More From Yuma, and I Get My Ears Thumped Again

At the Palms RV Resort, Yuma, Arizona...

Well, it was only a few days ago that I got my ears thumped after a post and now, here we go again. Imagine my embarrassment when I learned that Ray and Cindy Warner of Ray and Cindy's RV Travels blog have a home here in the very park of whose inhabitants I was, um, a little critical. Not only do we love to meet fellow RV bloggers, but Ray and Cindy invited us out for lunch at an outdoor taco joint that had some killer shrimp tacos. We enjoyed it immensely, and then they invited us into their beautiful home for a tour! There never were two nicer people, so, basically, I ate crow for lunch along with my tacos!  Why do these things happen to me?  That's Cindy and Ray are on the right below:

In the days prior to learning about Cindy and Ray, we were told by friends that we needed to go to the Yuma Territorial Prison State Park. "It's more interesting than you might think," they said. I'm sure I rolled my eyes a bit but, hopefully, not enough for them to notice. I don't know...it's just kinda hard for me to get excited about touring a prison. It's certainly not a place I would wish to go as an inmate, so why would I want to pay to go visit one? Yet, it's the number one attraction for Yuma in Trip Advisor, so there we went.

Now an Arizona state park, I have to say that the Yuma Prison complex is very well done. Two really decent photos in the previous post were taken there, those being the shots of the cacti and the old wagon. The place is steeped in history, having been built in 1875 as the Arizona Territorial Prison, way before Arizona became a state in 1912. During its 33-year lifespan, the prison would house over 3,000 men and 29 women for crimes ranging from murder to polygamy and even adultery. Only one inmate was ever hanged there--for murdering another prisoner.  The prison was under a constant stage of construction to enlarge it, mainly using the labor of the prisoners, who were building their own cells. It was known among prisoners as the 'hellhole' because of the unbearable summer heat they had to endure.

State Park Entrance

Prison Main Gate

Main Cell Block. Each cell housed six inmates.

I found a cell door open and, ever curious to go along with being slightly stupid, I decided to go inside. It had a dirt floor and six bunks, stacked three on each side of the cell, with a single chamber pot for relieving six guys. (Ugh!) Of course, Sandy would close the door once I was inside but, fortunately, she couldn't lock it; she just held it shut. All it took to get free was to hand her my American Express credit card. Works wonders, that thing.

If a prisoner got out of line, he would be placed in a cage outdoors, where he would have to endure either boiling sun or rain, with no protection from either:

Prisoners who were really incorrigible were sentenced to weeks-long stays in this same type of cage, except it was housed in a totally dark room carved out of a mountain at the edge of the complex. Such prisoners were stripped to their underwear and fed bread and water. There were no provisions in the cage for the removal of bodily waste. It is said that several inmates went insane from this experience; I don't doubt it. Here are some photos of the dark cell:

Dark Cell From the Outside

Entering the Dark Cell

Only the bottom of the cage remains.
The light is from the open door we entered, which would normally be shut.

With the door shut, the only light in the room would be from this small vent in the ceiling.

The building housing the museum was quite interesting, since I haven't spent much time around prisons, thankfully.  Here are some of the things that piqued my interest:

The notice above was posted in Yuma by the territorial authorities in 1905. Looks like they meant business, and I guess the ACLU wasn't around then. By the way, the word "mack" back then meant "woman chaser." 

Strange things interest me, I guess. The photo above shows a kit containing catgut, used by surgeons for sutures during operations in the day. Although the prison was known as the 'hellhole' by prisoners, it actually had fairly up-to-date medical and dental care for the inmates. I had heard of catgut before, but I really didn't know what it was. Actually, it was not made from cats at all, but mostly sheep intestines. Their use for suturing wounds was desirable because they were pliable and strong and, within a week, they would be absorbed into the patient's body, if he lived through the operation. The problem with using catgut was the difficulty of sanitizing it so as to avoid creating an infection within the patient--one that was often fatal. Catgut eventually fell out of favor due to this problem. 

The old photo above jarred me a bit, because I remembered that my mother had given me paregoric as a child as a treatment for diarrhea and probably other ailments. It was available over the counter back then, but began to be regulated around 1970, as it contained opium and 45 percent alcohol; to my surprise, it is said to be available by prescription even today. It's big brother, Laudanum, was similar in composition but contained 25 times as much opium, so it made a fairly effective anesthetic, as I suppose the prisoners taking it didn't really care what the surgeon was doing to them. 

Laudanum was widely available by the 1800s and was highly favored in social circles for its mood-enhancing properties--perhaps it was the 'cocaine' of yesteryear.  Medically, it was prescribed for all sorts of things, including headaches, cough, gout, rheumatism, diarrhea, melancholy and "women's troubles." Being unable to have women's troubles because of my gender--the one I had at birth--I'm not going to speculate about what these troubles might be.  However, being married to a woman, I have a vague idea. But I see no reason to risk speaking of them here.  So, if any of my readers suffer from this malady, you should know that Laudanum may still be available by prescription and could make you forget those troubles. One caveat though--Laudanum is highly addictive, and with the recent attention to the opiod problem in the U. S., it probably won't be around for long, and it may have been banned already. Both drugs were used widely in treating inmates in Yuma Prison.

