An American Summer (2) At some point towards the end of the trip we realized that we had wasted a grand opportunity. We began collecting the extra rolls of toilet paper and tissue boxes from motel bathrooms. If we had thought of this earlier we would have had a year’s supply! We arrived in Bloomington, Indiana near Shabbos in a slightly frantic mode, but it was Friday 6-18-99 and the respite was near. We never do much at Mom’s. We sit around and talk, or build a campfire in the fire-pit. We go through crushed boxes of photographs that you know you have searched through before but just want to check again in case you’ve missed something; you always have. Each time we go through the pictures our own lives have changed and we see the familiar images with new perspectives. On Sunday 6-20-99 we went to The Taste of Bloomington, the Fun-Frolic Carnival, and tried to make the Bean Blossom Bluegrass Festival. Who knew it would be over by 5:00 PM; we thought that was when they were getting started for the evening. That was our New York mentality in the southern mid-west. We stayed the week, not doing much at all, yet we barbecued, hit the local antique shops, went to a pioneer village in the local state park, and visited nearby Nashville, Indiana, a tourist/historical town. We spent quality time with Samuel’s sister Mandy, played with Beta, and picked up fishing poles, some lures, and a small tackle box at Wal-Mart. We got too comfortable; this would be the longest amount of time we stayed at any given destination throughout the trip. It was two and a half weeks since we left New York, and now, New York had thoroughly left us. We greatly enjoyed roaming the isles of Wal-Marts across America. We browsed the lures, looking for the special one that would give us an edge. We browsed the toys and automobile sections, sometimes buying small items, like a bee’s wax candle making kit or a windshield glass repair kit. We often refilled on toiletries, got oil changes for the Buick, and bought other things there as we needed them. Wal-Marts also usually have a video arcade area and we’d spend time there as well. It was a treat for us to leisurely browse Wal-Mart, a real late twentieth-century American experience. On Monday 6-28-99 we departed Bloomington, due south, sleeping in a Super 8 in Louisville, Kentucky. We savored the road the following day, driving slowly and finding a small lake to inaugurate the new poles. I caught my first fish, a two-inch bluegill, but refused to touch it. By the end of the trip I was slicing worms with my fingernails and unhooking numerous fish. We drove to Nashville, Tennessee, and lodged at a Family Inn. The following day 6-30-99 we toured The Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, drove to Memphis, took a walking tour of Graceland, refilled our cooler with kosher meat, and settled into a Super 8 in Forrest City, Arkansas. The following day we meandered slowly, in a near state of confusion through Arkansas looking for a cabin or motel on one of the large lakes in the region. The regional yellow pages conducted us to The Country Inn in Hot Springs, Arkansas. We pulled in on Thursday 7-1-99 and we settled into the room. We made a small barbecue, cast some unsuccessful lines, and did "lots a chillin’." On Friday we stayed in all day, smoking, drinking beer and Jack Daniel’s coolers, and then barbecued chicken for dinner on a terrace overlooking the grounds and water. Later on Saturday, we went mini-golfing, and rode go-karts and bumper-boats, before heading down to Texarkana. Each weekend of the road trip was basically the same. We would go grocery shopping, settle into a motel for two nights, put a chulent up in our crock-pot, and stay inside, relishing our time. We had barbecue chicken with grilled potatoes and vegetables on Friday nights. On most weekdays we barbecued for at least one meal, vegetables with hamburgers, chicken, or whatever kosher meat we had left. We barbecued in rest stops and hotel parking lots. We usually ate out for the other meal, having a veggie delight sandwich at Subway, a fish filet sandwich with fries at McDonalds, or some other vegetarian or fish meal in a diner or restaurant. If we were lazy we would order in pizza to the motel room. We settled at a Super 8 7-3-99 in Texarkana, after stopping at a Tex-Mex restaurant across the road. While we were unpacking the car, a Texan befriended us by offering cold beers; right in the motel’s parking lot. It was three o’ clock in the afternoon. He was a carpenter, owned 30 acres, and had a six-year-old son competing professionally in a motor cross competition over the weekend. One beer