Christmas Tide Rolls In

Advent Sunset

I managed to get all of my remaining working Christmas light strings (some of these go back to the 1970's) strung out along the hedge next to our front windows and the remaining strands wrapped around one of the two large ash trees in the front
yard by the First Sunday of Advent.

A few of the old 1970's Christmas lights
wrapped around the frontyard ash tree

The Interior of the house got a later start and a minor Christmas Season decorating treatment just before Christmas Eve and the hoped-for arrival of St. Nick himself.

 Our 'whispering pine' came home from the traditional Kadee Christmas Tree Farm and was placed in its spiffy new tree stand.  Getting it to fit and sit upright is a balancing act.  After several iterations, we had her straight and proper, moved the stand into the dining room corner - a new location for our tree, made possible by our new kitchen and the subsequent furniture rearrangement that placed the hutch formerly in the dinning room, into our remodeled kitchen.

We now had room to place the shiny and bedazzling Christmas gifts under the boughs of the decorated tree.

Now the house is all fancy and decorated for Christmas.  Let us celebrate with a good meal and a bottle of wine.

Merry Christmas.

Whispering Pines, "Take Me Home Tonight"

 Doesn't it just always seem that the holidays get here really quick?
And those holiday things that I should get done, or even want to get done, I am quickly behind.  How does this keep happening?

It was only days until Christmas when we noticed we did not have a Christmas Tree in the house.  I hope I never go for a plastic Christmas Tree, seems like a mockery of the holiday magic to me, kind of like a plastic Jesus on the dashboard of my car.  But if we wanted to keep Suneson Family Tradition alive, that means a drive into rural East Texas' Hunt County to Kadee Farms to select and cut a live tree.

It was Saturday.  Christmas Eve would be upon us in a week.  It is now or never, do you really want Suneson Family Tradition to DIE from mere lack of effort?  The answer is no.  Well then, get your twinkle toes into the SUV and let's go fell us a Christmas Tree!

Sue with hack saw at the ready - Ponders, which tree is the right tree?

The walk among the Virginia Pines is part of the pondering process, part of the tradition.  
     How about this one?  
     "Maybe", is the appropriate response.  
     Let's keep looking thought.  So we do.  

We walk, we ponder.  Perhaps it would be appropriate to get a 'ponder'-osa pine for our Christmas tree?

    How about this one?
    Maybe.
    Well maybe not.  It has a forked top, a bit off-center and I think it looks kind of wan.
    So, what I hear you saying is that this is the 'wan' tree for us?
    I wish I didn't have to hear that.

We walk. We ponder.  Sometimes we pun.

I think we need to go back to that one we liked over by the big tree.  I think I need to see that one again.

This  beauty has just whispered, "Take me home tonight, I'm all yours"

    Is this the one?
    Yes.  I hear this one whispering, "Take me home tonight".
    Are you accustom to having trees talk to you?
    I said "whisper", not "talk".  And yes, in my day, I quickly became accustom to well-shaped beauties whispering to me, "take me home tonight".  So for your information, I am accustom to hearing these 'pining' breathless pleas.
    I wish I didn't have to hear that.
    Too late Ethyl, you can't unhear.

Stand back.  I'll make the cut then.  And within a few seconds she was down on the ground and ready to be carried back to our home.

And with a few swift strokes, she fell into my arms

 

Triumphant Lumber Jill

Suneson Tradition mandates a stop for Texas BBQ on the way home.  So with the scent of a pine, pitched in the back of the SUV, we pull into the gravel parking lot of Big Daddy's BBQ.  It is a two-meat plate for me with ribs and sliced brisket.  

As we lick the lingering sauce from our lips, Sue say, "Now - it's Christmas."

A Suneson Tradition secured for another Christmas Season.

Party, Party, Party

Before we three left home to celebrate Thanksgiving and my 60th birthday with the family of Grant's steady girlfriend, the Gauls; I had a visit from the 11 year old Tahir from next door.  Tahir had been sent over by his mother to make sure I was to be home on Saturday after Thanksgiving, "because we have a special party for you Mark!"  I am charmed.

