Yield to the bear!

We finally saw a bear!  A huge black bear!  We were riding Wily E. and Roadrunner (our e-bikes) on a remote dirt mountain road high on the Mogollon Rim, and right in front of us this enormous bear came running out of the woods.  We screeched to a stop, with our mouths agape.  We yielded to the bear.

Dan yelled, “BEAR! BEAR! BEAR!   I whipped my phone out to get a picture, but couldn’t stop staring at this beautiful bear.  The bear ran across the road, up a hillside—and it was running full blast!  We were awfully glad that it wasn’t headed toward us.  The bear didn’t slow down or even look our way.  

It was our dream come true…to see a bear just doing it’s own thing, in it’s own world, the animal world, not the human world.  It was wild and magnificent!

It happened so fast that we weren’t sure if we had actually seen a bear, or if we had imagined this bear, since it has been one of our dreams to see a bear while we are out in our beloved mountain desert.  So we decided to look for evidence that a bear had actually flitted through our lives today.

This is what we found—the dirt and pine needles on the edge of the road where the bear had crossed the road was disturbed:

Since we are in the middle of the monsoon season, and it poured rain last night, we were able to find a bear print on the road.  Look at the claws that dug into the mud as he ran across the road.

So we really did see the bear!

We named the road we were on Bear Road.  Here we are on Bear Road.

We were on a “Bear high” during our entire 18-mile ride.  So we decided to celebrate.  After all, it took us eleven years to see a wild bear, hunting in it’s own territory.  Dan took me for a fancy takeout dinner at our upscale Pine restaurant.

We had a feast of pork nachos and elk burgers on our front deck!

We wonder if the bear was hot on the trail of a javelina or an elk….maybe he feasted on javelina nachos and elk burgers too.

Please fasten your seat belts....again....and again

 

Even under ordinary circumstances, there is nothing fun or relaxing about flying.  And we are old enough to remember when it was fun.  

 

First, back in the olden days of yore there was no TSA screening.  Your family could walk to the gate with you and wave goodby.  I can remember waving goodby to family on the tarmac!

  

 

You didn't get a little package of pretzels.  You got a meal.  A real meal.  A good meal.  Sometimes you even got choices for your meal.  Prepared by a real chef!  

 

 

There were in-flight movies!  On a real screen.  You had a headphone so you could hear the film well.  Free.

And as a special treat, for the high-paying, first-class, elite of the elite customers, there would be John Wayne westerns!

There were little amenities like aisles on the jets.  Now you have a small space to walk back to the restroom IF you don't happen to run into anyone going the opposite direction. 

You didn't pay a week's salary just to park at the airport.  

Free parking:

And instead of all of these ways that airlines used to try to make flying fun, what you get now, instead, are advertisements and announcements telling you that you are having fun.  

Ah, the good old days.  Is there anything more boring than some old guy pining for the good old days?   

You say no?  It's the most boring thing?  GREAT!  Then let me tell you about all of my physical ailments and see if you still say no.

Now, back to our fun.....we get onto our jet.  Get settled in.  Everyone's buckled up.  We get the "buckle up" and "oxygen mask" demos.  And then nothing happens.  

Finally, the pilot announces:  "We have a hydraulic leak in the landing gear so can't fly this plane.   We are sorry but you will need to disembark and go to Gate X.  But that's OK because you are having fun."  (I made that last sentence up).

So, I get to wrestle with our luggage in the overhead bin, and we disembark.  And go to Gate X.   There's another plane there.  So we go through the boarding process again.  And again I lift the bags into the overhead compartment.  I do this because Vicky's back prohibits that kind of lifting.

We sit down again.  On our first plane, there was a guy who was in the wrong seat, and had to move next to us when he found out.  So when he comes in this time I tell him, loudly, "THIS IS NOT YOUR SEAT, BUT THIS ONE IS!"  Everyone laughs.  Suddenly, old man humor is appreciated, for reasons I don't really understand.

So there we are.  The jet looks identical to the one we just left.  We hear about how to fasten our seat belts and what to do if there is a lack of oxygen.  Did you know that if this happens a little mask comes dangling from the ceiling?  Well, you do now! 

Then, nothing happens.

