At The Jersey Shore

August 27, 2009
So on Monday I watched how the sausage and peppers are made. The secret is in the slow cooking. I have made them myself on many occasions, but they never tasted quite like Aunt Marie's. I took about 15 or 20 minutes to cook mine, she took about 2 ½ hours. Now I know. And boy did it all taste good!!


On Tuesday we gathered some stuff and headed for the house down at the shore. I have not been there since the 1970s. Bill had never been there, and of course Heather had not been born yet the last time I was there.

We took Babe, the little white fluffball dog, with us. She would've missed Marie terribly if she'd been left at the house. She had a tendency to get carsick, so I covered my lap with a big towel and had a pile of napkins with me just in case. She made it almost to the house when she threw up. No harm done, except that poor Babe was a bit jittery for the rest of the day as she got used to a new environment. Bill and I took her out for many long walks in the couple of days we were there. She was fine after awhile.

Everything was so built up. When I was last there, the house was new and there were not as many houses there. Now there are lagoons and houses everywhere. But it was nice to be there again.

On Wednesday we went to Long Beach Island and the Barnegat Light. We walked along the boardwalk and enjoyed the view. Bill took lots of photos. Marie and Babe sat under the gazebo and Babe happily accepted a bunch of attention from the kids that walked by.

Later we went and got some amazingly excellent New Jersey pizza. The crust was just right—nice and floppy. And Bill and I split a sub. That was just right, too. It was a real Italian sub, not the sort of pseudo-Italian ones I've been eating for the past decades :-)
On Thursday we went home and again Babe almost made it before she got sick.


Poor little puppy—her day got even worse after that as she got a bath, which she hates. Then she got a blow dry, but not her head—she puts her foot down about that! Tomorrow I will try my hand at sausage and peppers.

Anniversary in New Jersey

August 22, 2009
We're in New Jersey! I have not been here in 12 years and before that it was 10. I spent lots of time here as a kid because most of my mother's side of the family lived here. We're staying with my Aunt Marie—she looks just the same! She still lives in the same house that I used to visit and stay in when I would hang around with my cousin. So much of the surrounding area looks completely different, as you would expect, but then some familiar thing jumps out and I find myself saying, “Oh yeah, I remember that.” Anyway, it is kind of strange to be in this house where some things look different and some things are the same.

We have met the dog, Babe, and commenced with the fussing and spoiling. We plan to go down to the house at the shore, which I have not been to in over 30 years, and Bill wants to get his truck looked at. For now, I am just enjoying being here and catching up with my aunt!

August 23, 2009
Today is our 29th anniversary. I never would have guessed that I would be spending it in New Jersey! Life takes us in interesting directions sometimes. It doesn't really matter where I spend the day, though, as long as I'm with Bill. Our marriage has been the thing that I am the most grateful for in my life.


Aunt Marie took us to see the spot where my Nana's house used to be. After she died, a developer bought the houses and property and is building some new McMansions. You would never know what it used to look like. That makes it easier somehow, because there are no traces of what it used to be and I have my memories. Then we went to the cemetery where we saw her vault, as well as that of my grandfather and uncle. We went back to the house for awhile and then Aunt Marie took us out to lunch at a place called Panera Bakery. It was really good. I'd seen the signs on the highways, but had never heard of the place before that. I had some broccoli-cheddar soup and a turkey sandwich. Yum! Tomorrow, she is going to show me how she makes her sausage and peppers. Tuesday, we go down to the shore house.

Almost

August 21, 2009
Interesting day. Good thing we got the wipers replaced on the truck. We were driving across Pennsylvania and entered a fog area—lots of hills and valleys around. The sky was dark. Before long, it was like night. It was only 10 in the morning, but the sky looked like it was nine at night. The rain started. Then it poured. It was coming down in sheets! We were on this narrow bit of road with two lanes and a very small shoulder area. Bill was getting extremely nervous because he could not see—a minor detail when one is driving! We knew that pulling over would not be safe, so he kept his eyes glued to the lights on the truck in front of him and kept us moving forward, trying to ignore all of the people passing us on the left. It didn't last long, but it was a stressful few minutes! He had those new wipers going as fast as they would go and it still wasn't fast enough. Still, if we'd had the old wipers they would've been flung from the truck and into a valley or something.
We got to our destination and were sorely disappointed. We knew there would be bad weather, so we were looking for a motel room that was along interstate 80.