Tahir and his family moved from Turkey and rented the house next door in 2016.  I noticed Tahir and his younger brother Fatih, riding bikes up and down the sidewalk while I was doing yardwork and struck up a friendship with them.  Inviting the boys to visit our tortoises (Tahir exclaimed, "I Love these Ninja Turtles!").  I had given the boys a good theatrical and dramatically scary American Halloween for the past two years and I have often been surprised by baked treats being delivered to my door by one or both of the boys from their mother, Kubra (she is a fantastically wonderful cook).  In the spirit of the season, I delivered a couple of colorfully wrapped Christmas presents to each of the boys in 2016, and made a point of giving them birthday presents in October and November this year.  The young brothers are appropriately fluent in English, their father Mehmet is pretty good with his English, while Kubra speaks little English.  The boys do most of the translating, but the intentions came across unmistakably clear: Mark, you are our good neighbor and friend, please come to our house at 7 on Saturday for your special party."  I said, I am delighted to enjoy such a treat, may I bring my son Grant with me along with my wife?  It was agreed, they would host us 3 Sunesons for a Turkish feast and and birthday party.

Mehmet, Kubra, Tahir and Fatih welcomed us in to their house (after instructing us to please remove our shoes before entering).  I was directed to a seat of honor on a low table stocked with treats and exotic tastes and surrounded by walls hung with party paraphernalia.   Once again I am charmed.  I made introduction of my family and we were seated and told that in Turkey, close neighbors are also to be considered as family, we were welcomed as such.

My Birthday Cake
Baked by Kubra and served along with Turkish Pastries, Stuffed Breads, Nuts, Fruit, Tea
and the meal was finished with a small cup of Turkish Coffee

We talked of families, those back in Turkey and of ours as well, and they wanted to know about New York City from Grant.  Kubra (through translation) wished to know how Americans brew their tea and coffee [Turks apparently use a 2-chambered tea kettle with loose tea leaves. Americans, we said often opt for a cup in the microwave and a teabag].  The grand treatment continued as I was given a gift of a dress shirt, while my wife received an ultra soft throw blanket and Grant was given long-sleeve knit shirt.  Kubra has studied fashion design, Mehmet, was a pharmacist in Turkey, but took a position in America with a Turkish partner who runs an auto parts supply and rental car business.  "It's the 'American Dream'", Mehmet said with a smile.

Birthday Diner Party with our Turkish Neighbors.
(L to R) Kubra, Sue, Mark, Tahir, Mehmet and Fatih (photo by Grant)

For our part, we offered to be of any assistance we could in translating American culture if they needed such, and Sue offered to work with Kubra on her English skills on Fridays - but so far the two had not gotten together.  Kubra expressed an interest through her husband in perhaps opening a Turkish restaurant or bake shop, a move we would be supportive of, advising her not to make her food "too American", as we counseled her that her customers would want something authentic and out of the ordinary.  She was not sure Turkish food would appeal; based on the samples of her cooking that I've tasted, I am sure that it would be a hit.

We left the home of our neighbors in good cheer and returned to our own unadorned dining room to a low-key wind-down of my birthday celebration by opening a couple of gifts from my family.

Birth party continues in our Dining Room
with the opening of a couple of gifts from my family

What a great cosmic alignment.  With Thanksgiving and 3 birthday parties celebrated to the fullest - time to get ready for Christmas and New Years!

The fun may slow down, but it never ceases around here.  Celebrate good times, good family good neighbors and enjoy the journey.

Thanks-Birth-Giving-Day Cosmic Alignment

Sometimes the stars, moon, sun, calendar, events and people just seem to fall into a wonderful alignment. It could be my lucky day.

If you get those three cherry symbols to line up on your slot machine in the casino - it's called a JACKPOT!

If you get your birthday, Thanksgiving, family, friends and neighbors to fall into a wonderful alignment as I did this past November 23rd - it's called a Thanks-Birth-Giving-Day Cosmic Party Feast Alignment. It was my lucky day! 

On our fridge we always have a picture calendar hanging on the freezer door. Yeah, we have calendar apps on our phones too, but as an old curmudgeon, I like to have the month laid out before me as I open the fridge door to grab a pitcher of OJ.  Besides, phone apps are not for "old people", and as I glance at the November calendar on the fridge I am reminded that I am getting to be an "old people", I'll be 60 on Thursday the 23rd.  And hey, that is also Thanksgiving Day, 2017.  What a coincidence.  How should I handle this upcoming, two-fisted day of food, fun, feting, feasting, family and friends and otherwise fine folks?  Sounds like it could be an alliterative f'in good time, eh?

Anticipation for the  events on the 23rd kept increasing as we got word from son Grant that he would arrange to fly out of New York on Wednesday night and arrive back in Dallas at 5 til midnight.  He'd just started a job as a feature writer for Wall Street 24/7 on October 1, and had no vacation to spend until 6 months on the job, so for him it would be in at the last minute of Wednesday 11/22, Thanksgiving and then quickly back to NY City on Saturday.  The question remained, what takes precedence, Thanksgiving or birthday?  It's my birthday, so I get to decide.

