TR's Mom

I drove all the way home yesterday--about 13 hours--from just south of Louisville.  I stopped at one winery just inside the TN border, thought I'd stop at more, but the need to be home just overtook me.  I got a pre-wrapped sandwich at a gas station and ate two bags of Goldfish on the way...drank a lot of Coke Zero and water and pull into the driveway here and just about 10:00.  TR knew I was coming because we talked at about 7 when I was three hours out--he was surprised that I was going to come on in.

Today he shared with me the written copy of the biography of his mom's life as read at the funeral.  It is put together from things she wrote at various times in her life as well as recollections of her sons.  The time of writing jumps around--I will try to even it out somewhat, but I will not mess with her writing--it is in quotation marks.  The additions by one or another of the sons are in bold print and I will be adding some comments in italics because it is some pretty important things were left out.  I'm sharing it because she lead one interesting life that kind of reads like a page out of American and Californian history:

In order to trace the history of any one person, the best source of information is that person.  Here then is the history of Lydia Clifton in her own words...

     "I was born February 2, 1922, in Russelville, Alabama.  I was the second daughter of Fernando and Fannie (King) Whitlock who were married in Russelville in 1911.
     "I joined a family of one daughter, Oree, the oldest, and four brothers: James, Fred, Ed, and Henry.  Though my parents had a daughter, they were glad to see another girl come along after the four boys.  My younger brother, Wallace, joined the family three years after I was born.
     "About all I know about my grandparents is that they were all from the South, their surnames being Whitlock, Jefferson, Yoachim, and King."

The exodus which eventually led to Lydia being a California resident began in 1933 when the family left Russelville.  Because Lydia's mother had family in Oklahoma, the Whitlocks, and, without Oree who had married and remained in Alabama, moved to the town of Lawton, Oklahoma, near historic Fort Sill Army base.
But Oklahoma was not to be her home for long.  The famous drought which ravaged the Great Plains in the mid-30's had turned once productive farmland into what became known as the 'Dust Bowl.'  So, after a few years in Lawton, the Whitlock family moved on.

     "My mother had a sister and brother-in-law living in Greenfield, California, working for a fellow named Verne Stebbins.  So we packed up a Model A Ford, and pulling a trailer, we headed west to California, like so many other Midwesterners of that time.
     "Years later the Stebbins family teased us, saying it looked to them like they were being invaded!
     "But we were just joining the great human exodus, all in search of a better life.  We arrived looking like some of the photographs you have see in the Grapes of Wrath.  This was the period of time written about by John Steinbeck, the famous native son of Salinas."

During this time, another family joined that Exodus, bringing another child named Tom Clifton from Oklahoma, also fleeing the 'Dust Bowl.'

Now a resident of Greenfield, Lydia involved herself in the town which would become her permanent home.  She writes of her earlier years in the small agricultural town in the Salinas Valley:

     "I was 14 years old when I started high school in King City in 1937.  It was during this time that I met a very handsome young man by the name of Tom Clifton.  It must have been love at first sight because, before I was even graduated, we were married.  That was in 1939.

     During the war years we had two sons, Tom, Jr. and Jim.  About ten ears later another son, David, joined our family."

Lydia Whitlock, now Lydia Clifton, set about the tasks of a wife and mother.  It was during these early years of marriage that she and husband Tom began those activities which rooted them in the society of Greenfield.

     "At that time, during the war years, Tom was foreman for the Foster Ranches.  The manager was a fellow by the name of Bob Wood and Tom and I became close friends with Bob and his wife Betsy."

Lydia and Tom were still close to Betsy, for over 50 years.  Not one to just sit at home, Lydia has always been a worker, both for others and with her husband.

     "Some of the places I've worked over the years have been for the phone company when it was located in the old stone house on Main Street, for Elwood and Shirley Hutchinson in their restaurant known as 'The Fountain,' and for twelve years for Norbert 'Tiny' Gilles at 'Tiny's Market.'
     "When Tom decided he wanted to go into business for himself and needed me, I quit my job and together we started Clifton Trucking.  Some time later, we developed some property we owned and established Clifton's Mobile Manor, Greenfield's largest mobile home park.
     "At the present time, (I don't know when she wrote this) we are enlarging Clifton's Market, site of the old Atlantic Richfield gas station.
     "Also during these years I served as secretary of the Greenfield Chamber of Commerce, this during the period when Earl Cassatt and Micky Gilles were presidents."

It was probably also about this time that Tom Clifton, TR's dad, served as Mayor of Greenfield.  There is a street named for him in Greenfield.

