2006 March: Sue and Mike Spend a Week in San Diego

Posted on July 25, 2023 by Mike

Animals and more opera. Continue reading →

In the summer of 2023 I spent more than a day gathering information from every source that I could think of to try to determine exactly when Sue and I took the trip to San Diego. At first I thought that it was in 2002; I even wrote about one thousand words based on that assumption. I later found evidence that made me place it as late as 2009. As I was in the process of rewriting this to reflect the new date I came upon a set of Word documents labeled SD01 through SD07. They contained the notes that I had taken while on the trip, and they were dated. So, I can say with no fear of contradiction that the trip began on Thursday, March 23, 2006 and ended on Wednesday, March 29.

The notes were evidently intended to be expanded into a readable write-up of the trip and then, along with a sampling of photos, posted on Wavada.org along with my other travel journals. Evidently I must have gotten either busy or lazy; the readable journal never was written, and nothing was ever posted.

The good part is that the notes were a lot better than the septuagenarian memories that I would have needed to tap. Unfortunately, the photos have been lost. If I had integrated them into a journal, I would still have the best of them.

On the same day that I found the notes I rummaged through the bottom shelf on the bookcase in my office and found a paper bag with the imprint of the San Diego Opera on it. Inside was a receipt for the opera tickets, the program for the performance that we saw, and many other items from other places that Sue and I had visited. I would have preferred to find my photos, but this find greatly increased my enthusiasm for working on this entry.

Preparation: In March of 2006 we had two cats, the youngster Giacomo (introduced here), and my best buddy Woodrow (introduced here). The notes stated that Woodrow “purred in my ear”, which is how he often told me that it was time to get out of bed. We planned on leaving the cats alone in the house for a week, but we were not worried about them. Woodrow was well past his prime, but he was very self-reliant and quite tough. Besides, if things got bad, they could go outside through the cat door and make mischief. Sue’s father-in-law Chick Comparetto¹ promised to look in on them to make sure that they had food and water. Woodrow was not afraid of strangers (or anything else). He would certainly greet Chick at the door and ask to be petted. Giacomo in those days was quite shy. Chick probably would never lay eyes on him.

I had a Frommer’s guidebook for San Diego that I purchased in 2000 for the business trip that I took with Denise Bessette in 2000 (recounted here). I did not use it much then, but I must have researched it much more thoroughly in 2006.

We planned to meet up with Marva Whitehead, whom we had met on our first trip to Italy in 2003 (documented here), for dinner on Monday. To pay for the trip we were using my frequent-flyer miles on Delta, my Hilton Honors points for the hotel stay, and my frequent-parker points at Executive Valet Parking for a spot near the airport. It was actually a pretty economical trip.

Would you expect Charlotte to be on the left on a trip from BDL to ATL?

The notes said that we brought Sue’s backpack/suitcase purchased for the 2003 trip to Italy, the duffel that IBM had given me in 2000 and the cats had baptized shortly thereafter, a suitcase held together with duct tape, and another backpack that contained my computer. Sue also probably brought an assortment of bags to use as carry-ons. I brought my camera (a small Cascio point-and-shoot digital) with some ability to zoom. Sue may have brought her camera, too.

Sue had arranged for John Bolling, a former IBM employee with whom she had worked in (or maybe even before) the early days of TSI, to meet us at the airport in Atlanta during our layover there. Our plane to San Diego did not leave until 6:18PM.

Denny’s closed for good in 2022 after 45 years.

Thursday March 23: Our first stop was at Chick’s house. Sue gave him the spare key to the house. We then ate brunch at the Denny’s on Elm St. at a little after 10AM. For some reason we made two trips to the bank (or maybe one each to two different banks). Sue sent an email to Marva just before we left.

We drove in my Saturn to Executive. The guy in front of me in the line there asked the clerk about the company’s points system. He had paid only $4 per night by using prepaid coupons. It was nice for once to be the one who was going on vacation. Usually I was the stressed-out guy on a business trip, and everyone else was giddy about their upcoming vacation. It was an even better feeling this time because I had amassed enough points to pay for the car’s entire stay.

Our itinerary called for us to leave Bradley at 1:55 p.m. and to change planes in Atlanta. We arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. For once there was no problem getting through security. Because of problems in Atlanta we did not actually leave until 2:41. Sue made short work of an ice cream cone while we were waiting.

The flight from Bradley to Atlanta was completely filled. Sue volunteered to take the middle seat, but she was quite uncomfortable. She learned that the guy next to her was going to Costa Rica to photograph wildlife. I had made this trip so many times that it was like riding a bus for me.

Somehow John Bolling found us in the gigantic Atlanta airport. He had a job there working for AirTran Airways². He told us that he did not like his assignment at all. He had reportedly lost twenty-five pounds in five weeks.

I bought and consumed a gyro and some curly fries while we were waiting for our plane to depart. It did not do so until 7:15.

The plane to San Diego was also very full. No meal was served on the flight, but we did get drinks and a package of snacks. I selected trail mix, Later the flight attendants brought some Gouda cheese spread, and crackers plus some kind of buttery shortbread stick. One passenger was a guy from Italy. I was impressed that the stewardess was able to converse with him in Italian.

Sue watched a movie on the little screen on the back of the seat in front of her, “The Family Stone,” with Sarah Jessica Parker, Diane Keaton, and Dermot Mulroney. I was in the middle seat. I undoubtedly brought something to read, study, or play with, but the notes did not mention anything. The guy next to me brought absolutely nothing with him for diversion, and he did not avail himself of anything offered by the airline. He just sat there.

Nothing held together with duct tape appeared on the carousel.

Although we gained three hours during the flight, it was still 9:30 by the time that the plane’s wheels touched the ground. When we arrived at the baggage claim area, I was amazed that our luggage was not there. This NEVER happened to me on business trips, and on this occasion both of our flights departed late. It was hard to imagine how Delta had screwed this up.

Sue was upset about it. It did not bother me a great deal. In the worst-case scenario we might need to wear the same clothes for a day or two. Only one person in San Diego knew us in San Diego, and we were not scheduled to see her for a few days.

We told the people at baggage claim that we were staying at the Hampton Inn in Kearney Mesa. They said that they would deliver the bags to us there.

We walked to the Avis counter and picked up our rental. Our vehicle was a blue Chevy HHR that, according to a form that I found in the bag, had been inspected by someone named Otis. I had seen one or two of these cars before, but they were still an oddity if March of 2006. I was not impressed. It had no pickup at all.

We found our way to the Hampton Inn in Kearny Mesa. By then it was nearly 11:00, which was 2AM Enfield time. I had never had a bad experience checking in at a Hampton Inn. This clerk was unenthusiastic, but he seemed competent. We told him that Delta would be delivering our luggage, or at least we hoped so.

We quickly went to sleep, but for once we hoped to be disturbed during the night.

Friday March 24: The bags were delivered at 1AM. They appeared to be in no worse shape than when we had checked them.

All Hampton Inns provided a free breakfast buffet. Sue likes to go to restaurants for breakfast, but the selection at this hotel was pretty good. This was a good deal for people who can tolerate plastic silverware and are not picky about how their eggs are cooked. I had scrambled eggs and biscuits, fruit, and cereal. The setting was very elegant by Hampton Inn standards.

Our plan for the day was to visit the San Diego Zoo’s Wild Animal Park³. The name was slightly misleading. Although the park was affiliated with the zoo, it was located in the San Pasqual Valley east of Escondido. It was thirty miles north of the zoo.

We had a very beautiful day for our visit—74 degrees and sunny. We drive north through a naval air base and then east through the back country. We drove by an ostrich farm, which was a first for me, and a few places where visitors were allowed to pick their own oranges.

The park was huge. It covered 1,700 acres! The animals at the park were not, for the most part, kept in cages. Rather they were kept in groups in areas that resembled each one’s natural setting. The easiest way to see a lot of animals fairly quickly was to take the monorail⁴, a two-car open-air train that made a clockwise circuit around the entire park.

The park was not too crowded. We picked up a map of the park and a list of the shows and their times. We also picked up pamphlets that described two sections of the park, Heart of Africa and Condor Ridge. The former contained the vegetarian animals that resided on the savannas. The latter contained animals from North America.

There were a few empty seats on the monorail. We took Frommer’s advice and sat on the right. The trip lasted a little less than an hour. Each train had a guide who explained over the intercom what area of the park we were passing and what animals were visible. In a few cases she needed to direct our attention where some of them were hiding.

The train ride was great fun. We saw three separate types of rhinos. At one point the guide told us about some kind of Japanese animal that was in a culvert directly beneath the train. We passed through lots of different terrains. We even saw mountain goats and bighorn sheep in the Condor Ridge section, a bonobo playing with a basketball, and a giraffe doing the splits in the Heart of Africa.

We could see a balloon ride that we did not take. There were also trucks that you could ride in. Their main purpose was to feed the animals, but visitors could pay to tag along.

My most distinctly remembered experience occurred near the end of the monorail ride. The guide told us to be very quiet as we were approaching a new exhibit. She warned us not to make noise, because it might disturb one of the park’s newest resident, a bobcat. We need not have worried; I doubt that any noise we made would have disturbed a loader manufactured by the Bobcat company.

After the monorail ride ended we stopped for some food. We purchased an apple, banana, muffin, a bag of $4 potato chips and a $4 glass of Diet Coke. I also got a refill for only $1. In 2006 these prices were outrageous.

I think that we walked up to Condor Ridge, which is in the northeast corner of the park. My notes say that we saw a bald eagle, some prairie dogs, and a porcupine.

Somewhere in the park we saw all of the following. I probably took photos of all of them.

Gorillas being fed some oranges.
A hummingbird and a bustard.
A sleeping warthog.
A meerkat colony. One was on guard; the rest were underground.
A bird show. I wrote: “Pete and girls. Forgot about the parrot act.”
An elephant show with two performing pachyderms, Mary and Cookie. The trainer’s name was Brittany.
“Poop from egret.”

I loved the Wild Animal Park even more than I had loved the San Diego Zoo six years earlier.

We ate supper.at the Pampas Bar and Grill⁵ in SanDiegoVille. Our waiter was named Pedro. I ordered a ribeye and mashed potatoes. Sue had a strip steak with sauce and rice. The vegetables were understandably meager. Argentinians are notoriously carnivorous. A guy played the guitar and a harp while we were dining.

The vacation was off to a great start.

Saturday March 25: The plan was to spend the entire day in San Diego. The weather cooperated. It was around 70 all day long, and it was sunny.

We ate breakfast in the hotel again. I had sausage and scrambled eggs, with biscuits, fruit, and cereal. The baseball team from Westmont College in San Diego was in the dining room at the same time as we were. Their uniforms had maroon trim. They reminded me of UMass’s colors. I had stayed at many Hampton Inns. I had never seen a breakfast area so crowded. Sue and I had to eat at little table.

The next line of my notes says: “Convoy St. Target: _______. Big dip to get in. Drove past Home Depot Expo Center.” I am not sure what to make of this. There is a Target in Kearney Mesa, but in 2023 it is on Othello St. There is a Home Depot Design Center in San Diego, but it is not near the hotel or Target.

Balboa Park was our first touristy destination of the day. The park’s website calls it, “San Diego’s ever-changing, always amazing, 1,200-acre back yard.” I distinctly remember having trouble finding a parking space along the side of the road. Several women were reserving spaces for their husbands. When I finally found one I had difficulty maneuvering the HHR into it. It was quite a bit larger than my Saturn, and the visibility was not as good.

The main thoroughfare, which is reserved for pedestrians, in Balboa Park is El Prado. The notes describe it as “very nice”, and the photos that I found on the Internet certainly confirmed that. On both sides of it were museums, hotels, restaurants, and other elegant places.

The notes state:

Railroad museum. Wooden trestle bridge. Imperial valley. Junkyard dog. Barrel falling off of truck. Pushing truck uphill.

I assume that the first two words referred to the Model Railroad Museum that was located in the basement of the Casa de Balboa building on El Prado. Although a flyer from the museum was in the Sand Diego Opera bag, I don’t remember anything about it.

Sue had her own N scale model train layout that she constructed on the ping pong table in our basement in Enfield. Someone bought a Lionel train set for me when I was very young. My dad and Joey Kuchel set it up in the basement when my family lived in Kansas City, KS.

Evidently we saw all of the following somewhere in Balboa Park: “Palm reader, bicycle taxi, guitar and flute.” None of these references rings a bell. I distinctly remember not getting my palm read in San Diego or anywhere else.

I did not find a flyer from the Natural History Museum, but we must have gone there. We saw a movie about Baja California and a skeleton of an allosaur.

I reported “lots of interactive stuff for the kids.” Don’t ask me what “Dave in white coat in bathroom” referred to.

I have no notes about the tram that went around the park. It was free, and I found a flyer for it, so there is a good chance that we rode on it for a while.

Try to imagine the Moreton Bay Fig Tree with seventeen less years of growth. That is what we saw.

Our next stop was at Sunset Cliffs Natural Park. I probably had some very striking memories of this stunning location, but all that I wrote was, “Sucking face. Woman with cigarette”.