turned into a few, all with a stranger in a parking lot, with the most random yet intriguingly simple conversation. He invited us to his son’s meet, tempting us with the free alcohol, but we declined, eager to drive on into Texas. On Sunday 7-4-99 we arrived in Fort Worth, Texas, at Samuel’s maternal grandparents’ home for a Fourth of July family weekend. The family get-together was on Monday, and they were very kind to make everything but the smoked brisket, vegetarian. We began the day by meeting a bunch of cousins, aunts and uncles; kinfolk. We swam in Aunt Linda and Uncle Kenny’s pool; the entire family, grandparents and all. There was a pear tree in the backyard. We pulled off pears and fed them to the two horses in the neighboring yard. The buffet lunch was country kitchen fare; a brisket, broccoli cheese casserole, English pea salad, chips and spinach dip, etc., and an Oreo crumble and whipped cream layer cake called ‘dirt cake’ for dessert. We grilled polish sausages. We swam, ate, swam again, then ate again. We felt very American on this U.S. holiday, which, back in New York seemed to be just about the fireworks. We slept in his grandparents’ room, since they woke up early and wanted to let us sleep in. In the morning Granny Jan cooked up a hardy, traditional Southern breakfast, complete with grits, biscuits, eggs, and orange juice. On Tuesday 7-6-99 we ventured out for a day of shopping. Granddad and I had conspired before our trip to see that I acquired a cowboy hat, a real hat that would make a Texan proud, not some imitation. I found a black Stetson. Samuel didn’t purchase a hat, for unknown reasons, but I believed he regretted that later. Granddad and Granny Jan treated us to lunch at the only kosher deli in Fort Worth; we then browsed through a large local antique mall. We had a barbecue dinner and were off in the evening to meet and visit with our Aunt Jenny and Uncle Dewey, who were impressed to have Jews in the family. The next day 7-7-99 saw us become the recipients of family legacies. Granddad taught Samuel how to make his famous and desired, from scratch barbecue sauce, while Granny Jan taught me the secrets of her family recipe for chocolate fudge. If ever two intellectuals of sorts were able to authentically and without bias experience America, we were doing just that. They also passed down family heirlooms; a creamer that was a birthday gift from Mabel (G.G.) Stephens, Granddad’s mother, to Granny Jan in 1971, and Roscoe Stephens’ ticket hole-puncher and a lapel pin from his career on the railroad, and an antique, ‘Aunt Sally’s Dream Book’. It was exactly four weeks since we had first ventured out, and we smoked some kosher beef neck in Granddad’s smoker, bought a 1953 Bowman Mickey Mantle baseball card, and saw the latest Star Wars epic film, The Phantom Menace, with cousin James later that night. We stayed an extra day 7-8-99 to enjoy his aunt’s pool; I got sunburned from the strong Texas summer sun. We left on Friday morning, 7-9-99, after a refilling of our cooler with kosher meats. The family suggested a quaint and still wild setting with good fishing at the border of Texas and Louisiana on the vast Toledo Bend Reservoir. We spent the weekend and a few days into the next week at Frontier Park off route 21. Our cabin was half of a trailer, but it had a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and TV sitting area. In the early morning, just at sunrise, a light mist would cover the lake and its surface would be still and an occasional bass would break its tranquil surface and we would cast a line its way. I preferred to paddle while she fished and hear the slither of our canoe’s belly against the water. We fished mostly using the canoe. In the manner of our ancestors we struck out paddling across glass like water. The forest’s edge came fast, stiffly standing at the lake’s rim. The lake’s shore was a tangle of Mangrove roots and branches swimming in clear black water. I had been short tempered that night, in the south. The wind was strong and I couldn’t get the fire going. I struck out at her in the evening, after a troublesome day. I didn’t like to miss opportunities to light fires. We swam in a small tear shaped pool, and fished more, rising at dawn and canoeing the inlet our cabin faced. I caught my second (and third and fourth, etc,) fish; my first keeper was a two-pound largemouth. It seemed natural, and I was more proud of that then of actually catching the fish. Our second wedding anniversary 7-13-99 was spent bass fishing in the early morning, and we had a barbecued veal dinner. That afternoon we rented a small motorboat for the final