Also in the museum were a ball and chain, placed on the ankles of prisoners who gave trouble, especially those who tried to escape. I hadn't seen one of these before, and I don't think I would enjoy wearing it:

Something really sobering was this hangman's noose, used only once during the history of the prison. The photo below this one is a blowup of the card visible in this photo. It describes the grisly details of preparing for a hanging:

Also in the museum was a Gatling gun, the first I had seen. It was never used in the Yuma prison, but it was an interesting piece--the predecessor, I suppose, of the machine gun. It fired a clip of thirty 50-caliber bullets by turning a hand crank to rotate the barrel assembly. Oddly, at the time of its invention, it didn't receive much interest from the armed forces, and the Lowell Company, it's maker, went bankrupt. 

There's a large guardhouse outside the prison that now serves as a lookout point for visitors:

Here's a shot taken from the observation deck, in which you can see a small segment of the Colorado River that passes alongside the prison:

I couldn't resist getting a photo of this pigeon (at least I think it was a pigeon; if not, maybe you ornithologists can help me out) guarding this section of the Colorado River. He/she? let me get quite close before puffing up, which I supposed was to appear more fearsome. Or, maybe it was just mimicking the old fat guy taking its photo, who knows? 

The prison closed in 1909 due to overcrowding and fell into a state of disrepair until it was rescued from destruction by the citizens of Yuma. It became a state park in 1961. I have to say, it was worth the six-dollar entrance fee.

I'll have more from Yuma in the next post but, right now, we are loving the beautiful weather out here.

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood

Yuma - For the First Time

At Palms RV Resort, Yuma, Arizona...


Before I get into my observations of Yuma, I would like to express my condolences to the family of fellow fulltiming RV blogger George Yates, who wrote  Our Awesome Travels and lost his battle with cancer a couple of days ago. Although we had never met, we had become cyber friends, and I wish we could have met in person. The RV blogger world is not a large one, and he will be missed as a true gentleman and active writer among our group. May God's comfort be yours, Suzie.

Now, as to Yuma:

I guess it's odd that we've traveled as much as we have all over the U. S. and abroad but somehow never made it to Yuma, Arizona, yet it's true. Furthermore, had it not been for a super special introductory rate offered by the Palms, we may not be seeing it now. But here we are, and I've already made some interesting observations. 

First of all, Palms RV Resort is a luxury RV park, for sure--you know, one of those hoity-toity places where you have to send a photo of your rig if it's over ten years old. Well, Phannie's age is certainly beyond that but, apparently, they didn't think she looks like a junker in the photo I sent them, so they said, "Come on down!" 

Now, I must tell you that I have mixed feelings about this kind of snootiness. I understand that high-end parks cater to a certain kind of clientele--usually ones with deep pockets--many of whom really don't like having unsightly rigs around them, spoiling the neighborhood. In order to keep the well-heeled coming back, parks like this one let these customers call the shots, so I get it; that makes some business sense, even if it is off-putting to most regular folks. I must confess that I would prefer not to have parked next door to me some rig that is a truly dilapidated eyesore and perhaps even unsafe to be around. I couldn't help but wonder who or what might be inside.

On the other hand, it is a bit of a downer to realize that Phannie could be thought of as elderly to the point of being unwanted when, to me, she is a well-loved classic that has aged gracefully. I have cared for her to the best of my ability, overdoing the manufacturer's recommendations in some cases. I give her frequent washings and waxing when needed. In turn, she has served us faithfully, with nary a hiccup from her Caterpillar engine and Allison transmission in nearly a hundred thousand miles. I just don't know if we could ever part with her. She's family.

There's one more thing that we've noticed about luxury RV parks: They aren't very friendly. I'm not talking about the staff, who are very friendly and helpful here. I'm talking about the other RVers, many of whom seem to go out of their way to avoid eye contact and certainly don't come over to visit, as if we are alien creatures from another galaxy. Maybe it's the Texas license tags, and they are afraid of all the guns they assume all Texans have. Well, that may be a valid assumption, but we really go out of our way to avoid shooting visitors. 

It says a lot that we have met some of our best friends at discount parks or ones that are mediocre, at best, where no one cares about the age of your coach but instead looks for the size of your smile and the warmth in your heart. Those are our kind of people. In any case, we certainly won't be returning here to the Palms, so we'll leave a few photos to remind us of what we're not missing:

How about this for a casita?

Okay, that's about enough of Camelot; let's get back to Yuma itself. I now know why this is such a haven for snowbirds, and I'll talk about that in a minute. But first, here's a screenshot from Google Earth showing, from what I would guess to be about 25,000 feet, an uncountable number of RV parks along I-8, the main artery feeding Yuma.

There are a few housing additions in this photo but, if you zoomed in, you'd see that most are parks with RVs, park models and other cramped-together snowbird roosts. Outside the perimeters of the photo are many more. So why the mass migration influx in the winter? 

It's the weather, of course; and what great weather it is! Almost every day boasts clear blue skies with temperatures in the seventies, cool nights, with very low humidity. And, unlike the Rio Grande Valley, it's not often windy. For example, look at the photo below--specifically at the flag in the center, drooping down the flagpole. This was a very typical winter's day in Yuma, with the temperature a perfect 72 degrees. Having said that, this is not a place I would want to be in the summer. That's why the snowbirds blast out of here in the spring as if they're fleeing a hurricane. It gets HOT!

And I don't even need to mention the beauty of the rest of the photo above, especially the cacti juxtaposed against the bricks and stucco--a look that east Texas forest creatures like me find particularly attractive because it's so different from where I grew up. This landscaping was obviously professionally done, but many homes, businesses and government buildings have similarly attractive landscapes. Here's an old wagon used in landscaping at the Yuma Prison State Park, about which I'll cover in another post:

Well, there's a good bit more I have to share about Yuma, but that'll appear in the next few days.