The night before—in Streetsboro—we watched as more tornado warnings were issued. One was for the county we were in. I had to look at the phone book to find out what county we were in, and sure enough, the funnel cloud or whatever it was passed about 10 miles to the south of us. So we wanted some shelter. We searched and searched with our atlas in hand, but could not find anyplace that would take a reservation. Finally we found a Red Roof Inn in Danville, PA that had a room available, so we booked that. It was a somewhat longer drive than we'd been making in a day and we were somewhat nervous about this because of the clanging and clunking noises the truck is making (Bill did some research and thinks it's the U-joint). Anyway, there seemed to be little choice, so we reached Danville, found the motel and proceeded to check in. The room itself was nice enough—clean and comfortable. But the free coffeehouse style whole bean coffee that they trumpeted all over their website was unavailable because the machine was broken. There was no internet connection available. I was in desperate need of coffee. So after bringing our stuff in and laying down for awhile, Bill asked the woman at the desk where the nearest grocery store was. It was right down the road a couple of miles, she said, so we got into the clanging truck and headed that way. It was there.

I love walking around new grocery stores. You can tell a lot about where you are by observing what kind of food they sell and do not sell. I find it fascinating. On this day, my mind was pretty foggy, though, so I kind of stood there feeling overwhelmed as I tried to figure out what to buy for supper. By this time I had found the coffee and purchased a 20 ounce cup. It wasn't great, but it was good enough, and I was grateful. So while I waited for that to kick in, I kind of wandered around looking at stuff.

Then I spotted the pizza in the hot food case. It looked almost like New Jersey pizza, which seemed reasonable, since I was almost in New Jersey! I had been looking forward to NJ pizza for a long time. There's something about it that's different from west coast pizza. Anyway, I looked up at the sign and saw that they sold whole pies. I knew what I wanted for dinner. So Bill ordered some and we went outside to drink our coffee while we waited. Bill decided he didn't like it, so he gave me most of his 20 ounce cup, too. I was feeling much better. We went back to the room and I tried the pizza. It was almost NJ pizza. The crust was a tad too thick, but it tasted wonderful! And we even have some left over for breakfast tomorrow!

Scratching the Surface

August 20, 2009
We have avoided Cleveland and are in Streetsboro, Ohio. Seems like a nice enough town. But I say this based on one short drive down a road, a stop at the grocery store and a dash into a motel room. The latter is nicer than what we had last night. Of course, yesterday afternoon when I walked into the lobby and saw the desk people behind the plexi-glass windows, I knew I was in a different world than the U.P. I don't know whether it was bulletproof or not, but I assume it was. And the toilet was on pretty soft flooring. You could feel it sinking. Someone sometime will have an unpleasant surprise. Anyway, we had a good drive here. We discovered some excellent signage just into Ohio directing us to the Rt 80/Rt 90/ Ohio Turnpike. We stopped to get new windshield wipers because we did hit a rainstorm and the driver's side wiper started coming off.
Last night we watched the news and there was a story about a 12-year-old who shot and killed a 24-year-old woman. He is being tried as an adult. This is certainly tragic and indicative of some serious personal AND cultural problems. But the station did a poll asking people whether there should be more regulation around how people store their guns. The result was that 80% said no more regulation was needed/wanted. They talked to the victim's father who felt that the death penalty would be a better result for this child than the possibility of life imprisonment. I understand his position and I cannot even begin to understand his pain. But how exactly will any of this help solve the larger problem? His daughter is dead. She will be dead no matter what happens. And because we refuse, as a society, to deal with the real problem, in the future someone else's daughter will be dead too. Does this kid have serious issues that need to be addressed? Absolutely. But we live in a society where guns are everywhere and violence is entertainment. There's enough evidence to show that these things matter. Who knows what particular dysfunction was afoot in his family. In spite of the lip service we like to give aboyt "family values," this society does a great deal to undermine family relationships, not support them. I don't know the details, but clearly this boy had troubles in his life, probably at many levels. But do we want to take any small part of the responsibility? Nope. People just keep going on about rights. And they keep hoping that they can take care of the problem at the surface. This is the case here, with the economy, and in so many other ways. Imprison a child and pretend that you're actually done something useful. Then when it happens again, be surprised at how bad these kids today are. The economy is crumbling. No kidding—it was bound to happen. It's not sustainable as currently constructed. But what kind of serious discussion is going on about the foundational issues that led us to this point? The voices must be few and far between, because I am not hearing them. This is so typical of this culture. People run around like their hair is on fire trying to take care of things after the fact. You can't make big changes—which is what is needed when you are dealing with things from an emergency perspective. The emergency has to be dealt with, of course, but the root of the problem must be dealt with as well. Going back to our old economic habits—if that is possible—will not get at the real problem. Throwing this young boy in jail after trying him as an adult will not solve the problem. It's hard to deal with these big problems, but what is the cost of doing nothing? It will be pretty high.

