Digging Back Where it All Began

 (To be fleshed out in a few days... return)

My archaeology friends joined me for a public dig at The College of New Jersey.

Highlights:

I'm a rock start since i was one of the original 1990s diggers.

George said we'll figure out a way to have me audit his class.

Mark, Martha, and Dan dug with me. We were much more productive than the students. We work together as a great team. 

I had the shortest drive, for once.

Much fun!

Photos to be added.

Wednesday: Procrastinating the Drive

 (To be fleshed out in a few days... return)

On our last day the weather was simply stunning, so we procrastinated the drive home with a stop in Carleton Place, another town used for filming Hallmark movies.

Art cooperative. Curious about artist Steve with his paintings of famous sites including an orange VW bug. We met Pam and another artist, both excited to share their artwork. They have over a 100 artists in the coop. If they want to show off their art they have to volunteer in the shop.

I bought supplies for Indigenous art students to help them with their studies.

Lunch on the front porch of a breakfast place highly recommended by the artists.

Walked around town.

German Bakery. Charming. Bought a German donut for ride home.

Sadly time to start the drive. GPS said 10 1/2 hours -- which was odd because the trip up was only 7 1/2 hours. It routed us through Montreal to Route 87 instead of through Syracuse and Route 81 (double check). So glad I looked!

Drive home uneventful. Stopped at Rustic Rooster in King__, PA. Charming. Right off the highway. Cheap. Homemade foods. The German Chocolate cake was outstanding. Even better than what the ice cream shop selling Perry's ice cream looked.

Home about 10:30 pm.

It was nice not hearing politics for the week. I felt very relaxed.

Hoping to return in the fall.

Tuesday: Public Dig at Lac Phillippe

 (To be fleshed out in a few days... return)

While at Col By Day we learned about a public dig taking place the next day at Lac Phillippe in Gatineau Park. As our plans had called for hiking in Gatineau Park, we shifted so I could dig while Don went hiking. I then coerced him into hiking with me to find the cave.

Monica and Bob are the only two archaeologists working for the NCC in Canada. They run public archaeology digs in August. Their more exciting one is the following week at Lake Leamy, really close to our hotel. This was a 40 minute drive from Gatineau, even though it is in Gatineau.

I mostly dug with Alain, a retired government official. He told me the group digs regularly throughout the year. When it is too cold to dig they wash artifacts. They even have an annual holiday party. 

Yes, I wanted to join the group! I hope to return next summer for the Lake Leamy portion.

This site was lovely. We were steps away from a brand new shelter with bathrooms and ice cold water fountains, and a porch overlooking the lake. The lake provided a nice gentle breeze. 

Monica and Bob kept setting up tents to keep us shaded. Though it was 75 degrees with a beautiful blue sky and no humidity, they deemed it hot and stopped early. Though the afternoon shift did not start until 1, and i thought it was to go until 4:30, but 3:50 they took our screens and told us to start cleaning up. 

Insert frown.

We used tiny buckets, and small screens.

I was told they never find nails, yet I found one. It seemed like a new nail. I wonder if it came from the new shelter.

We were told to keep quartz -- which is the opposite of what I am normally told. It is a sign of Indigenous people.

We dug in one meter squares. The soil was mottled. They do not do Monsell, which Dan later told me is common in international sites. Measured in centimeters. 

I was interviewed by Canadian TV. Ashley watched it. She was surprised just how much they interviewed me and included me in the story. I knew the mission -- be the charming international digger and make the day look like fun. As a former journalist who has been on the other side of the interview, I knew the mission and did it. Cecilia, the newscaster, hovered taking footage of me digging. It was a bit much.

I had a fabulous time! Shared the link with my archaeology friends. 

Impressed we found a way to make up for the Azores, which we hope to reschedule. Trip insurance came through.

Afterwards we hiked 5 km to the cave. Most was on a road. Last kilometer was up a hill with built in stairs. Saw someone who warned us of a wasps' nest that was exposed when a tree fell right after the walked next to it. Saw a family tending to their youngest with scraped knees who was clearly tired of hiking.

