The Bad Coffee Tour of 2021 & 2022

Tags

coffee, dogs, hotels, road trip

The title naturally refers to a road trip I recently took from my own undisclosed area in the Middle Atlantic region of the country to the rolling hills and flatlands of Texas with intermediate stops at various fast food joints, gas stations, truck stops and doughnut joints along the way between here and there.

The title is inspired by the last day or two of the trip heading south when the road, my mind and behind had all become progressively numb. It was at that point when I had given up all hope of finding a decent sit down meal and all we existed on was coffee that got progressively worse. I say we meaning my traveling companion and his dog. The dog does not drink coffee so his taste buds do not figure into this account although he does appear later on in a brief. heart warming and charming Hallmark Channel sort of vignette.

For starters, most of the roadside motels we stayed in advertised a free breakfast but upon arrival we found that because of the you know what that’s going around services had been curtailed things being what they are or were. So there we were eager to get on the road with a breakfast that stuck to our ribs only to find a cup of joe and maybe a shrink wrapped muffin.

One establishment where I did find a morning coffee only had those little containers of pre- mixed, pre- flavored and pretty awful creamers. My only choice then besides taking my coffee black was to add mocha peppermint and hazelnut cream which I do not ever recommend ever ever again to anyone.

Another well known roadside stop had a breakfast of sorts but when I checked in the clerk told me and I am not making this up …” We have a breakfast but if you don’t like it you can go over there to the Crackle Barrel. A ringing endorsement to be sure and despite the front desk’s warnings there was good coffee, yogurt and the previously mentioned shrink wrapped muffins which we stuffed our pockets with as we left.

Surprisingly the best coffee to be had was at that national hamburger chain that features a clown as it’s spokesman/mascot/reason to stop there. And as we found all of the dining areas were closed so we made good use of the drive thru windows where you order at the lighted menu board, pay at window one and pick up at window two. Or maybe we paid at one and picked up at two. In any case there were only two windows regardless of how they were numbered.

So we trundled on further south stopping at truck stops, gas stations and convenience stores in search of a restroom, gasoline and coffee. Hardly any stores offered real milk or real 2% milk but there was one so that was a plus. Finding cow based products proved to be the highlight and the lowlight consisted of mocha hazelnut creamers and the like.

During a deep freeze plunge when we were at a gas station and all of the squeegees were frozen in their squeegee buckets in dirty squeegee ice.

At one hotel which I had booked based on it being a pet friendly establishment our canine companion received a welcoming present upon check in of a combination water bowl and food dish and a package of snacks. This was entirely unexpected and certainly welcomed.

So, if you’re ever in Little Rock near the airport and you are riding with Fido or Fifi or Scout or Stanley stop in. The airport is named for Bill and Hillary which must really rankle the local Republicans every time they leave or return by air.

But the big story on Action News is a combination rest stop, gas station, department store, supermarket in Texas that features a cartoon beaver as it’s logo. You could live in this place for a week before anyone knew you were there. Conservatively there must have been 50 gas pumps if not more. They also featured a pet relief area with signage that read something like…” Your dog did his duty, be sure to pick it up.” and ” If your dog left a poop it’s up to you to scoop.”

I committed the gravest of errors when I went looking for a veggie sub at this place because after all I was deep in the heart of Bar B Que land and I guess an eggplant sub was out of the question. No problem though – My turkey sandwich had more than teh minimum daily requirement of jalapeños which I think is a state law among others.

However, the biggest eye opener of all on the trip was the realization that the big electric car company growing by leaps and bounds, no it’s not Edison, is opening a plant to produce said electric vehicles right in the middle of oil rich Texas and they got a boatload or carload or truckload of tax breaks to bring the business where the stars at night are big and bright.

I found irony to be a saving grace in the land of pick up trucks and tumble weeds.

The coffee tour is now history, no t shirts or tour jackets available. Only hamburger wrappers, discarded coffee cups and the occasional and forlorn much hazelnut creamer remain. Oh, and peppermint too. Help yourself.

The People You Meet ( Walking Your Dog)

Tags

aging, dogs, getting older, music

First of all, is it just me or does this whole wordpress behemoth seem a lot slower in saving and posting the things I write? Maybe it’s my unsupported browser. It’s my browser and I’ll unsupport it if I want to, cry if I want to – Points if you can dig into your wayback machine and drag up where that musical line of memory comes from.

Our title here today should be really be old people, older men specifically and how aging gets a bad rap.

First guy we meet, me and my canine companion is a guy who admits to be in his 80’s. His wife too. We stop and chat, me and Fido and the guy tells me he had Irish setters for 50 years but they’re all gone now. The only dogs in his life are his grand dogs and that’s fine with him. No more poop patrol I guess.