I found handwritten directions to Old Venice Restaurant on the back of an advertising piece from Avis that was in the bag. We ate a pizza and a very good salad for supper there. The pizza had prosciutto, chicken and basil. The notes stated that the restaurant was near Shelter Island, which is really a long peninsula.

I remarked in the notes that the people in the restaurant were too good-looking. We ate our supper on a wobbly table outside. Darren was the waiter’s name. I didn’t record the amount, but I am pretty sure that I left a tip.

When we left the restaurant I noticed a small ding on the passenger side of the HHR. Dings on rental cars can be costly. I had to hope that Otis had made a note of it when he inspected the vehicle or that whoever inspected it when we turned it in was equally negligent.

I forgot to bring the good map that I had ripped out of Frommer’s in 2000. I found myself on Rosecrans road and couldn’t figure out how to get on the freeway. I also ran a red light. The notes did not state whether the malfeasance was accidental or deliberate.

Another great day!

Sunday March 26: The plan was to drive to La Jolla, Coronado Island, and Old Town in San Diego. I wonder how much I used the Frommer’s book to select the itineraries. My choices do not closely agree with “Frommer’s favorite San Diego experiences.”

Sue might disagree, but I found the weather to be less than perfect. Clouds kept the temperature in the sixties all day. That’s light-jacket weather for me.

We had the usual breakfast at the Hampton—eggs and biscuits, fruit, and cereal. They also generally provided at least two kinds of juices and plenty of coffee.

We stopped at Target again. This time we picked up some two-liter bottles of Diet Cokes and some snacks. These items were much cheaper at chain stores than at locations attractive to tourists.

La Jolla was less than ten miles to the west of our hotel. I anticipated that we might have difficulty finding a place to park, but I was wrong.

Sue and I walked down to the beach We saw the aggregation of seals that Denise and I had enjoyed so much in 2000, but the only thing that I wrote about the experience was that the rest rooms were “crummy”. My dim recollection is that it was breezy at the cove.

We walked into town and strolled around for a bit. It seems incredible, but I reported that we could not find the Best Western in which Denise and I stayed. I did take note (and probably photos) of two dachshunds.

We did not take the 26-minute route from La Jolla to Coronado Island that is shown in the map at the left.

We were in no hurry, and so we drove through San Diego down to Chula Vista and then over to Imperial Beach at the south end of San Diego Bay. from there we took the “Silver Strand” up to Coronado.

The notes indicated “6$ at beach”. Maybe that was what I paid for parking. All beaches in California have always been open to the public.

I remember that there were protestors at the incredibly elegant Del Coronado Hotel, but I do not recall what the issue was. We had lunch al fresco. It consisted of leftover pizza from Old Vienna and food that we had purloined from breakfast at the Hampton Inn.

We walked up to the legendary hotel and even went inside. I could not believe how many bellboys they had. I kept waiting for one of them to shout, “Call for Philip Morris.”

Afterwards we stopped at a place called Moo Time Creamery for some ice cream. For some reason we ordered three types of ice cream. The notes stated that Sue really liked the double chocolate and the pear sorbet. I preferred the stracciatella.

Moo Time had a statue of Elvis and another one of a cow. I found a photo on the Internet.

I am surprised that I even tasted the ice cream. It has never been my favorite food, and, if the temperature was only in the sixties, I was probably shivering while I ate it.

From Coronado we drove to Seaport Village, which was on the eastern side of the bay, so that Sue could do some shopping in what its website calls “14 acres of fine waterfront dining, entertainment and world-class shopping in the heart of beautiful San Diego”.

I had difficulty finding a place to park. I must have let Sue off and parked in a lot rather than on the street. The notes said, “Hard to park. Meet at four. Brought Sue the ticket.” I interpret this to mean that I was given a ticket so that the HHR could exit from the lot, that I brought the ticket to Sue, that I planned to mess around somewhere while she shopped, and that we would meet up somewhere at 4PM.

The rest of my notes about Seaport Village were difficult to decipher: “Smoking outside of jewelry store. Arabs. Cat.illacs.” I was evidently impressed by the number of boats in the nearby marina. I also saw quite a few sailboats in the harbor. In 2023 I have no memories of this place, but Sue’s only clear memory of the entire trip was that she bought her favorite earrings there.

From Seaport Village we probably took I-5, which in Southern California is called “The 5”, north to the Old Town section. Old Town is a State Historic Park. The website describes it this way:

Five original adobe buildings are part of the historic park, which include museums, unique retail shops, and several restaurants. The Historic Plaza remains a special place for gatherings and historic activities. Visitors can also experience a working blacksmith shop, enjoy music, see or touch the park’s burros, and engage in activities that represent early San Diego.

I reportedly was very lucky with the parking. The word “Closing” is mentioned in the notes. Perhaps the “unique retail shops” had closed for the day.

We toured the area for a while and then decided to eat supper at Café de Reyes. We ate outside. The weather was perfect for Sue, and I got to sit by the heater. Our waiter was named Daniel, and the busboy was Jorge. The clientele seemed to be equally divided between Mexican-Americans and gringos. There were free tables when we arrived, but it got pretty crowded after we sat down.

For an appetizer we ordered quesos fundidos, which was a plate of goat’s cheese and sausage. The notes indicated that I had “combination #1 and a very large margarita.” The combinations are no longer numbered on the restaurant’s online menu, and so I cannot say what it contained, but I did call the supper “very nice”.

The notes also specified a “lady making tortillas with scrunched-up shoulders.” It didn’t specify whether she worked for the restaurant or not. I assume that, despite the word order, the shoulders belonged to the lady, not the tortillas.

When we returned to the hotel we were both dead tired. Sue contacted Marva by phone or email. We saw commercials on television for Congress to replace Duke Cunningham, who had resigned in 2005 for taking bribes from military contractors.⁷

We also learned that although the UConn men lost, the women won.

Monday March 27: This was the zoo day. For photos of animals (including the pandas) from the trip in 2000 look here. The weather was beautiful until about 1:30PM. It became chilly after that.

My breakfast at the Hampton was sausages with cold hard biscuits supplemented by fruit and cereal. The notes indicated that I took photos of the grounds around the Hampton. You will need to imagine the basketball goal and what the “Shriner stuff” might have been.

The zoo was located in Balboa Park. By this time I was familiar enough with the area that the drive there was a stress-free experience. We arrived at about 10:00. I parked the HHR near the sidewalk between aisle 4 and 5. From there it was an easy walk to the entrance. We did not need to stand in line because we already had tickets.

We made a beeline for the panda exhibit. There was no line at all. We got to see the six-year old that had been a baby for my first visit as well as the parents.

We then took the moving sidewalk up to the polar bear exhibit. Only one of them was out, but he put on a show for us. I remember that half of the exhibit was water, and you could easily see the bears when they went for a swim.

We got a bird’s-eye view of the park from the Skyfari ride. It had been included in the price of the combo (Zoo plus Wild Animal Park) tickets that we had bought. Denise and I did not do this. My recollection is that she was not good with heights.

When we were back on terra firma we walked down to visit the tortoises. One of them appeared to be horny. After that Sue went into the lizard and reptile mesa; I think that I stayed and took more photos of the amorous tortoises. We both then spent a little time in the reptile house.

We then went to see the orangutans in their new home. The notes indicated that I took good pictures of the baby. It was painful to write the last sentence. I have got to find those photos.

We ate lunch in the Treehouse Cafe, which was definitely aptly named. The photo at the right provided a good indication as to how hilly the zoo was. I ate a chicken Caesar salad with some chips and coke. Sue had clam chowder in a bread bowl and chocolate layer cake.

While we were eating the temperature dropped like a rock. The notes do not indicate whether I brought a jacket, but I probably did.

The gorilla enclosure allowed us to be within just a few feet of the mighty apes. The notes indicated that I was very impressed with the size of the silver-back’s thighs.

We next saw the hippo, but I was unable to snap any good pictures. The water was too dirty.

The flamingos did what flamingos do.

I think that the “express bus” that we took was similar to this one. The park now has a Kangaroo Bus that is a double-decker.

We then took the zoo’s express bus from stop 3 to stop 4 so that we could see the giraffes and the other hoofed animals. One of the giraffes was only two days old, but it was already pretty steady on its feet.

Sue was disappointed that we never saw any meerkats. We viewed their exhibit from three separate vantage point, but they all stayed in their burrow. It was a good thing that we had seen the sentinel at the Wild Animal Park. If not, she might have insisted on extending our stay in San Diego until she saw one.

We reportedly saw all of the following:

A horny wallaby.
Bactrian camels.
Some very active koalas.
Both Asian and African elephants drinking from a fountain.
Llamas.
Pigs.
Capybaras
At least one tapir..
A peacock that had flown up on a roof.
Quite a lot of topiary.

We enjoyed supper with Marva at the Imperial Mandarin Chinese restaurant. I had wonton soup and spareribs. Sue also had wonton soup and moo shu pork, which was apparently a specialty of the Imperial Mandarin.

One of the rear doors on Marva’s car did not work. After noting this fact I included the phrase “Simply Marvalous”.

We drove to the Black Angus steakhouse for drinks. The bartender’s name was Ryan. I had Scotch on the rocks. The notes stated that someone had a lemon-drop martini. I have a hard time believing that it was Sue. She usually ordered a Scotch if I did.

It is telling that the notes included absolutely no mention of the conversations. Either I was not paying attention, or I figured that I would remember it without prompting.

I must have had only one Scotch. I managed to pilot the HHR back to the Hampton without any difficulty.

Tuesday March 28: The original plan was to go to Sea World. However, it rained lightly all night long. By morning it looked pretty good, but the forecast was for rain all day, or at least all afternoon. We therefore decided to skip Sea World. The new plan was to make return trips to Balboa Park and Old Town.

For breakfast we ate egg pizzas (that’s what the notes said), fruit, and cereal.

This time we had no problem parking in Balboa Park. We saw busloads of kids and also witnessed a group of Mexicans or Mexican-Americans in blue warm-up suits.

I do not know what to make of the phrase “Bridge over Park Rd.” There is a famous bridge in Balboa Park, and there is a Park Blvd., but the one does not go over the other.

We saw a cactus garden and a rose garden. I also noted a pair of sneakers in a tree.

The people in the park that day were interesting. I saw a guy with a flag, and I overheard another guy who said, “I should have shot him again. I should have shot him four times.”

We visited the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center, and I picked up a daily schedule there and a flyer for an IMAX film about Greece. There was quite a bit of interactive stuff for kids in the area of the museum called Kid City. A few of the devices appeared to be broken. We watched a presentation on television entitled “Origins in Space”. It was about NASA and particularly the Hubble Space Telescope.

I don’t know why the word “Einstein” was included in the notes.

Sue and I enjoyed a cappuccino at Galileo’s Café inside the center and then watched an IMAX movie called “Greece: Secrets of the Past”. In the theater there you lean back and watch the film on a dome. I don’t think that this was a particularly useful way to learn about Greece’s past.

The statue of El Cid did not look much like Charlton Heston.

We saw a Venus flytrap, among many other species, in the Botanical Museum.

We walked past the Mingei International Museum, which promoted folk art and crafts from around the globe. We did not go inside.

We drove to Old Town again for a late lunch. We had tacos and a burrito at the Alamo Mexican Cafe. It got quite chilly. Sue wrote postcards, and I mailed them. The notes stated, “Alamo closed up.” I interpret this to mean that the patio area was closed because of the weather.

On our way to the car we found a store that was offering 50-65% off the regular price. The notes did not say what they were selling or whether we went in.

We drove back to the Hampton and took a nap so that Sue could stay awake during the opera, and I could prevent cartoon characters from appearing in the last act, as they had during the performance that Denise and I attended.

This time the San Diego Opera was presenting on a performance of Carmen by Georges Bizet. Both Sue and I had seen traditional productions of this opera several times. I owned a CD of the opera that used Bizet’s original version that included dialogue, not recitative. Every performance that I had seen had used recitative, which, in my opinion blunted the impact of Carmen’s personality.

We also had season tickets for the Hartford Stage Company when Mark Lamos, the director, was the artistic director. Both of us were quite sure that his Carmen would not be a traditional one, and we were right. The program for the opera contains 56 pages, but there is not a word about the production. The setting had been moved from Spain to an unnamed Latin American country and from the late nineteenth century to the thirties or forties. This really did not impact the arc of the story line much. Of course, gypsies were rare in Latin America, but it was not that hard to suspend disbelief. The famous Anvil Chorus did not seem anachronistic in this environment.

All performances of Carmen were sold out, but the two seats next to me were empty and at least one woman seated near us left after the first act.

I don’t remember whether I enjoyed the performance or not. The only detail that I remember was that one guy in the audience wore shorts. If it had been the dialogue version I feel certain that I would have mentioned it. The review in my notes was terse: “Liked Micaela. Good chorus. Great acoustics.”

It took a very long time to maneuver the HHR out of the parking garage. That’s often part of the price one pays for attending one of the ABC operas.

Back at the Hampton we enjoyed a late supper of leftovers consisting of moo shu pork and combination #1.

Wednesday March 29: When I traveled to the West Coast on business, I always returned on an overnight (“red-eye”) flight. The times of our return flights were not specified in the notes, but we obviously spent most of the day getting from San Diego to Enfield.

I woke up with quite a bit of energy and decided to go for a run. After a few minutes it started to sprinkle, and I returned to the hotel.

