The Second Sunday Drive, Week Two

The Pool at Roseland--no naked men at this time of the morning

There is no question that our lives today are stress-filled.  We try to cram as much as possible into our days, filling our lives with activities and worried that we won’t accomplish all that we set out to do.  I, personally, have never had a problem curling up with a book and getting lost in it, but even I stress out from time to time telling myself that I have to do this or that, and then beating myself up because I forgot one of the self-imposed agenda items.

Kevin could see that my stress meter was reaching the critical zone when he suggested that I pick up the car and head east, instead of returning home immediately.  After all, I’m retired and have no real obligations at this point in my life.  And I had been saying that I wanted to get back to West Virginia for a visit.  As Kevin and I are in the process of reinventing our lives, we discussed buying a fifth-wheel camper trailer or possibly a large motor home and spending as much as six months on the road.  We even looked at a number of these modern day Conestoga wagons, but in the end decided that traveling with five small dogs was, to put it mildly, insane.  That plus the fact that with gas prices what they are, filling the tank of a pickup capable of towing such a unit would cost more than flying to a resort somewhere and paying for a motel.  We would never have been able to visit Miami Beach, as one example, if it meant pulling a trailer and finding someplace to park it.  As we continued our discussion, I said that I wanted two trips a year, minimum.  One might be a cruise, or a trip to Puerto Vallarta or France, or some other destination, but one trip every year would be to West Virginia.  My family is important to me, and I’ve been cut off from them for far too long.

Ya Gotta Take Time to Smell the Roses--or whatever

But even the prospect of a relaxing time with Ron, Sharon, and any others who might turn up, did not keep me from over-planning things.  As it turned out, I didn’t really spend any time exploring Wisconsin.  All I really saw of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is the view you see driving down U.S. Highway 2, which is to say trees with the occasional glimpse of Lake Michigan on your right.  My drive Sunday across the Lower Peninsula was even worse, as there was nothing to see other than trees on the route Nancy chose for me.  And even though I said I was going to Saugatuck, I never entered that city’s limits.  Never saw the (in)famous dunes or the artsy-fartsy shops that follow gay gentrification of a community.  If Campit Resort, nice as it is, lies in any proximity to the water, you couldn’t prove it by me.  No, I was on a schedule, and that schedule meant “Drive, damn it!  Drive!”  

The five hours spent on southwestern Michigan’s back roads Monday afternoon did not help my mood, and kept me from another agenda item.  Ever since I met my cousin Vicki Bosely, I have wanted to visit Bowling Green, Ohio.  There is supposed to be a family Bible there with a Spellman family genealogy.  I would like to find that, or at least talk to every Spellman I can find in the area and see if they know anything about such an item.  Bowling Green is not far off the route I chose across northern Ohio, but I had no time.  I was running late.  I had to press on.  And who is setting this crazy schedule in my head?  Myself, the guy who’s retired and can do anything he wishes.

My new, more relaxed, look

With all that in mind, my first week at Roseland has been a blessing.  What have I done?  Precious little.  I’ve spent hours baking alongside the pool, or when my body got too hot from the sun’s heat, floating on a cushion in the pool.  I’ve read three books and started two more.  I’ve made two trips into New Martinsville, the closest town, to shop, and one trip to Parkersburg to see Sharon, pick up some stuff at Ron’s house, and get my hair cut.  What I haven’t done is write.  So far I have been unsuccessful in getting any internet connection set up.  My cell phone service is sketchy at best, and for two days the phone told me “No Service” when I tried to make a call.  All of which should have helped me to relax,  but in fact only caused more stress, as I saw my e-mail messages rising to a mountainous height and the artists I’m watching on DeviantArt and Red Bubble posting more and more photos that I couldn’t see.  And don’t you know I HAVE to see that art.  I HAVE to read my e-mail.  I HAVE to share things on Facebook.  The world might come to an end if I don’t.  The hardest part has been my inability to talk with Kevin.  