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood

Leaving Texas - I Get My Ears Thumped

At Monte Vista Resort, Mesa, Arizona

It's not often that I get smacked for one of my posts but, I must admit, I deserved this one. A few of the folks leaving comments on my last post took me to task for my characterization of U. S. 90 being 1) ugly, 2) lonely and 3) boring through far west Texas. My use of numerical points made it worse, as if I were emphasizing my negative observation of the area. 

I must say that I knew better. As a native Texan, I was aware of the need to be very careful about pointing out any blemishes on our glorious state, even though there are parts that are more picturesque than others. It didn't seem to matter that, in previous posts, I almost always used the adjective 'glorious' when I mention my storied state that I do, indeed, love. 

Well, it didn't take long for the chastening to begin among those who left comments. (God bless you, by the way; I love to get comments on my posts.) I could almost imagine some of my Texan brethren who read this saying, under their breath, "Get a rope." My only excuse, guys, is that I was tired. We were doing one-night overnights, taxing as those are to us old folks, and it was late at night when I was writing the post. I apologize profusely for the heresy.

With perhaps the most colorful and compelling history of any state, full of gallant heroes of Texas' independence at battles such as the Alamo, Goliad and San Jacinto (one of my own kin died at Goliad), Texas should never be spoken of in the terms I used but in hushed tones of reverence. If I felt compelled to describe things as I did, I should have used gentler terms like "less beautiful" and "undisturbed by man" and "an opportunity for solitary contemplation." 

Let me assure you that I consider my birth in Texas, although I had no say in it, was a gift that I do not take lightly. As a native son of Texas, I revere every inch of it and take no small degree of pride in telling folks of lesser states (which are all the rest of them) that I am a Texan by birth. (Now those friends of mine who are adopted Texans should not get their feathers ruffled; they can't help it that they weren't born here, and most of them would make fine Texans--all except you, Bob L. (You know who you are.) But we'll take Janet anytime. 

In one comment, someone pointed out that we missed many subtleties of beauty and interest by racing through west Texas as we did, and I do acknowledge and regret that--although we have previously done a fairly good tour of the Big Bend area several years ago--which can be found by searching on "Big Bend" in the search box on the right column of this blog. Had it not been for trying to make schedule in Arizona, I assure you we would have been more leisurely of pace and contemplative of our surroundings as we drove through my great state.

I hope these mea culpas are sufficient, so I will get on with the rest of my story about heading west. It wasn't long after leaving Marathon that we passed through Alpine, so named because of its elevation of about 4,500 feet, one of the highest towns of any size in the state. It's a very nice place, home of Sul Ross University, and I would just have you refer to "Alpine" in the search box for more observations of Alpine.

Highway 90 then led us toward Marfa, one of my favorite places in Texas, for several reasons. The 1956 movie classic, "Giant," was filmed nearby, starring Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson and James Dean, all of whom actually stayed in a hotel at the little town during the filming. It's also has a trifle of oddness, as it has become home to an artsy-type community--folks who are a little different and whose appearance seems curiously out of place here in far west Texas. 

I am possibly even more fascinated by the mystery of the Marfa Lights, a phenomenon dating back to 1883, when a young cowhand reported seeing orbs or pinpoints of lights out in the uninhabited desert east of Marfa, where there was nothing that could possibly produce light, except perhaps for fire, but these lights are not produced by fires, which would be readily discernible. I find this even more fascinating because I have actually seen these lights myself from the wonderful viewing stand on U. S. 90 that was built by the state. (Again, search on "Marfa Lights" in the blog or read about them in Wikipedia.)  Here are some photos of the viewing stand that I took as we were passing by. When night falls, there will be quite a number of people here looking out into the desert:

View from U. S. 90

Viewing Stand from the desert side.

Stand here to look out into the desert.

This would be part of your view if you were looking for the lights.

As you can see, there is no structure or road anywhere in view--nothing that could possibly produce a light. You can check this out with a telescope provided on the viewing deck or with your own binoculars; but you won't see anything but miles and miles of nothing. Yet, if you're lucky, you may come back and see the lights on a dark night. When I saw them, they looked something like automobile lights--but too far apart to be on a single vehicle, and they appeared to move in different directions. If we hadn't been in a hurry on this trip, I guarantee you we would have come out here on this night and taken another look. The lights, to this day, have defied explanation.

Marfa is a quaint and tiny little town where it defies the imagination that movie stars of the caliber of those appearing in "Giant" would have stayed during the filming. Again, check "Marfa" in the search box for more information about the city and the hotel in which they stayed. Leaving Marfa toward El Paso, we got to see something we hadn't seen before: A roadside diorama of some of the main characters and the main house of the movie:

As you can see, the figures of James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor seem to be three-dimensional and almost real, as does the '53 Ford convertible and the facade of the main house of the Reata ranch, as it was named in the movie. I don't know who constructed this piece of art, but we thought it was marvelous.

Farther down the road was a tethered white blimp brimming with electronic gear and used by the border patrol to watch for low-flying airplanes crossing the border from Mexico. This used to be a popular transport method for drug smugglers, but not so much now that there's so much electronic surveillance:

The rest of the drive through my glorious Texas was uneventful, including traversing bustling El Paso, a passage made fairly easy by using the north loop through the mountains. We stayed the night in Las Cruces at the Voyager RV Park--pretty basic, but cheap with Passport America, as was the Marathon RV Park, where we stayed the night before. If we're just doing a single overnight, we try to find the cheapest safe place possible, and we don't even put out all the slides. We just stop, eat, sleep and go.