Grant flies home to Garland for Thanskgiving
Then up early on Thursday for the drive to be with
Kaileen and her family near Houston

The precedence problem was not much of a problem; as I see it, what is better than inviting fine folks to your party? Why, being invite to their party of course!  Such was the cosmic alignment of the coming day, Grant's best girl was also flying in from New York to Houston for Thanksgiving with her family, and we were all invited to come on down to share the holiday with them.  I decided to make Thanksgiving the big event and my birthday a lesser hurrah.  Sue baked a couple of pies, pecan and pumpkin, which slept in the backseat along with Grant as we left Garland earlyish morning on Thursday for Thanksgiving with Kaileen and her family north of Houston.  We had done this 3 1/2 hour trip a couple years back and had a fine time with Kaileen's family, including her brother, two grandmothers and a grandfather there. We would stay over Thanksgiving night with them, working off the tryptophan and serotonin stupor, before returning north on Friday.   

Oh Goodie!
It is a Thanks-Birth-Giving-Day Celebration
Pies in the Gaul's kitchen are ready for post-feat serving

Glenda prepared a sumptuous meal for all of us.  The dinner bell was rung in the late afternoon as we gathered to give thanks and then tuck in to the wonderful spread before us, turkey, ham and all of the fixin's with a glass (or two) of wine all around - saving a smidgen of room for Sue's pie desserts.

After the meal has settled a bit, we adjourned to the pool deck where we played a few games of corn-hole, tossing beanbags onto sloped boards and trying to drop our bag through the hole across the patio.  I did not win at corn-hole, even though it was my birthday. 

We stepped out into the mild Houston sunshine and walked along the canals, fountains and sculptures installed in the planned community of The Woodlands, where our hosts, the Gauls, live.  It was a very good afternoon.  After the sun retired, we put sweaters and sweatshirts on, filled our glasses with a Chardonnay and gathered around the patio fire pit for conversation.  To me this was a perfect start to my sixtieth decade; good to have had a good meal, gotten a few jesting age-themed cards, settled in around an open flame with a glass of wine and enjoy everyone there, and especially delighted to see Grant and Kaileen happy together and comfortable amongst their elders.

God bless us everyone! And a joyous Thanks-Birth-Giving-Day to me!

A New Day - A New York

Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath

and a glass of good wine.

St. Thomas Aquinas

My first impressions from the night before of New York City were not favorable.  It was a sorry place. 

Rude, intolerant, tense up-tight and rushed were the prominent mannerism I had seen displayed in New York City, a sorry and base set of circumstances under which to try and conduct a pleasant life.  

I will try anything twice. 

- Mark Suneson

My initial day in the City was one of frustration and great malcontentment.  
It was a sorry place.  
Into bed, a room surprisingly quite above the madding streets for a night's sleep and the promise of a good warm shower in the morning.  Let us go forth with a new day, and I will once again try an enjoy the journey.

The sun was unseasonably warm for a late September morning as it burned through our window three floors above the hustling pavement that was but a block from the East River.  The mounds of sacked garbage that had been heaped high on the sidewalks as we came back to our hotel late the previous night had been removed.  [I don't know where all of this refuse goes, but I have heard that there is a fleet of scows that sail into the ocean and dump all of the waste from New York, probably offshore New Jersey].  

Garbage from last night now gone.  Open, garbage-free sidewalks were a good omen for my second day in town.  I'd like to have a good day. I needed to have a good day. 

It was to be a day of adventure orchestrated mostly by our knowledgeable and capable hostess, Kaileen, with some input from us out-of-towners.

Breakfast at a New York Deli

I wanted breakfast. I was not interested in paying extravagant hotel prices for a meager breakfast in their lobby diner.  Kaileen and Grant did not seem to want or need much in morning munchies, but for this day and this time, I needed a civilized start to the morning.  How about a deli breakfast?   Kaileen knew just the place and so we walked to a busy corner deli that she knew.  So New York.

Sue orders her breakfast from the displayed choices behind the deli counter

Kaileen and Grant split a morning bagel in New York corner deli

After my lox omelette and OJ I was ready for our adventuring and sight-seeing.  We had agreed we were not going see the big tourist draws in the city on this trip; no Statue of Liberty, no United Nations Building, no Empire State Building, no 9-11 Memorial and not interested in Trump Tower.  It was a mile walk to where Grant would begin his position as journalist and feature writer for Wall Street 24/7, located at 5th and Lexington.  His office, we were told, would have a free beer tap available to employees and overlooked the Financial District.  So we made it to the front door of his new work location, but did not go in.  I guess we were not yet worthy to see the interior.