But he say 80’s like he’s apologizing for being in his 80’s with a wistful sigh of resignation like he is embarrassed for having lived so long. He likes my dog and she takes an instant liking to him and we say our goodbyes and off we go.

The second guy thinks by dog is a Portuguese water dog, a breed I never knew existed until my favorite president got one, no two. Actually, its a favorite president tie between him and Jimmy Carter.

Now this guy tell me he’s 78, again with an I’m sorry for having lived so long kind of sound in his voice and expression on his face. I am stunned by these two guys and their apologies for being older.

This guy went to Berklee as in top notch music school majoring in trumpet, joined the US Navy, sailed around the Mediterranean alot, played for Admirals and probably heads of state. You know Kings, Queens and such.

Then he gets a gig playing in Fred Waring’s band ( Look it up) meets his wife and here he is some 50 years later rubbing my dog’s belly which she has generously presented to him. He can’t play anymore due to health issues and I tell him I’m sorry to hear that. He sort of looks off into the distance with a look that is saying _” Yeah, I know” or I have given up thinking about it” which as a musician myself is a killer stake right through your heart and your music which are connected at the hip.

We talk about the old big bands, He saw Benny Goodman and all the greats. We talk about Freddie Green and he mentions a drummer I have never heard of. We talk about the loss of Stephen Sondheim which we both agree is a tragedy.

Finally, we run out of things to talk about and I can see that by me talking about music and how wonderful it is I’m making him sad. We shake hands as we are both triple vaccinated and we’re outside anyway so I say goodbye and he says goodbye and he says goodbye to the not Portuguese Water dog and off we go.

The people you meet. I hope I never apologize for getting older but sometime I feel that sense of shame when I have to mention my age too. I get it. It doesn’t seem fair though.

The people you meet.

Purple

Tags

Christmas, dawn, dogs, poets, purple, sunrise, sunset

Not as Rain, or Haze or the Movie which has my title in it’s title. Before I get started can any of you followers, and welcome to the newer ones, can any of you tell me how I can change the font on the page or screen to something larger than teeny tiny?

Back to the matter at hand or at the top of the page. I was up early yesterday walking the dog somewhere around six am when part of the sky was still dark and the part of the sky in the east was growing light thanks to that lucky old sun coming up again right on schedule albeit a lot, I mean a lot lower in the sky. Being out about and active this early I was instantly reminded of the days I used to run the Philadelphia Marathon being up early and watching the sun come up over the statue of Billy Penn that sits on top of Philadelphia’s City Hall.

.The deep purple streaks slowly start to give was to magenta and then to lavender and then somehow the color orange appears. And here’s the obtuse connection. I immediately thought of the tune “Orange Colored Sky” which I had never heard before until I saw Lady Gaga sing it on the tv last week during really, her tribute to Tony Bennett. Back to wherever I was going before I got derailed and distracted.

Whilst I was in college a half century ago I took a class called ” English Romantic Poetry and Poets” because I can’t remember why but I signed up to read and learn about Shelly and Keats and John Donne. Mostly tragic fellas with star crossed lives and star crossed loves and star crossed endings. I think John Milton was in that brat pack too writing about Paradise Lost or Paradise or Lost in Space. Certainly not that Muhlenberg County kind of paradise.

One line from Donne stuck with me and it’s about those “Rosy streaked fingers of dawn.” Apparently walking around and gazing at the sunrise has been around for a couple of hundreds of years.

I just finished a book about WWII in the Pacific and near the end of the book where the author tells of the war finally being over he mentions how thrilled some of the men were to see a Pacific sunset while sailing east and home. These servicemen had flown into Tokyo for the surrender ceremonies having served stateside for the duration.

Being at sea was new thing experience for them. For the men who had been sailing up, down and across the Pacific for three years the majesty and grandeur of the sun show at dusk merely meant another day ticked off on the calendar. The show no longer heard any appeal for them. They only wanted to go home where they didn’t have to take orders anymore or worry about enemy submarines, bombs falling or kamikaze planes deliberately crashing into them and the ship they were on. Nope, they were done with all that.

Covering a lot of ground here aren’t we?

Back to my 6am stroll. This being the Christmas season many of the houses along my walk have been decorated with Christmas lights and I’m so happy we can say “Happy Holidays” again swell as ” Seasons Greetings.” Many of the lights had been left on all night and took on an especially magical look in the early dawn light or by the dawn’s early light if you will. It was in a word or two – pretty neat.

Wow, now I’m really lost from wherever my original train of thought was going. Let’s see, purple, Christmas, dogs. Nope, I got nothing so I’ll hit save, publish, throw in a few relevant tags and wait for the followers to react.

Dogs Live in the Moment

Tags

Dixieland Bands, dogs, funerals, sympathy cards.

