We stayed an extra day in York to get the RV fixed, sent Momma on to Maryland to stay with Ed and because we had stayed an extra day, Momma got to visit with Charles too. That just wouldn’t have happened had we not hit the curb and wiped out the steps of the RV. We would have gotten up Saturday morning and driven to Maryland and spent the day with Ed and his family, gotten up Sunday morning and headed for Sandusky, Ohio, our next stop and we would not have seen Charles at all.
Momma had a nice visit with Paul as he drove her to Ed’s in Maryland.
Momma spent a night and a morning with Ed and his family.
Momma got to see and visit with Charles.
AND we were back on schedule.
The next part of our RV trip took us through Pennsylvania, a long state, not as long as Texas but a good six hours until we hit the Ohio border. Being in an RV we didn’t drive as fast as a car might travel, and we made lots of stops, both for pee and gas.
I’ve learned, through the years, that the routes we use to travel through Pennsylvania don’t have a lot of interesting things for me to photograph. The interstates and highways go around towns and there’s usually nothing to see but trees. So I wasn’t even ready when I spotted these two hawks sitting together in a tree and as a result, the only shot I got was blurry.
I saw two signs that said FALLIN ROCK. What is fallin rock? Rocks that already fell? And why would they put a sign up? Clean up the rocks and you don’t need a sign, right! I looked for fallin rock and didn’t see anything out of place. Now I’m beginning to wonder if someone didn’t just screw with the signs.
The PA turnpike has four tunnels and I never thought about them until the warning sign, TUNNEL ONE MILE came into view, then I remembered how much it used to thrill the kids when they were little.
Having moved from Pennsylvania to Indiana we made the trip every couple of months to visit our families, and this is the route we took, but I’ve not been on the turnpike (where the tunnels are) much in the past twenty years.
Once through Pennsylvania and into the flatter lands of Ohio, farms started to appear on the landscape and I was happily clicking away with my camera again.
Our campground for the night was a pretty tree-lined park named Camp Sandusky and in case you don’t know this, just let me say that Sandusky, Ohio is home to Cedar Point, a big amusement park. I imagine camping spaces would be hard to find during the season. Luckily it was still early enough in the year that there weren’t many other campers. The trees, although beautiful and leafing out on this fine spring day, are a bit of a headache for RV’s to maneuver around. I got out and helped Lori spot for trees as she backed into our spot.
Because the weather was so beautiful, it allowed us to get out and put a little space between each other.
Lori walked around for a little while then found a table to sit and make her phone calls. I snapped a few pictures of her as she chatted away.
Yeah, just a few…
Always searching for a perfect picture, I may have gone a little overboard in my picture taking, you know what I’m sayin’. I have one picture of Lori that seems to be saying, “Take that camera and shove it.”
I gathered my laundry and headed for the washers as Momma did her meds and caught up on her prayers. The campground had two washers and two dryers. I sorted my laundry, loaded the quarters in the slots, pushed the slide in and…
It jammed. Doggone it! I left the laundry and went to the office. There were two gals in there.
“Hi,” I called cheerfully as I entered.
“Hi,” they both replied. “What can I help you with?”
“The washer’s broken. I put my quarters in and the slide jammed and I didn’t get my wash.
Samantha, standing at the counter with me, turned to Michelle who was working on the computer.
“Give her back her money,” Michelle answered her unspoken question.
“How much did you lose?” Samantha asked reaching for the button on the till. She hit a button and the cash drawer slid out.
I puzzled over how she did not know the cost of the washers, but only for a second. “A buck and a half - six quarters.”
“You have to put a note in the drawer and an out of order sign on the washer,” Michelle told her.
Samantha fished out six quarters and handed them to me. “Thank you.”
Conversation kept me at the counter as the Out Of Order sign was handwritten on paper with marker. Samantha picked up some tape and I walked with her back to the washers.
“I do a webpage about people I meet, may I put you on it?” I asked.
“Sure,” Samantha said as we walked.
“What is your biggest fear?” I asked.