After crossing into Arizona from New Mexico, we were excited finally to see some mountains in the distance, as in this shot of Mt. Graham from near Safford, Arizona:

Spending my childhood in relatively flat and heavily forested east Texas, it was always exciting to see the first real mountains during our family vacations to the western states. That's because we couldn't see anywhere but 'up' there among the tall pines where we lived. Out here, you can see for a hundred miles on a clear day. 

It was as we were nearing Mesa, our destination for a few days, that the scenery really began to be interesting, especially as we passed through the Superstition mountain range, where the giant boulders and abundant saguaro cacti began to appear.  Here is a shot of Superstition Mountain from the western side, taken from Apache Junction, not far from our RV park:

The origin of the mountain's name is not entirely clear, as there are several versions--the most popular being that the Pima Indians, who were indigenous to the location, reported strange sights and sounds coming from the mountain and the disappearance within of some of the tribe members. They also thought it contained a portal to the underworld. Thus, due to the superstitions of the tribe, it began to be known as Superstition Mountain.

I really enjoy the unusual desert plant life, especially the saguaro cactus. Here is another pretty but unusual plant I saw nearby; I think it is a cholla:

We spent our three nights resting up at Monte Vista RV Resort, a very nice place that houses hundreds of snowbirds in a part of the resort that has deeded lots. They are also putting the finishing touches on a new RV park with 200-plus sites next door. Below are some photos of the place. I am adding it to my 'Best of the Best RV Parks' page.

The Grand Ballroom. They have a grand piano!

Park Headquarters

The New RV Park

I was delighted to discover that the grand ballroom at Monte Vista has a grand piano, as did Victoria Palms in the Rio Grande Valley, where we stayed last winter and where I was able to do some playing. In fact, it was because of the presence of this piano that we have decided to return here to Monte Vista for a longer stay in February. Gotta get some more practice since my shoulder has healed up!

While we were here, our best restaurant meal was at a nearby Thai restaurant that I have just listed on my favorite restaurants page.

Sandy used the downtime to do some laundry in between shopping trips, and I took care of some little chores that needed to be done on Phannie. So, we are off in the morning to Yuma, a place we've never been, but we'll have two weeks there to check it out, then on to California (God help us).

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood

Heading West This Winter

At Marathon RV Park, Marathon, Texas...

Well, good grief! I see it has been over a month since I posted anything. I have good reason, though. We spent the holidays with the kids and, as usual, headed out to our wintering location after grandson Pryce's birthday on January 3. I could post a bunch of photos of the family Christmas festivities, but that's sort of overdone, I think, in a lot of blogs. I will, however, post some pics of Sandy and me and the grandsons at a mini-celebration of Pryce's birthday. (He likes parties--especially his--and he will have others, for sure, after we leave.):

L to R: Pryce, Sandy, Me, Sutton and Mason

 You will also be forced to view a photo of newest grandson Sutton who, at eight months, is fairly stricken with his grandpa--or maybe it's the other way around, I'm not sure:

Now, isn't he adorable? (I'm talking about Sutton, not me.)

While we were in the Conroe area during the holidays, we had some time to get together with good friends and former fulltimers Dave and Janice on a couple of occasions; that's always a hoot. 

I also happened to notice, in reading his blog, that a fellow fulltimer and his wife were at the Escapees park in Livingston, so when Sandy and I went over there to pick up our mail, we made a point to stop and meet them. I even have a special link on this blog for fellow bloggers we've met in person. That's inevitably a lot of fun and interesting, since you feel you already know them.

We enjoyed meeting and visiting with Mark and Karen (above). He writes as Mark From Missouri, and his posts reveal an analytical mind like few others. I would like to be more of a planner and a thinker, rather than just winging it most of the time as I am prone to do. It's not that I can't do it; after all, it's sort of essential to analyze and plan when you're flying an airliner. I've just gotten lazy, I guess, in retirement.

So where are we going this winter? As I mentioned in the previous post, we will be in Arizona and California for most of the time. As you may recall from previous years, we usually go to the Rio Grande Valley, but we've never wintered out west, so we thought we should try it just once, anyway. 

Speaking of planning, I actually had to do way too much of that for this trip. Why? Because everybody over 55 living north of Oklahoma must be a snowbird. About a billion of them migrate every winter to exactly where we're going. I finally got reservations that will carry us into March, but I got tired of doing that and gave up. We have friends who just head out with no reservations and seem to do fine, and I guess we'll see how that works in March when we have no idea where we'll go. Oh, well, that will probably be fun, but if you don't hear from us for a while in March, look for buzzards circling, will you? 

So, you'll be seeing posts more often now as we make the long jaunt out west. Our first stop was to visit friends Richard and Karen, who recently moved into their new spot at the Lone Star Corral Escapees Co-op in Hondo. We stayed overnight and had good food and conversation at a local Mexican restaurant. They seem very happy with their new digs:

After saying our goodbyes, we headed west on U. S. 90 to our next stop--Marathon, Texas, near Big Bend National Park--for an overnight. We really despise one-night stops, but we've got to keep our schedule to get to our destination before the other snowbirds swarm in and take over our tree limb we have reserved there. 

