Water, fowl and flowers -- from the Great Lakes Cruise

From the rocky coast of Parry Sound, Ontario, I enjoyed the water, walking on the rocks and the silence. By Day 6 of the cruise, I longed for a meal in quiet, and wished I had followed my plan and got a sandwich to take along so I wouldn't need lunch. I had my customary almond mix and a bar
and was tempted to forgo the afternoon cruise among the sound's many islands, but knew I would
be missed on the count of who was going so I went back. The cruise was fun, and the islands charming and interesting, and I would still have been happy walking along and resting among the shoreline rocks.

The Wye Marsh National Wildlife area is wetlands near the Georgian Bay town of Midland, Ontario, and a place I thought too far from town to see. However, as the shuttle bus took us to the Huron Village, I saw the entrance to Wye Marsh. When I said I was going there first, the driver took me to the entrance. After spending an hour or so walking the trails and boardwalks, I met another woman from the cruise and walked with her to the village. Wye Marsh is known for its recovery center for Trumpeter Swans, though none were there on this visit. The cruise guest I met in the Visitors' Center had come looking for them, and wasn't interested in spending time in the marshes. She was, however, near my age and very fit.

Little Current gave an opportunity to both walk through the tiny town and on to the shore trails. Its harbor was filled with boats and yachts with water fowl overhead. An elderly Englishman ready to head out on his motorized chair plus said it was a great place to retire, and if the election went the wrong way, I'd be welcomed there.

In Sault Sainte Marie, Ontario, I found flowers throughout the village, and loved the hollyhocks and traditional flowers around the Ermatinger Clergue National Historic Site's stone buildings. The gardens were said to have been period from the 1800s. Who knew that was what Mother and her Aunt put together on the south side of our farm house!

The Cruise -- Niagara -- and Meeting People

                      Niagara Falls                                       Poor shot of our cruise ship docked in small port.

We stood on the ship's deck, the wind blowing my hair straight up, and enjoyed the ship's movement through the water. That evening, standing on that deck, I had my first conversations with the couple who would become our friends throughout the cruise, one of those conversations where one quickly gets below the surface. While they weren't the only couple with whom I found a deeper connection, it was such a blessing to meet them early in the cruise. While I can survive casual conversations for a time, they aren't my strength, and my companion excels at taking the reins to tell his stories.

For you who don't know, I went on the Great Lakes Cruise with my "brotherly friend" who had lost his wife to an unexpected stroke about six months earlier. Acting as a substitute for one of the loveliest women I had known wasn't an ideal way to begin my first cruise, not a mode of vacation or a destination I would have chosen. The same couple with whom I went to Israel, I also spent time with them in small cabins in the Rockies, and he visited me in Nashville, staying in my apartment. We knew there would be adjustments, but thought it would be a good fit, and it was -- mostly!

The Pearl Seas ship, the Pearl Mist, is a smaller ship with 100 rooms, all with balconies. We were on deck four of five decks with a lounge that had an "any kind of coffee" machine where I met a number of men getting coffee for themselves and their wives. My friend doesn't drink coffee and sleeps later than I do and wouldn't think of getting me coffee if he were up earlier. I got dressed and out of the room, disturbing him minimally.

If you've met a traveling couple of different sexes who aren't romantically linked, you have an idea of how different we were from others on the cruise. This was especially true on the Pearl Mist, as we met at least a dozen couples who were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversaries, either during the cruise or this summer. This cruise seemed intended for those who didn't desire exercise as the limited equipment was in poor condition and the decks too small for a good walk though some stops required a good deal of walking to see sights such as the Ford Museum and Greenfield Village and the recreated Huron Village settled by French Jesuits to convert the native Hurons in the 1600s in Midland, Ontario (below).

My brother had this vintage in black!

My friend preferred to introduce me when he could, saying that we weren't a couple but friends, elaborating about his wife as soon as possible. One meal we sat with two of the few younger (early 60s) couples where my friend told a litany of stories. Later, when in the dining room alone, they flagged me down and insisted that I sit with them, allowing for their curiosity about our friendship and about me to be satisfied. When I indicated that I wasn't looking for a man to fit into my life, one of the men said that in their community, the single ladies said that the old men were looking for a "nurse and a purse," or if not the purse, certainly the nurse! Later, in Boulder, I listened to friend after friend speak about the difficulties encountered as their husbands either failed mentally or physically and thought how apt the nurse image was. While I could do a blog that focused on traveling with a man friend who had been married 27 years and was recently a widower, I won't. (Perhaps later, I'll write an e-mail to a few friends who will appreciate the experiences and what I learned about myself.)