Fountain and Impressive Entrance
to Grant's Office Building af 5th & Lexington

It was then a short distance from Grant's work address to hoof it to Central Park, which I was hoping would assuage my jangled soul from fighting New York street traffic the night before.  We walked past a golden statue of General William T. Sherman and into Central Park.  We paused to watch people launch RC boats into a pond and traveled along the shaded and well kept trails of the famed Central Park.  I did like the relatively tranquil place in and of its own, with glorious outcroppings of schist; but perhaps all the more for its respite from the hassle and hustle of the surrounding city.  Kaileen led us to Belvedere Castle, a stately towered and turreted stone weather observatory of a bygone age.  We ascended the stone steps and took a commanding view of the turtles in the pond below us and of the large buildings edging the Park.

Belvedere Castle
Central Park, NYC

Cockatrice over Belvedere Castle Transom

Sue, Grant and Kaileen on the Parapet of Belvedere Castle 

The view from Belvadere Castle Parapet built upon Central Park Schist Outcrop

Kaileen and Grant
Above Central Park on a warm September morning

With Autumn colors just beginning to manifest, we strolled up and down some small wrinkles of pleasant topography and pause for some photos at the Oak Bridge while a couple struggled in a row boat below us.  The photo of Grant in Central Park with the New York skyline behind him was to be a subtle facebook post to let every one of his fb friends know, he was at last in NY.

Proof positive that Grant and Kaileen are at last together
In new York City

We four worked our way across the paved park trails which brought us out at the New York Museum of Natural History.  Kaileen stepped up and got us into the exhibit halls where the preference of the parents were catered too, escorting us through the labyrinth of exhibits halls first to the rocks, gems and minerals and then to Dad's special interest, Reptiles and Amphibians.  Teddy Roosevelt had numerous quotes of his engraved into the walls of the museum's entry hall covering conservation, government, manhood and the nation's natural heritage and treasures.  Bully! Bully! Good ol' Teddy!  

A fond look at a Galapagos Tortoise

With way too much to taken-in in a day, we were out of there and on to catch the subway to a lunch spot.  Again, with Kaileen as our guide, she had selected a favorite Vietnamese pho shop where we were seated at a large wooden common table with other guest while we all slurped our pho and inhaled our vermicelli. Good and tasty cuisine - one of my favorites.

Vietnamese lunch in Manhattan

A ride on the New York Subway

After lunch Grant took his mother by Murray's, an expansive cheese shop so she could oogle and ogle over the selection of cheese (Murray's- soon to be a source for many well received Christmas and birthday gifts for his mother).

We walked back through Washington Square to catch another train, but not before I had a bit of repartee with a blackman who cajoled and pleaded with me to have a seat and play a game of chess on the board he had set out.  Others in Washington Square were also on the lookout for chess players to challenge.  I waved my hand and told him, "He would bust my chops in just a few moves if I took up his challenge to play a game."  He quickly replied, "I don't want to beat you, I want to teach you!"  I appreciated his offer, but did not have time that afternoon to play Queen's Pawn to QP4.  He reluctantly let me go, but I had to admire his ardor.

We descended to the subway where I watched a large rat trundle between the tracks as we waited to change trains and get back to Manhattan's Upper Eastside.  We quickly boarded and left the subway rat behind, though I am sure more were in the shadows at our stop where we climbed the stairs up to street level.   It was late afternoon, and we had walked several city miles.  Mindful of St. Thomas Aquinas cure for sorrow, I'd had a good night's sleep, a warm shower to begin the day and now for a good glass of wine.  Grant and Kaileen recommended we stop for some refreshment at the Spotted Dog.  We sat down at a sidewalk table, and ordered drinks all around.

Though first impressions are difficult to overcome, the second day in New York City was better than the first. 

Cheers!

To Grant and Kaileen and the fulfillment of dreams!

I was quite pleased to see Grant and Kaileen together and they both obviously are enthusiastic about New York life and opportunities.  It is good, so very good, to see all of this come to pass for him and Kaileen.  I am well pleased and satisfied for them.  And after all, it really is about them and their choices.

As I said before,

CHEERS!

If you can make it here, You can make it anywhere 

-Frank "Ol' Blue Eyes" Sinatra

New York, New York!

