Home Again

Leaving was less stressful than arriving because we made certain not to exit during rush hour traffic. Jaimee' took the GPS in hand and gave me point-by-point directions which made negotiating the city streets pretty simple and straight forward.  And, unlike the day we arrived, no one swung around me while I was waiting at an intersection to turn left, so he could turn left before me.  I admit I laughed and admired his brazenness.

The panoramic view of the city was breathtaking as we crossed the George Washington Bridge and headed toward New Jersey. I left with plenty to think about from our short visit. 

The millions of people who call this city home come from every corner of the planet.  It was a new experience to be the rarity, surrounded by people from diverse cultures and ethnic origins.  Growing up in Amish Country means almost everyone looks like me.  I found it an interesting and vulnerable sensation to be the minority; I think it's something everyone should taste at least once.

I wondered, while riding the subway, about my fellow-passengers. The man wearing a robe that reached the floor, the beautiful lady carrying large shopping bags emblazoned with designer names, the petite twenty-something in the burqa, reading a tiny book written in Arabic script, the young Hispanic housewife, heavy with child, a pre-schooler in tow, the weary, middle-aged Asian woman who determinedly dove across my lap to reach the vacated seat beside me. . . what were their lives like?  Where were they from?  What brought them to New York? Or maybe they were born here.  Maybe I was the foreigner.

I had an in-law, years ago, who found the country frightening.  All the strange night sounds, the darkness, even the silence; she found them all strange and unsettling. She felt about the solitude the way I felt about the crowded trains.  

Since our trip to the city coincided with the NYC Marathon, an event with 47,000 participants, police presence was heavy, with, at one point three cops beside me on the train. I found it reassuring to see them and I tried not to think about the bombing, only five months ago, during the Boston Marathon.  When the train I was riding stopped between stations, underground and with no explanation, several scenarios played themselves out in my mind, none of them pleasant. It was a little late to be wishing I hadn't seen movies like Daylight and The Taking of Pelham 123. I'm both claustrophobic and afraid of exploding devices, although closed-in spaces hold first place on my fear-factor chart. No one around me seemed to notice we had stopped. No one even looked up from their cell phones, magazines, or iPads.  Give me crickets and the occasional raccoon anytime, I thought to myself. At least there's no danger of a fiery demise with them.  Of course there's no amazing global cuisine or incredible Broadway entertainment either. There's just. . .well, crickets. 

A big surprise for me was the friendliness of the New Yorkers.  I thought big-city people, especially in the east were, uh, how do I put this. . .rude.  I thought it was every man for himself.  I did not meet one such person.  It was great fun haggling with the vendors in China Town.  I got the impression they enjoyed it as much as I did.  The proprietor of the little coffee shop tucked in a side street off Madison Avenue was a great host who obviously loved his job.  The policeman handing out flyers about the missing 14-year-old with autism paused to exchange pleasantries and give us directions.  Even the sales people along Fifth Avenue who could surely tell we were a lost cause for any potential commissions treated us with respect. 

 

When I drug my tired self into my own bed after a long day on the road, looking forward to a night without partying neighbors to wake me at 2:30 in the morning, I remembered thinking when we planned this trip I wouldn't want to do it more than once.  I was wrong.  There is so much more to see than can be packed into two days and three nights.  And I still haven't tasted a knish. 

NYC - Day Three

We woke up to a cold and windy day but no rain, so no complaints here.  We did all return to our room to add another layer after stepping outside and realizing there had been a considerable drop in temperatures during the night.

Painfully aware of our inexperience in subway matters we left for Manhattan by 9:30, assuming this would give even us time to be at our 3pm musical on time.  After success in our first train switch we decided on another bold move: to disembark at Fifth Avenue and work our way on foot to the theater.

From Fifth Avenue to Park Avenue to Broadway, and Madison Avenue we sauntered around stores that had prices well beyond our humble stations.  We saw homeless people digging through trash cans and picking out food discarded by those of us who have more than we need.  We passed the Roosevelt Hotel, famous for its world-renowned patrons.  We ogled the huge screens at Times Square, bombarding the visual senses with non-stop input.  We paused to hear musicians performing along the street.  We took pictures with Spider Man and a few minions. We sampled more food and Marlene finally got her New York Style pizza.