The years have been good to Lydia and Tom Clifton and they have seen their family grow:

     "We have three grandchildren, Tammie Jones of Modesto, Julie Clifton of Pleasanton and Richard Clifton of Greenfield.  Richard and his wife Arlene are the parents of our two great-grandchildren, Rachel and Thomas Paul."  In February of 1994, another great-grandchild, Samatha, was born to Tammy and her husband in Modesto.  And, only four years ago, a great-great, Audrey was born to Rachel and her husband in Phoenix, AZ.

Then, in retirement, Lydia and Tom enjoyed the fruits of their labors and led an active life, travel being one of their favorite pastimes.

     "We have traveled some in the past ten years.  Our journeys have taken us to some wide ranging places, from Europe to the Vancouver World's Fair, and from fall foliage tours in the New England states to Hawaii.
     "Most of these trips are with the Silver Kings and Queens, a seniors club we have membership in as well as with our travel trailer group.  and last year I spent ten days in Alabama with my sister and her family.  She and I are the only surviving members of my immediate family."

In typical quiet fashion, Lydia Clifton sums up her experiences in the town she and her husband helped build with the following words:

     "I feel fortunate to have lived in Greenfield during its formative years."

Actually, it is the town which should consider itself fortunate to have been the place this girl from Alabama has chosen to call home for over 50 years.

Racing Home

I was thinking yesterday that I'd do some laundry today and hit a bunch more wineries in Ohio as I continued on my way.  But lying in bed last night, I knew I just wanted to get home.  TR is coming home tomorrow and the quickest I can get home now (sanely) is Sunday. 

I didn't have Wi-Fi yesterday, so I need to catch up a minute.  Thursday, I stopped at a winery on the Southern End of Keuka lake (westernmost of the larger finger lakes), bought 9 bottles of wine, and got back on the road.  Stopped at a restaurant in Amish country where they had an Amish carriage sitting in the middle of the room that you could have lunch in (no, I didn't), then went off on a wild goose chase in search of a Harley shop with an interesting name to get TR a t-shirt at.  Never did find it, but had a lovely time driving through Amish country and then found another winery near Fredonia (NY) where I bought another 8 bottles (one of which I am polishing off at the moment--Woodbury Cherry--made with sour cherries and has that wonderful tart flavor.  I am eating an amazing New York cheddar with it.)  Then back on the road and had only gotten as far as Erie PA by the time I stopped.  When I talked to TR, I found out for sure that he was coming home on Saturday.

So, I tried to figure out how I could avoid wasting time doing laundry.  To make a long story short, yesterday's outfit is being worn today.  I still have clothes for two more days, and I should make it by then.  I still had to stop at a WalMart to get cottage cheese, jello, and a paring knife for my cheese--last night I was trying to cut it with a plastic spoon.  Then I figured I'd stop at a winery or two, but mostly just drive.  The wineries along the coast of Lake Erie were closed (I went through between 10:30 and 11:00, and they didn't open until 11:30.  Not a problem in the Finger Lakes, where all the wineries start tasting at 9 am.)

Just before getting to Cincinnati, I got off the freeway looking for a winery advertised only to find it was 60 miles from the highway.  I was not willing to go that far out of my way.  Next, in KY, I followed a sign, but, after driving 5 miles in the direction it had pointed to, I'd not found another sign, so I gave up.  Finally, I followed a sign that took me a ways out of my way, but kept encouraging me with more signs.  I got there at 5:51, and the place closed at 6:00.  I asked if I was too late, but, of course I wasn't.  After tasting about 7 wines, I bought 10 bottles, and then started looking in earnest for a motel.  I finally stopped at 7:30 at a Hilton...a bit more expensive than I've been spending, but love the accoutrements.  Well appointed room with lots of outlets, nice lighted clock, large screen tv with lots of channels, Wi-Fi, refrigerator, breakfast tomorrow, a little cart to help me get my stuff to the room, and a call from the room clerk to make sure I was comfortable.  Very nice.

Technology Can Be Challenging

I followed my gps  (which I call the gypsy, because what else would you call a gps) to the nearest grocery store this morning and found myself in Corning, (New York).  They have the most amazing glass museum there chronicling glass from its discovery through the present and also includes glass blowing exhibitions.  I thought I'd take some time to see the museum.



http://www.cmog.org/

Got the scooter uncovered, let the lift down, took the scooter off, and the lift would not go back up.  I did everything I knew how to do--turned it off and turned it back on again, hit it a few times, shook it a little, nothing.  So, I thought I'll go in, see the museum, come back and, if it has some rest time, it will recover and come back up. 