day we were there. We did not have heavy enough gear for that though, and we preferred the canoe. We fish fried our last day with my bass and a generous donation from Harry Price, bass master; though we learned that bass ain’t good eatin’. We left on Wednesday 7-14-99, and drove to a Holiday Inn Express a half-hour outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. There we had a dinner in this way-too-lit tourist trap, yet still authentic, southern craw restaurant. There was a small gallery/print shop attached to the restaurant, and we browsed before eating and bought a small country still life and a numbered print for our kitchen. We had picked up a tourist leaflet at the Louisiana State welcome/rest-stop area. We made reservations for that night 7-15-99 at a hotel situated on the northern border of the French Quarter in New Orleans. The room far exceeded our expectations, and the price with our coupon was scarcely more than the roadside motels we had been utilizing. It was a renovated, traditional New Orleans-style architecture, mansion. Our suite had two floors, with a fireplace, couches, kitchenette, bathroom, a loft bedroom, and an extra bed on the lower floor. We set out walking in the French Quarter around 3:00 PM; plenty of time for a few cocktails and a walking tour before dinner. We first stopped at Lafitter’s Blacksmith Shoppe, a converted historical blacksmith’s shop and home, turned bar. We had a cocktail and then set out to the French Market, an open air and tent marketplace, stopping in whichever bars looked appealing on the Rebeccah. The French Quarter, with its colorful homes and rich craftsmanship was a remarkable sight, and although we did not buy a dried turtle or an alligator head, we had been tempted. After a few hours of drinking and browsing, probably past dinnertime, we settled on a kitsch Caribbean themed bar with a plethora of blue, yellow and green neon lights. It had alligator and fish tanks installed as part of the molding under the bar, I enjoyed those very much and wanted to return and see if one of the alligators, which seemed rather sluggish, had moved yet. The bartenders were young and friendly local boys, who gave up good conversation. We finally went to dinner, at Samuel’s insistence, ordered too much, barely ate anything, threw up from the alcohol, and left with leftovers in a leaky doggy bag. We headed back to the neon blue glow. At some point as the liquor swelled in our bellies we decided to call it the night and walked back to the hotel; love beads in hand. The next day we walked the streets and browsed the shops of the French Quarter, before leaving 7-16-99 with enough time to search out a quiet place to spend Shabbos. We had to convince ourselves, regretfully, that New Orleans was far too indulgent to stay the weekend, without resulting in regrets. We chose a rustic EconoLodge just outside of Mobile, Alabama, to settle in for the weekend, as we loved to do, watching cable TV and smoking to our hearts content. We met a man outside walking his three ferrets on leashes in the parking lot; it was peculiar. We left on Sunday, needing to do heavy driving in order to make our next destination. We drove, in one day, from Mobile, Alabama, to Daytona Beach, Florida. That day 7-18-99 was Samuel’s birthday. That night at a Super 8, I ordered pizza and placed a homemade candle in its center. We were planning to spend a few days with Samuel’s friends, Ravid and Becky Toosya, from Israel, who live near Fort Lauderdale. They were not going to be home until the late afternoon 7-19-99, giving us the whole day to spend entertaining ourselves. Samuel read a brochure offering a ‘drag race’ experience and insisted that we go. After, we went to the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral. The afternoon heat was intense and we did not want to wait on lines, so we just walked around, gave away our tickets to the packed IMAX movie, and enjoyed the gift shop. In the evening we drove south towards Lauderhill and our friends. Their co-op was on nice grounds, with an ‘older’ crowd, but we all stayed clear of the alligators and enjoyed ourselves. We spent an evening at the Mall, and had a splendid dinner at Legal Seafood; I had the, best ever, grilled tuna steak. My birthday 7-21-99 had passed uneventfully, as it fell on the eve of Tishah B’Av, and we had to prepare for the final meal. The fast 7-22-99 was spent watching videos. We stayed the weekend, during which was the Yahrzeit of Samuel’s father. Our last night was spent at Rosy Baby’s Blues Bar. We left heading north on Monday 7-25-99. We drove to the outskirts of historical