Grant's dreams were now just over the horizon where the sun was rising, and all we had to do was get across the rest of Ohio, a smidge of West Virginia, the long part of Pennsylvania, across New Jersey and then go either over or under the Hudson River to get onto Manhattan Island. New York, New York!  My study of the road map seemed to show going under the Hudson would be the best route.  I had a route selected to get us to and through the Lincoln Tunnel.  But, while in snarled New Jersey traffic, we saw a sign that pointed us toward the Lincoln Tunnel, but at different exit than the one I had planned.  Uncharacteristically of me, the confident navigator, I changed my route and inched toward the signed exit that promised to get us to the tunnel.  The result was not unexpected, but still, a glacial-paced movement of trucks and cars.  I can wait, but I was not sure if our next turn was to be to the left or to the right, and therefore, I had no confidence in which traffic lane I should be squeezing into.  I had hoped against hope that we might arrive in Manhattan in daylight, but that hope was fading with the ever darkening sky.  I veered onto the approach for the Lincoln Tunnel, choosing a lane that would require us to scratch out $15 (!) for a toll [I'd always heard New York is expensive].

I thought the saving grace for driving in New York was the fact that the city was laid out in a nice orthogonal grid where the streets (and some avenues) were sequentially numbered.  As I had it figured, we would come out onto 33rd, count down the avenues until we reached 3rd Avenue, turn left and proceed 3 miles to 62nd Street. Bingo!  Alas, nothing in New York is really as it seems.  Once we'd crossed under the Hudson we emerged smack dab in the middle of New York traffic and all the horrors that entails - only as (mis)fortune would dictate; we had arrived while President Trump was also in Manhattan.  Oh Lordy, the chaotic mayhem that passes for normal in this town has now been turned into a herculean navigational task for us newcomers.  All of the turns and exits that normally would have gotten us to where we wanted to go were blocked by police cars with flashing blue and red lights.  We ended up being forced to the very eastern edge of Manhattan and driving for miles northward on the Franklin Roosevelt Drive into Harlem before we could exit and return south. My passengers quickly found an opportunity to seethe with contempt for Trump for causing our problems, but when I suggested that the very same dilemma would've confronted motorist if was President Obama leaving the UN, they would hear none it.  I further suggested this seems par for living on a crowded island where most seem to feel the world revolves around all and only things New York.  That bitter opinion was met with a sigh of disapproval, for their part this was an exciting place - if only the Secret Service would allow us to get where we wanted to go.



Before we had realized the tangle that the presidential motorcade had caused, I was impressed (not favorably) by New Yorker's callous approach to those that share social space with them.  Pedestrians strolling, sauntering, darting and dashing into the street and cutting in front of cars, cabs and buses; driving here meant not only watching for the moves of other drivers but sharing the street with not only motor traffic, but with foot traffic in the hundreds. Chaos.  We crept back toward our destination on the Upper Eastside where Kaileen was tracking Grant's GPS position on her phone and wondering why we'd detoured into Harlem.  It became a group navigational effort to get us 62nd Street.  Of course there is no parking available along narrow 62nd Street where Kaileen had a 6th floor walk-up i.e. no elevator, only stairs.  The lack of parking was anticipated, so our plan was to use what we used to call a "Chinese Fire Drill"; where the car comes to a stop, and all of the passengers pour out of the vehicle and run around, only rather than reseating themselves in a different configuration, my passengers were to throw open the rear hatch of the 4Runner SUV, grab armloads of all of Grant's worldly belongings and rapidly cast them onto the curb.  Sue would guard the pile there on the street, while Grant would carry his stuff up the six flights to Kaileen's place - and now to be his place too.  Meanwhile, once my pit crew shouted "She's empty!" and closed the rear hatch, I would then step on the gas, cease blocking the through traffic on the street and head for our boutique hotel a few blocks away. A simple plan that almost worked well.  

Kaileen and Grant's Place
Upper Eastside, Manhattan

Grant and Sue at the top of 6 Flights of stairs

I was solo now, navigating NYC traffic and looking for our hotel's porte cochere.  I looked at the corner where the hotel should be, the light turned green and I saw nothing that looked like I was expecting a hotel to look like.  So I found myself quickly back on Roosevelt Drive heading toward Harlem... again.  Only this time I knew where I was going, I'd just run this route before.  I worked my way back to Manhattan, got to the same spot where the hotel was expected, but found myself being pushed by flagrant horn-honking traffic to move onto Roosevelt Drive... once again.  By now the Presidential motorcade had passed so I could take an early exit off of FDR Drive and return south.  This time I pulled into a parking garage a couple of block away from York Ave and 61st so I could get a good look around while on foot.  It turns out the hotel had no porte cochere [bad assumption on my part there] and no street-level marquis to designate it as the hotel [one had to look up several floors to see the sign, which I failed to do while driving] and the undistinguished parking garage was on the other side of the block, again not signed in any way.  But I'd found not only my reasons for missing the hotel, but now I found the hotel itself.  I guess I should be happy, but I'd just shelled out $45 to pull into the parking garage a few blocks away, so I hauled our luggage to the hotel and checked in, leaving the SUV where I had parked it 3 blocks away.  The desk clerk acknowledged my reservation for two nights and inquired, "How was your trip in tonight Mr. Suneson?"  I replied, "Horrid! Perfectly Horrid!".