Off to the museum.  Got to the second (of about seven) sections of the museum, and my scooter starts to act like it is out of charge.  (It should go a whole day on a charge.)  I had charged it two days ago by running an extension cord from the van where it was into my room.  It was charging when I hooked it up.  I closed the door on the cord.  The next morning when I opened the door, I noticed that the door had rubbed the outer covering from the cord, but hadn't worried about it.  Now, I decided that I had probably broken and destroyed the extension cord and that the poor scooter did not get any charge at all that night.

So, I took her back up, put her on the lift, and the lift wouldn't come up.  So, I turned the lift off and on again, hit her a few times, shook her.  Nothing.  So, I called The Scooter Store (where I bought the lift) and they had my account and number and everything.  They gave me the number of Harmar (the maker of the lift).  Called them and they gave me the numbers of two companies qualified to service it--one right there in Corning, one about 9 miles away.

I called the guy in Corning.  "We are sorry we missed your call.  Please leave us a message and we will get back to you."  Then the machine hung up on me without giving me a chance to leave a message.  Tried again with the same result.  Called the other number.

This person picked up immediately, but he was in Rochester (about two hours away) and had about three hours left on the job he was doing.  Then it would be two hours to get back to home and another half hour to get to Corning.  It was about 11:30 at this point.  5:00 before he could get there!  I gave him my phone number and asked him to call me if he thought of someone who could get to me sooner, I would keep trying the other number, and I would call him if they could get to me.

I tried the other number--same result.  I figured I'd wait until one--they could be at lunch.  I sat at a table under a shade near my van and read the rest of a chapter in my book.  It was about 86 (would be a cold wave in Dallas), but more humid than I was used to, and I decided I'd take the scooter back into the museum and see if I could plug it in somewhere.  I grabbed the charger from the van.

All this time the greeter person standing between the parking lot and the museum right near me had been most helpful and supportive.  His job, I think, was to greet the tour buses, as well as other visitors and generally answer questions.  I also think he was there to call for help in the case of car problems.  But, he'd never seen a lift like mine and was interested and pretty good at commiserating with me.

I headed back into the museum and asked the guy at the info desk at the door if I could plug the scooter in for awhile.  "No problem" he said and showed me a plug back behind the desk that is "never used anymore."  I plugged her in and headed back to the museum restaurant.  It was pretty impressive.  I had a bowl of cream of broccoli soup (yes, I had a bread stick!) and a Greek salad with shrimp (but no croutons--a total waste of calories).   The info guy had told me about a shuttle that picks people up at the museum and one of the stops is a pretty little shopping center.  The shuttle has a lift for my scooter.  I began to contemplate asking if the shuttle could take me to a hotel for the night.

At 1:00, I called the closer repair place again and got a busy signal.  I decided that was an improvement.  I waited about 5 minutes, tried again, and got someone.   I explained the situation and she called her husband on a CB or something similar so I could hear the conversation.  She called me a "little old lady!"  SHE NEVER EVEN MET ME!!  That was a first.

I told her it was a white van with Texas plates sitting in the parking lot of Corning Glass Museum with the lift down, and she asked me the license number so he could identify it when he got there.  I asked if she honestly believed there would be more than one white van with Texas plates in the parking lot in Corning New York with its lift down...  I mean, I could give her the license plate number, but it sounded like overkill.

She said he would call me when he started toward Corning, but he called me from the parking lot.  (He'd had no trouble figuring out which van was mine.) 

I raced back out and gave him my key.  He tried it, turned it off and on again, hit it and shook it.  Nothing.  (It is always gratifying when the machine does what you said it was doing in front of the repair man.) 

He opened it up, tried it, sprayed the connection with WD-40, cleaned the points real well, tried it, and it worked.  Put it back together and called it "fixed."  He explained that when it gets wet, the points can corroded.  I made a comment that it looked like pretty much any electrician could fix it when that happens (thinking about who I could call if I could get a Harmar licensed repairman.)  He said, "Oh, you are saying 'Any monkey could do this.'"  I protested that I would never consider an electrician a "monkey," but I also thought that made us even for the "little old lady" comment.   Eighty dollars later, I went back into the museum.

I thought, "Well maybe my scooter has charged enough to allow me to see the rest of the museum."  Wrong-O.  She gave out in the middle of section 3.  (She starts to show yellow instead of green, then she turns to red and when she is really ready to stop, she blinks red.)  She usually needs to charge overnight to get a full charge and I knew that--wishful thinking.