Places

August 19, 2009
We're in Flint, Michigan. Might as well be another planet. We started off in the peace and beauty of the U.P. and ended up here. The bridge was a trip this morning. It seemed huge. According to a postcard I saw, including the approaches, the bridge is 5 miles long. It's an attractive structure. They were working on it, so we were in the inside lane, and there was equipment between us and the view sometimes, but it was still a nice sight. Then it was a few more hours of nice scenery until we gradually ran into more traffic and eventually, 4 lanes of it. By the time we drove by Saginaw, we knew we were back in what people tend to call “civilization.” I think we were going by the outskirts of Saginaw—at least I hope so, because it seemed to be pretty industrial. There was a weird smell in the air. Thirty miles later, Flint. Bill's stress level kept rising as the traffic got thicker. I don't blame him. There's a reason I hate driving.
This seems like urban with some grit added in. Minneapolis, St. Paul, and Fargo were urban. The first two were pleasant enough. They seemed like nice places, even if they were large and too busy for my taste. I wouldn't want to live there. I didn't much care for Fargo, but it was still not quite like this. I could visit the Twin Cities again. I hope to never be here after tomorrow. Of course, tomorrow I will be just outside of Cleveland, so I am not sure how much of an improvement that will be. I am sure that there are people who adore Cleveland. I have only been there once. I have what is probably an ignorant and stereotypical idea about Cleveland not being very inviting. And since I will just be passing through, tomorrow will not do anything to enlighten me, I suppose. I have been thinking today that Burlington will be interesting. We read that it is the smallest town to be the largest city in a state. The population is about 35,000 people, I think—maybe a few thousand more—so it's about the size of Klamath Falls. But it's close to places like Boston and Montreal, and seems to have some really progressive thinkers. I know from experience that you can't go by what you see on the web. There were things in Klamath Falls that looked really good until I got there and saw the reality, which was nothing like what was advertised. So I am either a chump or a hopeless optimist or something, because even after my experience in Klamath Falls, I am really starting to see possibilities for our time in Vermont. I am hoping that some of this stuff really is happening and really is there for me to be involved in. The Quaker Earthcare organization is based there. The Quakers seem like they're active and involved. There's a whole bunch of stuff. So I am starting to feel hopeful about what we will discover. And the city is small enough to be comfortable and not so small that we will be isolated. Larger cities are close by in case the opportunity to do projects or some other kind of work comes up. And it would be nice to see Quebec again. Bill and I went there for a weekend once (when we lived in NH) but that was about 25 years ago. Anyway, those are my rambling thoughts about places for today.
Tomorrow, Cleveland.

St. Ignace

August 18, 2009
St. Ignace, Michigan. We're ate the southern edge of the Upper Peninsula. Tomorrow when we leave here, we will get on the Mackinac Bridge and cross the Strait of Mackinac, which is the point where Lakes Huron and Michigan come together. We're at the eastern edge of Route 2, which we picked up in Duluth, MN a few days ago. It has been a very beautiful portion of the trip, with plenty of wildflowers, big trees, lots of green, and even the beginning of the fall colors. We have enjoyed being in some rural areas and driving through small towns. There were many “For Sale” signs on various tourist-related businesses, so I guess the economy is having an impact.
The campground here is nice. It's very quiet, which is appreciated after the noisy, chaotic mess that was Hayward. And it's clean, which is something we all appreciate much more after Moorhead! I am reminded of Fairbanks, because the leaves are changing, though they are probably farther along up there than they are here. We have lots of birch trees around us here, which is what we were surrounded by at our house in Alaska, as well as pine trees. When we lived there, I would start sticking my head out the door every morning at around this time of year to see whether that nip was in the air yet. I knew fall was coming. And so I am reminded here that summer is passing and soon we will be in a new season.