Savannah, Georgia, and stayed the night in a Super 8 spa room. She phoned in for late check out and we washed and dressed. The door handles lurched and the compressed air in our automobile relaxed as we entered. She started quick and clean, with no extra effort needed. The sun had heated the interior; it was nearly suffocating. We had insisted on working AC and this proved a crucial decision. Within moments the Buick Regal was cool and we set off. We walked and drove around Savannah’s Historic District the next day. It was unsettlingly hot. We ate a Greek lunch, bought a silver plated Confederate Rebel Flag belt buckle and tee shirt, and afterwards, to get out of the heat, we followed a driving guide map offered in the Savannah Welcome Center’s brochure. We then drove to a Super 8 one block from Myrtle Beach. We barbecued dinner in the courtyard, and took a late evening swim in the motel’s pool. Tomorrow 7-27-99 was going to be a classic family day at the beach. We played in the water and relaxed in the sun. Before leaving, we snuck into a beachfront hotel and showered, rinsed our swim- clothes, and then changed into dry clothes in the car. We followed up the fun with a sushi dinner and sped off to another Super 8. This particular Super 8 was across the road from a larger hotel that had a lounge attached to it. It was rare to find an anonymous motel that had a lounge/restaurant attached. This one had a Denny’s and a lounge next door. We ran across a six-lane road, which was in itself a feat. Abraham came into the bar shortly after we arrived, and being only three of us on our side of the bar we struck up conversation. The conversation was fed by drunken curiosity and general musings, and included issues of race and ethnicity. Abraham said to us, "I am Abraham." We replied he had mentioned that. He replied, "No. Abraham, from the Bible. I am Abraham." That was our signal to take leave, we had too much and dashed out of there, somehow crossing that road again. The following day 7-28-99, headache in tow, we set out towards Richmond, Virginia and Colonial Williamsburg. We had a great, re-invigorating, barbecue chicken lunch in a sprawling, well-kept rest area in southern Virginia. It was an anniversary of sorts, seven weeks on the road. We had the routine down, the barbecue equipment in the car, cooler at hand, condiments packed, and Chef Samuel, delightfully talented. We stopped for a late Japanese dinner in Richmond, Virginia, and stayed at a roadside inn, a short drive from Colonial Williamsburg. The colonial grounds were authentic and charming, with shops and museum-quality building restorations. We toured all day 7-29-99. There were men in costumes building a house with their bare hands, women mashing brick batter with their bare feet, quaint gift shops, and an afternoon parade. We stayed until close, and then drove north for a tour of Washington D.C. at midnight. We saw all the major sites, the capitol building, the Lincoln Memorial where Samuel was particularly affected, the Korean and Vietnam War memorials, and the winding roads of the capitol of our nation. The Washington Monument was covered with scaffolding that night and we thought it was under construction, but later found out that the scaffolding was in preparation for a New Year y2k light show. We settled at an Econolodge, just north of Baltimore, Maryland. This part of the coast was too crowded for us, and we moved fast towards the north. We stopped at home in New York for the weekend 7-30-99, remaining there only a few days. We departed again on Thursday, reloaded with a fresh batch of kosher meat and smoke, 8-5-99 heading northwest. We spent the night at the Crown Inn outside Buffalo, New York. We visited the Niagara Falls the next morning, viewing from the US side. They were truly inspiring. We drove on across a short stretch of Canada and then back into the US en route to Uncle Shlomo and Aunt Ruth’s home. We stopped for the weekend 8-6-99 at a small cottage on Lake Huron, near Port Huron. We loaded up on food and drinks and stayed there until Monday 8-9-99. We visited Samuel’s aunt and uncle south east of Port Austin and took in some salmon fishing. We fished for three days, and besides taking a dip in Lake Michigan, we didn’t too much more. The weather up there was already cooling off, on the way to greet autumn. We departed on Thursday 8-12-99, with a new and exciting destination in mind. We stopped by Samuel’s cousin Danny and Debi’s house in St. Ignace, Michigan, said hello to our cousins whom we haven’t spent much time with, and borrowed a five horsepower boat motor. We headed into Haiwatha National Forests, to