The other day our nephew Thomas and his family came over for dinner. Like usual we had five CDs in the player on random shuffle. The music was just in the background, not nearly as loud as I play it during the day when we don’t have company.
A song came on and Thomas said, “Dude, who is this? This is a Petty song.”
I told him, “It’s my girlfriend, Kathleen Edwards.”
He said, “This is actually my favorite Petty song.”
That kind of stopped me in my tracks. Then he went on to tell me it’s off of the album Wildflowers. I made a mental note to really, really listen to the song the next day. When I did, the last verse struck me like a lightning bolt.
I’m so tired of being tired
Sure as night will follow day
Most things I worry about
Never happen anyway
Absolute genius lyrics. I’m a big Petty guy. How could his Wildflowers album, and specifically the song Crawling Back to You, have eluded me for 32 years? Maybe because it was released in 1994. That was a tough year for me personally. I also wonder if 32 years ago the lyrics would’ve hit as hard as they do now. I’m guessing they would have. Needless to say, I now own the Wildflowers CD.
I don’t think everyone does this, but my brother did and so does my cousin Eddie in Texas. When we get on a song, we literally play it over and over and over. I’m talking about dozens of times, in a row, not just three times like TJ does for Billy in that wonderful new novel Felicita Vida: An Unexpected Friendship. I have a distinct memory of my brother playing the living shit out of Rain King by the Counting Crows. So, of course when I hear it I can’t help but to think of him.
Fantastic album that Kathleen put out herself when she was in between labels. Every song is a phenomenal cover.
If you are not familiar with the song Crawling Back to You please give it a listen.
I’m excited to announce…I’ve written another book! It’s been seven plus years since the release of my first novella Summer of ’78 A Road Trip. This book took a year from start to finish. And I drove Amelia crazy during the entire year!
The story takes place in San Diego County during 2017 to 2019. Originally the working subtitle was An Intergenerational Story. An Unexpected Friendship sounds much better.
Back cover
Here’s an excerpt
Carmen approaches our table, “Hi Billy.”
“Hi Carmen.”
“Thomas, how are you doing today?” she asks.
“Mas o menos. What drugs do you have for me today?”
I could tell Carmen gets asked this from all the residents. She is very patient with him. My sense is Thomas knows exactly what pills he’s taking.
“These are your two Tylenol for your arthritis, this little one is the blood thinner, and here’s your Flomax and Lasix.”
“Now what about my blood pressure meds?”
“That’s in the am and pm.”
“That’s what I thought, I was just testing you,” he says.
“Okay Thomas,” Carmen says as she heads to the next table.
“Can I ask you a question TJ?”
“Of course.”
“How did you end up here?”
“My two daughters moved out of San Diego years ago. I’m the last one here. I lived by myself and fell twice at home. The second time I couldn’t get back up and I couldn’t reach the phone. I was on the ground for a couple of hours until my neighbor knocked on the door. She was concerned because I’m always on my porch in the morning reading, and she hadn’t seen me. It was so humbling, humiliating, and quite embarrassing. I was just badly bruised, nothing broken, but I couldn’t get myself up. It was not a good situation. I hated to leave my house in Pacific Beach. But I could see the writing on the wall. I needed help.”
“Damn TJ, that sucks.”
“Sonny Boy, it really sucks, but it was time. I was tired of shopping, then cooking for myself. And managing my drugs seemed to get harder. It was a pain ordering them. My flexibility and balance are shit. I should’ve taken up yoga like I said I was going to do when I retired. I hate this getting old stuff.”
“Sorry.”
“Thanks Billy. You know both my daughters offered to take me in, but who wants to live in Bend or Minneapolis. I’m a San Diego guy and want nothing to do with the weather at those places. I just couldn’t see spending what time I have left in either of those cities. Somedays I do regret not taking one of them up on the offer, but I do not want to be a burden for my daughters.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three long months.”
I was a little hesitant with my next question but asked it anyway, “Is your wife still alive?”
TJ is laughing, “You mean the mother of my daughters? That would be the first wife.”
