Wash, Rinse, and Repeat

Yesterday to take our minds off of what was among the worst days in American history, we took the city bus to a genuine Edinburgh neighborhood unexplored by the hoardes of tourists to do our laundry. The clothes were not the only thing that went to the cleaners; my wallet was lightened to the tune of 36 UK pounds (about fifty bucks US) just to wash and dry two loads of laundry. At this rate we might as well walk around in sweat stained shirts the rest of the trip. What made matters worse is the somewhat-addled proprietor wanted to display his support for the orange lunatic running for president in our country, a digusting attribute that detracted from the charm of the four little Scottie dogs that shared the space with him. But all was not lost. We discovered the street we were on had numerous second-hand thrift stores which delighted Jayne. She purchased a light summer dress and I managed to score a leather-bound 1902 edition of Charles Dickens's Domby and Son.

After deositing our refreshed rainment in our hotel room we went out again to visit the Scottish National Museum. This huge faciity is like all of the Smithsonian museums in Washington DC rolled into one and we were simply unable to do it justice. I felt every one of my 70 years after only an hour or two into the exhibits and we needed to retreat to a neaby pub to fortify ourselves for the walk home. This watering hole was named "Blackfriars Bobby," and a statue of a little Skye terrier sits out in front to remind visitors of the legend of the canine that refused to leave his master's grave for more than a decade. The story is of doubtful authenticty but, as Rick Steeves has theorized, local merchants in the nineteenth century recruited any stray dog to play the role for tourists to increase visitation, a strategy that continues to work to this very day. We then strolled down Victoria Street, supposedly the inspiration for the Harry Potter books. There I threw away good money to buy an authentic Glengarry hat totally unsuitable for the Arizona climate and that I will likely hardly wear. I couldn't resist--it was in my size!

The sun came out yesterday, the first bright day we have seen in the UK since we arrived. Ironic, since at the same time the light was being extinguishe in our own country. The reelection of the orange lunatic fills me with a sadness I cannot adequately express, and I cannot help but to feel that we will likely need to apologize for being Americans for the remainder of this trip. This election, probably the last the US will ever see, was truly a "wash, rinse, and repeat."

Auld Reekie

Travel guru Rick Steeves explains that the city of Ediburgh was so filthy in its past that people referd to its stinky presence as "Auld Reekie," but we have discovered a delightful, if somewhat gray, town that looks like a Harry Potter movie set. What an interesting place, with more pubs per block in the Royal Mile area than cannibis stores in Santa Fe (and that, my friends, is saying a lot!) The only reek I have notices is the distinct aroma of the aforementioned herb which is still illegal in this part of the world but apparently heavily used nonetheless.

Yesterday we took a walk from our hotel up to the famous castle and took a self guided tour. The view from the top was fantastic, and the crowds were light since we were among the first to be admitted. We saw the various cannon batteries and walked along some pretty steep cobblestone pathways as we explored the place. Of particular note was the display of Scotland's crown jewels and the famous Stone of Skone on which every British monarch has been crowned, including Chuck just a couple of years ago. We saw the royal apartments and the "Great Hall" where lavish banquets and affairs of state have been conducted. It had an interesting ceiling that looked like an inverted boat hull. One touching sight was the Scottish War Memorial where the names of all the fallen from World Wars I and II are listed in a very somber church-like building with bronze friezes and stained glass. We also went to the War Museum and saw artifacts from conflicts the Scots served in from the 1600s to the present.

In the afternoon we went to various places in "New Town" Edinburgh, the area on the other side of the railway station we arrived at on Sunday. There we mailed a postcard to friends, had a look at the very impressive monument to Sir Walter Scott, and ended up at a pub where Jayne had her first taste of haggis. Our server, Joseph, was a real hoot, dressed as a gentleman in waistcoat complete with a pocket watch and chain. Of course he recognized me as a kindred spirit since I was similarly attired an he kept us amused with his patter delivered in a delightful Scottish brouge. I tucked into a steak and ale pie and washed it down with a glass or two of the local lager, Tennents, "brewed with the fresh highland water from Loch Katrine." After lunch we went to tour some of the National Gallery and saw paintings and sculptures created by Caladonian artists from 1800 to the 1940s. Fortunately this museum was close to our hotel because we were exhausted!