So, back to the van I went, put her on the lift, the lift went up and I drove to the information center in Corning to find out where the nearest winery is--if you can't see a glass museum, drink.  I stopped for a cup of coffee, which had smelled better than it was, but I enjoyed it.  While drinking coffee, it started raining again--a real downpour, however brief, it was hard.  I was glad I'd covered the scooter, but they'd already told me I couldn't just cover the lift mechanism with plastic because of condensation.  All I can hope for is that it has time to dry out after getting wet.  It usually will in Dallas.  Maybe not in southern New York.

I decided to come back to the motel I'd stayed at last night and get a room before going to the winery.  By the time I got moved in and the scooter in the room, plugged in and charging, it was after 5:00 and the wineries would be closed.   I then changed my decision that after that nice lunch, I didn't need dinner.  A little cheese, a bottle of wine, would do fine.  I pulled the bottle I had chilling in the cooler, some nice sharp cheddar cheese, and called that supper.  Fresh Tracks Farm Frontenac Gris (Berlin--near Stowe--Vermont.)  It is better that I'd remembered--probably the cheese.

I've talked to TR (he is getting bored, but is taking lots of Atavan and is staying calm--he is thinking he will be home Saturday, which I could make if I buckle down and go straight home), my sister, Amy, who hadn't known I'd uploaded the wedding pics to the blog and looked at them while I was on the phone, and Tom and Larry who had just looked at the blog and had enjoyed it.

I'm thinking I will continue to "wine" on the way home because I only have 9 bottles at the moment and really can't justify coming all the way up here and coming home with only 9 bottles to last us the winter.  I'll probably get home around Monday.  I'll be really glad to see TR.

The Wedding and After

Thursday, I went to this welcome center as I entered Vermont. 

In front of this building stood this marvelous sculpture by a local artist (there was also a moose by the same artist on the drive in).  Though it looked like ceramic, I decided it is paper mache, similar to the Surmel pieces we found in Mexico.

 

 

Pete,  Megan, and I at the brewery restaurant in Stowe on Thursday.  Megan's brother, Brian, is taking the picture.

My pictures of the Friday evening meet and greet in the bar came out really blurry and I am ashamed of them. 

 What follows are pictures of the wedding, starting with the setting:

 

 

The wedding party is approaching....from a long distance away.

 

My nephew Michael's wife, Heather.

 

 

 

Pete's oldest daughter, Kelly, the bride's sister and Matron of Honor.

 

My brother, Pete, and his daughter, Becky.  Pete is looking very similar to my dad on the day of my wedding.  This wedding made me very nostalgic about past weddings I have experienced.

 

During the service a poem by Neil Gaimin was read.  It was something like, "It was the day the

flying saucers landed all over the world, but no one paid much attention because it was also the day all graves opened and zombies came out terrorizing everyone, but then (something even worse happened.)  But you knew none of it because you were staring at the phone wondering if I would call." 

 

 

 

Becky and Joe.  The recessional was the Star Wars theme.

 

The cocktail party.

 

The setting for the reception.

 

And the reception.

 

The bride and groom dance.

Others dance

 

The cake.  At the top are Wall-E and Eve.

On the way into the wedding, we were given paper airplanes with our names and table assignments.  The sign-in sheet asked us to make a yellow thumb print, draw wings on it making it into an angel, and write our name on it.  Because a scrapbook was also on the table with pictures of Becky and Joe at Disney World (among other places) and the table was crowned with Mickey and Minnie bride and groom ears, I tried to make my thumbprint look like Mickey, but it looked more like a bear.

 

The cake was delicious.

 

Later, a fire was set in the fireplace outside the dining and dancing room in the cocktail area.

 

Sideways, I know, but this is Pete and Megan (my brother and sister-in-law) dancing.

 

Great cake!

 

Pete and Megan having a slow dance.

Everyone had a great time.

 

A conga line.

 

Megan's brother, Brian.  He took care of me all week-end.  Not an easy task since I was riding my scooter everywhere.  He and I had gone swimming in the Trapp Family Lodge's beautiful pool and then got into the hot tub earlier in the day.  Yes, that is where this whole wedding happened...The Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe, Vermont.

I had way too much wine and I hope I didn't embarrass my family too much.  TR says he is sure it was because I was trying to make up for being there alone and feeling lonely, which is probably true.  I paid for it the next day.  I went to the Stowe Motel and just stayed in bed all day.  Didn't even have the energy to update my blog or even read.

 

The following day, yesterday, I just did some beautiful driving.  I went north in Vermont through the Green Mountains which appeared to be among the highest in the Appalachian range.  Magnificent!  I drove around the northern end of  Lake Champlain and skirted the east side of it down to Champlain, New York.  Then, drove through the Adirondack Mountains.  Drove through part of Potsdam, where I got my undergraduate degree.  It didn't look much different.  I spent the night at a motel in Oswego.