Since getting food is always somewhat dicey on airplanes and in airports we decided to treat ourselves to a full breakfast at the Spice House Café.⁹ It was less than a mile from the hotel. We had veggie frittatas and “gyros meat”, which I presume was lamb The portions were enormous. The very nice waitress, whose name I did not record, kept the coffee flowing. It rained quite hard during breakfast, but then it cleared up.

We returned to our room at the Hampton Inn, packed our things into the HHR, and checked out. Sue, needless to say, brought leftovers.

I stopped for gas at an Arco station. The pump wouldn’t accept my ATM card¹⁰ for some reason. I went to a nearby Chevron station that accepted the card. We then drove to the airport and returned the HHR to Avis. Either they did not notice the ding, or they didn’t care.

The notes said, “Raining in Salt Lake City.” So, we evidently changed planes there. I had been in that airport at least once before, but it is the only place in Utah that I have visited. The other states that I have missed (as of 2023) are Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, North Dakota, and Alaska.

We ate leftovers from breakfast on the flight from Salt Lake City to Bradley. There was plenty of time for Sue to watch a movie. She did not ordinarily like science fiction, but maybe “Aeon Flux” with Charlize Theron was the only thing that was available. I worked on sorting and editing my photos, the B4 deck¹¹, the notes, and playing bridge on Bridge Baron.¹²

Both our bodies and our luggage arrived at Bradley International intact. It was probably pretty late; we lost three hours in the air. I called Executive Valet, and they sent their bus to bring us to their lot.

As always, my Saturn¹³ was running and parked near the door of the office. It was a little disconcerting that the “Service engine soon” light was on.

No trip was over until we verified that the cats were OK. As the Saturn entered the driveway we saw a grey tiger-striped cat in the yard. This was not a good sign; he was not one of ours. Woodrow, as expected, greeted us as soon as we went through the door. He showed me that there was no cat food left in the gravity dispenser. I poured some into the metal plate that the cats ate from.

Giacomo made an appearance the next morning. The entertaining and exciting trip to San Diego was officially completed.

1. Sue was married (but estranged) when I met her in 1972. Her father-in-law, Chick Comparetto, lived in Enfield about a mile from our house. He looked after our cats on most of our big trips. His obituary can be found here.

2. At the height of its popularity AirTran operated 700 flights per day, many of them passing through Atlanta. It was acquired in 2011 by Southwest Airlines.

3. The park was renamed San Diego Zoo Safari Park in 2010.

4. In 2010 the monorail was replaced by a set of wheeled vehicles with similar capacity.

5. The restaurant closed in 2019 after twenty years in business.

6. Give the kid a break. His parents could not find the Smithsonian in Washington, DC.

7. Are you surprised to learn that he was pardoned in the waning moments of the Trump administration?

8. You do not need to go to San Diego to be entertained by the zoo’s polar bears. You can watch them on polar-cam.

9. The Spice House Café closed its doors for good in December of 2018. It had been in business for twenty-six years.

10. Perhaps the most puzzling thing in all of the notes is the fact that I used an ATM card to buy gas rather than a credit card. By that time I paid for everything with credit cards in order to amass points. I had separate American Express Cards for Hilton and Delta. I had used them to earn enough points to cover most of the costs of this trip.

11. I can’t be certain, but this probably refers to a deck of flash cards that I created for quizzing myself on Italian vocabulary. The English words were sorted alphabetically, one card per word; the Italian word or words were on the back. The B meant that deck contained English words that started with the letter B. They were sorted alphabetically. The 4 meant that this was the fourth deck. There were at least ten thousand cards in total. I went through the entire set of decks more than ten times.

12. Bridge Baron was a terrific software product that facilitated the learning of bridge, both play and conventions. I had Bridge Baron15 on my laptop. The last version of the software that could be installed on your computer and run without the Internet was Bridge Baron29. In 2023 the app Bridge Baron Gold is still for sale.

13. The Saturn lasted until the end of the year. I traded it in for a beautiful sapphire-blue 2007 Honda Accord coupe.

1995 December: Hawaii Trip Part 3

Posted on August 20, 2021 by Mike

Maui and the Big Island. Continue reading →

The third major stop that Sue and I made on our Hawaii trip in 1995 was on the island of Maui. The flight from Lihue to the principal airport on Maui at Kahului took about forty-five minutes. En route our plane passed over the islands of Oahu and Molokai¹. Maui is not as old as Oahu, which in turn is newer than Kauai. Maui has two large volcanic structures, which makes the island look like a large irregular circle and a smaller one that slightly overlap each other. The large mountain is Mt. Haleakalā, which is over 10,000 feet high, almost twice as high as Mt. Waialeale on Kauai. The other mountain is generally just called West Maui Mountain.

Most of the people who resided permanently on Maui lived in the area between the two mountains from the outskirts of Kahului southwest to Kihei. That was also the location of almost all the island’s retail establishments and almost no tourist attractions, of which there were a very diverse multitude elsewhere.

We stayed in a nice but inexpensive hotel in the old port town of Lahaina, which is on the west coast of the West Maui part. The resorts on Maui were (and still are) mostly north of Lahaina or south of Kihei. These areas are very dry, as opposed to the eastern side of Mt. Haleakalā, which is a tropical rainforest. In the nineteenth century a series of canals and ditches dug by the East Maui Irrigation Co. brought water from the east side to the west. The purpose was to improve the sugar cane production, but the main long-term effect was to turn Maui into a mecca for all kinds of tourists.

The roads in Maui were only slightly more complicated than those of Kauai had been. A highway ran all the way around the seacoast. In the northeast corner of West Maui it was only one lane wide in some spots. In the southwest side of East Maui there were unpaved sections that were dangerous to drive. That corner of Maui was (and is) subject to flash floods of biblical proportions. There is also a road that runs along the west side of Mt Haleakala and one that zigzags up to the rim of the caldera.

We rented a car and drove from the airport to our hotel, Plantation Inn in Lahaina. Of course, we had to circumvent the mountain, which meant that we spent roughly the same amount of time on the highway as we had spent in the air en route from Lihue.

Our hotel was about three blocks from the ocean. We stayed for two or three nights. It must have been three. I clearly remember doing activities that certainly would have consumed more than two days worth of daylight. Sue and I both loved the Plantation Inn². It was convenient to everything, it offered free breakfasts, the room was nice, and it was within our price range.

Both Molokai and Lana’i are clearly visible from the northwest coast of Maui. Lana’i is only 16.4 miles from Lahaina.

On our first evening on Maui a person representing several of the tourist spots came to the hotel, made a presentation about them, answered questions about them, and sold tickets at a discount, of course. All tickets sold everywhere in Hawaii are always at a discount. I remember that all the other attendees were jealous when they heard how long our Hawaiian vacation was.

We bought two tickets for the trip in a van to watch the sun rise over the caldera of Mt. Haleakalā and to ride bicycles down. Someone from the tour company would pick us up at the hotel at 3AM. We also purchased tickets for an excursion across the Maui Channel to the island of Lana’i³ on a later day.

So, we did not get much sleep that first night. The temperature can get down to near freezing at the top of the mountain. I thought that I would be warm enough in a couple of sweatshirts and a nylon jacket, but I was wrong. Fortunately, the company that ran the tour brought along enough insulated ski jackets with hoods for everyone.

The drive up the mountain was slow but uneventful. It was, of course, dark the entire way, and so we were not able to enjoy any views. The last few miles on switchbacks seemed to take forever. Nevertheless, we arrived at least an hour before dawn. The tour guides brought thermoses of coffee and cocoa to keep us warm as we awaited the big event. While we shivered, the guides unloaded the bicycles from the vans.

By the time that the sun peeked over the eastern edge of the caldera, perhaps one hundred people joined us on the western edge. I don’t honestly remember the colors of the sunrise. The sky was already pretty well lit because the sun had already cleared the horizon of the ocean several minutes before it appeared atop the mountain. I wasn’t disappointed, and so it probably was at least somewhat spectacular.

I definitely remember the silversword plants near the edge of the caldera. They were unlike anything that I had seen before. The interior of the caldera was also very interesting. There were clouds below us, but below them we saw plenty of vegetation, and hiking trails were also evident. It had not occurred to me that people might come to Haleakalā just to explore the caldera.

Almost as soon as it was full daylight, our bicycle guide asked loudly, “Who are Sue and Mike?” When we identified ourselves, he told us his name (I forget it) and his hometown of Springfield, MA. He said that when he lived there he often came to the stores in Enfield to shop.

We posed like this, but Sue was on the seat facing forward. I had my hands on her shoulders, my left foot on the rear fender, and my right foot raised high. There is a photo of it somewhere.

Here is how the descent worked⁴. About a dozen people were in our group. We each were given a bicycle. One van preceded the cyclists, who were more or less in single file. A second van followed the group to prevent any motorists from trying to overtake us. Pedaling was hardly ever needed; gravity did all the work. The group made several stops to allow the cars to go by and to enjoy the scenery. I am pretty sure that near the bottom of the mountain we stopped at a restaurant for breakfast.

Before we departed out guide explained all of this and said that we would be starting at 10,000 feet and descending to the beach. One cyclist asked him how high we would be at the end. He answered the question with his own pertinent question: “How tall are you?”

The guide assured us that the bicycles were regularly maintained, and a mechanic rode in one of the vans. Sue’s bike was fine. Everyone’s was fine, except mine. I knew bikes. I rode bikes constantly as a kid. I rode bikes in 1973 and 1974 in Hartford and occasionally in the subsequent years in Plymouth. I felt very at home on one.

This bike was possessed by a demon. As we coasted down the road my bike started pedaling backwards on its own! I could not stop it/ It was all that I could do to maintain my place in line. I certainly paid no attention to the scenery, breathtaking as it no doubt was.

I don’t think that any mechanic could have fixed the problem. An exorcist might have had a better chance. Nevertheless, at the first stop I asked the mechanic to check out the bike. He immediately determined that something was seriously wrong with it. They had brought a spare bike, which they let me ride. I found it much easier to control.

However, there was a reason why this bike had not been assigned to someone originally. The brakes, which were activated by levers beneath the handles, were probably adequate for a normal bike ride, but after a few miles of downhill coasting I had both brakes pressed tightly to the handlebars, and the bike was still accelerating.

A few times I actually needed to employ the Fred Flintstone method of braking with the soles of my feet. I am serious.

When I told the mechanic about the braking problem, he said that he could not fix it on the spot, and he did not have any more bikes. He offered to let me ride in the van with him. Since I still had quite a bit of rubber left on the bottoms of my sneakers, I returned to my wheeled mount for the rest of the journey. It was a little harrowing, but I managed.

Every time that we stopped, everyone in our group peeled off a layer of clothes. By the time that we reached the beach and turned in our bikes, it was at least 80°. Don’t ask me to describe the scenery; I was concentrating on my braking. When we finally reached it, the beach was nice. I enjoyed the beach.

The guides drove us back to the hotel in time for lunch. I don’t remember for certain what we did in the afternoon, but I recall that on one afternoon or evening we stumbled upon a live concert in a park. We sat on the lawn for a while and listened to music. I cannot remember for sure whether it was Hawaiian music, rock & roll, or some combination. As always, Sue really enjoyed the music. I soaked up the atmosphere.

On the second day (I think) we decided to drive to Hana. This seemed a peculiar thing to do because the destination, the town of Hana, was a real nothing. However, there is was an abundance of things to see on the way. The drive itself, with its twists and turns and one-way bridges, was sometimes an adventure. There was always the chance of a flash flood, but the weather was actually dry and very pleasant.

I made sure that we left early in the morning. It was pretty important for haole tourists to avoid attempting this trip during the rush hours. The native Hawaiians knew this road very well, and they had little patience with tentative drivers. I remember that we had a plan to pick up some food that had an advertised special, but for some reason this did not work out. I don’t remember where we ended up eating any of our meals that day. We might have stopped at roadside stands.

We did stop to gawk at some waterfalls. By that point, however, we had already seen quite a few fairly spectacular ones in Kauai. So, we were looking for something different. We definitely stopped at the Ke’anae Arboretum. I have never been much of a botany enthusiast, but I was impressed by the large number of rainbow eucalyptus trees with their multi-colored barks.

I am pretty sure that we actually drove a little way past Hana. The guidebook had reported that the Sacred Pools of Ohe’o were worth a trip. So, we stopped there for a few minutes.

I don’t think that we made any stops at all on the return trip. We were rather desperate to reach civilization again while there was still enough light to see the road.

On the way back we noticed Mama’s Fish House, which is on the north coast of East Hawaii, where the big waves are. We either stopped there for supper that evening, or else we decided to eat there later. I remember that it had a very impressive view of the rugged north shore. I have never been much of a fish eater. Catholics who grew up in Kansas when I did think of fish as what people are forced to eat on Friday. When I think of fish, I think of frozen breaded rectangles.

Our other big adventure in Maui was much less stressful. We took a short cruise on a catamaran across the Au’au Channel to Lana’i. There were perhaps twenty passengers on our boat. I am pretty sure that Sue and I were the oldest couple.

