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Showing posts from July, 2013

First Day - The Little White House

Look at a map and you'll see that Warm Springs, Georgia is not conveniently located close to an interstate or main artery.  If you go you slog through small towns, two-lanes black tops and enough scenery to last you for a decade or so.  It is worth it.  I'm glad I set this, Franklin Roosevelt's Little White House, as my first attraction in my trip.  At $10.80 the site is well worth the admission price for a guy who overcame personal health issues, helped win World War II, embraced us through the Depression, and instituted many programs which are still with us today.   The artifacts are the real things and bet you have seen many of them in newsreels, the History Channel, or textbook photographs.      I really didn't want the 12-minute movie, but the site staff guy in the wheel chair (apropos, I thought for FDR's place) was so appreciative of my participation in the PGR (I was wearing my Patriot Guard Rider T-shirt) that I felt compelled.   The film was pre

And We're Off!

On June 27th I returned to St. Pete from a wild cross-country motorcycle trip up to Illinois.  I almost crashed three times.  Some idiot ran me off the road near Clarksville, Tennessee, I almost rear ended a car near Plains, Georgia, and I had a front tire blowout near Lake City, Florida.  All of these incidents occurred on my way back home.  The bike rests now in the little garage downstairs, tired and limping a bit from the use.  It's owner, tired and limping as well from the unrelenting abuse riders of motorcycles get from the elements, the endless mental calculations, and the brute physicality of riding an exposed and vulnerable metal machine. But first we begin the trip...  After a couple of rain out days, the bike was ready to pull out of St. Petersburg and head up North for a few days of R and R after a couple years of sitting with Norah.  Watching the Weather Channel for days led me to think that it would be difficult to thread this needle: surely in June t

Flashback Friday - Rader Range

Today is a special Flashback for me.  This picture is the farm I worked on from high school through college, grad school and weekends when I started at the Mary Davis Home.  I suppose my job didn't really end until 1989 when my Uncle died.  We are talking roughly 15 summers,  then scattered weekends when I would drive over if he needed me or I just needed to do farm-type work to clear my head.  Uncle Ed was born on this farm, raised in this house and died in it.  It was a small farm as farms went back then, only around 320 acres.  Half of that was leased out to Dekalb seed corn in Monmouth so our work in that section was minimal.  We could see all the kids bussed in to detassle the corn from the house, that sat on a knoll overlooking the lower acreage. Always kind of felt sorry for them having to come out in the blistering hot days and run up and down the rows cutting the tassles. The picture itself was a recent acquisition thanks to my cousin, Eddie who lives in Madison.  

I'm Shocked, Shocked To FInd Gambling In This Establishment

This video set up this year's Superbowl bet.  I think Tim actually was pleased with the team he drew,  and at the time I gave him a slight advantage. Mr. Tim Stage and I have a mini tradition going on for the Superbowl.  We bet on who will win and somehow we got off on a tangent in payment.  It started when I won the first year and he paid off in quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies.  He also left a pithy remark, something like, "Fuckin Packers!"  Regardless of the sentiment, the money was good. The next year I lost and paid Tim in dollar coins.   I was rather pleased with myself after having gone to a couple of banks in town to find them.  I put them in a pill container with some instructions to use when needed. Here is a picture of Mr. Stage spending his winnings at old Cotton's/Crappie's, new Gimp's on Route 150 earlier this year. But I must say, after losing this year, Tim certainly upped the ante and came up with a doozy way to

Beach Day

Family Day at the beach.  I needed some beach time so I told everyone where camp was and to join in on the fun.  The whole family made it but it was Norah, of course, who loved the day more than anyone else.  She wouldn't stay in the tent, so we'd slather her up with sunscreen and head back into the water with her.  Joining us in the day were Mackenzie,  Drew, Brendan, his GF Monique and Brendan's roomie, Robert.  Great day, lots of white sand, green Gulf, and blue skies.     We had coolers full of liquid refreshment, lots of food and snacks.  Gee, it was almost perfect.  Why wasn't it perfect?  Hmmm.  Guess it was.   Perfect beach day.   Norah and Daddy. Norah was like those little sea turtles that rush out to the sea right after birth.  She didn't want any tent time. Me joining Drew and Norah for a little splash. People next to us burying their friend. This guy walked by with a line to his mouth.  Is this some sor

Tuesday Tidbits

Tuesday Tidbits 1.  Monday we will start our posts on the Great Trip Up North 2013 on the bike.  It was a great and wild time.   2.  I have cancelled the cruise scheduled for September.  The itinerary was moved from Tampa to Miami and the transportation hassle of getting from here to there just became too great.  I instructed Carnival to keep my deposit and perhaps I can get a cruise in at some point in the future.  They have some pretty good sounding cruises out of Tampa so I'll keep checking.  I'm rather bummed as this would have been a great time with great people.     

Meet Miss Frump

There   are unseen things in this world that direct us in ways that leave us helpless to resist.  Like salmon returning to their spawning spot the poor things have no say in the matter.  Migratory animals who seasonally, and blindly, follow an instinct.  Mothers who defend their guilty terrorist children.    (Not my picture) Like some unknowing salmon I bought a 1939 Dodge in high school with great hopes of restoring her.  My buddy Ed and I picked her up and brought her to Seaton and stored her in my grandparents garage.  Needless to say, no restoration took place and Ed bought her from me and took back to Peoria.  From there she went to St. Louis to a fellow who used the same model for taxi service.  It became a donor car for his business, I think.  It was a cool car with suicide doors, but the work needed was beyond my means. My second Old Car, a 1947 Plymouth.   I bought a Plymouth from some guy in Aledo while in college.  It was a great running old car with t