 

Today, I drove down along the east side of Cayuga Lake (one the finger lakes in NY), where I scouted a few locations--state parks, wineries--for TR and I to do together when we come back.  I bought 9 bottles of wine to take home.  Got that many bottles at two wineries.  The third winery had a restaurant and I decided to go there.  They had a beautiful terrace roofed by vines that hung down the front framing our view of the vineyard.  Cold as it had been in Stowe (it was getting down to 28 degrees a couple nights), today in southern NY, it was 96.  But, in the shade it was lovely.  I had a merlot mushroom soup which was amazing and a crab cake which was also very good.  With it, I had a flight of Rieslings, the last of which I thought was very good, but by that time, my judgement was suspect (everything was starting to taste good).  As good as the food was, the service was terrible.  The flight had more wine in it than I expected it to, and my waiter had forgotten to bring me bread.  I asked him if my dinner had come with bread and he says, "Oh, yeah.  I forgot to bring it"  and just stood there.  I asked him if I could have some bread and my check.  It took him another half hour to bring them.  Of course, one never knows if slow service is caused by the waiter or the kitchen...

 

I am now staying at a Budget Inn in Bath, New York (south central NY).  I was thinking I would head toward home more quickly now, but TR has a meeting about his family trusts on Friday, so he is stuck there until at least then, so I may go home at a bit more leisurely pace.

In Stowe, Vermont

It was a beautiful drive up here (once I got out of CT).  Green and mountains...scenic...it even smells good.  I stopped and tasted some wine on the way up, and bought a bottle to be sure I wouldn't run out this week-end.

I actually took some pictures, but now I can't find my camera.  Hopefully I left it in Pete and Megan's car.

I got into Stowe about 3:00 and almost immediately Megan called saying they were at the Trapp Family Lodge (I'll be checking in there tomorrow.  Tonight I am at the Stowe Motel--also very nice and about half the price.)  They had also just gotten in with Megan's brother, Brian.  They picked me up and we went to dinner (at a brewery) and then to Ben and Jerry's (since Pete has an ice cream truck, they called it "research.") I called it "decadent" and had "chocolate therapy" which could just as easily been called "Death by Chocolate Ice Cream."

Amy called.  Jim is still in the hospital, but he should get out tomorrow...he is feeling much better.  I haven't talked to TR yet.  I've tried to call twice, but he hasn't answered.  He has some reception problems up in the mountains where he is.  Hopefully, he will figure out I have called fairly soon.

In Connecticutt

I haven't been able to get onto the internet in my last two motels, but I really haven't been doing anything but drive.  The weather turned colder (as low as 40 at night), but today was beautiful--77.  I came kind of around the north end of NYC today, over the George Washington Bridge, past Brooklyn, Yonkers, Scarsdale and bam, I was in CT.  And then I got stymied.  It took me about two hours to go 40 miles....slow, slow, slow.

I gave up, hoping I can miss rush hour in the morning.

Talked with TR.  A small family service will be held graveside on Friday.  No one is exactly sure how much money is where...  It will probably take quite a while to straighten out.  He doesn't think he will be staying anywhere near that long.

Amy's husband is still in the hospital.  She is hoping he will get getting out tomorrow.  She won't be going to the wedding.

Forward.....

Started trip yesterday... Then disaster struck...

We left Dallas yesterday as planned to go to Becky's wedding in Stowe, VT.  We had just passed Little Rock (about 5 hours from our house) when TR got a call that his mom was very ill and was not expected to live more than 24 hours.  We turned around and went back to Dallas.  Didn't get in until about 11:30.  Two hours later, we heard from TR's sister-in-law again to tell us she had died at 11:30 their time.

At 8:30 this morning, I dropped TR at the airport to head to California (thanks to TR's daughter, Julie, who had booked him first class tickets to Sacramento while we were driving.)  I then took back off toward Little Rock again, thinking the whole way that we had made the wrong decision and that I should be with him.  We think it was the smoke from Yosemite that did it.  TR's mom was approaching 93 and had had asthma all her life.  Although she was two hours from Yosemite by car, TR's sister-in-law, Diane, said the smoke is bothering all of them in the area and they can see the flames from their house.

TR is the one who made the decision that I should go to the wedding instead of accompanying him to CA, but I am still feeling both guilty and lonely.  I called my sister, Amy, to ask if she wanted to share my room at the Trapp Family Lodge Friday and Saturday, only to learn that her husband, Jim, is in the hospital with pneumonia... 

I guess we will see what tomorrow brings.