It seemed only minutes until it was time to see Newsies, our musical of choice.  And a good choice it was.  Great music, great acting, a great time.  Not least impressive was the organizational genius of the bathroom parade.  During intermission a million (give or take a few hundred thousand) women lined up to visit the facilities. Why men never seem to have to go to the bathroom is a mystery to me.  Anyway, I digress.  I was a little intimidated and depressed when the usher outside the bathroom door sent me to the end of the line which started one floor down (yes a full flight of stairs), around a corner and up a hallway.  I was hoping I'd get back in before the show started again.  Not to worry.  The line moved almost continuously.  A young lady inside the restroom called out every time any stall was empty and ladies were swept through at the speed of. . .well, a swiftly moving stream.

Since the time had "fallen back" last night, we came out of the theater at 6pm to find the sun had fully set.  It was anything but dark though.  I wonder if Times Square ever sleeps.  The streets were teeming with activity on every side.  Emboldened with our two days of NYC experience, we decided to walk the mile to Grand Central Station and catch the subway from there.  Shopping our way back to Park Avenue at the countless booths along the street, we made our way to yet another food court located in the huge train station.  Marlene got her sushi, I got my turkey and brie sandwich, and Jaimee' and Kara got their Chinese cuisine.  My plan was to pick up a slice of cheesecake for later but seeing the two homeless people scavenging through the trash for our scraps helped me decide I didn't need any more food.

Walking the four blocks from the subway to our hotel caused me much less concern than the first time we did it.  Only two days in and I already feel like the city might not be out to eat me alive after all.  Even the man using the tree for his own personal hydrant didn't freak me out too much.  We marched on by without so much as a second glance as if it happened in our neighborhood all the time.  Maybe that's why men rarely have to use a public restroom.

I'm so glad we came to see what NYC is all about although I'm sure we barely scratched the surface.  We never even saw the naked cowboy.  Maybe next time.

NYC- Day Two

What a perfect day to explore NYC!  The weather was spectacular.  It's hard to believe it's November.  We left our hotel around 8:20 and walked to the train station four blocks away.  And then our ignorance of all things NY made for an interesting hour to follow.

I asked the ticket guy manning the booth at the 7 train how we get to Junction Blvd.  My niece, Misty, had told us someone would meet us there; she had invited us over for breakfast. Easy enough.  In theory.  The ticket guy, with a heavy accent that rendered his instructions relatively impossible to understand, told us that we basically couldn't get there from here.  Okay, that's not exactly true but we would have to take this train that-a-way to the next stop, cross the platform, get on the next train in the opposite direction a few more stops to our destination.  Feeling very unsure that I had understood correctly, I asked a nice lady passenger on the platform how we get to Junction Blvd.  

"Go to the first stop, get off this train, cross the platform and go the other way on that train until you get there."  Okay, so far everyone seemed to agree.  Why should I be concerned that the map said we are heading out of Queens.  My niece lives in Queens, but what do I know?  So we did as we were told and got off at the next station.  It seemed all wrong to me but, again, what do I know?  In truth, I freely admit to total ignorance when it comes to trains in NYC.  We got off in due course at a place that was definitely NOT Junction Blvd.  

I decided to check with the nice policeman handing out flyers. Get on the next train, go BACK three stops, get off at the fourth stop, he told us.  A quick call to Misty confirmed that we had been going the wrong way, after we were going the right way and the policeman, while sending us in the right direction, had told us the wrong number of stops before we were to exit the train.  Eventually we got to the ellusive Function Blvd where Josh, Misty's husband, was waiting to walk with us the eight or so blocks to my niece Margaret's place.  By then we had worked up an appetite for the amazing breakfast waiting for us.

My nephew Jon and his family were there also and it was a fun time for us.  And much to our delight, Misty agreed to be our tour guide for the day.  Thanks to her we saw much more of NYC than we would have if left on our own.  We would probably still be lost in the subway system.  

Public transport will be a major memory for me whenever I think of this trip.  The homeless, schizophrenic man who rode quite a distance with us did his own brand of Kung Fu Fighting with himself and his running conversation to no one there was unnerving.  He kept his two big garbage bags well-guarded and it was a relief when he finally got off the train.  I wondered if he might live there, wandering on and off at will, kind of like the subway haunt in the movie Ghost.  I think it a distinct possibility.  I mused about his story, whatever it may be.  At one time, he was someone's baby boy.  What happened to bring him to this?