Once I got to our room, I reconnected with my wife, Grant and Kaileen, and they said they'd meet me in the lobby in a few minutes.  Kaileen suggested dinner just up the street at an all-night diner, so New York.

Walking back to our hotel after a late dinner, we were met by the sight of a car stopping on the street and a man getting out and pissing like a race horse a great torrent onto the pavement while calling on the name of "Sweet Jesus"; all right there in front of God and everyone on 62nd and York.  Witnessing the Great Pee within an hour or so of my arrival in new York City gave rise to some vivid first impressions, they being as follows:

   President Donald Trump (of New York City) is a prime reflection of his native environment, like the skyline and Trump Tower and so many other edifices around town, NYC has a look of wealth, opulence, glitz and class - but a closer look at street level shows that underneath it is just a crowded, uncouth place where people freely piss in the street- while invoking the name of Jesus.  
   There is the constant inane tweeting of Trump and the constant inane tweeting and honking of car horns.  To what end for either, I can not say.  My impression is NY denizens are proud of their lack of grace, and display such short-comings to all others packed in the same street with them.  I learned to ignore these useless and ignorant NY horns in only a few minutes, as they mean nothing of import, like the presidential tweets.  At one point I was the second car from the intersection, the car in front of me was being help up by a traffic cop even though the light was green, the car behind me immediately leans on his horn, imploring me to move along - "buster!"  He should have been able to see that the cop was holding all of us up.  Just go ahead and hit your horn, see how much that helps anybody in this situation. I ask myself, "What are these folks thinking?  I see no decency in their conduct with their fellow citizens."
   Comparing the Trump White House with New York City; Rules, What Rules?  Lanes marked 'Buses Only', are filled with all manner of vehicles.  I can only conclude, "Only", is taken as a suggestion.
   Rules, What Rules?  I actually witnessed a driver stop for a red light, but the traffic cop was telling him to pull into the intersection despite the red light.  The driver hesitated and did not move into the intersection quick enough, so the cop stopped the driver and started chewing him out.  The driver was adamant in his own right, throwing his hands off the steering wheel while telling the cop he was only stopping for "A RED Light!"  The cop wouldn't have it an lit into the guy.  Every other place I've been, red means stop and green means go - and when everybody follows that social and legal code, traffic moves smoothly (more or less).  First Impressions: New York is a different place, with different rules (or no rules) for social norms and civility, or as may be the case, not 'different' norms, but completely lacking what passes for civility in other locations.  I think what I saw in my first day in New York City explains a lot of what I see from President Trump.  

But, hey. Grant loves the Big City life - "so much to do and experience!"  One could rhetorically ask, Can all 8,538,774 New Yorkers who choose to live there be wrong?  As a contrarian who prizes civility, social grace and some space and an accommodating approach, I'd have to answer, "Yeah, all them crude knuckleheads, they are all wrong."  
  

Long Road, Big Apple - An Epic Move

Grant called with the good news that he had an offer to start work with 24/7 WallStreet.com on October 1st.  After all of the shouting and back-slapping across the wireless phone waves had died down a bit, he asked if we were still good with the plan to help him move?  We were.

He began to immediately pare down his belonging to a minimum so as to fit into Dad's 4Runner for the move to the Upper Eastside of Manhattan.  In anticipation of his departure on Monday, September 25; he had prepared the paperwork to transfer his Toyota Camry back into our names (won't need, won't want & can't afford a car in NYC), and made an appointment with an oral surgeon to pull out 2 wisdom teeth first thing Monday morning just before we leave town.  His mother accompanied him to the tooth-yanking shop and then she ran some errands while Grant was under anesthesia to pick up pain medications, gauze and other stuff one typically needs in their travels to New York while oozing blood from empty tooth sockets.  I stayed back at his place to prepare for the drive.  Once they both had signed the vehicle transfer papers before a notary public, he and his mother joined me in our cross country drive to New York, New York!  One last spit of blood into the Missouri soil and his soft assurance to his mother under semi-glazed eyeballs that he was feeling fine and ready to go, I pulled onto I-70 East and drove toward his new destiny.