Without hesitation, she answered. “My biggest fear is definitely water. When I was nine I jumped off my dock back at home and I ended up jumping on a catfish. I got stung pretty badly, and even though I live here at Lake Erie, I don’t like to swim because of all the fish in there.”
I had a nice visit with Samantha but she had to get back to work. As I waited on my laundry I saw a kindly looking lady walking her dog. I’m a sucker for dogs.
“Peg, I thought you were afraid of dogs,” you say.
I am, but not dogs on the ends of leashes with their owners in control.
“What a pretty baby!” I said as I approached. “Can I pet your dog?”
“Sure,” Louise said.
We got to talking and I told her about talking to people and getting quotes for my webpage. “Can I put you on my page?”
“Okay,” she replied amicably.
I turned my camera toward her. “Oh no, I don’t want my picture taken.”
“Well that’s kind of part of it,” I told her. “How about if we don’t use your face?”
“I guess that would be okay.”
“Let’s use your pretty bracelets.”
She held her hand out, the one holding the dog leash, and proudly declared, “My grandchildren gave me these!”
We talked for quite a while and about the time I was taking my leave, Louise said, “I guess you can use my face.”
“Thank you,” I said, “but I think I’ll just use the bracelets anyway, they’re beautiful.”
And she was pleased.
Laundry done, I went back to the RV. Momma was at the table. “Wanna play Skip-Bo?” I asked.
She laughed but started clearing a spot. We played Skip-Bo until bedtime.
The next morning we were up and on the road early and I clicked my way across Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois.
There were lots of barns.
Chicago was a nightmare of traffic and roads and construction, with lots of lanes and people weaving in and out and slow traffic and fast traffic and trying to read signs and be in the correct lanes at the correct times and it was horrible!
Going through the urban areas, I was able to get shots of graffiti on train cars, not that I can’t as we go down the highways but in the train yards there was just so much more of it and all in one place too!
Graffiti holds a fascination for me. Sometimes they are beautiful and I admire the talent it took to create it, freehand, with spray cans full of paint and the fear of being caught in your throat.
Sometimes I wonder what they say or what they mean. Then I saw an interview with a graffiti artist on the television and one of the things he said has stuck with me.
“It don’ mean nuttin’. I just like makin’ them letters and that’s my tag.”
So they don’t have to say anything - mean anything for us to appreciate the beauty and talent.
One thing I have noticed is that they paint around the info on the train cars. Maybe -- and I’m just guessing here -- maybe they have discovered that if they don’t cover up the pertinent information, the rail company isn’t as anxious to get rid of it, or paint it over.
We saw the Oscar Mayer wiener mobile.
“Get a picture of that for me,” Lori said but I was way ahead of her and had the camera up and was clicking away.
Then we passed into Wisconsin and I have to tell you that this is my first time in Wisconsin.
Sometimes - like whenever I think about it - I take pictures of the state signs as we pass them so I know where I took my road pictures.
I got a lot of pictures traveling through Wisconsin but not many stories to go with them.
Like this Kwik Trip sign. I do believe this is the first time that I’ve seen a semi and trailer used as a sign pole.
I like tractors.
And old trucks in fields.
And Wisconsin had a few ‘fallin’ down buildings too.
Buffalo!
A buffalo farm!
Do you ever wonder what it would have been like to have seen herds of these mighty beasts so large that it would take days for them all to get past you?
But what would Wisconsin be without cows? And since it was springtime, what is better than cows with babies.
Our campground for this night was the Sky High Camping Resort in Portage.
It was afternoon as we were coming into town and we were taking note of the business. One thing about traveling with me, you won’t have to read signs; I’ll read them to you. It was easy for me to read signs as we traveled the edge of Portage because the businesses were all on one side of the road.
“There’s a river or lake over there,” I said to Momma. She looked in the direction I was pointing.
“How do you know?” she asked because we couldn’t see it.
“Cause those are levees,” I said indicating the high earthen banks on our left.
“Oh.”
We hadn’t gone more than a mile or two until we saw our sign for our campground - and Betsy (the GPS) let us know too, still, it was nice to get visual confirmation.
We turn onto a road that took us uphill and around curves and was narrow and had us questioning if we had made a wrong turn someplace along the line. Finally, at a stop sign, we spot an RV up on the next hill.