The boat had large powerful engines, but it also had a sail. At least once during the trip the captain turned off the engines and raised the sail. This was, I think my first time ever sailing. Few people in Kansas buy sailboats for their ponds, and no yachtsman from the Sunflower State has ever won the America’s Cup.

We definitely saw glimpses of whales from a distance while we were at sea. I have a vague recollection that a few dolphins swam alongside the boat for a while, as well.

At the time most of Lana’i was owned by Dole⁵. Pineapples had been grown there in great numbers, but pineapple production was abandoned in 1992. At the time of our visit the company was trying to find other uses for its assets. It rented out the park at Hulopo’e Beach to tourist groups. It was a nice spot for some snorkeling and a picnic. The boat brought plenty of gear for snorkeling, and the crew gave us a quick class in how best to do it. I did not pay too much attention, and I was reprimanded when I did it wrong.

Snorkeling provided the opportunity to see some very colorful fish and other sea creatures. Unfortunately, no one had taught them any tricks yet, and so I soon lost interest.

I am pretty sure that the crew served us lunch after the snorkeling was over. We then were escorted around in large jeeps tp some of the camps on the elevated parts of the island that were formerly occupied by plantation workers and managers. It was of some slight historical interest, but no one told us the whole history of the island. For Sue and me this was just a relaxing interlude in an otherwise hectic period on Maui.

I might be imagining this, but I have a dim recollection of driving up to the ‘Iao Valley, which is close to the center of West Maui. The rugged scenery there was enough to draw tourists. However, the site actually has more historic interest than esthetic.

During the trip I had begun to become more and more curious about Hawaii’s history. I was surprised to learn that Hawaii did not have a king until 1810, about the same time that Europeans became interested in the islands. The man who united the kingdom was Kamehameha the Great. His greatest victory was the Battle of Kepaniwai, which occurred in 1790 in the ‘Iao Valley within sight of the Needle. A decisive factor was Kamehameha’s use of two cannons supplied by two British subjects who became the king’s closest advisers..

One evening we came up with the idea of having a sunset picnic on the beach. We bought some food from a grocery store in Lahaina and drove south until we found a suitable beach. We were pretty much by ourselves. I don’t think that we cooked anything. We had a good time just spotting whales and eventually watching the sun disappear into the Pacific Ocean.

The flight from Kahului to Kona Airport on the Big Island took about forty-five minutes. During the flight we were treated to a pretty good view of Mt. Haleakalā and, from a distance, the two huge mountains on the Big Island, which almost no one ever calls it by its official name, Hawaii

The Big Island is gigantic in comparison with the other islands. It is bigger than Rhode Island and Delaware combined, and it contains over 63 percent of the total area of the state of Hawaii. Moreover, because of the lava flow from Kilauea, the percentage is constantly growing.

It turned out that this last leg of our time in Hawaii was as much educational as it was entertaining. As on the other islands, we set out just to relax and have fun, but we ended up learning a lot on the Big Island in a short time.

If you go to the Big Island, and you want to explore at all, you really must rent a car. We stayed at the Kamehameha Hotel, which was close to the airport, but we intended to see as much of the island as possible. So, we immediately rented a car.

I guess that you could consider our hotel⁶ a resort—it had a Liberty House inside, and there was a luau every evening on the beach. However, it did not have that feeling of a prison in which the clients are both protected from intrusion by outsiders and actively discouraged from leaving the grounds. That has long been my impression of the big gated resorts.

On the ground floor of the hotel was a fairly large display that narrated in some detail the story of Hawaii’s kingdom, from the great triumphs of Kamehameha the Great not long after the American Revolutionary War through the tragic overthrow of Lili’uokalani in 1893 and her scandalous imprisonment. For me there was one surprise after another: Kamehameha received critically important help from a man from Wales and a man from Lancashire. So many members of the royal family died from Western diseases unknown on Hawaii. In fact, the king and queen both died in London while waiting for an audience with George IV. The Hawaiian royal family then became Christians, dressed as westerners, and had close ties to Queen Victoria and her family.

I found this all to be fascinating, and it ignited a desire for me to discover the reality underlying the Disneyfied stories that have been handed down. I had never really felt this way before about anything historical. Since then I have been inspired to conduct independent detailed analyses about many events.

Sue and I spent most of our time on the Big Island in our rental car. We headed south immediately mostly because I wanted to see just how far south we could actually get. The ultimate goal was the southernmost⁷ point of the entire United States, which we could reach after about an hour and a half of driving.

In the first half of the drive to the south we passed several coastal towns on our right. Most of the “land” to the east looked almost like asphalt. It was lava from an eruption of Mauna Loa that had not yet disintegrated into dirt. Mauna Loa, the largest active volcano in the United States, last erupted in 1984.

112 miles of this followed by a marathon? No thanks.

We were driving through the area that hosted the annual Ironman Triathlon. It consisted of a 2.4 mile ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile bicycle ride, and ending with a marathon of 26.2 miles. I had always considered the participants as a breed apart, but when I saw the course in person I was stupefied. There was no shade! None at all! And it practically never rained on this side of the Big Island. For the participants it must have seemed like exercising in a toaster oven.

On the second half of the journey to South Point we saw cattle ranches on the hills to our left, and a pretty good-sized herd of cattle was grazing there. We had enjoyed steaks from cattle raised on this island during our rain-soaked barbecue on Kauai.

South Point, the whole southern tip of the island (also known as Ka Lae), is a National Historic Landmark, probably because it is where the Polynesians first landed when they discovered Hawaii. It was (and is) extremely windy. However, on the day that we were there, the sea was relatively calm, nothing like the satellite image shown at the right.

When we arrived at the point a couple of people were wading in the water ten or twenty yards from the shore. I took off my shoes and went in. I walked out just far enough that I was two or three meters farther south than either of them. I then turned around and hurried back. So, I can safely state that for a few seconds I was farther south than anyone else on American soil.

This stunt was at least a little dangerous. The Halaea Current has a strong reputation for pulling people out to sea. If the current grabs you, you can try to ride it, I guess, but the nearest land mass to the south is several thousand miles away.

We drove back to the hotel the same way that we came. There was really no choice. I don’t remember what we did in the evening. We again avoided going to the luau, but it was not possible to avoid listening to it.

Our last night in Hawaii was scheduled to be spent at Volcano House, a lodge run by Ken Direction Corporation of Hilo for the National Park Service. It was adjacent to the west rim of the largest caldera of Kilauea, the most active volcano in the United States. We checked out of our hotel and began the long drive across the island. For most of the journey the largest of the mountains, Mauna Kea, was on our left and Mauna Loa was on the right. Their elevations are 13,803′ and 13,678′ respectively.

Once the mountains were behind us, the climate changed dramatically. Hilo and the surrounding area are a tropical rainforest.

The main reason that we even included the Big Island on our itinerary was so that Sue could visit her friend Patty Johnson, who was assistant editor the magazine Dancing USA⁹. Sue had talked with her over the phone but had never met her in person. Patty lived in a small prefabricated home on the northeast side of Kilauea, which, at the time of our visit was spewing red-hot lava on its southeast flank.

Sue and Patty mostly conversed about dancing and the magazine. I remember that Patty mentioned that her son sometimes earned money by harvesting “mac nuts”. I did not realize that macadamia nuts were a cash crop on the Big Island. In fact, I knew nothing at all about them¹⁰.

Patty recommended that we drive to the black sand beach, Punalu’u, on the south shore. Sometimes legally protected sea turtles came ashore there to bask in the sun.

From Patty’s house we drove up to Volcano House, where all forty-two rooms offered stunning views of the caldera and beyond. When we checked in, we received some unexpected news. We had vaguely heard about the folderol about the federal budget that culminated in a shutdown of the federal government, but we were still surprised when we learned that, although we could stay there that night, Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park would be closed for an indefinite period starting the next morning.

The only effect that this really had on us was that we immediately scurried over to the nearby Jaggar Museum, which would be closed on the following day. We found that the little museum was a great source of information about the geology of volcanoes.

We learned that Kilauea was a very active and complicated entity. The chain of islands that we call Hawaii were all generated by the same process, which was (and is and will be) still ongoing. A very hot spot below the bottom of the Pacific Ocean was causing this disruption. The ocean floor was very slowly moving from east to west over this spot. The volcanoes created on the other islands were dormant or nearly so, but Kilauea was definitely still affected.

We saw and smelled steam vents but no eruptions.

At the time that we were there, there had been continuous eruptions since 1983. However, they were, for the most part, not explosive eruptions. Instead lava often flowed down from a vent in the side of the mountain all the way to the ocean where it was very gradually increasing the size of the island as the relatively cool ocean waters solidified the liquid lava.

Fortunately this lava flow was generally on top of lava flows that had occurred a few years earlier. Consequently, no inhabited areas were in imminent peril.¹¹ We heard that it was possible to get quite close to where the lava was trickling into the sea, but we did not have time even to think about attempting such a feat.

At the museum we also learned about the hot spot’s other big project, the Lo’ihi seamount, which is an underwater volcano about twenty-two miles southeast of the Big Island. If it keeps going at its current pace, it could surface in less than 100,000 years. I doubt that anyone from our species will be around to notice it.

Sue and I also made a short visit to the black sand beach at Punalu’u. The sand was, indeed, black. I do not remember whether we saw any sea turtles. If we did, they did not perform any noteworthy tricks.

Our trip back home was not without incident. At some point during our adventures, the zipper broke on one of our suitcases. My recollection is that we tried to hold it shut with a strap at first, but eventually we purchased another suitcase somewhere. However, Sue refused to throw away the defective luggage. In her words, “There are people who fix zippers.”

I was unwilling to pay for an empty broken suitcase to be flown from Hawaii to Connecticut. So, after trying to give it away, Sue finally let me junk it at the Hilo Airport.

The flight from Hilo to Honolulu was fun. From the window I got good views of Maui, Molokai, and Lana’i, as well as the coastline of the Big Island that we had not had time to explore. I remember nothing about our red-eye flights back to New England. I am quite sure, however, that the first thing that we did upon entering our house was to make certain that Rocky and Woodrow, our pet cats, were OK.

1. Although the island’s name is sometimes pronounced as four syllables, it officially has only three. The last one rhymes with “dye”.

2. We liked it so much that we stayed in the same hotel when we returned to Maui in 2018, as described here. In some ways we liked it even more the second time.

3. The apostrophe indicates that Lana’i (unlike the word spelled with exactly the same letters in exactly the same order that means “balcony”) has three syllables: lah NAH ee.

4. This method is no longer allowed. Individuals can still ride bicycles down from the rim of the caldera, but groups of cyclists must start no higher than the entrance to the park, which is 3,500 feet lower. While we were on the island a young Japanese woman who was in a bicycle group lost control, slid into the upcoming traffic, and was killed.

5. In 2012 Larry Ellison, the founder of Oracle, purchased 98 percent of the island from the company that owned Dole. He has subsequently invested a lot of money in the island. There are now two Four Seasons Resorts! I doubt that I would recognize much about the island in 2021.

6. The official name of the hotel is now The Courtyard King Kamehameha’s Kona Beach Hotel. It is owned and operated by Marriott.

8. Part of the answer to the trivia question: Name the southernmost, northernmost, westernmost, and easternmost states. The other three correct answers are Alaska, Alaska, and Alaska.

9. The magazine appears to be defunct in 2021. I also could not find any mention of Patty on the Internet.

10. In 2021 I generally eat exactly one freshly baked white chocolate macadamia nut cookie after both lunch and dinner every day.

11. That changed in 2018, they year in which lava flows wiped out several settlements and destroyed hundreds of houses. The national park was closed on May 17, just before eruptive activity in the caldera propelled volcanic dust 30,000 feet into the air. Explosions, earthquakes, and collapses of structures continued on the mountain for five months.

In 2020 a water lake that had formed in the caldera was suddenly replaced by a lake of lava. A fiery plume then erupted to the height of 30,000 feet. The eruptions eventually dissipated. On May 26, 2021, the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory announced that Kīlauea was no longer erupting. The lava lake had completely crusted over a few days earlier.

2003-2020 The Enfield Pets: Part 2

Posted on July 9, 2021 by Mike

Three black cats. Continue reading →

The story of the pets who shared the house in Enfield with Sue and me begins here. It recounts the first fifteen years of our lives there with, for most of the period, two cats named Rocky and Woodrow. Rocky died in the summer of 2003 after a very full life.

In late 2003 or early 2004 Sue’s sister Betty told us that a friend of hers had a family of cats that were too much for her to manage. Sue went to meet her one evening and chose on the spot to adopt a long-haired black male that was about the same size as Rocky and Woodrow. The woman called him Fluffy, which, of course, would never do. I dubbed him Giacomo after my favorite opera composer, Giacomo Puccini, and Giacomo della Chiesa, better known as Pope Benedict XV.

For a few weeks Giacomo was, to put it mildly, very wary of his new surroundings. We did not keep him cooped up for more than a day or two, and thereafter I personally spent a lot of time looking for him and trying to remove him from various hiding places. I remember that one day he somehow crawled under the dishwasher in the old kitchen. Fortunately, he was just shy, not a bit aggressive or even defensive. As soon as I got a good grip on him he let me pull him out of his hiding spot without much of a struggle.

Giacomo on the chair showing off his thumbs and his anteater tail. Woodrow looks up from the floor.