Saw another family fishing in the lake, and one taking kayaks out.

Most of the group was staying on the camp grounds, which had running water, showers, and laundry facilities. I was happy to return to a real bed. Don is up for trying camping there next year.

We returned to M&M for dinner, and had ice cream around the corner at La Cigale, a place recommended by Monica. Only outdoor eating area. They have a booth where you order your treat, and then you walk over to pick it up from the counter. Many of the tables had games built into them. Lights strung. Garden atmosphere. A sign announcing when they are closed due to bad weather. Wish they also had an indoor dining area so we could go there year-round.

Monday: Part 2 at the Nordic Spa

 (To be fleshed out in a few days... return)

When our trip to the Azores was cancelled due to storms, Don worked hard to find a way to enjoy the highlights of what we would have done. He really wanted to find hot springs within driving distance of home. He found the Nordic Spa in Chelsea. 

No idea how we didn't know about it since everyone else we spoke to did, and because we ate dinner around the corner from it the summer before. It is only a fifteen minute drive from Parliament Hill.

Spent 7 1/2 hours at the spa.

$99 plus tax, timed entrance but can stay as long as you want. We wanted to stay past dark to see the stars. Includes locker, towel, and bathrobe.

No cell phones, hence no pictures.

Similar to one in Melbourne, but not as varied. Melbourne had hot rocks and seemed to have a greater variety of temperatures and felt more natural.

Someone described this as a "garden spa," a phrase we will have to search on in the future. We wanted a geothermal spa.

Many saunas of different types.

Arbour Treatment: sage and peppermint reminded us of the Native American smudging ceremonies.

There was also a towel dance. Danced to Billy Joel's Vienna and something calmer. Thought of Aimee.

Some areas were deemed silent, others social. The panoramic area with views of nearby Ottawa were social. 

Didn't see as many stars as expected.

Some rave about going in the winter. Then they are more on top of swapping robes and towels so you don't freeze to yours. The water has steam coming off of it in the cold weather.

Many places to simply relax. E-readers allowed. Many brought books. I'll bring a book next time, but maybe not a library book.

Some international people.

Adults only. 

Mostly white. A couple of Black people. A few Asians. Variety of ages.

Odd eating dinner in our bathing suit and robe. Restaurant not overpriced. 

Don had an underwater camera with him, but we forgot to use it.

Biggest question asked: why Ottawa?

Monday: Part 1 in Ottawa

(To be fleshed out in a few days... return)

Highlights:

House of Commons Tour in French -- that's what we get for not booking a tour in advance

Col. By Day with Sarah teaching us about Black history, and likely getting a little exasperated with our lack of Black Canadian History including Viola Desmond who was an early Rosa Parks.

She offers tours through blackhistoryottawa.org on Wednesdays (for free) and Saturdays (for a fee).

Got to chatting with archaeologists Monica and Bob and learned August in Archaeology Month, which they celebrate by hosting public digs. The next one will be ... tomorrow in Gatineau Park, where Don and I had planned to go hiking.

Lunch at the Bytown Market, same place we ate at last year. The owner is a flirt and made an infused iced tea just for me, even though his wife was correcting him on the right way to do so. He also gave me a lemon. We communicated in a combination of French and English.

Looked at the website for the Nordic Spa, noted they had a gap between 3:45 and 5 pm entries so we made a mad dash for them arriving around 3:20 pm.

Sunday: Escape from Ottawa

After driving around road closures for the Ottawa Ironman, we finally made it to Knox Presbyterian Church only about 15 minutes late. Founded in 1844 when Ottawa was still a small lumber outpost called Bytown, the 1932 structure is a classic Presbyterian church we have walked by on other visits. We wondered what the inside looked like. Up at the altar is a classic series of stained glass windows. The sanctuary has carved oaken benches. Locals know to grab a pad from the back before sitting down. We did not realize that, but as we were late, it didn't really matter. Others came after us, likely also tied up in traffic.

That week they had a visiting preacher, a retired woman who was thrilled to tell us all about Jacob, classic biblical stories that appear in the summer lectionary when she used to take vacations instead of filling in for pastors who are now on vacation. We both left uninspired.