“First!” I say with big eyes.
“Yup, the first. We divorced nearly fifty years ago. Yeah she’s still alive and living here in San Diego. Before our daughters moved I used to see her when we’d all get together during the holidays, birthdays, and the such. Now we’ll text each other happy birthday, but that’s the extent of our communication.”
“How many wives have you had?”
Laughing again, he said. “I’ve had three, and they all left me. That must say something about me. All three are still alive. And I reckon all three will outlive me.”
Here’s the link on Amazonwhere it can be purchased. It’s $9.99 for the paperback and $3.99 for the ebook. The ebook has a page for the soundtrack with a hyperlink to the songs on Youtube. So that’s kind of a cool bonus, but personally I prefer actually holding a book and turning pages. Either way, please purchase it! I know I’m asking for a lot, but if you could also give it a review on Amazon it would mean the world to me!
This is my recollection from an evening in late 2015: Back then a small group of us would gather for a mountain bike ride through the Tunnels trails on Thursdays. On this particular evening it was Nolte, (first name Bill, but no one except his wife, Marianne, and his mom, Helen, call him Bill), Ken, and myself. The three of us were having some post ride beers in the Mobil gas station parking lot, not exactly what you’d expect from guys our age. The conversation was bouncing all over; post ride endorphins and beer always make for a lively conversation.
Nolte said Marianne really wanted to buy a forest service cabin at a place called Bucks Lake in NoCal. He wanted our opinions. We were both hard nos and offered a litany of reasons why it was a poor decision. The distance, seasonal aspect, the upkeep, etc. Well, the guy didn’t listen to us, a couple of weeks later they bought the cabin. So naturally I coined it Marianne’s cabin. Nolte ran with it and always referred to it as Marianne’s cabin. It seems to me a few years went by before she realized that’s what we were calling it. At the beginning, she would casually deny it was hers, then she became more and more adamant as the years passed.
In 2020, Nolte and Marianne moved to Reno. It’s his hometown and his mom and her husband still live there. Like a good son, he wanted to be closer to his mom as she was getting up in age. For six years they’ve been trying to talk us into visiting them and seeing the cabin. So we finally did it after Mammoth.
Bucks Lake is in Plumas County. It’s about 17 miles southwest of Quincy and 32 miles northeast of Oroville, and two hours from Reno. The elevation is 5,200 feet.
It was a real eye opener and I can state unequivocally, it is not Marianne’s cabin, it is Bill’s cabin. He’s like every other engineer I’ve ever met…in their own world, just happy to be tinkering. The guy can spend untold hours putzing around the property fixing things and looking for ways to improve things. It was amazing to see him in his element.
Opal hung out at their neighbor Phil’s place.
The Noltes neighborhood in the mountains.
If you have a cabin in the middle of nowhere you have to have a Polaris RZR. Once we unloaded we took a tour of the area.
PCT!
We thought this was cool, a teeny tiny library!
Nolte and I fished Bucks Lake one morning for an hour or so as the girls hiked. The water was really low. This trout made for a nice appetizer before dinner.
After lunch we took a drive to Lower Bucks Lake.
It doesn’t take much to entertain us! All kidding aside it was fascinating watching the grapple machine being operated.
The same crew of two then drove around the lake to the other side and neatly stacked the logs for the chipping crew that was showing up in a few days.
We helped out with closing down the cabin for the season. Usually they would wait until November, but they will be overseas then. It was a crazy amount of work. It makes owning an Airstream look like a piece of cake.
This is what winter looks like and yes the second pic is the cabin completely buried. So there is a lot to do to protect the cabin and close it up for the winter.
Stuff like moving the solar panels into the storage container.
Nolte’s genius design to save the deck patio railing.
Beer time. The remaining closing down chores were pushed to the next morning.
Closing up!
After finishing up we made a two hour drive to get to the Sierra Buttes Lookout Tower hike.
If you’re in the area it’s a must do hike, 5.25 miles and a steep 1,600 feet.