Widewaters, to the White Fawn Lodge, to rejoin nature and childhood in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. In the glimmering water the fiery orange belly of a large Pumpkinseed flashed under my bait. Any strike would yield from me such enthusiasm and surprise that I would tear the line from the water, usually with a shout. She would laugh and I would stutter trying to catch my breath, my heart clambering. I lost every fish this way. In the car I would imagine the highways were waterways. The near-fall was considerably less plagued with bugs than the early spring. The pines and birch trees grew thick around us; there was no matted floor or tables littering the forest’s scalp. It made me feel more of a man than I usually allow myself. The whole image radiated a sense of uncontainability and still I felt a kinship with it. If I could figure out what that meant I would be liberated. On Friday 8-13-99 morning we ventured out onto Fish Lake, but there were strong and biting winds. We were uncomfortable and unsuccessful. On Sunday 8-15-99 we fished half the day in Moccasin Lake, catching Perch and Rock Bass. The other half of the day we fished Wedge Lake. We returned to the cabin at sunset and cooked the Perch in a beer batter fish fry. Waking up early was no problem there. On Monday we fished Red Jack Lake, where Samuel caught a Pike, and Lion Lake, where we found a great hole of large pan fish and were catching bluegill and pumpkinseed to our hearts content. I had an outdoor milestone when I peed into an empty worm container in the boat. Samuel did it over the side. We stayed until sunset, then made another fish fry. There was no TV in the cabin, well there was one but it didn’t work at all. The seclusion was brilliant, and the sky was expansive and vibrant, with exquisite colors. We returned the motor 8-17-99 and spent some time with Danny’s adorable sons, Montana and Mallard. We then started up the coastline of Lake Huron, stopping at quaint Native American shops, heading towards the International Bridge in Salte Ste Marie. Saulte Saint Marie, on the border of Ontario and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We spent the day at the Soo Locks, and culminated it by traversing the understated International Bridge. The city was anonymous. The bridge, locks, everything seemed meaningless for a new post-industrial America. The colors were drab and earthen. The city subsisted on tourism and heavy industry – mounds of coal, limestone, and iron ore for the production of steel and a localized pride. We stayed at The Sleepy Buck Motel, and barbecued some hotdogs for lunch the next day after viewing the Soo Lockes, via the Soo Lockes Boat Tour. I had asked Samuel a number of times in the northeast what lockes were and he was never able to sufficiently describe them to me. We crossed the International Bridge and drove east through Ontario to Sudbury, and stayed at a Super 8. Near the border in Canada the roads east seemed lethargic; the slow speeds and generic (sub)urban clutter were a roader’s nightmare. We drive only until nightfall to avoid moose. We continued east 8-19-99 through Ontario and Quebec provinces, stopping at small Native American shops, and for dinner at a kosher Moroccan restaurant in Montreal. We missed the subtle rudeness in America, as compared to the blunt rudeness in Quebec. In Montreal, where the street signs were all in French, after parking the car near the restaurant we asked a police officer in a squad car if it was OK to park there. Our accents were obviously foreign, but the officer curtly replied, "Read the sign." After dinner, we beelined down to a border area in northeastern Vermont, chanting "We hate Quebec." and spent the night in a small Vermont town on the shores Lake Champlain. Friday included a scenic drive through Vermont and New Hampshire. We were planning to treat ourselves that weekend; the final weekend of the road trip. We located a Super 8 with a Jacuzzi room and headed to Manchester, Hew Hampshire. We stayed there for the weekend, using the last of our smoke, the last of our alcohol. Sunday 8-22-99 was a continuation of the meandrous sightseeing. The northeast is highly scenic and wild. We drove through Portland, Maine as far north as Bath, Maine, before turning south and meandering down to Rhode Island, stopping at every single antique shop on the way. Our very last night out was spent at the Welcome Inn in Kingston, Rhode Island. The driving was slow, and unconditionally relaxing. We had been on the road for exactly eleven weeks and ten thousand miles home 8-24-99.
Go to part: 1 2
Copyright © 1999 Olef Ransom Saulles |