We had never before driven this particular route westbound through Texas, and I usually rather enjoy seeing new territory. However, it seems that, no matter how you drive through west Texas, it is 1) ugly, 2) lonely, and 3) boring. If you're not on an Interstate highway, you may not see a car or a living soul for quite a while. You will, however, see plenty of border patrol vehicles, as U. S. 90 follows the U. S./Mexico border very closely. This was what we saw through the windshield for most of this lonely leg:

I thought, "This must be kinda what it was like heading west in a covered wagon." (Well, maybe not; I don't think they had roads like this.)

Okay, I've got us caught up now. Look for more frequent posts, as there's no telling what we'll find out here.

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood

Thanksgiving in Branson

At Chandler Park RV Site, Purcell, Oklahoma...

We stopped here at a little municipal RV park in Oklahoma on our way back from Branson, where we had been invited to join Larry and Carolyn and their family and friends for Thanksgiving dinner at the Treasure Lake RV Resort.  It didn't take us long to accept their invitation, lonesome as we were without the kids. But it was Tyler's family's turn to host them on this holiday, so we tried to act like grownups and pout as little as possible. 

It's pretty hard do be serious for very long around Larry, shown below with Carolyn after the rest of the attendees had left:

 In this photo, I'm not sure what pose Larry is trying for, but I think it's best not to be too critical. I mean, the boy just ain't right! Carolyn playfully agrees but, in truth, they are among the most likable, caring and giving friends we know. They hail from Arkansas but visit Branson frequently. In fact, we met by chance in the very RV park where we gathered for Thanksgiving in the lodge.
Thank you, dear friends, for including us; we had a great time!

There are many posts in this blog about our visits to Branson, but we always enjoy coming here. We try to stay as long as our itinerary will allow, and we never run out of things to see and do. We especially like it when the kids can join us, so we can enjoy watching their nonstop fun. If we had to choose a place to live, Branson would be among the top choices if it weren't so far from the grands. 

And yes, we are very aware that much of the entertainment not geared for kids here is really for the older folks and, therefore, not all that cool. But the older I get, the less I care about what may or may not be cool. I love the fact that every show features a segment about God and country and a salute to veterans. It may seem corny to some, but Branson is one of the last places where the entertainment is clean and traditional values are celebrated unapologetically. And yes, psychologically speaking, it probably provides a temporary escape for me back to a time 50-60 years ago before the craziness that has consumed our culture today--back to a time when there was clarity between right and wrong and no real decision to make about which restroom to use.

Of course, the passage of time takes its inevitable toll on my generation--which I think, rightly or wrongly, is the last that holds so dearly the traditional values I've described. We are dying off, and we can only hope that we have passed some of these values to our children and that they will pass them to theirs. It is with mixed emotions that we always make it a point to see the show "Hits of the 50s and 60s" when we are in Branson:

  
This was our music, the music of the "good times" I've been describing, and it is so good to be transported back to a more innocent time, if only for a couple of hours and hear music that had things like melodies and lyrics instead of noise. The sad part is when I scan the audience around me; these people are old! And there are fewer of them every year. I can only guess how long the show will last, but I hope to see the final performance.

One more story that previously mentioned friends Larry and Carolyn will enjoy:  At their suggestion, we got tickets to "Smoke on the Mountain," a comedy show near our RV park. As often happens in Branson shows, the performers often select unsuspecting audience members to participate in spoofs and stunts, much to everyone's delight. I had never been chosen before, but this was my time. I was selected to be Rufus the dog, a part that I goofed up by speaking instead of barking. They turned that into something hilarious, but you would just have had to be there. It was a funny show, guys, and thanks for recommending it. 

Considering the cocoon in which family-friendly Branson flies in its backward time travel, I nearly drove off the road when I saw this sign on a gas station just off the main drag:

Cocaine is back?!  Is it a prank, or is there some product named Cocaine I don't know about? I'm not sure, but if it's a prank, it's a pretty gutsy one for a town like Branson. No telling how many grannies were admitted to emergency rooms over this one.

If you ever have the inclination to come here during this time of year, the Christmas season in Branson is magical, especially at Silver Dollar City:

There are millions of lights, and I can't imagine when they must start decorating this theme park to get all this done.

And where else would you see a huge nativity scene on the side of a mountain near downtown:

(Sorry about the poor photo. I forgot to take my good camera on this drive, and my iPhone camera doesn't do long distance shots well. This was a 10x magnification, and that's the best it would do. Lesson learned: Always take along a decent camera.)

Well, there you have it for our Thanksgiving in Branson, which we thoroughly enjoyed. 

We are headed back to Texas to get our never-ending doctor visits over with before heading to Arizona in early January.

If I don't get another post done before then, Merry Christmas, everybody!

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood

Between Long Trips -- Here's What We've Been Up To

At Escapees Co-Op Lone Star Corral, Hondo, Texas...

You can't help but notice that the frequency of my posts drops off when we're not moving from one part of the country to the other, as we were during our Michigan trip last summer. That's obviously because events become more routine, and I think that I'm more motivated to post about new adventures rather than those things that are more mundane. Having said that, new fulltimers may have some interest in what our downtimes are like. We are way past the point where we're always on the go somewhere; the older we get, the more appealing downtime is. However, now that I think about it, we have not really been as idle as usual this fall, so this may be a bit atypical. 