Marianne and Nolte
Right before the thrilling part…
…the insane stairs. If you have a fear of heights this is not for you.
Nolte scampered to the top and took this perspective shot of Amelia and me.
Upper and Lower Sardine Lakes
A puckering hike, if you know what I mean.
It was a quick four night trip to Reno and Bucks Lake. We didn’t see much of Reno. We sunk a lot of time watching the Padres & Brewers playoff series, but we are glad we finally made it up there.
All of our friends were incredulous when we sold my brother’s condo in 2015 and announced we were done with Mammoth and done with skiing. We tried living there, but only made it sixteen months from July 2013- October 2014. I was the one who couldn’t do it. Honestly it scarred me. Vacationing and daily living are two different things. We gave it a shot, but too many things worked against us. At least we scratched that itch.
I had been visiting Mammoth since 1977 and Amelia since 1987. I can’t even guess how many times I’ve been up and down the 395. It’s for sure more than 400 times. I’ve been yearning to see the Eastern Sierra fall colors, so after eleven years it felt like it might be time to visit the area again.
We knew there have been a lot of changes because all our friends that still go to Mammoth have told us. Driving through town it was stunning to see all the new development, especially the high rise buildings. We then drove up to the ski resort and to the Minaret Summit. Then back through town to Nic n Willie’s where we split a hot yardbird sandwich. From there we walked over to and through my brother’s old condo complex, Krystal Villa East. Then we drove by Dave House’s old condo, then Needle’s old house. To say it was a lot emotionally is an understatement. It was a flood of great memories but also drudged up some bad ones. Both of us shed a few tears.
The Eastern Sierra is a stunningly beautiful place. Truth be told I don’t think we’ll ever go back there again. 😢
The Astro Burger is no longer in business. A victim of Covid or perhaps changing times. This was a landmark at Four Corners, aka Kramer Jct. It opened in 1972. I first visited it in 1977. I have no idea why the sign is still there. It would be pretty cool if they never took it down. The building has been scraped and in it’s place is a new Shell gas station and mini mart, soon to be open. Once upon a time it was called Karen’s Astro Burger. I have no idea what happened to Karen. Being the stupid teenagers we were, we used to call the place Karen’s Asshole Burger.
As you come up on the Owens Dry Lake Bed and the old Pittsburg Plate Glass silos, tune into 89.9 fm to hear some crazy X-Files type shit. According to the dreaded AI that’s probably going to kill all of us, the Metabolic Studio (led by artist Lauren Bon) transformed one of these towering concrete structures into the Sonic Division’s Aeolian Harp. By stringing massive steel cables across the 80-foot vertical space, the silo acts as a giant resonant chamber that amplifies the powerful winds sweeping through the Owens Valley into cascading musical harmonics and tones.
We spent our first three nights at Brown’s Owens River Campground. That’s Amelia strolling along the river heading back to Opal.
Our first night we were treated to a magnificent sunset.
In the morning we had dramatic clouds. The next morning was clear and 21 degrees outside and 37 in the Airstream. The coldest weather Opal has been in.
The start of the Convict Lake hike.
Black Cottonwood leaves changing, at least I’m pretty sure that’s what they are!
The glow
An easy beautiful hike to see fall colors.
The famous Convict Lake Boardwalk.
Minaret Summit, boy oh boy the stories this pipe could tell.
My brother’s old condo complex. We had to laugh because there was a pile of dog shit by the sign.
The bottom balcony Amelia is walking towards was our unit. Now there’s a big sidewalk that has eliminated a lot of parking.
Unit 102
I kid you not, when we sold the place Amelia left this tchotchke behind, eleven years later it’s still there! That says a lot about something, what, I don’t know.
Another beautiful Upper Owens Valley sunset.
We only got in one ride, but it’s a great ride.
This is the first leg of Lower Rock Creek.
Here’s the third and final leg.
The Owens River Campground closed on September 30th. So we moved to a boondock spot eight miles north of Mammoth Lakes. Nice spot but we struggled with our solar.
Lee Vining…
Another classic fall hike is Lundy Canyon.