“There it is!” I pointed out.
We registered, found our campsite, set up house, and had a bite to eat for our dinner.
“I think I’ll go check out the showers,” Lori said and taking her shower supplies and phone she went out.
Momma and I settled into our nightly games of Skip-Bo. This was getting to be a habit with us, playing every chance we got, but it was a game we both enjoyed and we never got tired of playing.
Lori came back in, hair wet from her shower, stowed her shower gear and settled down with the itinerary for the next day, her computer and the road atlas close at hand. “We are only going about two hundred fifty miles tomorrow before we get to Phyllis’,” Lori informed us. “So we don’t have to get an early start.”
I perked up at the news. “Does that mean I’ll have time for a run in the morning?” I asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Lori replied.
“Yay!!!” I’d been interval running for about a year at that point and because of our demanding travel schedule, I hadn’t been able to go for a run for a couple of weeks.
First thing the next morning I was up and dressed in my running clothes. After a drink of water, I took my stopwatch and my camera and headed out the door. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” I told Lori.
“Okay,” she said. “Enjoy your run.”
Interval running, in case you don’t know, is where you alternate between walking and running for prescribed amounts of time. That’s why I need the stopwatch. And in my case, after a ten-minute warm-up walk, I run for thirty seconds then walk for a minute and a half and continue that cycle for the next forty minutes. A ten-minute cool down walk and I have three miles under my belt.
I’ve learned, over the past year, that I almost always see something while on my runs so I take my camera with me. I don’t usually stop during my run cycle but I can snap photos pretty easy while I’m walking.
Are they baby pine cones? I wondered and snapped a couple of pictures.
Sometimes people rent spots in RV parks long term. Those people usually end up building decks and buying little storage buildings for their lots and doing their own landscaping. I thought this corner was especially pretty.
I was only about twenty minutes into my run when it started to sprinkle. Doggone it! I can’t let my camera get wet, I think, I better head back before it gets worse.
The sprinkles stop.
I breathe a sigh of relief and determine I’ll get to finish my run after all.
The sprinkles start again.
Well, as long as it isn’t any worse than this, I think, it’ll be okay.
“What about your camera, Peg?” you ask.
With just a light sprinkle I can protect it by putting it under my shirt.
Running in the rain reminds me of my niece Yvette. She loves to run in the rain. “Why is that?” I asked her.
“Because it drives everyone else inside and it’s peaceful,” she told me.
It wasn’t long until there were big fat drops intermingled with the sprinkles. It started to come down harder and I knew I had to give it up and head back. I made a direct line to the RV, cutting across the grass, and with my head down, watching my feet so I didn’t step in a hole and twist my ankle or fall, I reached the RV and pulled on the handle to open the passenger side door. It was locked. I jiggled it a little and a dog jumps up on the seat and barks at me.
I was confused for a second. That’s not my dog, I think. Oh. I didn’t even bring my dogs. Who’s…how… I step back and realize I was at the wrong RV. A lady’s face appears at the window.
“Sorry,” I say, shrug and put my hands up to indicate it was a mistake.
The side door opens and a man appears. “Can I help you?” he inquires.
“I’m so sorry! Wrong RV!”
I bet they watched out the window as I went two spaces over and opened the passenger side door of our RV and climbed in. (I bet they wondered why I was using the cab door too!)
“Good morning Momma!” I greeted her cheerfully. She was already at her traveling station.
“Good morning sweetheart,” I love the way she says sweetheart when she calls me that.
Lori was sitting on the couch checking her maps for the drive ahead of us. If I didn’t know better I’d think they were waiting on me.
“Do you want to go back into town to that little restaurant we passed and get breakfast?” she asked.
“Yeah!” I’m always up for breakfast.
We got stuff stowed, unplugged, packed up, slid in, buckled up and we were off.
Back down to the highway we went and the mile or so back into town to a little family-owned restaurant called the Red Apple.
“I’m going to pull in front of the door and you get your mom out and take her in,” Lori said because of the light rain. “I’ll park the RV.”