After returning from Michigan through Red Bay and with all the mechanical difficulties resolved for the moment, we spent a few weeks at the Lake Conroe Thousand Trails, where we didn't get to spend all the time we wished with the kids and the grands because they were having a spate of illnesses running among them, as happens with kids in school--the ultimate germ factory. I caught a slight case of one of these bugs, but it lasted only a couple of days. 

As you get older and the body begins to lose the vigor of youth (not to mention your hair), it is axiomatic that downtime at your home base, if you have one, will include frequent visits to medical professionals. You will have made appointments well in advance of your arrival, wherein you will visit all sorts of specialists who will do their best to prescribe medications and install new parts to help you keep going and, hopefully, push back on the constant creeping in of annoying medical conditions. 

For those who followed the aftermath of Sandy's and my falling accidents in Fredericksburg, I suppose a final progress report is appropriate. Thankfully, Sandy recovered quickly and seems to have no issues now except a slight deformity in her upper lip that was cut badly when she fell. I think she and I are probably the only ones who notice the little irregularity, so that's a good thing. As for me, it has been six months since my shoulder surgery, and I must tell you that my recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. It has taken a lot of therapy and my faithful following of the prescribed exercises, but I now rarely notice a difference in my good arm and the injured one. I'm not sure if it will ever feel or perform fully as it did before the injury, but it is really close to being back to normal. If you could only see how far it has come from its being pathetically limp and useless just after the accident, you would be amazed, too. Thank God for my surgeon, Dr. Hayes, and all those who gave me such excellent medical treatment. 

I should mention that I had the opportunity recently to play the piano again for the first time after the accident. Longtime friend Rev. John Abbey invited me to play the new grand piano at his church in Killeen during a short stopover, and I was quite nervous, not knowing if I would still have the strength and dexterity that always places more demand on the right arm and hand while I'm playing. Although out of practice, I was still able to perform most of the flourishes and intricate fingerings that I love to add to enhance a piece of music. However, I also noticed that my upper keyboard reach was not as it should be, but that is a matter of continuing to rebuild my strength in that right arm. I am determined to make that happen.

Okay, hopefully, that's the last you'll hear of the aftermath of our falling in Fredericksburg. I know that we are much more careful now to watch where we are stepping when we walk, and I hope none of you have to go through this kind of experience or worse. For goodness' sake, let's all watch where we're going and avoid getting in too much of a hurry. When we we get older, we're much more susceptible to falling, and the results can be catastrophic.

Once our Houston doctor visits were were mostly out of the way, it was time to make our yearly appearance at the Texas Gospel Music Festival, so we motored up to Fort Worth in Phannie and spent a few fun days with our friends, Brent and LouAnn, Harvey and Mary Lou and Don and Ruby. It's always a treat being with these fine people. Much to my chagrin, I forgot to take a single photo of the bunch. I've got to do better. 

While we were there, we also had checkups with our family dentist and family doctor we used while we lived near Forth Worth. We have been seeing them for decades, and we simply cannot imagine having to  replace them with someone else. There are certainly some fine medical professionals in the Houston area where we are sort of based, but have you ever had your family doctor or dentist phone you after hours to see how you're doing after an office visit? Well, these guys do, and changing to someone else would be like giving up a member of the family. I guess this means we'll be making medical stops in both Dallas and Houston whenever we're in Texas. Changing from these exceptional professionals who are our friends will be difficult whenever we are finally forced to do so.

After this, it was back to Conroe to see the kids and grands again and also to see a knee specialist about arthritis in my knees. He began a series of injections in my left knee that will help for six months or so. I'll probably have to get them soon in my right knee, as well. I really don't mind it, though; I certainly want to avoid knee replacement as long as possible. Sandy has already had both knees replaced around a decade ago, and she is also going to need some more attention to them--something her surgeon predicted.

As I write this, I realize that I have blathered on entirely about medical issues. Well, it's not because they're not real, and this can become quite a problem for fulltimers as they get older. In fact, it is when their health problems become too intractable that they usually hang up the keys. My intent is to push back on this aspect of aging as long as possible. My goal is much like Clint Eastwood's, whom I quote at the end of each post as just 'getting up in the morning and not letting the old man in.' 

After all this, we did even more fun stuff. We went over to Bastrop to look around, checking out a flying club over there that has an airplane I would like to fly; we didn't make a commitment, though. Then we went to a Tiffin owner's rally in Marble Falls. We hadn't seen these friends since the accident, and it was really good to see them again. I even have a few photos:

Yes, as usual, we're eating and chewing the rag, probably talking mostly about our kids and our medical problems, but that's okay;  we're great friends and have a good time. We share new things we learn about RVing and problems and discoveries with our Tiffin coaches. It's a great group, and I usually learn a good deal from the 'tech talk' time, usually expertly moderated by the ever-helpful and informative Chip Jennings. Chip's wife, Diane, his keeper and a genuinely lovely person, is in the pink shirt in the middle of the photo above. In the foreground is Don, another former pilot with whom I can talk 'hangar flying' when he's around.

Above is our great friend Shirley, who was the winner of the left/right/center game we played. Shirley and her husband, Arthur, are very special to us because they were the first to take us under their wings and make us feel at home when we were brand new to the club.  

We also had a special visit with Steve and Jackie while we were at the rally. These are dear fulltiming friends we made by chance when we parked next to them in Austin years ago. They were looking to replace their fiver with a new one at the time and, after seeing Phannie, they decided instead to buy a Phaeton, too. They love their coach and just completed a fabulous trip all over the northwest U. S. 

The photo above was taken when we first met in Austin. What a great couple and such dear friends now! 