By Land, Sea, and Air

This dispatch is being written from a hotel room in Edinburgh, Scotland, where we arrived after a marathon journey from Tucson on October 22. This is our big 50th wedding anniversary blowout trip and we are thoroughly enjoying ourselves. should have been posting all along the way, but somehow there was always something else to do more appealing than sitting at this laptop and composing a recap of the day's events. Now it is time to catch up.

First, we took a hire van from Tucson to the Phoenix airportwhere we caught our flight to JFK in New York City. Apart from staying in the most wretched acommodations for the next three nights we had a delightful time with our son Benjamin enjoying a few things this exciting city has to offer. (For our review of the motel click here) We visited the USS Intrepid, a decomissioned aircraft carrier now serving as a museum and home to the space

shuttle Enterprise. It was very interesting to us, especially since we were about to board a large ship ourselves. We also visited the 9/11 monument, Alexander Hamilton's grave, and took a cruise around Manhattan on a Circle Line boat featuring a very entertaining narrator. It was Ben's 36th birthday and I hope he enjoyed it as much as we did,

On October 25 we got on board of the Queen Mary 2 for a trans-Atlantic passage to Southampton, England. The ship was massive, likely as big as the Intrepid, and carried about 3,000 passengers. For seven days we crossed what seemed to be an endless expanse of water. On board were so many restaurants, lounges, and recreational facilities it is hard to imagine how anyone could be bored by this liesurely trip across the ocean. Jayne joined a

volunteer choir that practiced every day prior to their performance on the last day of the voyage and I spent a lot of time in the pub lounge playing darts. There was a competition every day, with different rules, and the same group of people showed up to play. It was delightful, and I actually won once. On the seventh deck there was a boardwalk all around the ship where one could accomplish a mile in three laps, and there was a library at the front of the vessel that featured 10,000 volumes and a daily newspaper (printed on board from AP news and other sources). On our last evening we attended a theater show that featured a painfully cheesy music review that I enjoyed very much; it was a lot like the old Bill Murray nightclub singer sketch he used to do on Saturday Night Live. If you like Lawrence Welk you would have liked this show. Using this show as an example, many of the venues on the QM2 are filled with the gray and infirm, and at times it felt as if we were residents of a floating rest home. Still, it was the trip of a lifetime and we are glad we took it.

We landed in England on November 1 and took a bus provided by the Cunard company for our ride into London, about sixty miles away. We then took a cab to our hotel situated right across from King's Cross railway station in the heart of the city. We were pleasantly surprised to learn the Charles Dickens home and museum was right around the corner and we paid a visit to see the digs of the great writer. Amond many of the documents and artifacts on display was the desk he wrote some of his novels on. Looking at it gave me a particular thrill I must say. Later that night we took a cab down to Buckingham Palace and walked over to Parliment Square to see Big Ben chime 6:00 pm. Another sight in this area effected me deeply; among the statues of all their past prime ministers the British people have placed a very fine sculpture of Abraham Lincoln. It almost brought tears to my eyes to contemplate the greatness of that man in comparison to the orange lunatic who is also numbered among our past presidents. (I am writing this the day before the US election. Jayne and I voted before we left and we fervently pray our beloved country is spared repeat of that orange lunatic in the White House.)

After our day and two nights in London, we took a high speed train for Edinburgh which we reached in four hours. Amazing! Today we will tour the famous castle and I will report on it afterwards.

das Ende

How much longer will any of us be able to express our digust with the orange colored lunatic who appears likely to once again befoul the White House? Today's Supreme Court ruling will be a loaded gun in his tiny hands once he removes them from the innauguration Bible next January. I fear for anyone who has spoken out against this monster, be they late night television comedians, editorial columnists, Democratic Party officials, or even the humble composer of an online blog such as myself. Poor fellow, my country!

