Oh, the Places You'll Go - Springfield MA

January 15, 2013

To borrow from Dr. Seuss ... "Oh, the places you'll go"!  I don't really think we had hunkered down ... maybe slowed down ... maybe resting ... maybe lazy. But, it felt like we were just sitting around doing same old same old. We desperately needed a new adventure.We needed a little something to wedge in between the dental, hair appointments and such that seemed to be running our lives. Springfield MA was my choice. Oh, the things we'll see!

Springfield has an interesting approach to museums. It has created somewhat of a museum zone and a one prices sees it all approach. It eliminates the running all over town searching for different buildings and cursing the wrong turns instigated by our Garmin and the wrong turns I claim for myself.  Basically, there were four museums and the Dr. Seuss National Memorial. The museums were small and I figured we would be able to see them all in a day.

Choosing a time to go was a little more difficult than I had anticipated.  Taichi on Tuesday morning would hold us up up until 10:00 AM. Anne had a air appointment on Wednesday. Snowstorms were heading in for all day Wednesday as well. We bit the bullet and headed out Tuesday after taichi ... we would just have to come back again if we couldn't see everything we had hoped in the time we had available.  Arrived about 11:00  AM and headed to the Science Museum to get our tickets ... our senior citizen tickets. We have grown to resent businesses, galleries, museums and the like that define senior as 65. Don't they realize that we are on fixed incomes? The nerve. The Springfield Museums use 60 as their benchmark and gave us our reduced price tickets with no issue. We tried not to be offended when the desk personnel failed to challenge us. Clearly this was a matter of inadequate training of staff. I shutter to think how often the museum is ripped off by people pretending to be eligible for senior tickets because the staff was negligent in asking for proof of age. Although Anne and I were old enough for those tickets, we certainly did not appear to be eligible. Enough, I will clear up that problem with my visitor comment card. 

We are not big fans of science museums for two reasons ... replica this and replica that and school groups. We breezed through the African Hall, Planetarium and Live Animal Center. I do, however, enjoy anything to do with dinosaurs and fossil remains so we slowed down in those areas. There were some nice displays and a lot of information on dinosaur tracks and remains found locally along the Connecticut River corridor. Unfortunately, a new installation on the history of the guitar was opening on Saturday. We would have enjoyed seeing that. 

The Smith Art Galley (based on a personal collection of the family) was located just behind the Science Museum. It was small enough that we were able to wander the entire museum, starting with an exhibition of Japanese weapons and armor and other exhibits of Chinese cloisonné and ceramics.

There was a sizable plaster cast collection that we liked. Anne seemed to be drawn to the pieces depicting young males removing their clothes and scandalous nudes. I tried to avert my eyes, but had to peek to avoid running in to statues.

The Smith Museum had a quite a few Tiffany windows, many of which had recently undergone refurbishing.  There was a good display of the intricate process of cleaning and repairing stained glass windows as well.  We were able to browse  through the new American Painting Salon. Only a small portion of the painting were hung and none had accompanying display cards. It looks like the exhibit is going to be an interesting one when it is fully done.





Let me stop for just a moment to apologize before I proceed. We went into the Discovery Center. I know it is for children. But, we went in.  It was so colorful ... so busy with images ... things to touch.  On another topic, Anne says my scarf looks like a "girly" scarf. Do you think it looks like a girly scarf?  Enough of that  ... back to the Discovery Center.













In the center, we could dress up in colorful, shiny costumes. Not me, too girly!

















The sign clearly says that the costumes are for Children Only. Rules do not apply when you are a Princess. I could tell by the look on Anne's face that she had no remorse.

I, on the other hand, conducted myself with appropriate restraint and decorum ... even if the hand puppets were not!


We left the Smith in disgrace and headed for the L'Amour Museum of Fine Art. It featured work by leading Italian, French, Dutch, and American painters, but few of the really high rollers. There was a good exhibit called Modern Dialect that was like an American version of  Diego Rivera work. Another exhibit featured a contemporary installation utilizing advertising refuse that had been repurposed. I really liked this.

Just outside the Museum was an exhibit by Patrick Dougherty. Several years ago, Dougherty did a piece in the park across from the BMAC in Brattleboro. The work is usually accomplished by a host of volunteers under his leadership and can either be outside or site specific inside a building. 

I love to wander inside and out of his creations. 

Next on the agenda was the Wood Museum of Springfield History. It contained several exhibits featuring products that had been produced in the area during the heyday of industrial production in the Northeast, and the achievements of noted Springfield residents over the years. We went  to play in the childrens' area of the Milton Bradley exhibit  and especially to see the Rolls Royce, Indian Motorcycle, and Smith and Weston exhibits.

What better way to finish the Springfield portion of our adventure than at the Dr. Seuss National Memorial.

Time for a brief rest ... my feet and legs are killing me ... my kingdom for a place to relax for just a moment before leaving Springfield.  Voila ... a comfy bench on which to perch! 