Finding him when he hid outdoors was even more challenging. He liked to retreat beneath some evergreen bushes on the north side of our house. When I approached him from one side, he slipped over to the other. It took me at least thirty minutes to retrieve him whenever he did this.

Woodrow, who made new friends very easily, took the new kid under his wing. Giacomo followed his lead in nearly everything.

Eventually, Giacomo became comfortable in both our house and our yard. However, he did not seem to comprehend the value of the cat door (described here). It looked like a trap to him.

Finally, one day Sue and I decided to team up to help him understand it. Sue held him on the outside of the cat door and pushed him through. I was in the basement standing on a chair by the cat door. When he appeared on the top shelf of the bookcase, I grabbed him, took him in my arms (which he liked), and walked around the basement enough so that he could figure out where he was. I then returned him to the top shelf by the cat door and pushed him back through it. Sue grabbed him and held him for a minute or two. Then she pushed him back through to the basement again.

All of a sudden I could see the light bulb appear over Giacomo’s head as he emerged into familiar surroundings. The message penetrated through all the fear to his little brain. He finally realized that this little door meant that he could come and go as he pleased. It was no trap; it meant freedom!

Meanwhile, to our surprise, Giacomo continued to grow. After a couple of months he was a good two inches taller than Woodrow and three or more inches longer. He had one broken (or at least shorter) fang that bothered him not even a little. He also had polydactyly on both front paws. Each had an extra toe sticking out on the inside. They looked a lot like thumbs. One other thing was quickly noticeable about Giacomo—he was left-pawed. I called his left front paw “Lefty”. If it came towards you, it generally meant business.

During his first summer in Enfield Giacomo cleaned out the mole colony that had resumed residency when Woodrow retired as master exterminator a few years earlier.

For the most part Giacomo followed Woodrow around the house and the yard. Woodrow habitually came in to the bedroom every morning when my alarm went off at 5 AM. Giacomo began to join us. I was expected to acknowledge both of them, although Woodrow wanted nothing more than a rub or two on his head. Giacomo liked to be rubbed all the way down his spine, but he did not like his belly rubbed.

In the summer the coolest sport for a nap was this sink. Giacomo learned this trick from Woodrow.

From the start Giacomo preferred me over Sue. Whenever I sat down on a chair he jumped onto my lap. If I was seated at my desk (which was really a tabletop astride two file cabinets), he often got bored and went exploring on the table. If I was watching TV, he lay lengthwise on my lap (on a stadium blanket that I always set there) when he was younger and across it when he got older. I don’t know why he changed. Whenever I lay down he walked (he was so long that he hardly needed to jump) up onto the bed and settled himself next to me.

I never teased Giacomo in the way that I tortured Woodrow with that stick and feather. However, I occasionally took advantage of the fact that he allowed me to do almost anything to him. I liked to lift him up over my head and make him pretend to walk on the ceiling.

Woodrow and Giacomo were left “home alone” during our trips to Village Italy in 2005 (described here) and Eastern Europe in 2007 (described here).

Suburban raccoons are too fat for cat doors.

Woodrow was still around for a startling occurrence in May of 2008. The cat door drew the attention of a masked varmint, a raccoon that was too chubby to fit through the opening. Raccoons are known to be very crafty, but this one used brute force to solve the problem. He made short work of my (very) amateurish carpentry by pulling the door out of its wooden frame in the window. Sue and I knew that the rascal had made it all the way into the house when we found the cat bowl empty and water all over the floor. Cats are very meticulous when drinking water; they seldom spill a drop. Raccoons are meticulous in a different way. They wash their food before they eat it; they always spill water, and they never clean up after they are finished eating.

Chick Comparetto let us borrow his Havahart trap, and he showed Sue how to use it. She then put it outside near the cat’s entrance (which we had temporarily closed off) and put some food in it. On the very first night the raccoon got caught in the trap. Sue and Chick then transported the raccoon—still in the cage—in her car across the Connecticut River to Suffield, where they released it in a wooded area.

Sue immortalized the raccoon adventure by recording a video of the release in Suffield. You can watch it here.

I bought a new sturdier cat door and affixed it to the board blocking the window a little more securely.

In the late summer of 2008 Woodrow died. He was eighteen years old, the same age that Rocky was at his death. Woodrow was weak and very ragged looking the last week or so. I stayed home with him on his last day.

Despite my closeness to him, I wasn’t overcome with grief when Woodrow died. The Woodrow that I wanted to remember was the devious rascal and hunter, not the decrepit bag of bones of his last few days. I still retain so many vivid memories of him. He was an immediate friend to everyone whom we let in through a human-sized door, but I think that, at least in his younger years, he would have fought to the death to defend against an intruder trying to get through the cat door.

I buried Woody under the burning bush, his favorite outdoor napping spot. I don’t honestly know whether Giacomo missed him as much as I did. He could not have missed him more.

For about a year Giacomo was our only pet. Then Sue learned that Betty’s friend, who was absolutely thrilled to find out how much we liked Giacomo, told Sue that she could have Giacomo’s litter-mate, whom she had named Frankie. I insisted on elongating his name to Franklin.

Franklin was black, like Giacomo, but he had short hair, and he was not as long and lean as his brother. I thought of them as the anteater and the aardvark. Giacomo was the bigger anteater with his luxurious fur coat. Franklin was the much less attractive aardvark.

Franklin did not share Giacomo’s pleasant disposition and love of human companionship. He never fought with his brother, which we recognized as a big plus. However, Franklin did not especially like either Sue or me. He would only occasionally let us pet him. mostly when he was outside. Once or twice, however, I actually found him up on the bed with Giacomo, but after a couple of strokes he became antsy and departed.

This sturdier version of the cat door was installed with the new addition in 2013.

The aspect of living with us that Franklin hated the most was the monthly application of flea drops. I suspect that he had never been allowed outdoors at his previous residence. He discovered the cat door in the basement without our assistance, and he seemed to appreciate the freedom that it provided. However, he had never learned the fundamental lesson of civics class: with all freedom comes responsibility. In this case, the monthly flea drops were the price civilization exacted for his liberty.

This is the basement side, with a ramp down to the floor.

When the weather was warm Franklin put me through a frustrating and exhausting ritual every month. When I was sure that Franklin was in the house, I shut the door to the basement so that he could not retreat there. I then chased him from room to room trying to corner him. Sometimes he hid under one of the barnboard shelves in the library. When he did, I had to wait for him to move. Eventually I always trapped in the bedroom, where he would take refuge under the bed. I had to remove the mattress and box springs to get at him. I always eventually managed to apply the treatment, but the experience was a gigantic pain in the coondingy¹.

In contrast, I merely waited for Giacomo to jump in my lap. He did not mind getting the drops at all. He trusted me completely.

Giacomo and Franklin stayed home together while Sue, I, and our friends the Corcorans toured Paris and the South of France in 2009 (described here). We also took a Russian River Cruise in 2010 (described here) and an ill-fated tour of South Italy the following year (described here). I learned of no untoward incidents either caused by or inflicted on either cat.

For some reason Franklin insisted on exploring our neighbor’s³ property. The gentleman who lived there called me aside while I was trimming the forsythia bush near his property one day and informed me that he had a problem with our cats. They made his dog bark too much. I told him that I would see what I could do.

I thought of responding, “Oh, you have a dog problem. I thought that you said that you had a cat problem.” After all, in Enfield, although dogs must be fenced in or kept on a leash, there is no law against cats roaming free.

I was pretty certain that Franklin was the instigator. Whenever I saw him near the neighbor’s property, I chased him back to our yard. However, I worked all day, and I slept at night. Franklin had ample opportunities to roam. One day, when I was not home, the dog owner accosted Sue and told her that if he caught one of our cats on his property, he would kill it. I won’t repeat Sue’s precise response, but it was not neighborly.

The situation did not escalate any further. I wrote a letter to the neighbors that explained the situation with our cats and offered to pay if they did any damage. Shortly thereafter the family got rid of its noisy dog, and eventually the man of the house departed as well.

In 2012 Franklin got hit by a car on North Street. I did not dig a grave for him, the only domestic animal that I have ever really disliked.

After Franklin’s death Giacomo was our only pet³ for quite a few years. He went through a period in which he spent a lot of time on Allen Street, a dead-end street that was directly across North Street (the site of Franklin’s untimely demise) from our house. Quite a few outdoor cats lived in the neighborhood and congregated informally. The situation reminded me of the old Top Cat cartoons.

I did not like this new lifestyle, but there was not much that I could do about it without turning Giacomo into an indoor cat. Sue was equally concerned. She came to see me when I was in my easy chair wearing my cardigan sweater and reading a magazine. She said, “Ward, I ‘m worried about Giacomo.”

Although I don’t remember attributing his injury to the evil influence of the other gang members, one day Giacomo came home with a wound that had formed an abscess. The vet who examined him told me that if this happened again, we might need to keep him inside. That was something that we really wanted to avoid. She also told me that he definitely had a heart murmur, but she did not recommend doing anything about it. It made me think, however, that Giacomo would probably not match the longevity records of Rocky and Woodrow.

Eventually Giacomo’s wanderlust subsided. By 2016 he almost never left the property. That was the year that another black cat decided that he wanted to take up resident at the Slanetz house, home of Sue’s siblings, Don and Betty, and their father, Art. Betty and Art were quite fond of the newcomer, a very stocky fellow with an inflexible tail that measured only four or five inches. Betty named him Bob in honor of his tail—bobcats are sometimes seen in the area. The tail reminded me more of a crank or handle.

Unfortunately, Betty’s own cat had a fiercely hostile reaction to Bob’s presence. Betty therefore asked Sue to adopt him, and, needless to say, Sue agreed. Bob moved into our house on December 8, 2016, and for about two or three weeks Bob and Giacomo hissed at each other. They eventually became tolerant and, in time, quite friendly.

Giacomo held down the fort in Enfield by himself on several of our tours and cruises. Bob and Giacomo stayed in the house by themselves while we took the bridge trip/vacation in Hawaii in 2018 (details here).

Bob developed one very peculiar tendency. From the beginning his joints were not very flexible, especially by cats’ standards. Something also seemed to itch him on his spine, and he tried desperately to get at it with his teeth. To do this he rested his weight on one shoulder and used a back leg to spin around furiously. It reminded me of someone breakdancing.

After a while some tufts appeared on Bob’s spine. They looked like matted clumps of fur, but he would not let us touch them at all. They kept getting bigger, and eventually it became clear that they were growths of some kind. Maybe we should have taken him to the vet, but at the time Bob would not let me touch him under any conditions. Sue decided to let him be. Every so often she would say to him, “Oh, Bob, what am I going to do with you?”

Prior to Bob’s arrival Giacomo almost never made a sound unless I rolled over his tail with my office chair. Bob was quite talkative, and he had a pleasant voice. Giacomo began to vocalize, too, but he almost always squawked at a high volume. He sounded just like a blue jay. This was his only bad habit. We just had to put up with it.

Giacomo and Sue sometimes napped together.

Meanwhile, Giacomo was definitely beginning to show his age. Whereas he formerly sprang up to my lap or to his favorite perch on the back of the sofa, by 2019 he didn’t jump at all. He had to climb. He had also lost the ability (or at least the inclination) to retract his claws. When he walked on a bare floor, he always made click-click sounds. His right front paw also definitely bothered him. He never ran, and he walked with a noticeable limp.

This is a rare shot. B0b was seldom allowed in Giacomo’s main napping spot atop the couch. Bob always stuck out his right rear leg when resting.

I spent the week after Thanksgiving in 2019 in San Francisco at the NABC⁴ tournament (described here). Between and after the rounds my thoughts often turned to Giacomo. I really feared that he might die while I was gone. I would not have been too surprised if Bob had died as well.

I was wrong on both counts. Both Bob and Giacomo were still reasonably healthy and active when the Pandemic changed all of our lives in March of 2020.

1. I learned this word while I was in the army. I think that it is derived from a Korean word that sounds similar.

2. Because of the location of our house, we really had only one next-door neighbor, the residents of 1 Hamilton Court. I think that the person with whom I conversed was named Chris Simons. He no longer lives there in 2022, but I think that his wife still does.

3. I am not counting our third rabbit. At some point before, during, or after Franklin’s stay with us at 41 North Street, Sue accepted (without consulting me) another rabbit from a relative or a friend of a relative. She explained that it could live outdoors, and she promised that she would care for it. She neglected it, and it died within a month or two.

4. Prior to the Pandemic three North American Bridge Championships were held every year at rotating sites by the American Contract Bridge League.

1992-2014 TSI: AdDept Client: Neiman Marcus

Posted on July 6, 2021 by Mike

The store with only two sales per year. Continue reading →

My recollection is that the first inquiry from Neiman Marcus came in early 1992 On the other end of the phone line was the manager of the advertising business office. Although I worked with her pretty closely for a fairly extensive period of time, I don’t remember her name.

She must have responded to a mass mailing that I sent after the installation at Hecht’s was under control. I addressed those letters to advertising directors. So, the advertising director must have given it to her. In our telephone conversation she explained to me how they did things at Neiman’s. I told her that I thought that our system could help her with some of their problems. I then sent her materials about how AdDept worked and tried to relate aspects of AdDept to Neiman’s situation.