Classic late season aspen leaf spot lesions.
Tight section
My favorite picture.
Our last evening in town we had dinner with Jimmy and Joani. Jimmy was with my brother when he died.
We saw a lot of cool things on Martha’s Vineyard, but for me the Sculpture Trailtakes the cake. It’s a little known spot that we stopped at while on a bike ride. It’s in the community of Chilmark and accessible by dirt road. The self-guided trail is a half mile long and it’s free! There’s tall sculptures, little figurines tucked into rocks and vegetation, and even furniture. Clay, driftwood, and rocks are the most common materials used. It’s whimsical, magical, and just downright cool. Art is hidden everywhere. It was like being on a treasure hunt.
Trail art is so much fun. There’s a handful of biking trails that come to mind with great trail art. Fantasy Island in Tucson, Arizona. Phil’s World in Cortez, Colorado. The whole trail system in Bentonville, Arkansas. Crabs and Tang in San Diego. But all of those pale in comparison to the Sculpture Trail.
Looking for fairies
Small Hidden Art
Furniture
Tall Sculptures
Some of these are reminiscent of True Detective season one and that weird show Yellowjackets.
It’s another non Airstream adventure. I’m contemplating renaming this site to Amy & Greg’s Adventures and Musings. Anyhoo, our friends Mike and Kathy summer on (on, not in!) Martha’s Vineyard and invited us out. It was a real eye opener. We haven’t been on the East Coast in decades. It couldn’t be more different than the West Coast. It’s easy to understand why Martha’s Vineyard is so famous. It’s a beautiful island with a lot history.
You learn so little in high school regarding US history. Maybe the Massachusetts kids learned this, but I had no idea the island has a long progressive history. It has been a historic haven for Black Americans, especially Oak Bluffs, Mike and Kathy’s town, beginning in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It was one of the few places where Black families could freely buy property, build wealth, and vacation without segregation.
I asked Mike the obvious question, where’s the vineyards? His response was there aren’t any. Then he told me the island was named Martha’s Vineyard in 1602 by the English explorer Bartholomew Gosnold, after his daughter Martha. The exploration found an abundance of wild grape vines growing along the coast.
Of course, like all of America, there was already an indigenous group living there, the Wampanoag tribe. They have inhabited the island for thousands of years! Approximately 300 of them still live on the island.
The dynamics of tourist towns fascinate me. The town and surrounding area are always beautiful, that’s why tourists flock to them. But they are so busy during “the season” that it distracts from the experience. Then there’s always a segment of the locals that loath the tourists. Apparently they don’t understand that the tourists are bringing all the money into town. Lucky for us we just missed the height of the busy season. There isn’t a stop light on the entire island, so we did see some traffic jams at a few of the crazy intersections. Jimmy Buffett has a classic song about living in a tourist town, When the Coast is Clear.
We took the red eye to Boston Logan International Airport which wasn’t fun. Then we jumped on a little eight seat Cessna 402 for a 30 minute flight to Martha’s which was a blast!
A great view of Boston. We’re on the Vineyard! A community since 1835. This is where Mike and Kathy’s cottage is located. Amelia and Kathy in front of their cottage. She’s been staying there since she was six years old! The history of their cottage. It was built in 1868! From 1971-1993 Kathy’s grandparents, James and Marion Thorp, owned it. Old license plates that belonged to Kathy’s dad.
This gives you a feel of the neighborhood. There are a little over 300 cottages. If privacy is what you seek, this is not your place. The first picture is Mike and Kathy’s cottage. There’s a path that runs through the neighborhood. Tourists are constantly walking by taking photos. I got a kick out of sitting on the porch, acting like the owner and greeting all of them.
Hydrangea flowers galore
The Tabernacle on Martha’s Vineyard. A majestic, open-air wrought iron building built in 1879. It’s around two hundred yards from their cottage and where we saw the Indigo Girls on our final night.
Our generous hosts really rolled out the red carpet for us. Beach on our first afternoon, three mountain bike rides, a car tour up island, marvelous home cooked meals, dinner at a swanky restaurant, Atria, and the Indigo Girls concert!