The musicians scattered at random along the subterranean walkways impressed me with their skill.

Open guitar cases asked for donations and one older gentleman caught my eye.  He pointed imperiously to his case and I obediently produced a five dollar bill.

Misty took us to Ground Zero first.  Seeing the new freedom tower and trying to imagine the horror that took place there a little over a decade ago - well, it was impossible to imagine.  We talked about where we were when it happened.  Everyone remembers where they were at certain traumatic moments.  I remember, as a child, where I was when our family got the word that J.F.K. was shot.  And I will always remember where I was on 9-11.  Our family was on Nevin's Lake in the upper peninsula of Michigan, fishing from a pontoon boat. We were frozen in front of the TV for hours after we came back to the house, shocked and gripped with uncertainty as to what the future held.

St. Paul's chapel across from the Trade Center location held even more fascination for me.  George Washington had attended there along with many other notable men who had helped to shape the country in its infancy.  The Harbinger, a novel by Jonathan Cahn tells of Bible prophecies that could be interpreted as foretelling the tragedy of the towers including details of a certain sycamore tree in the corner of the churchyard that fell victim to the terrorists on 9-11 as well.  An interesting read whether you agree with its theories or not.

Next we walked quite a distance to catch the Staten Island Ferry.  We meandered through parks, along the water, across busy highways and past sculptures shaped like musical instruments.  The blue sky and perfect temperatures made the walk a pleasure in itself. People walking dogs, people on bicycles, people doing nothing; everyone was making the most of the unusual gift of a perfect day in November. From the ferry we were able to catch a good view of Lady Liberty and spectacular scenes of the city itself.  We could see Jersey across the water and Staten Island as well.  It was good.

Then it was time for China Town and Little Italy.  Merchants hawking their wares and delicious smells tempting us to try all manner of delicacies.  We yielded to temptation and enjoyed tickling our taste buds before following Misty back to the subway.  We got off at 111th and walked the five blocks to our hotel.  Amazingly we found it with only one wrong turn involved.

After ordering Chinese food in and taking a certain eight-year-old to the pool we all felt the day had been a huge success.  Largely thanks to Misty and her guidance.  And tomorrow we're on our own.  I hope we learned as much today as we think we did about how to get from point A to point B.

While I''m country born and bred, I have to admit the energy one feels pulsing through this city makes it easy to see why so many people choose this life.  My nieces and nephew who live here all agree it's where they want to be.  They feel the same connection to a place teeming with a multicultural diversity that I feel when I see the horse-drawn carriages and rolling hills in my own community.   And I'm starting to understand it.  This city has the potential to draw you in and make you a part of itself.

NYC: Day One

I left home this morning and picked up my daughter, my granddaughter, and my "adopted" daughter.  We turned east on 77 and set off for a four-day trip to NYC.  For people from the country this is no small thing.  Fortunately for us we have family living there to guide us in the way of city life.  As I've mentioned before, we have family everywhere.

For most of our trip we enjoyed light traffic and beautiful scenery.  The leaves were really putting on their best autumn faces for our pleasure and we saw only a rare farm scattered here and there on the rolling hills.  I had no idea one could travel all day through Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York without seeing any major metropolises. And then we saw The City.

As luck, or bad timing would have it, we managed to arrive during rush hour.  The traffic leaving the city was at a complete stop more than once, stretched as far as the eye could see.  I used to think driving from Sugarcreek to Berlin is an exercise in patience.  Not so much anymore.  Crawling along at 40 mph with the occasional pause for a tourist gawking at a buggy does not compare with four lanes of traffic at a dead stop.  Thankfully, those of us heading toward Gomorrah, as Paul has taken to calling it the past few days, kept moving along at breathtaking speeds.  At one point I followed traffic between two stopped vehicles, fender-bender or mechanical problems I know not and didn't stop to ask.  A few minutes later an accident happened right behind us but there was no place or time to get involved.  All the pertinent cars stopped and emptied out their occupants, the other million or so kept on getting out of Dodge.  When I kept saying "Jesus!"  I was not taking the Lord's name in vain; I was in fervent prayer.  And He was faithful.  We are alive and happily ensconced in our hotel.