When Lori stopped I jumped out and got Momma’s wheelchair from the back cargo hold as Momma got her oxygen switched from the concentrator to the portable oxygen and made her way to the passenger seat so she could exit the RV. Having lost the use of the door to the main body of the RV was an inconvenience but not an insurmountable obstacle.
I pushed her up the sidewalk in the light drizzle and got her into the alcove and through the inner door without much problem. Once inside we were greeted by a waitress.
“Two of you?” she asked.
“No there’s three,” I replied.
“Did you bring your invisible friend?”
I laughed. “No, the other one’s parking the RV.”
“Okay,” she said and led us to a four-top.
We took our seats, shed our jackets - well Momma shed her jacket. I just had a sweater on. And we turned our coffee cups over. The waitress came right back carrying a pot of coffee. She went for Momma’s cup first and my mama slapped her hand on top of her cup so fast! “Is that decaf?”
“Momma,” I said with a laugh on my lips. “Why would you think she is coming around with decaf first?”
“Cause it’s all about you, isn’t it?” the waitress asked Momma before she could say anything.
“That’s right!” Momma agreed.
“I’ll be back with some decaf,” she said with a twinkle in her eye and left to fill a few more cups before going for the other pot.
Lori joined us and we ordered breakfast. Afterward, the waitress came around waving the check, “Who gets the paperwork?” she asked.
She tickled me. I enjoy a waitress that has a little personality, you know what I mean?
In the early afternoon, we pulled into my beautiful younger sister’s house in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota. The first thing I noticed about her (besides her beautiful smile) was her red hair. The second thing was her short hair. I’ve never seen her with hair this short before and I have to tell you, I really like her hair - even the crazy color!
Phyllis still had to work -she works from home - so Momma and I settled in and played a few rounds of Skip-Bo at Phyllis’s kitchen table while Lori settled on the patio and caught up on her phone calls.
When it was time for Momma to do her afternoon meds and prayers I wandered around with my camera, exploring my sister’s house and this picture of one of her gargoyles, living amongst the houseplants, is one of my favorites.
Phyllis’s daughter Rachel came home from school and after changing her clothes she visited with her grandmother.
Momma and I had recruited Rachel to play Skip-Bo with us and we were still playing when my daughter Kat and granddaughter Jessica came in.
The first thing I noticed about my beautiful daughter is that she had lost weight since the last time I saw her.
“Mom just gave up dessert and lost weight,” Jessica told me.
“Peggy, get that box out of the RV for Phyllis, would you please?” Momma asked.
“Sure.”
“While you’re in there, why don’t you get that family box and see if Kathy wants any of those things,” Momma added.
“Okay. Come on Kat.”
“Can I come too?” Jessica asked.
“You sure can!” I told her and they both followed me out to the RV, happily chatting the whole way. I unlocked the back storage bay and hooked it open while I rummaged around looking for the proper boxes.
“These are a bunch of things Granny wanted to give to anyone who wanted them,” I told her opening the box. There were some dishes and wall hangings, a handcrafted doll, change purse, and other odds and ends.
“I don’t need any dishes,” Kat told me, “but I love this doll!”
We took things from the box until we had considered all of the items and both Kat and Jessica had found a few things to remember their grandmother by, then reversing the process, we put everything else back into the box and put it back in its home where it would stay until we got to Diane’s house.
When we got back inside Momma and Lori were cutting rhubarb, fresh from Phyllis ’s garden, into pieces for a cake.
“Mama, I have to go to work tonight and it’s an hour’s drive home, would you be upset if I left?”
“No, if you have to leave, you have to leave.”
Kat went to the other side of Phyllis’s huge kitchen and put her arm around her Auntie. They shared some words and a hug and kisses and I could see the very special bond that had formed between them.
“Stay for dinner,” I heard Phyllis say.
“Auntie, I don’t want to. I have to work tonight and it’s an hour home.”
“Then wait until it’s done and you can take it with you.”
Kat reluctantly agreed and sat with her grandmother, visiting, while I snapped pictures.
And just so you know, Lori isn’t the only one who has a take-that-camera-and-shove-it face. It seems that Phyllis has one too!
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