Driving was proving to be a growing problem, and our parking space was only good for an hour, so we headed to the town of Almonte. Almonte's tagline is a "gem of a town." It was described to us as where Christmas movies are filmed, which made me wonder what time of year they do the filming.

We were advised to dine at Joe's Italian Kitchen, which people referred to as Joey's Pizza. I'm not a huge fan of American greasy pizza, but I do love European pizza. I went with the Joe Theisman pizza because of the zucchini and goat cheese. Don chose the Aloha Joe, an Hawaiian pizza. We ended up eating half of each other's pies.

The former woolen mill town is located on a river. I want to say the Mississippi River, because other towns were on that river. No, not THE Mississippi River, just a river with the same name as the more famous United States river. They have recently built a Riverwalk to capitalize on the river, but it was too rainy to explore it for very long. 

We did grab some ice cream from a booth before the rain, and ducked inside the mall across the street to enjoy it as we watched the downpour. Cute ice cream names certainly influence me. 

After admiring how cute the town is, and studying the art painted on the shop windows, we popped in and out of thrift stores. Unlike in Smiths Falls, we left empty handed.

The rain was putting a damper on the day, so we drove back to the hotel where I read and Don relaxed in the outdoor spa. He said it was much more crowded than the night before leaving him with the impression others had the same solution to avoiding the rain and the road closures in Ottawa. I was happy to relax in the room reading a book. I even managed to stay awake, which surprised both of us.

We finished our evening with dinner at Meech & Munch in Old Chelsea, a restaurant we enjoyed dining at last summer.

After dinner we returned to Ottawa, 
which was quieter since the Ironman was nearly finished, and had ice cream at Stella Luna, related to the shop we visited in Merrickville, Ontario last summer. If they had not closed their ice cream shop, I suspect we would have added them to our list of cute Ontario towns.

Saturday: Carp, home to a Cold War Museum

I've decided to shift my travel stories to a new blog, PillsburyTravels.blogspot.com. It is a site I feel more comfortable sharing our travel adventures with so I can keep PillsPress.blogspot.com more personal.

That said, visit PillsburyTravels.blogspot.com for my write up about the Diefenbunker Cold War Museum in Carp, Ontario.

On our way to the museum we stopped at the local Farmers Market and bought
some maple syrup vinaigrette. I love the Trenton Farmers Market, especially because it is open five days a week. The one in Carp is only open on Saturday mornings, but it seems to have a greater variety of foods, including shops specializing in local maple syrup.   

After the museum we dined at the Cheshire Cat Pub, a local hangout. The place was happening! We had as much fun watching the staff efficiently run the floor as we did eating our delicious dinner. Knowing that between the storms in the forecast, and road closures for the Ironman Ottawa would be difficult to navigate the next day we asked a patron for suggestions. She came up with the town of Altmonte, a town so cute it is used as backdrop for Hallmark Christmas movies.

It seems our trip is shaping up to be a tour of small towns in Ontario.

Friday: Visit to Perth and Smiths Falls

The reason it was possible to plan a trip to Ottawa so easily was because we were already familiar with the area. As my mom said, it is like her planning a trip to Williamsburg. Instead of googling "top things to do in Ottawa," I googled "what's happening in Ottawa this weekend."

Since our trip last summer to Smiths Falls, where we stayed when we participated in the Perth Kilt Race, I signed up for the weekly Smiths Falls newsletter. The newsletter highlights what local events are happening each week in Smiths Falls. Plays, festivals, outdoor concerts, movies under the stars, ghost tours, and even weekly roller skating.

We snagged the last loaf of cinnamon bread from Basic Kneads as we waited for Gather to open for lunch. Last summer we fell in love with Gather. They played gentle French music and served farm fresh food. Their unsweetened iced tea (a rare treat in Canada) is served with ice cubes made from their tea so when the ice melts, it enhances their tea rather than dilute it. So simple I keep telling myself I need to make some like it at home.