Pilot announces:  "We have a warning light for the oxygen masks that won't go off, so we need to get mechanics here to determine if the light is defective.

waiting....waiting.....waiting.....

Then, the pilot comes on again:  "I hate to say this, but....."   You can guess the rest.

So, I get the luggage out of the overhead bin once more.  And we head to Gate Y.  

At Gate Y is yet another identical plane, waiting for us (I suspect it was the first plane after the hydraulics had been repaired, but nobody said so of course).  

Now, Gate Y is far away from other gates.  Sort of off by itself.  So people who had been at the front of our previous plane and young people who still have strong bladders have reached the gate first......and claimed all of the seats.  

So we, in our mid 70s, with something like 10 orthopedic surgeries between us, are sitting on the floor in the hallway, thinking "can I get up?"

We board again.  I put the suitcases into the overhead compartment again.  We hear about how to buckle our seat-belts again.  We now know the entire lecture on what to do if there is a drop in oxygen.  We could all give it if needed.  Apparently the little light works on this plane.

The jet backs out onto the runway.  Nobody is optimistic. One passenger said, "We've been here before."  But then it takes off.  People cheer and clap.  I'm saving my cheering to see if the hydraulics for the landing gear are still leaking.

We land.  Everybody practically gives a standing ovation.

It was a tougher day for some of us than others.  There were people in wheelchairs.  A family with a new baby and a stroller.  

And everybody took it well.  We heard nothing from the people who had missed connections.  One person was at risk of missing his son's wedding.  People just seemed to take it all in stride.  Every time we disembarked the pilots stood in the doorway of the cockpit to say hello and to be pleasant.   Flight attendants did well.  I asked one if he got overtime and he said he didn't, but he was still professional and nice to all.  Told him he should get overtime.

We got to know people around us, telling jokes.  The man sitting next to Vicky, Kyle, could conceivably have provided air support in Iraq for Owen.  That's what he was doing at the same time Owen was an Army Ranger.  Who knows?  He has 5 kids and one on the way.  Want to hear more about him?  Let us know.  We had enough time for us to learn his life story and him to learn ours.

I don't ordinarily do this any more, but I ordered two glasses of wine....actually I ordered one for Vicky but since she doesn't drink wine I knew she'd give it to me.  And asked for two of those little boxes of snacks/food/junk-food.  I went to pay, and the flight attendant said it was "on the house."  The "house?"  We told our seat-mate about the free junk food and then he ordered one.....after all he might have provided air support for Owen so that's the least we could do. 

Alaska Airline is going to send us all a $75 credit for another flight.

We could complain and complain.  But, really, what for?  What we wanted to do was land safely, and their safety measures are one reason flying is so safe.  

It's interesting that in all of our years of flying (about 55), we have never had this happen even once, and we had it happen twice for the same flight.  

...after landing, we walked about 2 miles around the parking garage looking for our car.  That's typical for us, and a fitting way to end our day.

Sleepless in Seattle

We left our cool cabin in the mountains to spend a week in an oven.  For real!  Every day we were in the Pacific Northwest it was over ten degrees warmer than at our cabin in the mountain desert town of Pine Arizona…and the skies were always blue in Seattle.  Except for the overcast drizzly morning that we flew home.  Then we remembered why we moved from the PNW to sunny Arizona—we love, LOVE the sun.  

We stayed at an Airbnb in the University District.  Next time we will not believe the best reviews of an Airbnb, but will believe the worst—“that the apartment tended to be hot in warm weather and noisy, with yelling in the alley.”  Yes, we can verify, it was hot and VERY noisy, and in the middle of the night, we did hear lots of yelling and screaming in the alley outside our (closed) window.  

Our “Host,” after numerous requests for a fan, told us that we could go to apartment #10 and get the key from under the mat to get one (albeit a tiny noiseless fan.  We were hoping for a noisy, sound-making and large, strong, blowing fan).

Did I mention that no one in Seattle has an air conditioner or an Evaporative cooler, and it didn’t cool off at night?  Dan and I were Sleepless in Seattle.

But by the time we left, we were actually laughing at the absurdity of it all.  Our problem is that we usually try to find a cheap place to stay, because why should we spend lots of money for a place just to sleep?  We can now answer that question!