But those frustrations pass when I’m lying naked poolside, or hiking the nature trails around the resort.  They pass when I’m talking with interesting men from Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Washington DC or Wheeling West Virginia.  I even met a Bimbo.  (Yes, I meant to put that “B” in upper case.)  Everyone calls him Beau (or maybe Bo), but his driver’s license and birth certificate say that his real name is “Bimbo.”  Parents do awful things to their children, don’t they?

I have relaxed so much that on Wednesday last, I got my lowest blood glucose reading ever.  I haven’t been able to duplicate that reading since, so it may have been an anomaly, but I’m certain that if I stay here a while longer, spend as much time as possible by the pool or out hiking, I might even get that glucose to behave.  I’m seriously considering buying one of the trailers that’s for sale here.  Would that be any different than the log cabin my parents owned one-thousand miles from home which they visited one month each year?

The Trailer Across the Road

See what those gay boys can do with a campsite!

What are my plans now?  I don’t really have any.  I have promised Sharon that I will drive her to the southwestern corner of Indiana where her husband ‘s body is buried.  I want to take some more day trips around the area.  I’d like to go as far as the eastern peninsula of Maryland to see where the McAtees started out in America, passing through the Shenandoah Valley en route to see where the Stephens got their start.  I’ve asked Crescent City friend Paul Cloer about visiting him in North Carolina, and I’ve researched staying at gay resorts in Tennessee and Arkansas on my way home—whenever that is.  But for now, I’m happy to just sit on Ron’s deck, lounge by (in) the pool, and hike the trails.  Could retired life get any better?

Oh, and the books I’ve read?  Well I finished Charles Glass’s Americans in Paris: Life and Death Under Nazi Occupation, which tied in well with my doctoral work.  I read the first volume in Alexander McCall Smith’s Isabel Dalhousie series, The Sunday Philosophy Club, and Jessie Chandler’s Bingo Barge Murder, which certainly fits the “light and frivolous” category.   I’ve started David Bishop’s The Third Coincidence.  All three are murder mysteries, although very different in style, and the last two are on my Kindle Fire, which means I can’t read them at the pool because of the glare on the screen.  So for poolside reading, I’ve pulled off my shelves a treatise on getting more done by doing less, Richard Carlson and Joseph Bailey’s Slowing Down to the Speed of Life:  How to Create a More Peaceful, Simpler Life from the Inside Out.  With any luck, I’ll learn something.

The Wetzel County, West Virginia Courthouse, Built 1902

New Martinsville, West Virginia

Hello, and Goodbye, Ohio

Hello Ohio
The back roads
I know Ohio
Like the back of my hand
Alone Ohio
Where the river bends
And it's strange to see your story end
--words and music: Karin Berquist

To hear Over the Rhine sing Karin Berquist's song, Ohio, click here. I have to admit, that this is not a song I had ever heard before, but my shtick is to always open this blog with a song, and in searching for something about Ohio, I found this lovely ballad. I hope you enjoy it.

I have no idea what this is, but they appear all over the mid-west
My cousin Ron suggested that it's a storage unit for highway road salt
Taken 5/20/2011 in Peoria, Illinois

After breakfast in Peoria, we continued eastward with the goal of spending the night in Richmond, Indiana. Richmond is the eastern-most city in Indiana on I-70, and a mere 30 miles from Dayton, Ohio, where Kevin was planning to attend the largest Ham Radio gathering in the U.S. (for all I know, in the world), the Dayton Hamvention. The trip across Illinois and Indiana was uneventful, and we arrived in Richmond mid-afternoon. After checking in to our motel, we rested a while, then decided to see what the town had to offer. The first thing we noticed was an extremely long detour as the main street into town was closed due to construction. According to Wikipedia, the population of Richmond is 36,812 with 68,917 people living in Wayne County, of which Richmond is the seat. As our detour led us further and further afield, it sure felt as if the population was quite a bit larger.

Richmond was founded by Quakers moving west, and even today the town is home to many Quaker institutions, including Earlham College. It also hosts branch campuses of Indiana University and Purdue University. The campuses appeared lush, green and quite prosperous as we drove by. The grounds of the Reid Hospital were also inviting, with a large pond and fountain separating the facility from the highway. Once again, Kevin did all the driving, and I didn't ask him to stop for photo ops, my bad.