Our first stop was Niagara Falls! I had been there once, taking an evening break from an intense economic development finance course but never as a tourist. We piled into buses, stood in line to get our red plastic raincoats and loaded onto a packed Canadian side "Maid of the Mist" type boat, larger and newer than the one on the American side. Standing on the open deck, we were sprayed amid squeals from younger passengers.

                                                     My friend, Peter

The falls are amazing! The boat trip was short, and most were anxious to get back onto the buses and return to the ship. While given a half hour, I walked to the end of a bridge over the river, taking photos and enjoying stretching my legs though the woman in charge of getting us on the bus was concerned that I wouldn't get back in time.

                                                                   From the bridge

On my walk, I encountered the tree below and when pointed to an opening, went inside. I'll use this and the inside photo in another blog, as inside, it was difficult to see the way out--a great metaphor for the prisons of our minds, and in later life, of our bodies too.

We went through the eight locks on the Welland Canal in St. Catharines below and sat for what seemed like hours waiting barge traffic to pass. I watched the locks with a family quartet doing a
"girls' trip"--a grandmother, her daughter, and two granddaughters, 12 and 14. The girls provided the Chicago pizza recommendation as that was their home.

To get us through day 3 and Windsor, Ontario, I'll show you a shot of the Edison Museum in Greenfield Village, which has an Edison at Work district with a chair that Edison sat in when he visited bolted to the floor. We enjoyed a ride in a Model T, a train ride, and I visited the Noah Webster home, Robert Frost home, and the George Washington Carver cabin albeit in a rush since there was too much to see in such a short time. I met my friend at the crafts area where he purchased lovely earrings for me.

That evening we were joined by our friend couple from Long Island for a supposedly jazz concert at an outdoor venue near our ship's dock. The music was loud and nearly constant, and we heard only one number that might have resembled jazz as we thought of it. It was fun anyway. The photo below was taken because of the colors changing on the building across the river in Windsor, Michigan.

Until another day!

Beginning in Toronto -- The Great Lakes Cruise

My first thought was to write about coming home to Nashville after spending more than two weeks in Colorado with friends and in those mountains that will always be a spiritual home for me. However, my trip began in Toronto, the day before we boarded the Pearl Mist Cruise ship for a tour of the Great Lakes.

My several visits to Toronto had been on business. Gracious clients had taken me to the symphony and opera, pointed to museums for any spare time; however, I had not walked the streets, a preferred way to feel a city. After taking the train from the airport to the central terminal, winding my way through the subway station and taking that conveyance to Eaton Square (below), I skipped the bus and pulled my suitcase to the hotel.

Allan Gardens Conservatory, a mere 5-block walk from our hotel, was my first stop. I could fill this blog with photos of the lovely flowers I enjoyed there, but will only use a couple--one of the turtles and an orchid. The building is an historic landmark as well as housing exotic plants.

Directed to St. James Park, I was told to be careful as I walked down the street as it was "feeding time." I asked and was told that it was the time that the homeless were fed, and several places along my route would be doing that. I saw a couple and took another street to walk to the park. Before I saw the gardens, I came upon the Anglican St. James Cathedral. Gorgeous! A young woman priest was beginning evening prayer in a side altar, and I joined her and another guest for the prayers. Outside, a cafeteria-type serving line was dishing out food to those who had come, with picnic tables and benches set up for the meal.  The gardens were lovely, filled with nostalgic flowers such as hollyhocks, day lilies and old fashioned roses.

Fun to see that the gardens were used by young people as well oldsters.

I enjoyed an oyster poorboy, perfectly cooked oysters spilling over the wrap near where the top photo was taken after wandering through the St. Lawrence market filled with meats and cheeses that were hard to pass up. Back at the hotel, I spent time on the roof, enjoying the city views before greeting my companion for the cruise after his dinner with friends. 

After breakfast the next morning, all those going on the cruise were herded into the lobby with the intention of putting us on buses that would take us to the ship. Fortunately my friend agreed that we should forgo this experience and head for the Royal Ontario Museum where a Chihuly exhibit had been advertised on signs around the city. This museum, one I had previously visited, is wonderful, even had the glass I so love not been one of their special exhibits. I loved the room where folks sprawled across the floor below, and found a spot to join them. I luxuriated in the beauty of the glass!

After enjoying the museum's exhibits for the maximum time, we took a cab to the ship, noticing relief on the face of the man who had been concerned that a cab could find the dock and get us there on time! The cruise was about to begin.