The kind lady from the front desk had assured me on the phone, yesterday, that although there are not enough spaces to park for all the rooms at the hotel, they are "almost never all taken" and I "don't need to worry."    This, of course, did little to dispel my propensity for worrying.  After passing it the first time around, we drove into the parking lot beside the hotel, the lot marked "rental cars."  Thank-you Jesus, it was also for use by hotel guests and we got one of the last spots available on the lot, right close to the entrance to the hotel and securely surrounded with a fence.

Since it was getting dark by the time we got checked-in and hauled all our luggage to the seventh floor (yes we are four females so between us we probably brought ten pairs of shoes and numerous bags and suitcases), we debated whether we should venture out and about in unfamiliar territory at night.  The lady at the desk assured us it was safe and hey, we were not steered wrong on the availability of a parking space, so off we went.  I didn't know I could walk so fast but when motivated by the eery sensation of impending doom, well, the girls could barely keep up with me.  

We ended up at Victoria's Pizzeria, promised by Google to be a "hole-in-the-wall with great food."  Marlene was wanting some authentic New York style pizza so that sounded good.  And our enchilada's, burritos, and guacamole hot sauce were most excellent, indeed.  A steamy Latin drama was playing on the overhead screens and we didn't need to speak the language to understand.  Corona, the neighborhood we would be staying in for the next few days, has been changing from mostly African American to Hispanic and, indeed, it looked like we had stepped into South America in our four-block walk from the hotel.  I guess Marlene's pizza will have to wait for another day. 

Back at the hotel I got a quick tutorial from the pool guy on where the 7 train's station is, how long it would take to get there, and where we should go when we got on it.  I think I have it straight. We'll see when we set out to meet the relatives in the morning.  

Looking out my seventh floor window I can see the almost nonstop elevated trains running. And I hear bagpipes.  Yes, there are two guys standing in the parking lot playing bagpipes.  Sirens harmonize as a crisis erupts a few blocks away.  This is all pretty exciting but I wouldn't mind seeing a buggy right about now.

Day Fifteen

We left the hotel this morning at 7:00 am.  Paul Stutzman led the morning meditation, sharing a little more about his river journey.

We sang a few songs and then turned to some intense visiting with the first party of travelers who will be leaving us in Illinois.  Floyd, Sarah, Ken and Carol had a ride waiting, a friend at a truck stop along our route.  There were lots of good-byes, hugs, and even some tears with the parting.  Amazing how quickly kindred spirits can develop friendships; many of these people had never met until two weeks ago.

The next to leave us were Cal and Shirl.  We stopped for lunch in Elkhart, Indiana and their daughter and granddaughter arrived to pick them up.  They have another thirty minutes to their home in Michigan. More hugs and goodbyes.  But we are planning our first get-together already.  As long as we have something to look forward to, life is good.

We drove into the Pioneer Trails office in Fryburg around 6:30 pm after traveling 5,702 miles.  Even though I’m sure we were all tired and ready to be home, still some of us could hardly finish our good-byes and tear ourselves away.  With promises to stay in touch and plans 

underway for a reunion, we loaded our bags in our vehicles and went our separate ways. I’m glad my sisters, brother, and sister-in-law will be spending the night with us before heading home to VA and WV.  Better for me to ease out of vacation mode gradually than go cold turkey.

I have around a thousand photos on my computer of this adventure.  Some of them I took, some were taken by others.  I figure I have plenty for the next family get-together.  If I make a slide show of them it will only take four or five hours to show them all.  If I give a detailed explanation on each one I can stretch it out a little longer yet.

Day Fourteen

                                                                                                                                        

We pulled out of the hotel parking lot around 7:30 this morning.  Ken Miller led the meditation time this morning.

Only minutes away we stopped at Amnicon Falls, a beautiful site with both upper and lower falls.  They were not as large as some of the others we’ve seen but just as beautiful.  A stand of birch trees provided the perfect backdrop for pictures.  A sheer drop-off of approximately fifty feet border the river on one both sides.  The more adventurous among us found a steep footpath down to the water.  Actually, I think Larry Lamp is the only one who had the fortitude to do that.  A covered bridge, rugged and beautiful covered the ravine, another great photo spot.