She asked us to pay them a visit. I arranged for Sue Comparetto and me fly to Dallas to meet with the potential users and to do a demonstration for them at IBM’s local office. The business office of Neiman’s advertising department was on one of the upper floors of the company’s flagship store on Main Street.

When we arrived there I was surprised to find that the rest of the advertising department would not be involved in the discussion. Although Neiman Marcus was still using the system in 2014, I never spoke with anyone from the rest of the department. They used an advertising agency for most of their advertising, including newspaper ads. In fact, the lady that we were dealing with did not even want the rest of the department to have access to the system. She really just wanted a system to keep track of expenses and co-op.

The stores only had two sales per year— First Call in February and Last Call in August, or maybe the other way around. They used the traditional 4-5-4 retail calendar (described here) with which we were already familiar, but Neiman’s first month was August, not February.

My AdDept demo needed a major change of emphasis. I usually emphasized that the main reason for a centralized database was for everyone to take advantage of work done by others. She did not want the others involved at all. Also, the most impressive part of the demo was how quickly a newspaper ad could be scheduled. She had little interest in that task, which was the agency’s responsibility. Nevertheless, the reaction to what I showed was quite positive.

After the demo Sue and I rented a car and drove to Austin for a little R&R with Marlene Soul, one of her friends from high school. She was, if you can believe it, a consultant in feng shui, which she claimed was mostly about being organized.

Marlene took us to a comedy club in downtown Austin, which was definitely a swinging place. I also remember sitting around at her house while she tortured her cat with a long flexible semi-rigid wire that ended with a feather. The slightest twitch made the feather jump and fly.

I made a note to myself to buy one of these when I arrived back in New England so that I could use it to drive my cantankerous cat Woodrow crazy. I did, and it did. He had to hide under the couch so that he could not see it.

The following morning we went birding with Marlene and a group that met every Saturday morning. I was exceptionally bad at it. I have had poor vision since the third grate, and I have always been notoriously bad at finding things anywhere. However, this gathering did spark enough interest in me to become a little more knowledgeable in ornithology.

Upon returning to the office I spent a couple of days putting together a detailed proposal for Neiman Marcus. It did not include as much custom programming as usual. The main objective was for the AS/400 to be able to generate a file to be used by the expense payable system on the mainframe.

The business office manager accepted the proposal a short time after receiving it. I sent her a software contract, which she signed. I then ordered the hardware and system software from IBM and we received an installation date. I knew that we would not have the interface done by then, but we would need some data to test the interface anyway, and there would be no data on day one.

From our perspective this was by far the easiest sale that we had ever had, and the installation, which took place in August of 1992, also went rather smoothly. I had to spend quite a bit of time fine-tuning the coding for the incredibly complicated interface with their corporate financial system. I did not care. I loved to do that kind of work because, once it was in place, the chances of them scrapping the system were minuscule¹.

People in the IT department², however, were furious that the lady from the advertising business office had signed a contract with TSI without consulting them. They were nice enough to me, and they were quite cooperative about establishing the interface between the two systems. However, her career at Neiman Marcus did not last long after AdDept was installed and working smoothly.

The key to the success of the installation was effecting the financial interface. It involved a considerable amount of two-way communication between AdDept and the corporate mainframe. Gary Beberman, who had been TSI’s liaison for the first AdDept installation at Macy’s East (described here), was extremely effective as the go-between for TSI and the mainframe programmers.

I found this list of the steps involved in a document written in 2000:

1. A list of general ledger accounts is downloaded. AdDept’s general ledger account table is updated.
2.A list of departments with the accompanying hierarchy is downloaded. The department table and the rest of the hierarchy is updated.
3. Expenses are uploaded to the accounts payable system. The accounts payable system feeds the general ledger.
4. Co-op transactions are also uploaded to the accounts payable system. The accounts payable system feeds the general ledger.
5. General ledger transactions in the advertising accounts are downloaded at the end of the month. An AdDept program compares the downloaded transactions with the uploaded transactions. A list of exceptions is printed. Additional transactions are placed in a batch file, which can be converted to real AdDept transactions.

The walk down to Dealey Plaza is an easy one.

I made a fairly large number of visits to Dallas during the installation period. Thereafter, a few years would sometime go by between requests for visits. Here are a few memories that I have maintained of those trips.

Neiman’s flagship store at Christmas time.

In the nineties I spent a lot of time in the American Airlines section of the DFW airport. My favorite restaurant there was a Mexican cantina.
I also spent a lot of in autos driving between the airport and either Dallas or Fort Worth, where TSI had several clients. Sometimes I took a cab; usually I rented a car from Avis.
On my first solo trip to Neiman’s I was a little late and a little lost. I crossed Main Street in the middle of the street. A cop stopped me with every intention of giving me a ticket for jaywalking. I was polite, however, and he let me go with only a warning.
One of my early visits was in December during the running of the Dallas Marathon. I went out for a jog and watched some of the real runners near the finish line. This must have been on a Saturday or a Sunday.
The temperature on that day was around 30. I was wearing stretch leggings, shorts, a tee shirt, and a nylon jacket. Most of the real runners were wearing shorts and singlets. At Neiman’s on Monday the business manager, who was a originally from Pittsburgh, confided to me that she and her husband were concerned about whether the cold weather might harm their child if they let her play outside. She admitted that no one in Pittsburgh would have thought twice about their kids being out for hours in such weather.
On another occasion I walked to the State Fair grounds on a Friday evening. I was surprised to discover thousands of people celebrating Juneteenth. I had never heard of this event before.
One summer evening after working at Neiman’s I took a stroll down to Dealey Plaza, which is the the location of the ramp to I-35. I wanted to conduct a personal investigation of the interchange, the “grassy knoll”, the Texas Book Depository (which had been converted into a museum), and the other locations associated with the assassination. A few minutes earlier the fatal presidential motorcade had passed right by Neiman’s flagship store, which is .6 miles from the plaza.
One day after the system was operational the business office manager drove me to lunch for some authentic Texas barbecue. I cannot say that I was very impressed. I have never understood the idea of cooking all of the flavor out of meat just so it could be coated with barbecue sauce.
Neiman’s made a big deal out of Christmas. Not only did they publish their famous catalog with one outrageous gift idea, but they also sponsored an evening in which their VIP clients could shop without dealing with the riffraff. The store open that evening only to those who were sent an invitation. Each was assigned an employee to tour the store with them. I am not sure what the employees were expected to do. I looked for members of the Ewing family, but I did not see any.
On my visit on September 9, 2000, the temperature reached 109°. It was also the thirty-fifth day in a row with no rain. That was the day that I understood why the streets in Texas are almost all concrete, as opposed to asphalt. Anything that was paved with asphalt turned gooey when the temperature got that high.

I did not actually work with most of the subsequent Neiman’s employees enough to burn in lasting memories. I did find some notes that provided me with some information on some of them;

I was surprised to discover that many of the successors to the female business office manager mentioned above were Aggies, that is, graduates of Texas A&M. The first was Jeff Netzer³, who worked at Neiman’s from 1996-1999. He called TSI a few years later when he was employed at Sewell Automotive Company. I saw Jeff there when they invited me to assess the possibility of us designing a system for this company. This experience is described here.
The second Aggie was named Brian Harvey⁴. He worked in the advertising department from 1998-2000. I met him in 2000, but I don’t remember him.
After Brian’s departure the advertising business office was run by Alea Montez. I remember that she called the office for support several times. I don’t think that I ever met her.
The last Aggie was Brian Davis⁵, whose title at Neiman’s was Media Analyst. I don’t remember him at all. I don’t think that I ever met him in person.
A striking omission in this list is everyone in any other area of advertising. I never succeeded in interesting anyone in even considering what TSI had done for so many others in similar positions.
I had quite a bit of contact with a number of IT people at Neiman’s. I met a few in person, but I don’t remember any names.
In the 2000’s Neiman’s hired an AS/400 consultant to help them with connectivity and to upgrade their system. We had a good relationship with him, but I don’t remember his name.

1. In fact, the AdDept installation at Neiman’s lasted longer than that of any other client. Part of the explanation for that was that Neiman’s was one of the few AdDept clients that was not bought out by another company. When we closed TSI’s doors for the last time in 2014, Neiman’s was still using AdDept. For all that I know, it may have continued after that.

2 The IT people worked in a building in Las Colinas, a few miles from the flagship store in downtown Dallas. I went there a couple of times and met a few people there.

3. Jeff Netzer’s LinkedIn page is here.

4. Brian Harvey’s LinkedIn page is here.

5. Brian Davis’s LinkedIn page is here.

1990 A Memorable Fortnight in Search of Camelot

Posted on June 10, 2021 by Mike

Innocents abroad again. Continue reading →

If I had read *The* *Innocents Abroad*, I might have brought a notebook on the trip to London. I definitely brought at least one to Milwaukee.

In December of 1989 I had won a story contest (described here) held by the Hartford Courant. The prize was a two-week trip for two to England!

I should mention at the outset that neither Sue nor I took any notes on the trip to England. I think that Sue must have brought her camera, but I have not located any of her photos. I definitely took no photos. So, all of the following content was based on our memories, and the photos that are include, with the sole exceptions of the tattered notebook on the right, the shot of Rocky perched on the toilet, and our souvenir coaster, were all taken by others.

I might have made a mistake in the dates, but the schedule worked out so perfectly that my confidence level is rather high, especially considering that the events happened more than thirty-one years ago.

My preparation for my first trip across the Atlantic was, by necessity, greatly inferior to my efforts for our twenty-first century vacations. Research was much more difficult in 1990. The Internet sort of existed, but there was no Google or Wikipedia. We had Cox cable in our house, but Cox did not offer Internet services until the last half of the nineties. Even AOL dial-up was still three years in the future.

Moreover, I had no time to research. The installation of TSI’s AdDept system at Macy’s in New York was entering phase two (as described here), and, at the same time, we were desperate to sign up a second large retailer to use the system that we had worked so hard to develop for Macy’s. TSI was in a rough spot. We no longer had a dedicated marketing person, and we were also quite short on cash.

We obtained a guidebook somehow, probably from the library. Sue and I decided that we wanted to see as many famous sights as possible, but, despite what I had said to Lary Bloom at the Courant, on the way we would also try to investigate some places that were related to the Arthurian legends.

Sue worked with the Jameson Travel people that the Courant had hired to handle the details of trip. The newspaper provided enough money to cover all transportation costs (including auto rental) and lodging. We had to pay for food and anything else that we wanted. Our basic plan was to eat big breakfasts at the hotels and either lunch or supper at a restaurant. The other meal would be snacks that we picked up at whatever store we chanced upon.

We had a pretty good plan with four bases of operation:

London for three nights. Starting with our arrival early in the morning on Thursday, February 22, 1990, and ending with a car rental on Sunday the 25^th.
Wells for three nights with side trips to Glastonbury Tor, Stonehenge, Wookey Hole, and Cadbury Castle. We drove through, or at least very near to, Bath (BAHTH) on the way.
Plymouth for two nights with a side trip to Tintagel (tin TAH gehl) and a stop in Bristol on the way to York to enable Sue to shop for miniatures on her thirty-ninth birthday.
York for three nights with a drive through the Dales and, on the return trip to London, a short stop in Barnsley so that Sue could see Locke Park as well as an afternoon stop in Warwick Castle.
Back to London for two nights. Since we gained five hours flying west, we would arrive in Boston at lunch time or even earlier.

The story of my trip actually begins on a February flight from Bradley not to London but to Chicago. It was an early morning United flight on Monday the 19th. For some reason most of my airplane horror stories have involved flights on United airlines. The one to Chicago, however, was quite uneventful.

From O’Hare I took a cab into town for a meeting at One IBM Plaza with some IBM sales reps who specialized in the retail sector. Some really big retailers had headquarters in Chicago. Sears and Walgreens came to mind. Marshall Fields still had its headquarters in Chicago at that point, too. I tried to explain AdDept to them, but they had trouble understanding it. I am not sure that they even realized that retailers had advertising departments.

From IBM regional headquarters I took a cab to the train station, where I bought a ticket on the next Amtrak train to Milwaukee. The schedule said that it was a ninety-minute journey. Unbeknownst to me, this train happened to be the famous Empire Builder, which went from Chicago all the way to Seattle and Portland. Union Station in Milwaukee was its first stop.

When I boarded my car, it was rather empty. I found a seat by a window, lifted my suitcase up to the overhead rack, and sat down to read.

To my surprise, a man who may have been in his sixties approached me and asked if he could sit next to me. Here was my chance. All that I had to do was to utter the word “No.” I, however, chose politeness. This would be a better story if I had introduced myself and asked the gentleman his name, but I was not that polite.

I didn’t say that it was an express train.

My unexpected companion explained that he and his wife were traveling together to Oakland, CA, to visit their daughter. They liked to take trains, but on long trips like this one they soon tired of each other’s company. So, they each sought out other people to sit with and engage in conversation.

The gentleman was certainly friendly. He asked me where I was getting off and, after I responded, what I was going to do in Milwaukee. Nobody could explain TSI’s unique business in just a few minutes, and my activities that day would seem confusing to anyone. I did my best, and he listened politely.

The cars were a little sleeker, but this was still the Milwaukee Amtrak Station in 1990.