With all 6 cylinders fired up in earnest by mid-morning, we would make it about half-way to The City, necessitating a stop in the heartland.  I'd planned our end-of-Day #1 layover for outer edge of Columbus, Ohio.   While Grant was prepping the back reaches of his jaw after yesterday morning's trauma, and Sue was getting all pretty, I went down to the dining room with my trusty Cholula bottle (travel size).  Breakfast comes with the room, but ranging this far from Texas, one should not assume what the term "breakfast" truly includes to a Buckeye.  Therefore, not that I don't trust people from Ohio, heck, my doppelganger James Garfield, was from Ohio; but just maybe them folks don't know no better and I sure can't trust 'em to have a good bottle of that satiny heat that comes from the Cholula Hot Sauce bottle on the breakfast table to make hotel eggs taste almost worthy.   I'd just sauced up my helping of eggs, when a man came to my table and reached for my Cholula!  I looked up with what must have been a face that expressed something like; 
   "Why howdy pilgrim, I want to know what kind of a man tries to touch another man's Cholula? Are there no common manners in these parts or are you spoiling for a tussle? 
   His quick look into my stern face brought him quickly to the recognition of his usurping ways, as he said, "Oh.  Is this your bottle of hot sauce?"
   "Yes sir.  I don't leave home without my Cholula - especially when I'm this far from Texas."
   "Sorry, I thought... say, do you mind if I use a bit of your hot sauce?"

Now with our shared affection for flavor and the need of starting the day off with a face full of happy taste buds, I kindly lent this traveling salesman from Cleveland, my personal bottle of morning merry-making for his hotel eggs.  He was mighty appreciative, and I was happy to oblige. 

We grab a bite in DuBose, Pennsylvania
where we share our lunch with large chickens and a T-Rex

I found it surprising how few towns were visible from Interstate 80 as we traversed east across Pennsylvania for most of the day, getting ever closer to New York.  The exits seemed few, especially for what I would have considered a populous state, and those few exits offered no glimpses as to fueling stations or the types of businesses or towns set off into the wooded landscape.  I recalled my Dad speaking with a member of Scottish Black Watch Pipe and Drum Corps while touring the US and performing in California, when one of the soldiers was asked about his impressions, he offered that their trip across Pennsylvania had "too many bloody trees".  Now I see his point.  Around mid-day, around the middle of Pennsylvania is was apparent that we would have to come off I-80 and drive some ways through those bloody trees and find a town and maybe some local fare.  I chose DuBose [doo-bwa? doo-bows? or something entirely different?], PA for a lunch stop.  We didn't find much once we got into town that looked too enticing, so we turned back toward the interstate where we'd seen a restaurant place with several parked pickups and cars at the northern edge of DuBose.  We'll give it a whirl.

The cuisine was average at best, but the accumulation of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Sasquatch and an Amish Buggy with a break pedal at the edge of the parking lot was curious.  I was not sure of the connection, if any, but upon parting for an evening arrival in New York, I thought;  If having just seen an Amish buggy, Sasquatch and a T-Rex doesn't prepare me for New York and its traffic and sights, nothing will.  Let's ride! 

An odd assortment off I-80 in Pennsylvanian
Maybe this will prepare me for what I will find in New York City

A French Kiss in DuBose?
Or
Bad advice: Looking a gift T-Rex in the mouth (i.e. You should never...)

Our 'Big Apple' Boy

Grant's talents at writing news stories landed him a real job directly out of The University of Missouri's Journalism School (aka J-School) as a video content producer at Newsy.  He anchored the on-camera delivery of digital news stories, and wrote content on wide-ranging subjects from his desk in Columbia, MO.  But, alas, the subject of his affection, Miss Kaileen, had graduated a year behind him and had gotten a journalism assignment of her own in New York City.  The bright lights and the bright countenance of his sweetheart beckoned.  He needed to find a gig in the 'Big Apple'. 

After many on-line inquiries, applications, phone and Skype interviews and several trips to NYC at prospective employer's expense, he landed a good job writing statistics-based stories for 24/7 Wall Street.  The company President offered him a job on the spot.  Obviously delighted, the big move to the big city (with the promised help from the the old folks) was quickly put into action. Grant starts work October 1st.

Can't bear to be here any longer
Kaileen and adventure await in the Big Apple.
Start spreading the news!

There are some logistics to settle first. He will not want or need his Toyota Camry in New York City, just to park a car in NYC costs the equivalent of a modest home mortgage back in Texas.  He was also having some trouble with his wisdom teeth, so after a very bad and painful experience in August to remove 2 of the 4 wisdom teeth, he was willing to get the last 2 extracted the morning of his departure to New York.  We parents were enlisted to load his pared down worldly possessions (mostly a few items of clothing and personal accouterments, a TV and a minimal selections of books and CD's) into my SUV; leaving his car in MO to be retrieved on our way back to Texas, where the Camry would them be re-titled back to us.  He and his mother thought it was a good plan.  I had reservations about a transcontinental road trip immediately following oral surgery - but I acquiesced acknowledging that it could work and be expedient.