The Idleness of Retirement

Among the accusations that many soon-to-be retirees hear is the tired old question “What are you going to do to keep busy?” While those making such an inquiry might mean well, the implication of the question is that they believe the old codger about to get his gold watch has little to no life or interests outside of the profession he intends to leave. I was the object of more than a few such inquiries about six years ago when I was anxiously counting down the remaining days of my employment as an archivist for Montana State University. “Nothing,” was my reply to all, “I intend to do nothing,” and I was quickly warned by my interlocutors that such an empty post-retirement existence would drive me insane. I can now confirm from my own vantage point that the dire predictions of my colleagues were grossly exaggerated, but you will have to judge for yourself (if you continue to read this essay) whether or not these are the ravings of a madman. What I have discovered since I left the working world behind is that some things have not changed, and others have changed for the better. I will begin with the former.

I used to walk to work and back every day, a pleasant twenty minute stroll through Bozeman’s historic district lined with beautiful mature trees. I always appreciated this alone

time because it allowed me to examine, in my reverie, any number of things from the books I was reading to the tasks that awaited me at work. Often I was so consumed in my own thoughts that I would arrive at the library front door with no clear memory of what had transpired since I left my house. This situation has not changed for me since I put down the working tools of academia. Starting first in Bisbee, where we moved shortly after retiring, and now in Tucson, I walk anywhere from four to seven miles every morning at dawn. My favorite local path takes me deep into Sabino Canyon, a rocky creek bottom in the center of the Santa Catalina mountains and I usually share the stroll now with friends.

Researching people and events was part of my job responsibilities when processing collections of personal papers and over the years I developed a real skill for ferreting out information on the most obscure characters. This was often the most enjoyable part of my working day, and I continue to practice it now. If not the genealogy of my own family, I often spend hours looking up information on a variety of topics that have caught my interest, including the history of our home, neighborhood, and of course all of Southern Arizona.

Finally, writing and reading were both features of my life in academia, and I managed to add dozens of articles and essays to the tally I was forced to maintain to earn tenure and promotion. Although that sword of Damocles has now been removed from over my head, I still get a great deal of satisfaction from both. Readers of this blog might justifiably question the volume of my literary output after months of silence, but my scribblings these days are mostly handwritten letters and rough drafts of works I intend to publish elsewhere. One of my long term projects is writing a book-length discussion on just how harmful the western myth has been for American Culture, a book which I am sure will require my own financing if it ever appears in print. Reading, too, is something that has declined but not due to any lack of pleasure on my part while so engaged. The simple truth is that my eyes tire easily after about an hour with a book and it takes me longer to finish volumes than I used to. I have rediscovered a fondness for English fiction of the Victorian period, a type of literature that requires time to absorb. I have plenty of time now.

What has changed for the worse for me since retirement? I can honestly say “angst.” If I am not fretting over my own health I am anxious for Jayne’s, and every new ache or pain triggers my concern for us both.

The national political situation is also a crushing worry, with a madman running for president and a myriad of his deluded followers seemingly ready to confront anyone with a bumper sticker that might criticize their Orange God King. None of the aforementioned apprehensions are linked to retirement, however, since I would have had the same headaches had I remained in harness, but now I am free to notice them more without distractions.

Overall I feel I must reassure those kind people who had so much concern for my mental health declining as the years of idleness stack up. Retirement is a blessing to me, and I am so grateful I have had the opportunity to enjoy these years doing whatever we feel like doing, whenever we feel like doing it. Perhaps the single most attractive thing about not working is the feeling I get every Sunday evening, a time when previously I suffered a vague uneasiness about the week to come. Now when the sun sets on the Sabbath, I smile with the realization that tomorrow will be most likely exactly like today, and that is completely fine with me.