Then, without being asked, he told me that he was from a small town south of Chicago. He may have also worked the price of corn into the conversation at some point as I glanced longingly at the mystery novel balanced on my lap.

Somehow the topic worked its way around to his daughter’s marital status, which was evidently “divorced”. She had moved to the west coast and was living by herself “because, you see, he turned out to be one of them gay fellows.”

Fortunately, this revelation came just as the train was pulling into Milwaukee’s Union Station. Some other passenger would undoubtedly get to hear the rest of the story. Actually, probably several unsuspecting people would be subjected to it. In the cab from the station to my first appointment it occurred to me that the idea of sitting with strangers on the train was probably the wife’s.

My destination in Milwaukee was the office of an ad agency, the name of which I don’t remember. I met there with some people to discuss the possibility of the agency purchasing an AS/400 and running ADB, the version of TSI’s ad agency system designed for that computer, on it. The employees at the agency treated me very nicely and seemed quite interested in what the system had to offer.

At the close of the business day I took another cab to the Mark Plaza Hotel in downtown Milwaukee, which was within walking distance of the Boston Store. P.A. Bergner and Company owned that store and a large number of other department stores in the north-central states. The advertising department for the entire chain was located on one of the top floors of the store.

Before going to bed I called Sue and told her about the two meetings as well as my encounter with the long-distance rail traveler.

At Bergner’s I met with the production manager, Dan Stroman, and the loan room manager, Sheree Marlow Wicklund. Their loan room was much simpler than Macy’s. The merchandise seldom was sent to outside photo studios. One person could really run it without a computer.

We had not written a system for keeping track (called “trafficking”) of the status of the various aspects (copy, layout, art, photography, etc.) of production jobs yet. So, what Dan was interested in was a new area for me. I also met with the finance and newspaper people. More details are here.

In 1990 a small restaurant in the Milwaukee Airport sold these delicious brats.

After an entire day gathering system requirements, I left with a lot of notes in my spiral notebook, a folder full of sample reports, and my suitcase. I took a cab to the airport. I bought two Usinger’s brats for supper, spent a few minutes in the airport’s used book store, which, as I recall, had a set of Goethe’s complete works that was short a couple of volumes.

Nobody made this drive in an hour in the evening on February 13, 1990.

It was snowing lightly when I boarded the plane. My journey home went through Chicago. That first leg was always so short that the seat belt light was never turned off.

We had barely taken off when the pilot announced on the intercom that O’Hare Airport had just closed because of an ice storm. So, the plane was being diverted to the nearest available airport, General Mitchell International Airport, the same one from which we had just departed.

When we had landed, an agent proudly informed us that United had hired buses to transport all the passengers to O’Hare. So, evidently the airport itself was still open, even if all of the runways were closed. I was a little fearful of a bus ride in a storm that was ferocious enough to frighten the airport that was a hub for two of the nation’s largest carriers, but I really needed to get back to Enfield to attend a meeting scheduled for the next day.

The rest of the trip went as smoothly as could be expected. The bus that I was on made it to O’Hare. I had to wait in line to speak with a United agent, but I was then booked on a flight to Hartford that was scheduled to depart early the next morning.

Since the cancellation was due to the airport’s decision, United did not offer to put me up at a hotel. I had no credit cards and too little cash remaining from all of those cab rides to pay for a room on my own. So, I snatched as much sleep as I could in one of the seats that were specifically designed to prevent people from nodding off and missing their flights. I had a lot of company.

For the next two decades I was a regular at Executive Valet Parking.

The flight the next morning left on time and arrived in Hartford on time. I took the shuttle to the airport parking lot, ransomed my car, and then drove back to Enfield.

I arrived at our house a little before noon. I called the office and told them that I would take a shower, grab an hour or so of sleep, eat lunch, and then come into work. I did not sleep much, but otherwise I followed that plan.

In the afternoon a couple from New Jersey appeared at our office. I don’t remember the details of this meeting. I seem to recall that it had something to do with our pitch for Paramount, which is described here. These people had experience with UNIX, the operating system preferred by Paramount. “UNIX” had always been sort of a dirty word in our office.

After they left I formalized my notes from my three meetings in Chicago and Milwaukee and sent letters to the people with whom I had met. That is what you had to do in the days before email. Because we were scheduled to depart for London the next evening, I left it up to Kate Behart to follow up on the phone with them.

I did not feel hopeful about the meeting in Chicago and the meeting at Bergner’s. The last meeting in our office was just a flyer. On the other hand, my hopes for the ad agency in Milwaukee were pretty high. If someone from the agency called our references, I thought that we could get it. Our clients loved us, and they always praised our work.

After supper I packed. I remember bringing along several books by Jack Vance. Chick Comparetto¹ had volunteered to take care of our cats, Rocky and Woodrow, while we were absent. It was not a weighty responsibility. They had their own door. I had purchased plenty of Cat Chow. If Chick forgot to give them water, they were not shy about helping themselves to the toilet. If they got hungry, Woodrow was adept at ripping open the bag of food. They probably also had two or three survival tricks that I had not yet discovered.

We must have brought either travelers’ checks or a lot of cash on the trip. I am quite sure that we had no credit cards.

Someone drove us to Logan. I have a vague recollection that it might have been Sue’s sister Betty.

I remember nothing about the experience in the airport in Boston. Our plane did not leave until late in the evening. We must have eaten something in the airport, but it was not memorable.

We lost five hours in the flight across the Atlantic, and so it was rather early in the morning when we landed at Heathrow. We had no trouble with our luggage or with customs. That aspect of travel was much easier in those days.

We also had no difficulty finding the driver who had been hired to meet us. I don’t remember his name or what he looked like, but I recall him being very welcoming in a reserved, British manner. He asked about the contest, and he recommended that we invest £5 each in the double-decker bus tour of London.

I am pretty sure that the Camelot was somewhere on this map.

He drove us right to the Camelot Hotel², our home for the next three nights. It was located on or near Sussex Place quite near Hyde Park. As soon as we entered the hotel, Sue and I had the same thought: “We are staying at Fawlty Towers!” Manuel was missing, and the details were all different, but the feel was remarkably similar. I suppose that at one time there were small urban hotels run by amateurish entrepreneurs in the United States, but by 1990 they were pretty much extinct.

We had to sign the guest registry, which was a huge book lying open on a desk, not a counter. A television was on behind the desk, and—I am not making this up—an episode of Fawlty Towers was playing.

My recollection is that the hotel comprised eight or ten nondescript rooms.We found ours and unpacked. We were both tired, but adrenaline overpowered the jet lag.

The person at the desk told us where we could catch a double-decker bus. We left our oversized key at the desk, walked to the location described to us, mounted to the second level of a bus, and took the tour. It was, as our driver had promised, a good way to get a feel for the city.

I don’t remember where we ate lunch, but afterwards we took a stroll in Hyde Park. It was very relaxing. I was surprised to see that people still used the Speaker’s Corner as a public pulpit. At some point an interesting thought popped into my head. I looked at my watch and then remarked to Sue, “Do you remember that guy on the train to Milwaukee that I told you about? I just realized that he is still on that same train.”³

That evening we walked a few blocks over to Baker St. I don’t remember what our motivation was originally, but when we arrived there we naturally tried to locate 221B. It didn’t exist. Moreover, there was no 221 at all.

We did find a steakhouse near that location, and, although we knew that the English were not famous for their cuisine, we gave it a try. The restaurant had a sound system that played pop tunes. The one that was playing as we walked through the door was “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty, which had been released twelve years earlier. The coincidences on that day were truly unbelievable. The food was OK, and Sue and I had fun trying to name the other songs. “Baker Street” never came up on the sound system again.

I only remember one other restaurant that we patronized in London. It was a Greek restaurant⁴ that was a block or two from the hotel. My recollection is that it was in the basement of some building, but I may be wrong. I distinctly remember that the food was absolutely delicious, by far the best of any of the food that we ate in England. I also remember that there were only two other people in the restaurant. They were seated at a table as far from us as was possible. They seemed to be just chain-smoking, drinking coffee (or something in coffee cups), and speaking in Greek. I struggled to hear a familiar word or phrase, but since the only Greek I knew then was thousands of years out of date, the task was hopeless.

In London we walked and/or took the tube everywhere. I thought that London’s Underground system was wonderful. It was so easy to figure out. I was used to the mass transit systems in New York and Boston. They were both haphazard and uncomfortable by comparison. I even bought a tee shirt advertising the London Underground. Here are things that I remember Sue and me doing in London:

We definitely went to the British museum. I was thrilled to see the real Rosetta Stone there. It was right out where you could touch it. They had lots of other stuff, of course, but the most memorable for me were handwritten lyrics by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Those were definitely kept in cases where no one could touch them. I also remember the pigeons on the steps. There must have been a thousand of them.
We spent the better part of a day at the Tower of London. I was very impressed by the armory and the Yeoman Warders in their fancy dress. I had no use for the massive collection of shiny rocks, but others stood in line for a chance to adore them. One of the few souvenirs that we bought on the entire trip was the coaster shown on the right.
We walked to Buckingham Palace, but we did not watch the changing of the guard. It was chilly that day. While we were in the vicinity, we went to Westminster Abbey and were a little grossed out that so many people were entombed there. I guess that they have to put the cadavers somewhere. We also saw Parliament, #10 Downing Street, Big Ben, and the Thames.
Sue wanted to visit St. Catherine’s House in London to look up information about some of her ancestors on her mother’s side, the Lockes and Kings. I didn’t go in with her. I don’t remember what I did, but just looking in windows is quite entertaining in London. I think that I might have found a bookstore.
We were very impressed with the retail on Oxford St., which I found much more exciting and dynamic than the stores on Fifth Avenue in New York.
The ducks in the ponds in Hyde Park were very striking. They had complicated and beautiful markings. Neither of us had seen the like, not even in zoos. I also really liked the coots. Their oversized feet impressed me.
From Hyde Park we could see both Kensington Palace, which at the time was the home of the Prince and Princess of Wales, and Royal Albert Hall. We didn’t visit either one. It probably would not be cool for someone from the Colonies just to drop in on Chuck and Di, and we already knew how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.

We did not find that being a pedestrian in London was too difficult. At the enormous intersections there were usually pedestrian subways. The hardest part for us was remembering to look to our right first when attempting to cross a side street.

On our very last night in England we went to see Agatha Christie’s play, The Mousetrap, at St. Martins Theater. It was very enjoyable. Maybe we should have tried something a little more daring, but I am very happy to say that I viewed this play when it was only in the thirty-eighth year of its record run.

The worst part of our entire trip began when we picked up the rental car. I think that the travel agency provided us with transportation to the car rental agency. It was only then that Sue revealed that she had specified a standard transmission car, and she was afraid to try to drive it. So, I needed to learn how to shift with my left hand on a perilous journey from the very heart of London to the M4 during the morning rush hour.

I made many mistakes. Other motorists even honked at us a few times, probably the only horns that I heard while we were in the U,K. The British seemed more reluctant than their American counterparts to draw attention to bad driving. Embarrassed and frustrated, I did manage to get the car onto the freeway without causing any accidents.

A little west of Reading Sue suddenly announced, “There he is! I just saw a bear!”

Intent on my driving, I dared not gawk. I took a quick peek in the direction that she pointed. I saw nothing. At the time I did not know that bears had been extinct in England for fifteen hundred years. It probably was just an ordinary Bigfoot.

We took the M4 almost all the way to Bristol. Driving on the M roads in England was no more challenging than driving on interstates in the U.S. However, when we exited from the M4, the rest of the drive was on the A roads, which were very narrow by American standards. I remember that when we drove through the outskirts of Bath I was fearful of scraping against the stone walls that formed the border of the road. Fortunately, we encountered very few cars coming in the opposite direction. When we finally reached our destination in Wells, I was happy that the trip was over and more than a little anxious about the next nine days on the road.

In Wells we stayed at the Red Lion Hotel, which is described here. I think that the building at some point was converted to other uses. I remember that our room had a four-poster bed. I had seen them in movies, but I don’t think that I had ever slept in one.

We spent the rest of that first day in Wells exploring the town. The focus of attention was definitely the huge Gothic cathedral that is dedicated to St. Andrew the apostle. Although it is now the see of the Anglican Bishop of Bath and Wells, it was constructed in the late middle ages when England was a Catholic country. It seemed totally out of place. Wells is little more than a village, and the cathedral is actually set apart from the town. I would have expected the town to have grown up around it.

The Bishop’s Palace was equally awesome or perhaps even more so. His Lordship George Carey⁵ evidently was not apprised of the arrival of the esteemed visitors from across the pond. We saw his home from a distance, and we were even treated to the sight of some episcopal long-johns hanging out to dry. However, we were not invited into the palace grounds where, according to Wikipedia, croquet games are rather common. I would have loved to hear someone explain the rules of the English version of the game.

A word about the weather: Although all of England is well north of New England, the weather in late February and early March was much nicer than what New Englanders would expect. It seemed more like mid-April. Flowers were out, and the grass was green. We wore jackets every day, but we were seldom cold. We also were lucky not to encounter much rain.

For me the most interesting feature in the town of Wells was the memorial on the sidewalk to Mary Rand, a resident of Wells who won the gold medal in the women’s long jump in the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo. The plaque measured out the exact distance that she jumped.