Grant bids farewell to his Missouri residence outside of Columbia
The Wildlife Lodge

Sue and I left town Sunday afternoon headed for Columbia, MO; ETA around midnight.  Grant was still packing and cleaning up as we arrived.  We unfurled our sleeping bag across the bed in the basement of Grant's habitation, the dimly-lit "Wildlife Lodge" and caught a few ZZZ's before the eventful Monday morn was lit by the autumn Sun.  We were up a 6 AM, Grant had his appointment with a new, different and much better oral surgeon to finish the tooth yanking job at 8 AM. Sue drove Grant to the medical office, I packed up the 4Runner while Sue then left the patient and went to fill his Rx.  Grant quickly had 2 new holes in his head where his upper and lower right wisdom teeth once were.  The process was done under general sedation, so with his scripts filled, it was onto visit the notary public to transfer the car title.  While recovering from his anesthesia, he was asked to sign on the dotted line to transfer ownership of his car title to his mother.  The notary did not question the circumstances.  

Mother and son returned to the Wildlife Lodge to drop off the key and prepared for departure.  Grant stood in the parking area, spitting blood like a hockey player, changed out his gauze packing and settled into the back seat to sleep as I pulled onto I-70 for the great move.  Lunch time would put us in St. Louis. Grant was not too hungry, but suggested eating Italian at "The Hill".  A local enclave known for it's Italian food, and according to Yogi Berra, "The only place to get good Italian food in this country outside of Brooklyn".  So with that advice from Yogi - as well as the Yogi GPS that directed us toward "The Hill" and if we came to a fork in the road - take it.  We did. We enjoyed a fine lunch.

Some real good Italian food in St. Louis on "The Hill".

Traveling east on I-70 we cut across Illinois, Indiana and into Columbus, Ohio for the end of the first day.  My passengers did a lot of napping, and thus they missed seeing the 'Wold's Largest Rocking Chair', the 'Wold's Largest Golf Tee' and all other exciting curiosities of Middle America in Casey, IL.  If we had delayed to see the golf tee, I think we would have been treated to the world's largest mailbox, knitting needle, wind chime.  Big dreams for a small town.  But Grant has big dreams for a big town, and he was not to be waylaid by these interstate small-town tourist trap distractions.  Focus on the Big Apple.  Tomorrow all eyes would be open for our arrival in New York City. 

If we can make it there, we can make it anywhere.

Oh Mama, I can't sleep like a hippie anymore

What's shakin' groovy guys and gals?
Lookin' to crash my pad and get some good vibes? Well it's all copacetic and mind-bending psychedelic. 
Let it all hang out man. Play us some Dylan on the turntable.

They don't talk like that anymore.  And oh mama, I can't sleep like a hippie no more.  Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Neptune's door. It's getting wet, too wet sleep.

For over 30 years I've slept on a water bed, a vestige of the cultural revolution's attempt to modify our space through the 1970's and beyond, all the better because it was different and looked radical.  Free love, open marriage, tune in and turn on and drop out, expand your mind with acid, sleep on a water bed - I'd say none of this turned out to be particularly as good as advertised, with the possible exception of the last one.  But all things and experiments must run their course.

So, when we discovered the wet spot on the edge of the bed; we could come to only two logical conclusions, and we ended up believing that we probably had sprung a leak (thus we excluded items #1 and #2 on the above list).  We can all sleep better now - no matter what we end up sleeping on. We hooked up a siphoning device that came with the water bed to try and drain it into our shower.  It did not work very quickly, nor very well.  I thought between the four science degrees around here, we could do better.  Home Depot's cheapest and shortest garden hose was acquired, cut to a minimum length and then attached to the port in the waterbed mattress and and the other end was fed through the bedroom window screen.  With a giant sucking sound, the water flowed like whiskey at a Grateful Dead concert out onto the lawn.

We kept the old box frame, threw out the moldy plastic liner and bought a "highest rated luxury mattress" on line (with a 120 money-back guarantee sleep trial).  We do not slosh around, the sheets are appropriately dry, we can easily roll off the new mattress rather than lift ourselves up and over the the old mattress frame.  And so, our hippie days are over -- almost... We still have a groovy Lava Lamp on the night stand. Good vibes and good dreams.

Peace, Love and a good night's rest to all!