The town of St Ignace is very pleasant. It is apparently the 3rd oldest city in the US and was founded by father Marquette. It seems that the French were big colonizers around here. We drove downtown earlier today, parked and spent a few hours walking around. The main street is State Street and it borders Lake Huron.

There's a boardwalk that goes along the lake and one that goes out to a lighthouse and a fishing dock—at least, fishing is permitted in a corner of the dock. Along the boardwalk is a public marina and a little park with a couple of picnic tables and grills. I was happy to see this. One of the things that struck me as we have been looking at various downtowns on this trip is the lack of public community space. There are plenty of places to buy things, and even places to gather if you want coffee or food. And revitalization always seems to mean putting more stores in so people will come downtown, buy stuff, and leave. I understand this and think that it can be a positive thing, since usually downtown areas consist of small merchants who are local and not giant chain stores. On the other hand, since I am not a fan of mindless consumerism, and many of these places need to encourage that to stay in business, I am uncomfortable with that being the only focus. I think there need to be more places where people can come together and just be without having to buy something.

And to their credit, the people of this community seem to have done some of that with the public areas by the lake, and the summer activities like music in the park a few nights a week, and fireworks downtown every Saturday.
It's been interesting to see how the available food has been changing as we've come across the country. Here it's pasties. For those who don't know what these are, they are little pies filled with meat or fish, potatoes, onions, and sometimes rutabagas. As far as I know, these were common food for miners in Wales and other parts of Britain, because they were cheap, filling, and the miners could bring them down into the mines and eat them there. I was kind of surprised to see them as a big thing here, because when we started out in Iron Mountain, we were in Scandinavian territory—the next town was Norway. But there are pasty shops and stands everywhere—much like you see salt water taffy everyplace in a coastal town. Somewhere in the midwest—I think it might have been Moorhead—I noticed the summer sausage. I had forgotten all about that. It's a big thing here and I remember it from my days in Illinois as a child. As I recall, I used to eat it once in awhile, but I never liked it as much as Italian sausage. And somewhere in Montana or maybe it was in Bismarck, I started noticing how hard it was to find chicken and stuff like turkey sausage. When I could find it, it was outrageously expensive. At that point, it was practically all beef and pork. In the store in Hayward there was a section near the deli with premade sandwiches. One of the selections was a pork roast croissant. I thought that was interesting. And food simply seems more expensive. Maybe because I am not shopping the way I normally would, but it just seems like everything costs a great deal more.
I got a sad email from a friend yesterday telling me that her dog had died. Kiki was 15 and a wonderful 4-legged-furry person. She was very important in the life of my friend and I felt so bad for her. I was remembering my own pain at the loss of my dogs over the past couple of years and I wish I could do or say something to make it a little less painful for her. I know she will get through it, but it's hard. I met Kiki when she was just a puppy back in 1994 when my friend was living in idaho and we went to visit her. It seems like she's just always been there. She loved to play ball and would go get it and bring it back for you to throw again and again and again.
We are enjoying what will probably be our last rural stop until we get to Vermont in a couple of weeks. We are heading back into congestion and crowds and all of that. I imagine there will be some space in between cities as we are driving, but we will zip right by it. We are also supposed to be getting rain and thunderstorms, so we will be moving along a bit faster and planning to stay in motels for a few nights. Tomorrow we will be in Flint, Michigan. The next night we will be in Streetsboro, Ohio, just outside of Cleveland. We found a good deal on a room there—only a few dollars more than the campground, and the campground looked most unpleasant. Based on the map they provide on their website, it looked like a small city unto itself. And it was expensive. So we will stop, sleep, and move on. On Friday we will be somewhere in Pennsylvania. And on Saturday we will go to my aunt's house in New Jersey. I am looking forward to that. I have not been there or seen her in over 12 years. She was very important to me when I was a kid and I spent lots of happy times in the house where she still lives. She is going to show me how she makes sausage and peppers. My Nana always made ravioli and Aunt Marie always made sausage and peppers. I do love sausage and peppers—especially hers! So it will be great to be there and see her!