I suppose they do. I don’t know as I’m no canine shrink or dog whisperer but I think they do.

They have a limited grasp of the past and the future – who cares? Next meal? I gotta go out? Gotta remember to chase the cat. Seems like a pretty full life to me.

The motto of the dog world seems to be.”What, Me Worry?”

Unfortunately we and I mean specifically me don’t, can’t or won’t live in the moment to any substantial degree.

Everything seems to be too much sometimes.

I went to a celebration of life this morning. We used to call them funerals. You can call them anything you want but it’s a send off for someone you knew well, maybe a little or maybe not at all.

The morning wore me out even though it eventually ended with a Dixieland Band playing ” When the Saints…”

That left everyone smiling and temporarily forgetting why they were where they were and why they were there. That’s a pretty succinct sentence I think. Sometimes repetition works.

See ” Helplessly Hoping” by CSN and maybe Y. He was in and out of that band on a fairly regular basis as I recall. Whatever happened to him?

This is turning into a catch all post after an exhausting day.

These days I’m buying 2 – 3 sympathy cards at time. Saves time and multiple trips to the store. Besides, then I don’t have to handle several different cards and I buy the same card every time. Saves mental wear and tear on me.

I just sign my name. I can’t think of anything better to say than the card has already said and I can’t possibly put myself into the mindset of the person receiving the card.

When my uncle passed away I was the executor of his estate. Before he died he handed me his address/phone book and told me to call everyone after he died to tell them he was no longer among the living.

You can’t dodge that responsibility so I didn’t. I called everyone.

I received several wonderfully written memories of my uncle from people who truly were going to miss him.

I just feel my words are inadequate or menial or trite or useless.

I came home form the celebration and took a nap. Then I walked the dog.

She has the right idea about life.

Telling Secrets

Tags

dogs, secrets

I just got a dog. I tell her everything.

Put Down Your Phone, Now, I Said Now!

Tags

bikes, dogs, phones, texting

This might fall into the rage writing category or at the very least the ” Old Man Yells at Cloud” school of thinking.

In any case kudos to the person who invented the term ” Doom Scrolling.” There aren’t enough kitten and puppy videos being produced lately so let’s get on it shall we?

I spent a good deal of the late, lamented and too soon gone summer on my front porch either, A – Playing my guitar, B – Reading a book or the local newspaper, C – Listening to the local nine on the radio play the national pastime or any combination of A or B and or C.

Which bring us, me and you dear reader to the point of the title of this piece.

You don’t see the word phone anywhere in my porch activities. But what I did notice was all manner of dog walkers, stroller pushers and even bicycle riders furiously engaged with their cellular telephones while riding or walking or jogging or pushing strollers.

One phone dog walker person deserves special mention.

She would walk right past my house and me with her daughter who was holding the leash of their dog, The kid had the dog and the Mom had the phone.

Mom never looked up while walking spending all her time not relating to her kid or the dog.

As one who has kids that are grown and gone I wanted to send her a wake up call and tell her that she’ll never have the summer of 2020, good or bad, with her daughter again.

It’s over, gone, deleted like that last text.

There are things and times you can’t get back.

See if you can spot the problem here:

Man riding bike – No helmet.

Man riding bike, no helmet with dog on leash.

Man riding bike no helmet with two dogs on leashes.

Man riding bike with no helmet, two dogs on leashes in traffic.

Man riding bike with no helmet, two dogs, in traffic and texting.

See title above.

Spanning the Globe,the Newspapers and the Neighborhood

Tags

dogs, neighbors, Running, space

In no particular order – sort of a catch all from the week so here we go:

News Item – Space Archaeologist  discovers new Viking settlement in North America.  Space Archaeologist ?  When did that become a job?  I missed that along the way but it sounds like a great way to make a living – playing with satellites and dirt.  Where do I sign up?

On a run this afternoon and chatting with the neighbors:

Neighbor #1 -Two miles in –  I say tomorrow is Opening Day for Major League Baseball.  He says he doesn’t care but is happy that today is the First Day of Trout Season in PA. I wonder who threw out the first fish?

Neighbor #2 – Three miles in – I pause at a stand of evergreens that have suffered wind damage from yesterday’s storm.  There are branches on the ground but strangely only from one tree in the middle of the stand.  We ponder the randomness of the destruction and decide that ” When it’s your time to go it’s your time to go.”

Finally – Three miles in – I see a guy walking his dog while riding his bike.  His bike, not the dog’s bike.  The guy is talking on the phone, his phone, not the dog’s phone.  The dog’s leash is wrapped around his waist, his waist, not the dog’s waist.

Let’s recap, riding a bike with a dog’s leash attached to your belt and you’re on the phone.  At least he wasn’t texting while riding, the guy not the dog.

The dog would know better.