Sorting -- Whimsy, Joy and Discovery

              One of the International Playhouses at Cheekwood, this one representing Spain

One of my greatest joys over the last couple of months has been leading or co-leading tours at our Cheekwood Botanical Gardens and Museum of Art where I'm now a docent. A competition was held for designs for playhouses representing countries that were favorites of the Cheeks, the family who established this country estate. I haven't led a playhouse tour, but took eighteen 9-12th graders for a tour of our sculpture trail yesterday and had a great time! Sunday I'm leading a garden tour for visitors who want to brave the heat and see the gardens. I'll take them to the Japanese Garden, as it's a favorite and cooler there. Adults who join walk-up tours are usually from out of town and enjoyable, but it's the youngsters that I most enjoy taking through various parts of the gardens--particularly those who have never been to Cheekwood and might never come again. Sharing what I so enjoy gives me such pleasure!

Last evening I participated in a Yoga workshop designed to provide self-love. A younger woman at the Episcopal Chapel on Vanderbilt campus convened the group, made up primarily of young moms and young single women. I was much the senior participant and energized by the younger energy in the room!

I found spots in my body that are not energized, balance that needed work and ways of moving that are not part of my Pilates or Tai Chi routines. I also found that I still don't like putting my body in awkward or difficult positions and holding them. I did feel safe, but wanted it to be okay to move out of the positions that didn't feel comfortable rather than to hold and breath into them. The leader wanted us to adjust (a little) as needed but maintain the integrity of the pose, which was necessary, I suppose, to provide the breath cleaning that was her goal. I was happy when we went into traditional meditation for a few minutes, glad to turn to something I knew how to do! I'm going to ask her what value I missed in holding the uncomfortable poses--as I simply wished them to be over.

As part of a paired share, we expressed feelings in body poses rather than words--interesting, and the one piece I might use in another workshop when I find a way to schedule one. It wasn't a deep experience for me last night, but his morning see the body pose connections to my childhood trauma. I feel good that it wasn't threatening but the poses felt forced and that to continue as part of the group, I could not deviate. I'll meditate on how my desires to be the starter of programs or groups comes out of my fear that the rules set by others will be abusive or even unethical. How does this fit in with my liberal views of Christianity? There is much to muse and learn from this workshop experience that is only coming to light as I write.

I'll end with a few photos from my recent time in the Smoky Mountains, including a shot of grandson Will, who drove up from Knoxville to hike with me one day. It was a joyful time! As lovely as those mountains are, they won't move the Rockies out of the number one spot in my heart!

The hut is one where folks on the Appalachian Trail sleep or rest, and the trail photo is from the 4 miles of the AT that I hiked alone. Will stands in front of flame azaleas on Andrews Bald where we also saw the pink rhododendron. The white ones were all over the park.

After the Smokies, I visited a friend from the Israel trip in
Atlanta where we toured the Hindu Temple shown here, and
met a group of finely dressed folks heading for a wedding!

Chattanooga was my final stop on that 770-mile trip, and I enjoyed visiting with old friends and a whirlwind tour of much that is new there!

My next post will hopefully come from the Pearl Mist cruise ship as good friend Peter (ONLY friend!) and I cruise the Great Lakes. If not then, I'll be hiking the Rockies the end of July through mid-August! Have a wonder-filled summer!

Again, Remembering -- A Special Friend

                                                  Sunset on the Mediterranean in Tel Aviv


It's been too long since I've written, but once again, I'm compelled to write about the loss of a friend, Hilda Ratner, who died peacefully on Thursday afternoon with several gathered as or immediately after she moved on from us. I chose the photo above as Hilda was a Jew, though her religious home
was the Unitarian Universalist Church, and when I shared my photo book from last year's Israel trip, she especially liked this picture of the sea. She spent many weeks of vacation walking on beaches, particularly the one at Hilton Head where she had a time share, and where one summer I walked with her.
 
Hilda was my older (90 on March 6th) friend whom I visited each holiday or other visit when coming from Colorado to Nashville. She had a stroke seventeen years ago as I was driving to Colorado and had found a wonderful assisted living facility near where each of us had lived in which to make her home for the last dozen or so years. Her 90th birthday party was a wonderful time, but it also marked the beginning of her body giving way.

Hilda at her 90th birthday party with Phil Ryan, a friend who also worked for me years ago at Economic and Community Development. Kathy Bryant, the hostess, is in the background at the table.