From Springfield, we raced to Northampton for a quick visit to the Raven (got a book for Anne on Ireland) and dinner at the India House Restaurant. Food was great by the way ... especially the tandori-styled chicken wings with lime juice dipped in a yogurt and cucumber sauce followed by Les Miserables at the movie theater in Hadley. Les Miserables ... great ending to a great adventure.

Xmas in the Big Easy- New Orleans 2012

Every trip has its defining moment … a moment against which every aspect of the trip is measured. The New Orleans adventure was no exception! I’ll come to the point. I was pick-pocketed and yes, it tainted by perception of New Orleans to some extent. But, in reality, it wasn’t being robbed that bothered me so much. It was that I disappointed myself.

I am a victim.  I am scarred and fearful and post traumatic and will be so for many years to come. I will play the victim card and will act inappropriately … loosely guided by my victimization. I am justified in all that I do or say … my scars are deep … to the bone. My victimizer must live with what he has done, but will probably never pay for what he has done. It is his fault that he broke the law … that he stole my wallet. There is no excuse … not need, want, or entrapment. What he had to work with was choice and he made a bad one. On the other hand, it is my fault that my wallet was stolen. Because I was dumb, careless, oblivious. I have to live with that. I offered my wallet on a silver tray and it was accepted. It is hard to resist … especially if you were not born with a silver spoon to go with it. I still get to be a victim.  I think I have earned it. This is my second time at this rodeo. I think I have earned it. Maybe someone will put a coin jar with my picture on it at the local 7/11.

But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Things started going askew right from the start. We headed out about a week ahead of schedule due to a death in the family, necessitating a trip to West Virginia. Rather than showing up early in South Boston, VA at Anne’s brother’s place, we visited with Louis and Susan in Eden, NC for a night and then continued on to South Boston. We celebrated early Xmas in both places and on the 24^th drove to Charlotte for our fight to New Orleans. We had arranged to park at a local hotel while we were gone, but it was immediately apparent when we arrived that the parking lot was already overflowing with cars. Seems that the online booking for the parking and the reservations for the hotel parking weren’t sharing information … result – nowhere for us to park. They sent us to another hotel that had agreed to help them out and let us park there.

We arrived at the airport and check-in was quick and flawless. That is, until we went through the xray screening. I had plenty of opportunity to see that Anne’s bag had been pulled to be searched as I went through the buzzing metal detector 7 times.  Finally, realized that I still had on my watch. I got out just in time to see that Anne had forgotten that she had a bottle of wine in her bag and was denying the guards accusation that there was another oversized bottle of liquid in her bottle. Turned out to be the bottle of Listerine I had put in there at the last minute. Oops!

We strolled down to our gate and sat down to await our plane. About five minutes before time to board, the gate attendant announced that there had been a mechanical problem, our flight was cancelled and we should line up to get rebooked. When I looked up, Anne was just a blur, ten or twelve people down the line. I shook my head to clear my vision and she was third. I have seen this before in movie lines when she had to rough up some old ladies and children to move up the line. This time it was a nice looking Hispanic family. They probably thought that Anne was saying, “I am with immigration” when she was really saying “get out of my way”. Since we were 3^rd in line, we were offered a direct flight (unlike the flight we had booked with a stopover in Atlanta) that got us to New Orleans the same time as our old flight. For our inconvenience we each go $25 vouchers for dinner. We used these to buy earrings for Anne and some BBQ as a snack before boarding. We were even on the emergency exit row with great leg room. No telling what we could have gotten if Anne had shoved those last two persons out of line.

What can I say about New Orleans? An adventure? Definitely.  My kind of town? Not really. Let’s face it … I am too old for New Orleans. Not that there isn’t a place for the elderly, like me, in New Orleans. It’s just that New Orleans (NOLA) is a huge frat party … spring break … homecomimg  weekend. It’s heart beats amid the neon lights of Bourbon Street. Hidden beneath the detritus of so-called society … its beer cans, broken bottles, and the vomit that collect along the gutters and at entrances to the strip clubs, beer halls, and tourist souvenir shops. It is all about the party … walking the streets drink in hand … bar hopping and strip club ogling. 

If you are looking for New Orleans jazz … it’s not on Bourbon Street. The music there is hard and loud … sexual innuendo with the volume turned up ... music you can stagger to while sipping hurricanes and grenades out of a plastic cup and strolling the street. We never found New Orleans jazz. Granted, it may have been hiding somewhere out of our price range. We were told to seek it on Frenchmen Street in the Marigny. At best, we found a little zydyco.


Not to be deterred, we, well I, reluctantly resigned myself to spending a little more money in order to assure that we would hear authentic New Orleans jazz before we went home. There was  huge brunch buffet with "live jazz" at the Court of Two Sisters, which is now run by two brothers. Soon after we entered, my beloved money was wrestled from my grip and I quickly began to  question how "live" our jazz was to be and if it was authentic New Orleans jazz. 