The path to the beach and Amelia looking out on the Nantucket Sound.
Mike and Kathy on ferry to from Edgartown to Chappaquiddick. The distance is 527 feet and only takes about three minutes! Looking back on Edgartown. Cape Pogue Chappaquiddick, or as the locals call it Chappy, was an easy but fascinating ride.
Ticks are a thing, granted we have them in San Diego, but it’s serious shit out here.
Mike is standing at the site of the Chappaquiddick Incident. In July of 1969 Mary Jo Kopechne died inside the car driven by Senator Ted Kennedy after he accidentally drove off the bridge. Back then there were no safety railings on the bridge.
There is no official plaque honoring Mary Jo. Only the RIP buoy and an old hand engraved piece of plywood attached to a piling. It was quite sad.
We packed sandwiches and had lunch at a bench overlooking Wasque Point beach. That’s Kathy and Amelia heading back after checking out the shore break.
The terrain we were riding had a different sensation than the areas we typically ride. It was nice when we got to the open space…there might have been some claustrophobic moments.
One day we got to experience that famous East Coast humidity. Wow! It was really something. The movie Jaws was filmed on Martha’s and 51 years later it’s still a big deal. There’s tours on the island that take you to all the filming locations. In the movie this is the location of Police Chief Brody’s house. It has undergone an extensive remodel and you can rent it for $15,000 a week!
No caption needed
On our up island tour we stopped at Larsen’s Fish Market in Menemsha for lobster rolls.
Doing the tourist thing at Gay Head Lighthouse.
I was surprised at all the turkeys on the island.
Not surprised at all about the gaggle Canada geese. On our last ride we rode by a beautiful pond full of lily pads.
The high life! One of the best things about our visit to their cottage was the outdoor shower. It was heaven.
Toby the cat living the high life. Friday night was glorious! The encapsulating morning photo.
We had a lot of laughs. The biggest ones were regarding the pickle party we were all invited to. Saturday morning Kathy got the text. The party was to be that evening before the Indigo Girls concert. None of us had ever been to a pickle party. It was intriguing and sounded fun. Their community is very social and always doing things at the spur of the moment. Mike and Kathy figured it was just another excuse for a party. And Kathy said not to worry, she had a jar of Famous Dave’s hot & spicy pickles in the refrigerator.
On our bike ride we all started bantering back and forth about pickles and the party: being in a pickle, playing pickle ball, dill pickles, bread and butter pickles, sweet pickles. Amelia was hoping there would be fried pickles. Then came the talk of what kind of party is it really? Someone brought up pickles and orifices (not me!). One thing was for sure we couldn’t wait to see what the hell this pickle party was all about.
Before the party Kathy busted out a cute little serving dish and a small fork and filled it up with pickles. Then she went to the trouble of creating a little display sign to put next to the pickles.
We were ready to go! We walked across the path and the grassy median being careful not to trip over all the roots, then in between the yards and into the pickle party house through the backdoor.
Folks were gathered around the island in the kitchen. We had the only pickles! All kinds of hors d’oeuvres were spread out on the counter. And no pickles!
The host said, “Did you think this was a pickle party?”
Kathy responded, “Yes that’s what your text said.”
“Oh! That damn auto-correct. This is a pickees party.”
The four of us looked at each other and laughed. We didn’t say it out loud but we were thinking WTF is a pickees party?
Like usual, I was the first to leave the party. The other three quickly followed. None of us had heard the expression pickees party before. Strange. I just might have to call into NPR’s A Way with Words one day and found out where this lady picked up that slang.
Here’s my musing: The thing about living on an island is, you’re on an island.
P.S. Today was the day we were going to begin our three day/two night Grand Canyon North Rim to South Rim hike with our friends Needles and Marlene. The Chinese hoax struck again. On Saturday August 29th, a significant flash-flood event occurred in the Grand Canyon. The damage was devastating. It would’ve been scary as hell if we would’ve been caught up in that. We lucked out this time.