In her remembrance on Facebook, Kathy said it well--Hilda could get us to hear things about ourselves that no one else could--about a time when I drank too much at a Unitarian Singles Party (I first met her at one!), and she worried about my driving home, she said, "If you have to drink that much to be at the party, maybe you should stay home. That's what I do." Another time she warned me about a good friend, and another she quoted her delightful husband, Aaron, saying after meeting a new man in my life, "there she goes again, thinking this man is wonderful--and we know it won't be long before she won't know what she saw in him." He was right about that one--and the pattern as well!

Hilda could listen and hear more than I realized I had said. Then she would say back, "so you're saying . . . or it's interesting that you see . . .. Though Hilda credited her attendance at EST, Werner Erhard's program, with transforming her relationship with her mother, and encouraged me to participate in The Forum, EST's successor program (which is now embedded in Landmark), I don't believe she ever participated in any of the communications programs that suggested that approach in listening. I am reminded how effective it can be as I write.

I was not one of her "girls," younger women whom she mentored and mothered (no birth children), nor was I one of the "old girls," women who were her contemporaries and who had known her longer, nor was I a work associate. We came together partly because we were single, then because the men in our lives were friends, partly because we were both involved in the finances of the UU Church in Nashville in the late 70's and 80's, and perhaps more, because there was simply a connection between us.

I am blessed to have been here and visited her in the Alive Hospice facility where she died, and to have had good conversations with her there. During one of our last visits, she asked if there was positive movement with my daughter. When I said, no, she shook her head, sadness in her eyes. This
concern was typical, even though her days were difficult much of these last weeks.

Some of her wisdom resides in my head. Her buddy bear resides beside my own, and her Mexican fish on my living room window ledge. Many memories from our years of friendship have floated back during these last weeks of her life.

I was privileged to know and have Hilda as a friend and to be there on Thursday afternoon to send her body off. I have to break the habit of thinking about what time I can go by to see her, but am glad she suffers no more.

Here's to Hilda--a life well lived!!

Obed Wild and Scenic River Refuge -- A Beautiful Hike

It's not a falls in RMNP or the Indian Peaks Wilderness, but one in the Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee. To my surprise, this area is a National Wild River Refuge managed by the National Park Service.  On their posting for the area, it says that this land is much the same as it was when the first white settlers visited in the 1700s. It is about an hour off the interstate from Crossville, TN. The NPS says that the land was too poor for even subsistence farming so while fishing and hunting in the area helped settlers with their food supply, few lived nearby. Water sports dominate during the season these days. We saw winter kayakers both put in and take out after several hours on the white water river they had to themselves.

Although meeting a group of mostly strangers in a Kroger parking lot in a part of the Metro area that's not familiar in the dark of 6 am is not my idea of how to begin a wonderful Saturday, it often is the starting point for East Tennessee hikes when a distance drive is required to reach the hiking area. So---I set my phone for two wake-up alarms a few minutes apart and slept completely through the first one. I arrived at the large parking lot with no idea what type vehicles I was searching the lot to find. Two Metro cops sitting side-by-side chatting turned to stare as I slowed to look around. I lowered my window and explained that I would be cruising the lot for my hiking group. A man from last fall's hike at Rock Island State Park was coming and had offered to drive. He expected me, but I saw him no where. Then I saw two cars with men sitting inside and pulled up beside one. Yes, they were the hikers. My acquaintance and his new girl friend came a few minutes later, and we were on our way--me riding in the middle between two men I'd just met.

As I read what I've just written, I'll have to admit that it took a certain amount of gumption to set out on that hike. I did consider canceling more than once. Since it was a meetup group, I would have needed to let the leader know I wasn't coming.

When I chose this hike, I didn't know how beautiful it would be. I chose partly because it was a reasonable distance--about 6 miles more or less--and most of all because the hike leader promised time to enjoy the views! Many of the meetups say that you must be able to hike fast, or moderately fast with little or no time to enjoy the surroundings. This one promised to be different. It was. Our leader knew each and every place to stop since he grew up in the county seat a few miles away. Sometimes one knows both too much and not enough as was the case with our leader.  He took us away from the trails for views. Great! Some followed him to a point where the ladder below was visible. We hiked to his lunch spot where I took the photo above, ate a leisurely lunch and enjoyed views and took photos. Younger hikers asked about the ladder. He promised that on the way back, we would stop and perhaps those who wanted, could go down the ladder, which might not have been a bad decision had he made it clear that everyone who climbed down would need to climb back up. Even then it would have required patience and waiting from the remaining hikers. However, when we reached the ladder, he told those who wanted to go down that there was another trail below. He warned of big boulders to climb over but that only made the trek sound more exciting. Five of us, including the leader, chose not to take the ladder down. (I took the photo below from a hiker who did go down the ladder.)