Urban Camping

August 15, 2009
Glad to be leaving Hayward. This campground has been crazy! The first night we were here, some people moved in across the “street.” There were about a billion little children who seemed to cry at the drop of a hat. Cry, cry, cry. Festive. They also felt the need to set up one of their tents right next to the fence, banging our truck with their tent poles and stuff as they did so. Later, after we were in our tents, a new bunch moved in across the other street (we were at the end of a street). It sounded like a family reunion or something. Clearly, it was a rude and inconsiderate family because it was dark out and past 11, which is the beginning of quiet time. These people had no clue what to do with the concept of “quiet.” We were treated to the saga of where to put the tent, as in, “What do you think, Chris? Where should we put the tent? It looks pretty level, but there could be a slight incline over here.” Then after awhile, “What do you think Chris? I think it's pretty level, but there could be an incline. Chris?” I am sure that Chris had run screaming from the campground by then. After this scintillating conversation, there ensued the endless repetition about what kind of sausage was available and how many of each. There were two blue cheese and one of a few other kinds. I was hoping that there would not be fights over the limited sausage supply. Stakes were pounded into the ground as the loud guy finally decided to leave the tent where it was, incline or not. Of course no night at the campground would be complete without a discussion about texting. Not about any specific text message, mind you, but just about texting. I had no idea that people could find this fascinating enough to discuss in loud tones in the middle of a campground in the middle of the night.
After finally falling asleep, I woke up the next morning with a completely blocked left ear and some sinus pressure. There were so many people jammed into the small space at the campground, each with their own fire pit. Everyone needed a fire for some unfathomable reason. It was hot, so why fire sounded like a good idea, I do not know. Wood smoke has a bad effect on me, so I was not surprised to wake up as I did. Fortunately for me, my friend, Doctor Ken, had given me some OTC allergy medicine that works well for him. When my head started to pound, I took a pill. I was feeling great in 15 minutes. Thank you, Ken!!
It's a good thing I didn't have to go through the day with a headache, because the Rude Family reunion would have done me in. People kept arriving. They—and several other people—kept their fires burning throughout the day. The loud discussions continued. And though some of the group tried to be considerate and walk around our campsite, a bunch of them kept walking straight through to get to the bathroom, instead of going around. It was like Grand Central Station. People constantly walking back and forth through our campsite, the children across the way crying endlessly, smoke everywhere—it was a zoo.
To add to the fun, our tent pole snapped. We had seen that it was cracked when we put up the tent and we went into town to see if we could find a replacement pole (unlikely) or a new tent (possible). We found neither, but I did get a pair of flip-flops for 99 cents and I came back and spent some happy time crocheting flowers out of some variegated sock yarn that I attached to the toe piece. Anyway, that afternoon, the pole snapped and Bill taped it and dug out some bungee cords. We attached these to either side of the broken pole and trees. It was enough to hold until we took down the tent. On our way to Iron Mountain, where we are now, we stopped at a Super K Mart in Ironwood (we are in iron country) and got a new tent on clearance. At least the timing was good.
Our cooler also bit the dust. It was leaking. Just a small leak, but I really didn't want to have it in the back of the truck when it sprung a big leak, so we left it there. We had it for almost 25 years, so it served us well. And Bill's backpack zipper seems to be shot, too. It's the one for the small front pocket, so he can still use it until he can find another one. He's had that for 12 years or so.
By the time night came, we were unable to muster up the energy to attend the clown show that the campground was putting on. But we could hear it and see the lights they used. The Rude Family had been playing catch—complete with family radar gun to measure the speed of the throws—on the road. Now, call me an old fuddy-duddy, but it seems to me that when there are people everywhere and cars parked in between, this is probably not the best place to encourage children to throw a hard ball around. OK, so they were only throwing at 33 mph, a factoid I knew because they had to announce—in the loudest possible voices, of course—the speed of each pitch. Still, I believe that this is why the campground provides a big field—so that people can play catch. Throughout our stay, other people seemed to have grasped this.
We were curious to see what would happen the second night. The tents were erected. The sausage was, presumably, eaten. There seemed to be little left to say about texting. What would they talk about? How would our neighbor feel about all of this? She had complained to Bill about their behavior on the previous night (it wasn't just me!). On this night, it was the lights. They sat around their campfire with lights blazing. Lights—bright lights—everywhere. Looked like headlights being beamed into the tent. The chattering continued, though pancakes seemed to be a topic of discussion instead of sausage. People kept walking back and forth through our site. It was hot. There were more fires than the night before. And on this night, campground security came and told the Rude Family to turn off the lights and be quiet.
The next morning we packed up and left for Iron Mountain in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We drove on Route 2. There were beautiful wildflowers on the side of the road, more foliage, and lots of trees. We drove alongside Lake Superior for a time. It was beautiful and it was far more peaceful in the truck than it was in the campground!