We haven’t decided what our all-time worst motel/Airbnb has been—this one or the motel in St. Petersburg, Florida where we found oxycodone in the nightstand?

The reason we would like to still live in the PNW at our Whidbey Island home is the reason we were in Seattle last week.  Much of our family lives in the area, and we miss them all so very much.  

We had a most wonderful time with our children and grandchildren on this visit!

There were three major events happening this week.  One was that our oldest grandson, Ian, was leaving home and heading back east to college.  We wanted to say goodbye to him and give him grandparent hugs before he left.

Ian, graduated from high school.  He is now an adult at 18 years old, and excited to be off to Muhlenberg College in Pennsylvania.

Adam patiently answered all our grandparent questions about his competitions in solving the Rubik’s Cubes. It is pretty much incomprehensible to us, but it’s amazing to watch him. 

We all had a yummy and fun barbecue out on the patio at Jules’ home.  

Adam and Ian are now both taller than I am and almost as tall as Grandpa, but they are still not too sophisticated and grown up to act goofy with Grandma and Grandpa.

The second reason that we went to the Pacific Northwest was to spend time with Rachelle and her and Ryan’s three children, our grandchildren, Ida, Alden, and Wilder.  We hadn’t seen them for over a year….way too long!

They came bearing gifts for Grandma and Grandpa—all of them homemade, beautiful, and useful…beautiful little decoupage boxes, a cream to soothe and heal our skin, the directions and makings of vanilla in a lovely bottle.  Thank you!

Grandma with grandchildren on the Giant Chairs:

Boy, did we have fun on our afternoon on the beach.

While Rachelle entertained Dan and me with a story, her children found something fun to do—they climbed on the playground equipment…or rather, their idea of playground equipment.

It looked like so much fun that Grandma had to try to climb the pole too—a good attempt, but rather unsuccessful.

Can you see Wilder peeking out between the flower pots?

 

The best way to end a fun day with Grandma and Grandpa is with ice cream!

Every morning in Seattle we had breakfast at a little cafe on The Ave in the University District.  

It was just a little funky place that reminded me of the Harvard Exit, where my older sister, Silvermoon, took me for an evening of chess, poetry, and impromptu singing and guitar folk music when I was 17 years old. It was her last year at the University of Washington and the year before I started at the UW. 

This week my Danny and I got to be good friends with the owner of this cafe, who introduced himself as Dan, “from another planet.”   We’re sure that he misses us.

After breakfast every morning, Jules took us on gorgeous walks around Seattle. And each walk was like going back in a time capsule to my childhood.

The first was around Portage Bay, where we walked on the streets above the Seattle Yacht Club where my Aunt Marguerite had lived. 

When I was about 10 years old Aunt Marguerite gave me three small 1920’s dolls for my foreign doll collection, two from Portugal and one doll from Florida made entirely from seashells.  I have these dolls (and many other 65+ year old dolls displayed in Nuestra Casa and our cabin.

 

One morning we walked around the University of Washington.  Dan had never been there. I had always thought it was so beautiful and had thoroughly enjoyed the years I had gone to school on this stunning and serene campus.

Then we walked down Greek Row to the sorority where I had lived with a wonderful group of girls in my college years.  I had told Dan stories from my days at Delta Delta Delta.  I have many fond memories.

I am standing on the patio where all 100 of us girls would rush out wearing our nightgowns, and bathrobes, and withou our hair in curlers in the middle of the night when a group of boys from a dorm or fraternity stood out on the lower deck and started serenading us.  

This would happen spontaneously or when one of us had become “pinned” or engaged. We would sing loving and riotous songs back to the boys.  It was very special and moving.  (Above me on the second floor is the dorm where we all slept, except the seniors who had their own rooms.)

Behind me is the room where we had song practice and made up skits and short plays.

Here I am at the front door.  When we had a date, the boys would wait inside the foyer for us.  We would make our entrance by gracefully “gliding “ down the stairs to meet them.  

We had a curfew, and if we were late getting home, we would have to answer to our House Mother, who we all loved and wanted to please.

The three triangles near the top of the peak was our greek insignia—our nickname was Tri-Delt, so I was called a “Tri-Delt.”