When the last person who wanted to go was safely on the ladder going down, the five of us went on our way, expecting to wait and meet the others at a place our leader named and that all knew since we had passed it on our way up. What our leader didn't know was that at the bottom, those folks would discover no trail! After some exploring to be sure they weren't missing it, there was a move to climb back up. One woman said she couldn't because of her knees. A hiking leader friend said, when I told him about this, that he would have been insistent that she try it--and would have helped her along. However, the man who professed to be a hike leader (in training at least) with them had no such leadership skills.  And our hike leader--he later admitted that he hadn't been on that lower trail in five or six years (maybe longer?!).

We got to the meeting place. We waited. One or another went back on the trail they were supposedly taking to look. There was a lot of ice along the trail under the bluff. Those folks were going to have a hard time.  We would wait. . . wait. Concerned . . . concerned. Getting cold from standing still, the other woman and I walked on

down the trail and back. We waited again. Then she was too cold, her boy friend agreed, and we left the leader and another man to wait while we headed to the final lookout and the car--with heat. At the lookout's wide view, we saw colors moving along the riverbank far below. We looked harder. Yes, it was some of our group. The man went back to tell the leader where our hikers were. We went to the car to get warm. It had been an hour's wait and would be another hour of waiting, but the second hour was spent in a warm vehicle. Our driver said that on any future group hike, he would insist that those who rode with him stay together since we were waiting on only one of our occupants. The leader was with us too, and we weren't sparing as we told him how he shouldn't have let the group separate. A quiet mild-mannered man, he first said that he couldn't have told them they couldn't take the ladder and that trail, but after a few more minutes of conversation, he reluctantly agreed. We had great views without even going out to the spot where the ladder could be seen.

I wouldn't have missed the hike though think it likely that the my cold germs got a boost from getting chilled while waiting in the damp woods. By Sunday afternoon, my nose was dripping steadily as I sat in the theater watching our Shakespeare company's production of King Lear.

I am going on a February hike a few miles farther into that area with the same leader. I asked if there was any way, on the upcoming hike, for the hikers to separate into more than fast hikers and slower ones going up the same trail. He said no, that we would all be on the same trail. His route to the lookout on that mountain is shorter than the others posted and his gait slower so I've left my name on the list. He promised to cancel if there is rain or snow or if the trail is snow covered.

This arch is about 50 feet from top to bottom. The trail didn't go through it, but the stopping point off the main trail was another of our leader's lovely detours. The rhododendron bushes were thick in those forests, and I can imagine a flower hike there in the spring!

YES--I am posting this without photos of yesterday's 7" snow here in Nashville. That's another story!

Remembering the Sparkle that was Lynn!

This sparkly lit glass tower from the Chihuly exhibit we saw at the Denver Botanic Gardens a year ago last fall reminds me of my friend, Lynn, whom we lost two weeks ago tonight. Lynn sparkled in ways that weren't always noticeable, standing beside and supporting her husband in his role as arts benefactor. However, as I looked through her closet on Thursday, heeding her husband's "see what you can use," I was reminded of how much she enjoyed sparkly clothes. Her height and carriage--she and her sister practiced walking with books on their heads to embrace their heights--kept those sparkling jackets from overshadowing her lovely face and winning smile.

One of Lynn's favorite activities was modeling for a local store. Her Pendleton wardrobe was worthy of a store section. She savored bargains found at a choice second-hand store in Estes Park, especially those sparkling jackets she wore with such grace. When driving from Boulder to join Lynn and Peter at a musical event, I asked how dressy she was going to be. Her answer was "nothing special." I often arrived to find her decked out in a purple or black outfit one could wear to an opera gala in the city. I eventually quit asking. Never did I try to match her lovely outfits and certainly not her grace or carriage, though I, too, modeled years ago.

I returned with two items I saw Lynn wear more than once--a hand-made vest, yes with a few sparkles, and a long red paisley skirt that I won't try to wear with her grace. I wore the vest to dinner with friends in Boulder and felt as if I was wrapped in Lynn's warmth.

As I look for photos, Peter is in more of them, perhaps because he hiked with me. I enhanced the one above. However, the one I pulled up was the original. Maybe I can fix it later!

I love that my compassionate therapist friend, one who could go to the darkest places with me, also loved sparkle and modeling. She said the Lynn who modeled and invited folks into the store was a different personality than her usual reserved self. I was privileged to count her as a friend.

PS:  The two photos of Lynn and Peter were taken on our wonderful trip to Israel last April, one as we were about to cross into Jordan to see the Petra ruins, the other at Peter's birthday dinner in Tel Aviv--joyous times!