We stopped for lunch at the Pizza Ranch.  A sumptuous buffet was enjoyed by all courtesy of Green Country Tours.  The pizza strudels were especially delectable.  When we were heading across the parking lot we witnessed a fender-bender.  Let’s just say, if you plan to back into another vehicle and then leave without reporting it you’d better hope there’s no Pioneer bus nearby. The man’s license plate is probably the most photographed in the state right now.  And Miss Verna promptly positioned herself between the car and the escape route.  Needless to say the driver meekly got out and went in to the restaurant to find the owner of the van he had just plowed into.  We waited to make sure he found him.

We spent some time at the Paul Bunyan Logging Camp Museum in Eau Claire, WI.  It was very interesting to hear about the raw grit, determination, and total disregard for personal hygiene the loggers displayed during their time in the camp.  Supposedly, their attempts to discourage lice included turning their underwear inside-out at night because it kept the little critters busy trying to decipher which way was in to the skin.  Our tour guide, a young little blonde, embellished the facts somewhat, or just made them up as she went.  According to her, each logger ate 20-30,000 calories every day, or the equivalent of 150 Big Macs.  Somewhat skeptical, someone looked it up and it was actually 8,000 calories, a still very impressive number.  She also claimed they slept as many as four in a bed.  I’m really hoping that’s not true.  What IS true is that they felled huge trees using only axes, crosscut saws, and blood, sweat, and tears. And there were many more deaths from being crushed by trees than by disease.

Paul Stutzman, who joined our party yesterday, spent a little time sharing about his time on the Mississippi.  It’s a story of grueling hardship and danger and I’m sure he will be speaking more about it as time goes on.  We are so glad to have him with us and are thankful for God’s protection and provision that was surely evident in how our paths crossed on our separate journeys.

Several games on the bus confirmed there are no geniuses among us.  As the scriptures say, I am among “the least of these.”  Ok, I’m mangling the context but you know what I mean.  Here’s a sample question which I actually got right: “What is it that occurs once in a month, once in a second, once in a century, but never in a week or a year?”  I’m ashamed to say I totally bombed the question on the Ohio state bird and flower.  Paul, who is Canadian born, got both of those right.

Our next stop was at the Humbird Cheese Mart in Tomah, WI.  Wisconsin, like Holmes Co. Ohio, is well-known for its cheese production and this store was not unlike many of those at home.  After chomping down all the cheese, beef sticks, crackers and ice-cream we all bought I doubt anyone will be too hungry for supper. It’s like one of the ladies said last night: she’s looking forward to being hungry again.

The hotel had a big bin of Root Beers on ice for us when we arrived.  Cal dropped two and then did all the cleaning up as well.  He only lost the mop head once.  And then got it stuck in the elevator door.  Otherwise it was a smooth procedure.

The lobby was kind of full tonight, of our group.  I think everyone was reluctant to go to bed knowing it is the last night we'll be together.  A big golf game by the ladies, a couple of Rook games by the men, another group editing photos and trying to load them online so we can all access them at will.  I'm going to miss these people.  But I think I can count on seeing them again.

Day Thirteen

Sarah gave an inspiring meditation this morning about the faithfulness of God and knowing what we have in Him. 

We traveled pretty much straight east until almost noon when we stopped at the Mississippi headwaters.  The Mississippi is either the third or fourth longest river in the world; there seems to be some debate about which.  Whatever, it is an impressive body of water and most of us on the bus can now say we have crossed it without canoe, raft, or boat of any kind.

Paul Stutzman, our friend, and a brother to three of the ladies traveling with us, began a quest to kayak that most frustrating and difficult waterway, over a week ago.  We took pictures of the “bulrushes” he mentioned as being especially challenging to pass through.  If you’d like to follow the blog about his adventures go to Paul Stutzman and click on Mississippi Blog.

After lunch at various fast food places in a little town along the way we turned toward Duluth, MN where we will be spending the night.  Along the way we picked up a surprise addition to our number.  We were glad to see him and I think he was glad to see us as well.  It’s pretty cool how God works things out.  What are the odds that we would all be at the same place at the same time – right when we needed to be?!