Jules, Adam, and Ian took us on a walk on Capitol Hill.  It was where the capitol was originally been planned for Washington State, so all the rich lumber barons built their homes on top of this hill.

We walked up and down the streets of Millionaire Row.  Suddenly, I was shocked to see this grand home that I remembered dimly from my past.  As a child, we had our piano recitals in the majestic Parker-Fersen House, built in 1908, that faces Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill.

Here is a picture of me and my sisters and brothers taken in 1960 after our piano recital.  We are standing in front of the Parker-Jensen mansion. (Back row: Silvermoon, me, Bayard, Doug, Diane, and Alicia in front.)

Ironically, many years ago Dan had a postcard of this same old home on Capitol Hill.  The Parker-Jensen house is on the right.

After our piano recitals, we would always play and run around the woods and lawns at Volunteer park across from the Parker-Jensen house.  And then my father would take us to look at the spectacular flower gardens and the botanical gardens in the majestic Conservatory.

Here is the Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park.  See the statue of a camel near the front door?

Over sixty years ago I sat on a camel’s head at Volunteer Park after my piano recital.

And at 72 years old I’m once again sitting on the camel at Volunteer Park! (But not it’s head.)

Jules took us on a trail through the Interlaken Park that winds high above his home on Portage Bay.

The third major event of our trip to Seattle…..CELEBRATING JULES' BIRTHDAY!!!!!

How better to celebrate his birthday than with a vintage child’s cowboy birthday card and 1970’s View Master with reels of The Six Million Dollar Man?  This was Jules’ favorite childhood super hero.  He even had a Six Million Dollar Man Halloween costume when he was a little boy!

We’re not sure how impressed Adam was with the 1970 high tech View Master.

And then we said our goodbyes to Adam and Ian and gave them grandparent hugs.

Diane got a few evenings off from work and the class she’s taking, so we got to have fun with her too. These were special evenings for us.

We walked over to Agua Verde for dinner.

The next morning, off we went for another walk with Jules….to the most wild and spectacular of Seattle parks—the Arboretum!

This has always been my favorite park in Seattle.  Every spring when I was a child my parents would drive all six of us children into Seattle to see the rhododendrons and azaleas blooming in May.  We would run for hours among the flowers, and then plop down on the soft grass for a picnic that Mom had made for us.  It was heavenly.

Here I am in 1960 at 9 years old (with my broken arm in a sling) running through the flowers in the Arboretum with my brothers and sisters.

We’ll have to come back to the Arboretum in May so I can show my Danny the beautiful flowers blossoming.

The Seattle to Portland bike ride travels on the edge of the Arboretum.  Jules, Dan, and I have ridden the STP seven times together, so Jules drove us on the STP route by Lake Washington.  

What a sweet memory the three of us have of those early morning STP bike rides down Lake Washington Boulevard on the first ten miles of our 204 mile journey to Portland…..

We had a lovely visit one afternoon with Harris and Eileen.  Eileen has been a quilter all her life.  And when I say a quilter, that doesn’t describe her quilts.  She is an award-winning quilter, sews them by hand, and has made multiple quilts for all her family. Each quilt is a work of art.  

She taught me the basics of quilting, so I have been able to make beautiful quilts for Dan and me.  Thank you, Eileen!

This summer I had knitted a lap blanket for Eileen.  I gave it to her at this visit.

The five days we were in the PNW, we walked over 35 miles on the streets and through lovely parks in Seattle.

Every afternoon we relaxed Jules’ at home on the deck overlooking Portage Bay. We talked, and laughed, and just sat quietly content together. It was lovely.

The grand finale of this very special week was our birthday “cake” with flaming candles.  We sang Happy Birthday dear Jules….we sure do love you!

Here is the dear birthday boy with his Daddy, my Danny, almost half a century ago.

Our children and grandchildren  are spread all over the world.  They live in Washington, Colorado, Georgia, and Russia.  And we live in Arizona, far away from all of them.

I think of my dream when I was young—that all our children would live nearby, and we would spend nights together and gather often throughout the year….sometimes with a big family potluck or celebration, sometimes just a few of us, and sometimes spend time with one of our children or grandchild. 

Last week was a good week in our lives.  It was well spent with many of our children and grandchildren that we love so very much.