what it was like now, so we stayed a couple of days in a county park campground there and had a look around.

Madison is home to the University of Wisconsin, which is a great school and is spread over a wide area but doesn't appear to have the beautiful grounds of many campuses. State Street extends from the university to the capital building and is filled with ethnic restaurants of every variety you can imagine.  The street is restricted to pedestrians only for much of its length, and we spent quite a while walking and choosing where we'd have lunch, and we had a great and very reasonable one at an Afghan restaurant.

State Street ends at the State Capitol, which is an architectural gem, and there are great little shops all around that neighborhood.  We bought some local product at a wonderful artisanal cheese shop there.

Madison is situated on a pretty lake, the people are friendly, there are lots of good and great restaurants, the streets are attractive, it's a sophisticated place, and because of the university there's a lot of cultural activity.  It's now one of our favorite cities, and we could see ourselves living here one day.  The winters might be a little harsh, though.