By the way, Sunset Point RV Resort at Lake LBJ is a beautiful park and well worth your visit if you're near Marble Falls, Texas:

While we were there, we found a technician who installed a new entry step motor on Phannie that I had ordered from Tiffin (There's always something!) After 13 years of faithful service and uncountable extensions and retractions, the original motor was just tired and worn out. The new one works great, and I was more than happy to pay the young man to get under the coach so I wouldn't have to. If I were to get down under the steps like he did, I would probably just have to stay there until somebody got a winch to pull me out. 

After Marble Falls, we thought we would take a look at the Escapees Co-Op named Lone Star Corral near Hondo, Texas that was not too far away. Hondo, if you don't know, is near San Antonio. As Escapees members, we're able to stay overnight there for 20 bucks plus electricity. It is a unique place, run entirely as a non-profit co-op by the owner/occupants. 

There are several of these Escapees co-op parks around the country, and there is always a waiting list to buy in and get your own permanent lot. There are about 50 people on the waiting list for this park in Hondo. Only for 55-plus RVers, it is attractive as a way to sort of beat the system if you really want to live cheaply. You pay a relatively small buy-in price for the lot and improvements, then you live there on your own lot for as much or little time as you wish, paying only a small monthly maintenance fee until you're ready to give it up and do something else. If you like, you can also put your lot in a rental pool when you're away on a trip. If you decide to move out, you get back, at least, all the money, except for a small fee, that you paid to buy in! It's quite unique in our experience, and I don't want to tell you much more about it for fear of giving it too much exposure. You can find out plenty, though, on the web, if you're interested and wish to become a member of Escapees. 

So, you might ask, why are you there? Are you interested in a buy-in?  Well, yes, we are sorta interested. We're thinking about it as a second home base and a transition, of sorts, from fulltiming to not-so-fulltime. I'm not going to say part-timing, because that would imply that we also have a house, which we don't. We met some really nice folks who invited us to an ice cream social in the clubhouse along with some other interested buyers. As usual, the RV community is friendly and welcoming here, and we enjoyed meeting the group. And thank you, Bob and Sammye, for being our first new friends at the park:

That's Bob and Sammye just to the right of Sandy in the photo above.

I can already hear the responses to this idea: But Mike! You really aren't changing anything; you're still living in your motorhome; aren't you getting tired of that? Well, the answer is no, not yet. Besides, the co-op allows you to put another building on your lot, if you like, as long as it doesn't exceed certain dimensions. At the resort-type owner-occupied parks, these are called casitas. That would be too fancy a term for most of what you see here in this park. But the price of admission is only a tiny fraction of that of luxury parks like Retama Village, for example, in Mission, Texas. This, by the way, would also make a fine snowbird roost, as the park is only about a hundred miles from the Mexico border.  

And while the economical living part described above is attractive, it's not as though we don't have the means to buy a house again; we certainly do.The truth is, we're still not ready to go back to living in one. We just don't want the expense, the upkeep, the worry and the lack of freedom until we're forced to get back into that. We are very comfortable in Phannie; she has all the comforts, appliances, gadgets and technology that we would have in a house, but the main reason it works is that we enjoy being in each other's company 24/7. If we were types who must have our own space at times, this probably wouldn't work. We still love the fact that if we decide we want to go somewhere else for a while for any reason, we just pull up the jacks and head out; we haven't gotten our fill of that freedom yet. Getting a place in the co-op wouldn't really change that perspective, as Phannie would still be there, still lived in and still ready to go, but it would be nice to have all our stuff, now in a storage facility, in one place that we call our own.

We drove around Hondo a good bit and found it to be a nice small town of about 10,000. Although not particularly picturesque, its principal attraction, of course, is its proximity to San Antonio, perhaps our favorite city in Texas, and it's not too far from our family in Conroe, something that is very important. We also met with the Hondo airport manager about the possible rental of an airplane hangar.  So, I'll just leave that little tease hanging there, and we'll see what happens.

Another thing we liked about Hondo is that the city government doesn't appear to be fearful of not being politically correct. We were so pleased to see Christmas decorations along U. S. 90 near downtown that celebrated the real meaning of the holiday. This photo of a nativity scene is a little blurry, as it was taken from quite a distance on the other side of the rather wide highway 90:

I was also pleased to see that the city had put up municipal signs that also have a faith-based reference. Gotta admire that gumption in a world gone crazy:

Well, that pretty well accounts for the month just passed, so we are headed next to Dallas, where we will meet the kids and grands for a fun time at Great Wolf Lodge (one of our Christmas gifts to them), then to Branson for Thanksgiving with other good friends. After that, we'll be back to Conroe for Christmas, New Year's and Pryce's birthday before heading to New Mexico, Arizona and southern California in early January for the rest of the winter. See what I mean about freedom? When I crank up Phannie's big diesel engine, I'm only thinking of the adventure ahead--not what I've left behind to worry about. It won't be that way forever but, for now, it ain't bad.

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood

In What Phase of Fulltiming Are We? Not the Beginning, But Not The End, Either

At Lake Conroe Thousand Trails, Willis, Texas...

As our fourth year of fulltiming is rapidly coming to a close, we've been talking more and more about how much more of this we'll be doing and what our exit might look like. There are a probably a couple of reasons that have led us to this contemplation: 1) A shocking number of our fulltiming friends have suddenly sold their rigs and gone back to stick and brick houses; and 2) This has been a bit of a a rough year for us, healthwise. If these things hadn't happened, we probably wouldn't even be talking about it.