In order to be certified as authentic, the jazz must pass four tests First, at least one person in the group must be wearing a beret.  Second, jazz musicians need to take breaks. At the Court of Two Sisters, one of the musicians was wearing a beret and they definitely needed a lot of rest. In fact, they played two songs, were completely worn out, and needed a long rest. When they came back, they managed three, maybe four tunes, and had a relapse. Thirdly, jazz musicians need to be "laid back". Our drummer/ lead singer took a nice break in mid-song to answer his cell phone and chat a bit.  The bass fiddle followed suit with a little texting during the next song.  They met the  third standard hands down. Alas, I don't think we heard authentic New Orleans jazz.  Much to my chagrin, no one wore sun glasses. And sun glasses is the fourth and most important standard.  

Don't start thinking that we had a terrible time ... far from it. Take the brunch buffet for example. How disappointed can one be with 80 items on the brunch buffet. It had everything cajun and more.  I am not one to let modesty or manners or embarrassment get in my way.  I have no shame and eat until it hurts ... both them and me. Selected favorites that graced the numerous plates that sat before me, were the made-to-order Eggs Benedict , the turtle soup, and the bourbon pecan pie. 



There wer other must have favorites ... like Oysters Desire 



















... like Red Beans and Rice with Sausages















... like muffelato at Central Grocery




















... like beignets at Cafe Beignet

by the way, there should be a warning about eating these outside in the wind. If not for us, at least for the lady behind us  who had to leave her table covered in powdered sugar.













... and of course, Po Boys of various persuasions including oyster.

The people of New Orleans were generally friendly excepting of course, the pick pocket. On Xmas morning, we took a stroll along the Mississippi River. Strollers and homeless alike greeted us warmly with a "Merry Christmas".  We stopped to listen to one musician singing the blues and stayed for a Xmas serenade just for Anne.




Anne took an unusual interest in some of the guys in the sculpture park. Not really sure what she saw in them.














Unfortunately, the locals were not quite as friendly to me. In fact, I found them to be surprisingly quiet.














One of the highlights of the trip for us was the the New Orleans Museum of Art . Nothing like being at the museum to make a guy feel right at home.


















And the sculpture park beside it was excellent ... and weird ... just like I like it.
















There may have been better places to stay in New Orleans, but I can't imagine any place better than being in the French Quartier. There was always something to see and plenty of local color.

One thing for sure

we will never forget

our trip to

THE BIG EASY

In Search of Sasquatch - Greenville SC

Soon after we arrived in Greenville, reports surfaced about sightings of enormous footprints in the general vicinity. The police seemed to be stumped, but I knew right away what it was. I am pretty sure "there's squatch in these here woods". For safety sake, we sent the girls off to shop ... oblivious to the danger that lurked in the woods nearby. They were hardly out of sight  when we headed out ... to heck with the danger. We would face whatever was there with walking sticks and the single knife we had between us.  And that danger ... call it what you will ... yeti, the abominable snowman, swamp creature, skunk ape, bigfoot, whatever ... we knew it to be a sasquatch!




The proof we needed soon presented itself. Sasquatch, if nothing else, is known for its personal hygiene.  Any sasquatch hunter worth his salt knows that when a sasquatch poops in the wild, he covers it with lots of straw. We were all over it!














We plunged deep into the forest ... hot on the sasquatch trail. Clearly, the uprooted tree we found was the work of a bigfoot.


We climbed to the top to check for hair samples or other evidence it may have left.

I can't tell you how surprised we were with our next find. Turns out, we were dealing with an urban sasquatch. Urban squatchs do not poop in the woods ... duh ... they use squatch toilets!

















Believe it or not, even squatchs like to have fun.   What's more fun than a swing suspended over the creek. Bigfoot had made a good one and we took a few minutes to enjoy it ourselves.


















Even ole deadeye got excited and joined in. You might know her as Putter.














We stumbled upon a bigfoot nest nearby. They like to dig out small caves amidst the root systems of large trees and hide out there during the day.  This spot had definitely been used recently.

In fact, we spotted him heading over the ridge.














You really don't want to corner a bigfoot  ... in the woods ... in broad daylight. When they have been chased out a hiding place, they can be pretty bad-tempered! We thought, "Why risk all of us getting hurt?" So, we sent one of us up the hill to check it out.







We were so close to getting him. He knocked over a gate at the top of the ridge and then we lost his tracks in the creek. Man  ... those things can fly when they are scared!












None of us realized how hungry we were ... up til now, it had all been about the chase. We flopped on the ground and dug in -  trail mix, cookies and the rest!









We didn't get a sasquatch this time. But, that doesn't mean that we are giving up. Daniel Boone didn't get to be a mountain man by not killing a bear. Jim Bowie did not get famous by not sharpening a knife. William Bonney did not get his picture in the newspaper by not "Kid"ing around.  So, we used our time to train our youngest sasquatch hunter a bit  ... to teach him a few tricks of the trade





... like standing in cold water on a brisk day.


















... and how to cross the creek ... adventure style!

... and this time 

... nobody fell in

 ... a MIRACLE!

And then ... another miracle!  We spotted the rare "bumpy" tree .... sasquatchs love to scratch their backs on a bumpy tree! But that chase will have to be another day.

Yep 

... another day

... cause 

... even the most seasoned sasquatch hunter 

... gets tired!