The Wayne County Government Center
Taken 5/20/2011 in Richmond, Indiana

Getting up early on Saturday, we drove directly to the arena where the Hamvention was being held. The good news is that we had no trouble getting a parking place, even though every thing was blocked off and the police were directing traffic so that you could not turn left into the arena's parking lot. The bad news was that we were there hours before anything opened--and hadn't yet had breakfast. In time, the outdoor flea market opened, and we wandered through the almost endless rows of vendors selling everything from sun shade hats to a full-sized Dodge van. Mostly radio stuff, which was to be expected, but also camera equipment, clothing, leather goods, crafts, food, and even leather chaps and vests. Note to Keith--I almost bought a cap and had it embroidered to read "W1KGK/3rd Party/Bryan," but the vendor didn't accept plastic and I didn't have the cash. (Ham operators will get the joke.) At nine, the exhibition hall opened, and we entered the mass of people filling the aisles between the vendors' booths. A week earlier, Kevin had purchased a new Kenwood radio which we had installed in the Volvo, and he wanted to get the navigation system that connected to that radio. The Kenwood booth had none in stock--they had sold out on Friday, and the Ham Radio Outlet booth gave us the same response. A third vendor did have them on hand, and we picked one up, paying the sales tax and taking it with us rather than having it shipped to Montana. As Kevin continued to roam the hall, I left for what, to me, was more interesting--the flea market. After a couple of hours, even Kevin had had enough, and we met at the car to head on toward West Virginia.

The main exhibition hall at the 2011 Dayton HamVention
Did I mention I hate crowds?
Taken 5/21/2011 in Dayton, Ohio

It's a straight shot from Dayton to Columbus and on to Wheeling, West Virginia on I-70, and that's the route we took. While sitting in Dayton waiting for Kevin, I got a message from Michele Holloway, the woman who served the Smith River United Methodist Church at the time of my mother's death. The Smith River parsonage is right across the street from my house there, and Michele and I became friends while I was staying in California. She left to pursue her degree in divinity, and as it turns out, she was graduating from the Methodist Theological School in Ohio at the same time we were driving across the state. I would have liked to stop and see her, but with her commencement and our time schedule, things just didn't work out. I do want to say "Congratulations on your graduation, Michele!" (She's a faithful reader of this blog.)

Home-built gazebo at one of the "Seasonal" cabins at Roseland
Taken 5/21/2011 at Roseland Resort, Proctor, West Virginia

Following Derwin's directions (Derwin is Cousin Ron's partner of 25 years), we left I-70 on the Ohio side of the river, and followed Ohio Highway 7 south till we crossed the river on the Moundsville (WV) bridge. Once at Moundsville, we began the trek up into the mountains to get to Roseland Resort, the gay men's campground I had first visited back in 2007. It was at Roseland that I was given the business card that led me to meet my first cousin, Ron Stephens. I wrote about Roseland and about meeting Ron four years ago. If you wish to revisit that post, you can find it here. There have been a lot of changes at the resort since I last visited, but the staff is still friendly, the men handsome, and the grounds well tended and in full bloom. The one disturbing addition is a plant on a neighboring ridge where hydraulic fracturing is being performed. This process, usually called "fracking," enables energy companies to more easily remove oil and gas from the ground by beating the earth into submission. The process is noisy, dangerous, and has potential long-term risks. The short term damages include the way the pavement on these mountain roads has been broken by the weight of the trucks carrying materials into the plants, the visual pollution of seeing a 24-hour a day plant operating just across the holler, and the constant noise that continues day and night as the underlying rock is ground up for gas. Does it say anything that this process was first developed by Halliburton? Still, I was able to stop and smell the roses, er irises, and we spent the night in Ron & Derwin's camp trailer.

Just one of the irises in bloom at Roseland
Taken 5/21/2011 at Roseland Resort, Proctor, West Virginia