Our friends who came off the road made their decisions for very disparate and valid reasons, including age, health, family needs and, well, just because they wanted to settle down again. This is all understandable and quite inevitable at some point for all of us, but it is a little sad in that we will not be crossing paths as often now that they have settled permanently in distant locations. 

The number two issue that has affected our thinking is the health challenges that have befallen us. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you'll remember that Sandy and I took a nasty spill on a sidewalk in Fredericksburg, Texas back in April, in which she broke her nose and I wound up severing most of the tendons in my right shoulder that control my arm, rendering it more or less useless.  Sandy recovered pretty quickly, thankfully, but regaining the use of my right arm after the painful shoulder surgery has been a slow process that is not yet complete. I would say I'm about 85 percent back to normal, but that's largely because I'm still doing the daily therapeutic exercises they prescribed; I'll probably be doing some of these for the rest of my life, they tell me. If that weren't enough, I began having difficulty with my left knee after the fall, as it was that knee and my right shoulder that took the brunt of the impact. The knee, which was already arthritic to a degree, finally became painful enough that I began using a cane for walking. With all this going on, I suppose it's no surprise that we began assessing just how fit we were to continue this freewheeling lifestyle that is not without its own kind of physical demands.

Fortunately, as fulltimers, we had the ability to relocate ourselves to where the best medical care is available. The Houston area made the most sense, as our family lives nearby, and I was able to get surgery, therapy and other treatments from the very best medical professionals that Houston has to offer. Because of the efforts of these talented doctors and therapists, my shoulder and knee problems have largely diminished to a point where they don't really bother me any longer, and a knee replacement is not even a remote consideration, thank God. So, if you ever have medical issues like mine, I would highly recommend Sterling Ridge Orthopaedics and Sports Medicine in Houston as nearly being able to perform miracles, so long as the patient does his/her part in doing the prescribed therapy--something that is critically important. So, with all this being said, we no longer think that medical issues will be forcing a change any time soon, thankfully.

Let's talk about the fulltiming phases that we've been through in the last four years, acknowledging that there may be similarities and differences when compared to others' experiences. 

The usual first phase for fulltimers is the vacation phase. That's when they are finally free, like horses escaped from a corral, and they zoom around the country, thinking they have to see it all as quickly as possible. We really didn't go through this phase, as we had already been RVing for more than ten years, and we had already seen a lot of the country. Besides, being on the move all the time is exhausting and not conducive to any real enjoyment of taking a more in-depth look at the wonders all around us and visiting with friends. So, what did we do? We went to the Rio Grande Valley for a good part of the winter, thankful that, now as fulltimers, we didn't have the obligations and worries about the house we just sold.

So, I suppose we went right into phase two, which was more of a "taking it easy" traveling phase, in which we avoided one-night stops if at all possible. We discovered that we could find interesting things to see just about anywhere, so we made as few one-night stops as possible; instead, they extended to two or three nights unless we were on a tight schedule for some reason.

Phase three became more of a "go and stay" phase, in which we pick a wintering area in the south and somewhere up north for a stay in the summertime. Sometimes these involve staying at one park for the whole time but, usually, we have to move around now and then, as long term reservations are harder to find, especially if we don't make them early--something we don't do very well. This "go and stay" phase is the one we're in now, we think. Something we haven't settled is finding RV parks desirable enough that would entice us to return every year for an entire season. A complication is that many of our friends who have left the road don't travel to our former destinations for the whole season any longer, so we are a bit rudderless in that regard. However, there are still places we want to go and things we want to see; we haven't yet exhausted our bucket list. We think that when we find the perfect place to which we will likely return for the season, we'll know it.

Meanwhile, of course, we are frequently drawn back to the Conroe area for obvious reasons (see below):

It's hard not to be around grandsons Mason, Sutton and Pryce. They are the greatest! 

Meanwhile, Mindy is getting started in a new nursing job at a local hospital that she says she likes much better than the old one; that's pretty exciting, too:

She's even been given a nickname by her new co-workers, that being "Barbie." I think it fits, don't you? It also means she's finding acceptance and friends, fitting in nicely with her new fellow employees. 

I'm also very proud of son-in-law Tyler, who is a site superintendent with a large commercial construction company in Houston: 

Although very young for such heavy responsibilities, his talent and work ethic drew quick recognition from his superiors, and he is currently in charge of multiple phases of the construction of a huge 200,000 sq. ft. hangar/maintenance facility for United Airlines in Houston:

Meanwhile, we're getting ready for our winter travels again--just as soon as I'm finally released from treatment by my knee doctor--I have a series of injections that I must complete first. This winter, we'll be in the southwest U. S.--New Mexico, Arizona and California. This will be the first time we've wintered there, so we'll have a lot more stories, I'm sure.

Frankly, we have no idea what our fulltiming exit will look like. We know we're not ready yet, now that our injuries and health issues seem to be fading factors. We've noticed, of course, the very nice houses that our former fulltiming friends have chosen, and they look beautiful and appealing as stick and brick homes. However, we are not yet at the point where we want to return to the upkeep and confinement that this would mean for us. I'm sure we will know--as they did--when the time is right and where we should end up.

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; 

please forgive me if I fail to appreciate it each day as I should.

We don't stop playing because we get old; we get old because we stop playing. 

 ---George Bernard Shaw

"I get up every morning, and I just don't let the old man in." ---Clint Eastwood