What I remember most about those days was the driving. No matter which of us was at the wheel, both of us became irritable. For some reason the roundabouts gave us the most difficulty. It was bad enough to have to remember to go clockwise. The big problem, however, was the signage. The highway numbers were seldom provided at the exits. Instead a sign displayed the name a town that was somewhere on that section of road. This was, I am sure, useful for people who knew where all of those towns were, but they did not help us at all. Furthermore, it seemed as if at least half the time the name on the sign was “Taunton”, and visiting Taunton was not on our agenda

I am not sure where we went on which days, but I am sure that we went to all of the following places:

Our guidebook described a place called “Cadbury Castle”. It was supposedly someone’s idea of where Camelot (or maybe Camalet) was. We had a lot of trouble finding it. Finally we came upon the village of North Cadbury. We asked someone at a pub where Cadbury Castle was, and they directed us down a one-lane road that was actually just two tracks. Those were the last humans that we encountered on this adventure.

We went as far as we could by car. We stopped the vehicle, locked it, and set off on foot.

Ahead of us were two troughs, a lot of thick underbrush, and a formidable grassy mound. We made our way through the underbrush for thirty or forty yards. Sue got attacked by stinging nettles and was forced to retreat in agony.

In those days if there was a hill in front of me, I climbed it. I made it to the top of this so-called “hillfort”, but I saw no trace of a fort. On the top of the hill a dozen or so cows were peacefully grazing. They ignored me. I could also see Glastonbury Tor in the distance. That was something, I guess.

To be fair, I should add that the sun was out. The legend is that on a misty day you can see the Once and Future King and his famous knights.

When we arrived back at the hotel, Sue asked someone what to take for stinging nettles. They informed us that the best treatment was a plant called “dock”, which always grew near the nettles. That was not in our guidebook.

We also drove to Glastonbury Tor, another ancient hill in Somerset. A lot of people think that this is a magical place. it certainly has an unusual shape. Evidently in the middle ages a monastery was there. Legends abound about it being associated with King Arthur, but there is a dearth of evidence.

A paved path now leads to the tower atop the tor. I don’t think that it existed in 1990.

I don’t remember a lot about our visit here. I don’t clearly recall the tower at the top of the hill at all. Therefore, I was skeptical as to whether I climbed to the top. Sue, however, has told me that I did. Evidently I don’t remember the tower because no one was allowed to enter it. Therefore, its distinguishing feature—no roof!—was not visible to me.

Sue also reported that a dozen or so New Agers were busy absorbing Glastonbury’s vibes.

The good thing about it was that the town of Glastonbury was actually fairly easy to find. I can’t say that about most of the other sights in Somerset. We had a devil of a time finding Stonehenge. Surely, there must have been a lot of tourists who wanted to see these big old rocks. Nevertheless, there was precious little signage to indicate their location.

We were not allowed as close to the stones as the people in this photo are.

We did find it, but it was probably the biggest disappointment of the entire trip. At the time no one was allowed to approach, much less touch the stones. I don’t recall that we ever were within one hundred feet of them. I honestly think that we would have gotten more out of a film about the place.

By this time we were getting rather tired of driving around Somerset searching for legendary hills and ancient inanimate objects.

Our last stop in Somerset, however, was delightful. Wookey Hole is a set of caves that are located just a few miles to the northwest of Wells. We knew about the caves from the guidebook, but we were surprised by the fact that there were actually other really enjoyable things to see and do nearby.

The caves were quite interesting. We took a little tour with a local guide. The best part of it was the way that she pronounced Wookey Hole. The first syllable was at least a fifth higher than the rest of the name. Since we had heard no human speech anywhere near any of the other attractions in Somerset, it was nice to have someone explain the geology of the caves.

In addition to the natural formations, someone had constructed a small museum⁶ that emphasized a few diverse elements of the culture in and around Wookey Hole.

The paper-making demonstration was the most educational. Until then I had absolutely no idea how trees and rags were turned into paper. The penny arcade machines were also something that I had never seen before. Visitors could even play the games using old-school pennies that they could buy there. The carousel section had complete carousels (going clockwise, of course), as well as stunning individual statues. I remember seeing a beautiful lion, but I was unable to find a picture of it on the Internet.

Sue and I found our visit to Wookey Hole both fun and relaxing. We then undertook the drive up to Cheddar Gorge. I am not sure why we did not stop here. Sue absolutely loves cheese. In retrospect I have trouble understanding how she could have resisted the temptation to stop and sample one of her favorite cheeses.

Our next destination was Plymouth, which is a genuine city on the south coast. On the way there we took a slight detour to drive through Exmoor, which includes some really diverse and beautiful areas.

Our hotel in Plymouth was not as memorable as the first two. I have a vague recollection that it also had a restaurant. We took a short pedestrian tour of the city, mostly so we could say that we had seen the spot from which the Pilgrims departed.

I remember that at the restaurant I was served some Devon Cream. I had never had this before and remarked about it to Sue. My face must have registered disgust because the waiter rushed over to ask me if there was something wrong. This, by the way, never happens to me in the U.S.

The main reason that Sue and I bothered to come this far west was to have somewhere to stay while we ventured to Tintagel, the ruins of a real castle in Cornwall on the Atlantic coast.

Tintagel⁷ was definitely worth visiting. However, it was a difficult drive from any direction. Furthermore, a fairly long walk was (and evidently still is) required to reach the ruins from the parking lot. We went there in February, and a very cold wind was blowing in off the Atlantic. We did not get as much out of this experience as we might have if the weather had been nicer or we (i.e., Sue) had been in better condition. We did get a look at the castle ruins and Merlin’s cave. The view of the ocean was stunning.

I am not sure about this, but I think that we decided not to drive directly back to Plymouth. Instead we headed to Barnstaple, a city with which we were familiar from playing the British Rails game. All of the cities in this section are at the base of a very high cliff. This accounts for the peculiar fact that all of the rivers flow to the south.

On Sue’s birthday we left from Plymouth with the intention of reaching York by supper time. I asked Sue what she wanted for her birthday. She said that she wanted to shop for miniatures at a store she knew about in Bristol. So, that is what we decided to do.

Somehow we came up with an unusual plan. We drove to a location on the outskirts of Bristol, which in 1990 had about 400,000 inhabitants. We parked the car and took a city bus downtown. Sue somehow knew which bus to take and the stop at which we needed to exit. When we got off of the bus, Sue looked around but could not see any familiar buildings or street names.

She did find a Dr. Who-type phone box (not booth in England). Somehow she figured out how to make it work. She called the store. The woman who answered asked her what she could see from the phone box. Sue told her. The woman merely said two words: “Turn around.”

Sure enough, Sue found herself looking at the miniatures store. She went in; I did not. I had enough trouble—even at that age—dealing with full-sized objects. While Sue was shopping for tiny things, I walked around and looked in windows. If I discovered a store that sold books or games, I probably went inside. I don’t think that I bought anything, but Sue definitely did. Good! It was her birthday.

We somehow caught another bus that brought us back to the car park. We fired up our vehicle and easily found our way back to the M5. Sue received one more present. We got off of the throughway at Cheltenham and drove through the Cotswold country to Bourton-on-the-Water the home of the Model Village. It took about half an hour.

I think that this is the model, not the real village.

I probably would not have made this side trip if I had been by myself. However, Sue has always felt a special attachment to the Cotswolds and particularly its thatched roofs. The Model Village itself is definitely worth seeing once. It was a nearly exact replica of the real Bourton-on-the-Water within which it resides. What I found the most interesting was that the model itself is indeed modeled at the same one-ninth scale. I naturally wondered if that model included a one-eighty-first model of the model and so on. I mean, some people write on grains of rice; what is the limit?

My attitude might help explain why, although everyone likes working with me, nobody ever asks me to go anywhere with them.

The remainder of the trip to York was uneventful. We stayed for three nights at the Royal York Hotel, a huge very old hotel near the train station. In one way I was glad that we did not go any further north. The people in the north spoke perfect English, of course, but the accent was so strong that it was difficult to understand.

The other memorable supper that we ate might have been our first night in York. I don’t remember the rest of my order, but the vegetable was broccoli. It had been cooked so long that it had turned grey. The waiter, who had emigrated from Greece, noticed my horror. He told me that the English always overcooked the vegetables. I conversed with him a little. I told him that I had taken ten semesters of Homeric and Attic Greek in high school and college. He did not seem too impressed. He probably knew that these classes would not have helped me understand him. I later learned that while modern Greek grammar has not changed much through the millennia, the vocabulary and pronunciation had evolved drastically.

I think that Sue let me do most of my exploring of York on my own. While I was out walking around the city I think that she visited the Railway Museum, which was very near the hotel.

I never pass up a chance to walk the walls of a city. York’s were probably the best.

I remember visiting the stunning York Minster, which was awesome both inside and out. It must surely be the most impressive church in England. I am quite certain that I climbed as high as they allowed in the ancient cathedral. The view of the city and the countryside was breathtaking.

I also walked around atop the ancient stone walls of the city. I cannot remember whether I made it all the way around, but I recall thoroughly enjoying this experience.

York was such a delightful old city. It was very pleasant to experience it both from street-level and from above.

Sue and I definitely visited the Jorvik Viking Center⁸ together. This museum emphasized the history of the area before the arrival of the Normans in the eleventh century. Many lifelike displays depicted the lifestyles of the Vikings who inhabited the area. The details were based on archeological excavations that produced thousands of objects.

We also went for a drive in the Yorkshire Dales that we knew from the television series All Creatures Great and Small. We stopped at a house or store for some reason. We talked with a lady there who used the word “fortnight”. I told her that no one in America ever used the word. She asked me what Americans said instead. She seemed mildly surprised when I replied “two weeks”.

After we left York we made two stops on our way back to the Camelot Hotel in London. The first was in Barnsley, where we searched for Locke Park, named after one of Sue’s relatives, a railroad magnate named Joseph Locke. We stopped to ask for directions. We were told that it was at the corner of Locke and Park. Where else? Sue is not a direct descendant, however. Joseph and his wife Phoebe had only one child, whom they adopted.

Our second stop was at the fabulous Warwick Castle. This stop was recommended by one of TSI’s clients, Mary Lee Pointe at Avon Old Farms School. I had mentioned to her that we were going to England and wanted to see at least one castle. She said that sh had visited several of them, and Warwick Castle was the most interesting.

The castle and its grounds made a fitting end to our motoring excursions. I cannot imagine a more awe-inspiring setting that was matched by the opulent displays in the interior. As I recall, we had a picnic lunch together on the grounds.

We made a memorable pit stop on the way to London. The facilities themselves were mediocre at best. What got my attention was a sign at the entrance demanding “NO FOOTBALL COACHES.” A “coach” to Brits was a tour bus. “Football” referred to the game called soccer in the states. So, the rest area actually prohibited busloads of soccer hooligans.

We managed to locate the car rental agency in London. I don’t remember how we got ourselves and our luggage to the hotel for the last two nights.

I don’t remember which of the activities that I listed in the first London section were actually performed on our last full day in London. I am pretty sure, however, that, as I mentioned, Sue and I attended the theater on our very last evening.

“Memorable” is definitely the right word for this”‘fortnight” in England. I can hardly believe how many things we did and how vividly they have remained in my memory and Sue’s—with no notes at all. How times have changed! It is now a titanic struggle for both Sue and me to recall what we did the day before yesterday.

One thing that I cannot remember clearly is what we did about the business. In the course of the two weeks, we must have called the office at least four or five times. I cannot recall needing to deal with any pressing problems.

1, Chick Comparetto was the father of Sue’s first husband. He lived less than a mile from us. He died in 2020. His obituary is here.

2. Alas, there is no longer a Camelot Hotel in London, and I was not able to identify any hotels that might be successors. Perhaps the building was converted to some other use.

3. This is my favorite shaggy-dog story of all time, and it is 100 percent true.

4. I think that this restaurant might still be in business in 2021. A restaurant called Halepi seems to be in the right location, and everything mentioned on its website, which can be visited here, rings true.

5. His Lordship George Carey became Archbishop of Canterbury, England’s ranking clergyman, in the following year. He retired in 2002. Like most bishops everywhere he got entangled in scandals about reporting clerical sexual abuse. In 2017 he resigned his last formal relationship with the church, which meant that he was no longer allowed to officiated at services.

6. Not many people were at Wookey Hole when we visited. I remember thinking in 1990 that this place needed some good old American marketing. Maybe Ambrose could have helped. Subsequently it has been Disneyfied into a real touristy place. Check out its website here.

7. Tintagel has changed in the three decades since we were there. A visitors’ center has been added, a footbridge has been constructed, and someone was allowed to carve a gigantic image of Merlin’s face on the side of the cliff.

8. The Jorvik Viking Center is still in operation. Its website is here.

Wavablog

Memoirs, bridge, popes, travel, and other stuff

Tag Archives: Woodrow

2006 March: Sue and Mike Spend a Week in San Diego

1995 December: Hawaii Trip Part 3

2003-2020 The Enfield Pets: Part 2

1992-2014 TSI: AdDept Client: Neiman Marcus

1990 A Memorable Fortnight in Search of Camelot