Home, again

The last few days in Australia were spent in the Sydney suburb of Rockford with our friends, Blanca and Phillip, who generously opened their homes and hearts to us as we appeared bedraggled and somewhat sick on their doorstep on August 13. They tucked us away in their comfortable guest room and prepared a meal of delicious goat curry, with both extra spicy and normal versions, which settled us in nicely. My own cold was growing worse and Jayne had a few health issues of her own as our three day stay progressed, but in the end we made the flight at the Sydney airport on August 16 without a hitch.

I suppose it would be appropriate to summarize a few observations of Australia for this trip.

1) Australia's road system is, compared to the US, underwhelming. As one of the pricipal ingredients of asphalt pavement is oil, and the fact that Australia has only 0.3 percent of the world's know petroleum reserves, means that many roadways are a bumpy, potholed path at best. Paving in the first place is expensive for any government; maintaining that pavement is also expensive. The terrain and the economics mean that Australian roads are a twisted, winding length of very uneven surfaces. (Don't think this is a chauvanistic American comment, though. One need look no farther than out my own front door in Tucson to see pavement in dismal repair. It was once reported that author Jack Kerouac visited our neighborhood in 1950, and one wag responded to that fact by asserting "He likely drove over the same pavement we have today.")

2) Australia has a critical shortage of salad dressing. Many restaurants serve lettuce, tomato, and other mixed greens with a meal that are entirely without any dressing whatsoever, while others seem to have merely shown these vegetables a photograph of oil and vinegar prior to plopping it on a plate. Ranch dressing, and creamy dressings in general, appear to be unknown in most restaurants.

3) Adequate signage in airport terminals, bus stations, and other public transport facilities is sadly lacking. Aside from the occasional "Way Out" notification, the traveler has little help directing his steps to the proper door.

4) An addiction to sweet barbeque sauce is the bane of Australian hamburgers (along with sliced beets).

5) The average Australian seems to be a rough-hewn, friendly, helpful, and genuinely likeable person.

6) A country that has a national health plan for its citizens, and a responsive legislature, can definetely teach the United States lessons on the practical application of democracy.

I am glad we went. I am glad to have once more experienced this wonderful country and all it has to offer. I am glad we are home.

Back to Gloucester

due to a stroke of good luck (and Jayne's diplomatic inquiry at th Qantas service desk) we were able to leave Brisbane an hour early on a different flight. Odd airline is Qantas; they only fly back and forth to Newcastle two days a week, yet they have several flights on those days. Were I the king of the world, I would have spread out the flights over more days, but obviously that is not in the Qantas rule book. As it is, I have not received a "give us feedback on your recent flight" email from the corporation, which is very good. Like my mama used to preach, "If you can't say anything nice..."

Our last full day with our gracious hosts has been nothing short of a complete delight. Although I have some pretty severe cold symptoms (two Covid tests have proven negative) I was able to participate in several hotly contested dart games, one or two bean bag tossing sessions during a

game with the somewhat unappetitizing name of Cornhole, and simply enjoying a bright, sunshiny day with temperatures in the upper seventies. As sundown approached, I was given the responsibility of building a fire in the outdoor fireplace while Ronald prepared a delicious meal of grilled pork chops, and Jane prepared a pan of scalloped potatoes. And if all this were not enough, shortly after sundown some sort of celebration commenced at a showground just over the hill from the house with a fireworks show that rivaled the last one we witnessed in Tucson on July fourth. It was a great way to cap off our lengthy visit with our gracious hosts, and we are so grateful they were willing to put up with us for all this time and travel. Now we are preparing to leave Gloucester on the train to retun to Sydney for a three night's stay with Blanca and Philip, friends we have met through Blanca's repeated research visits to the Montana State University archives where once I held sway. Their home is quite close to the airport where we will fly back to the USA on Wednesday morning. As much as we have enjoyed this trip I think we are both eager to return to the oven which is Tucson in August and resume our daily routines.