We got to our hotel at around 5PM.  The hotel had a sign up to welcome us and cookies waiting.  Green Country Tours treated everyone to supper tonight at a nearby buffet.  If you’re going to tour, this is the way to do it and the people to do it with.  Just make sure you bring some stretchy pants.  Or a Muumuu.

Some of us gathered in the dining room to play cards tonight.  We are all feeling the nearing of the end of our time together, at least for this trip.  So we have to spend whatever time we have left cramming in more memories.  The games are secondary to the visiting and laughing that take place. I'm traveling with some great people.

Day Twelve

We left Saskatchewan this morning.  The wheat fields gradually gave way to rolling hills and patches of trees as we drove further into Manitoba.  Dairy farms replaced wheat farms and the herds speckling the fields had more brown than black among them. 

We stopped for the inevitable bathroom break at a sign that proclaimed itself a roadside rest.  Had it not been for the genuine needs among us all to visit said bathrooms we would have passed it by when we saw what counted as facilities.  Since nothing else was likely to be available we decided to consider it all an adventure and took pictures of the place instead. (The men decided it was time for a hike in the woods.)

More story-telling took place and plenty of visiting.  Some of us also learned some interesting facts about treating burns from Edna, whose brother has suffered through them following an accident.  BNW salve applied to the burned area, then covered with burdock leaves that have been properly prepared, has been shown to work miracles in his and many other burn cases.  I plan to keep some on hand when I get home.

Dave announced the winner of the scavenger hunt.  It seems Christ Wengerd handed in his completed list a week ago.  But Dave was having too much fun watching the rest of us scavenging and hunting to tell us until today.  Congrats to Christ!  There still seems to be some question of proof on his sighting of a black cat.  All in fun of course.

Shortly after noon we stopped in Brandon for lunch.  Paul ate at KFC and I ran to Five Guys with Irene.  Ok. We walked fast.  Well, fast for us.  While we were off the bus someone left a gift bag for Marge and Karen.  Sunglasses and Beano.  No one will claim responsibility.

Next stop: Boissevain, Manatoba to see the wildlife museum.  The ladies breezed through fairly fast. The men were pretty impressed with all the animals on display, stuffed, that is. Actually, I was impressed too.  A buffalo is pretty intimidating close-up, even a dead one.  They had a polar bear or two, an elk, and many, many more wildlife specimens placed with the scenery appropriate to their habitat.

Then it was off to the International Peace Garden on the border separating Canada and the United States.  The gardens straddle the border with half in one country and half on the other.  The boundaries between these two countries is the largest unfortified border in the world.    At almost 2400 acres, the botanical gardens are dedicated to world peace with the board which oversees the non-profit effort comprised equally of US and Canadian citizens.

We saw a memorial from the Trade Towers,  pieces of steel beams that were shredded apart like cardboard.  Sobering to say the least.

 

The four peace towers are 120 feet high.  The number of towers is symbolic of the four corners of the earth coming together and the height signifies the soaring ambitions of immigrants to the two countries. 

We gathered in the Peace Chapel and someone started singing How Great Thou Art.  Shirl spontaneously began directing and with the great acoustics in the room, our effort was not half-bad.  Four part harmony and enthusiasm mixed with some inspiration.  Our tour guide said she had goose bumps.  She wasn't the only one.

We crossed the boarder back into the states with minimal hassle.  We did all have to get off the bus and file past the stern looking guards who scanned our passports as though their lives depended on it.  Then we filed into a garage-type building and waited a few minutes while they checked out the inside of the bus.  Then we were allowed to leave.  I'm glad they guard the boarders, but really?  I'll admit I'm all for profiling. And we don't fit the profile.  Unless they're looking for a bunch of over-fed (me) seniors packing cameras with zealous fervor.

I spent the rest of our journey to the hotel at the back of the bus.  Sometimes there's a party back there.  Sometimes it's serious talk.  Always it's a good time. 

Our hotel is in Devil's Lake, ND and it's a nice one.  And clean. And there are plenty of wall outlets, in easy-to-reach places. We walked to a nearby restaurant that was basically empty until a bunch of us showed up.  It was surprisingly good food, served hot and fast.  And cheap.  Well, at least compared to the meals north of the border.  It's good to be back in the motherland.