Last Fall Gather moved across the Gore Street to their new location, a two-story restaurant with an outdoor patio overlooking the water. The food is still delicious. The owner remembered us from last year. We had a chance to catch up. It felt like we were home. A feeling I really needed on that trip.

From Perth we drove to Miller's Bay Farm, a local farm owned by the parents of a friend Ashley met during her years of camp at Upper Canada Village. After buying some really red and juicy strawberries (long out of season in New Jersey) and grape tomatoes, we bumped into the owners, Shannon and Robert, and quickly caught up on news. They threw in four ears of corn and taught us the technique for cooking them in the microwave -- three minutes each ear, be prepared they will be super hot when they come out. As our hotel room had a microwave, but not a stove, we were happy to try this out.

We continued driving south to Smiths Falls. Again, it felt like a homecoming. We stopped in the local health store and chatted with the owner as we bought some bulk supplies. We seem to have lost our local bulk stores with the pandemic. 

From there we went to Real Deal, a reuse store on the outskirts of town. Another business I wish I knew of a similar one near me. The reuse store is a bit like a never ending yard sale. As our hotel did not include breakfast, we went to the reuse store to buy bowls, spoons, a paring knife, an electric kettle, and a couple of other random items for $15CAD (under $11USD). On the way home we picked up yogurt and granola for breakfast.

Smiths Falls has a bunch of thrift stores. Nothing caught my eye, but I enjoyed walked in them. The hunt can be more fun than the find. The New Old Town shop was recommended to us by the Real Deal. Unfortunately for us they were in the process of painting the store and are temporarily closed. We had a nice chat with the owners and promised to come back on a future trip. We might have to bring a U-Haul with us, though, as they specialize in furniture and not knickknacks.

While waiting for dinnertime we sat in the shade dipping our feet in the Rideau Canal. According to Don, I fell sound asleep. The stresses of life were oozing out of me.

After dinner I went roller skating.

The weekly newsletter mentioned the opportunity to go roller skating on Tuesday and Friday nights from 6-8 pm at the Youth Center. We took that scant information and went on a hunt for a roller skating rink. What we found was an ice rink because, you know, Canada. The main rink was getting a fresh layer of ice, so we kept looking until we found the junior rink. I tentatively poked my head inside. A young woman asked if I was lost. Considering the skates were still in the car, it was a fair question. Once we confirmed I was in the right place, Don and I went back to move the car closer to this entrance. Sadly he learned his rollerblades were in no shape to roll, and the place did not have roller skates to borrow (though the main entrance had ice skates to borrow). Instead he sat and listened to a book on his phone while I skated.

The skating community is one of the most inclusive and welcoming groups out
there. Though there were less than a dozen of us, we ranged in age from three to sixty-two. Helen, the sixty-two-year old, is a regular. She was a teachers assistant for many years and has taught everyone in Lombardy, including the Miller children. We fell into a gentle rhythm skating laps around the dry ice hockey rink trying hard not to stumble over the holes left by the goals, and random pieces of debris that a quick sweeping would have taken care of. Helen is a fan of Bon Jovi, but won't travel to the United States even to see him in concert, at least not until we fix our nation. Helen comes at least once a week and skates for half an hour before heading home. I wish we had swapped contact information.

The woman I met at the beginning showed me the honor box. It is $2 CAD ($1.50 USD) to skate. Fortunately we had taken money out of the ATM earlier as they did not accept credit cards. Her mother joined us, and was introduced to a local man skating by himself. I sensed a fix-up so I stayed away. I talked to a 20-year old who is on the local roller derby team. She asked if I'm on a team and I nearly laughed. I took it as a compliment that she thought I was young and agile enough to be on one.

On the rink were a mom and dad walking along their three and six year olds as they gained confidence on their wheels. I found the rink a safe place for all to try things. After a few laps, I stretched my muscles and tried a few things Jaclyn at Trenton Sk8s has taught me -- bubbles, skating on one foot, and squatting. I tried to focus on technique. As the rink was nearly empty, there was space to try. Someone else was skating backwards without fear of bumping into others. I was not that brave. People were falling and getting back up again. No judgement, just smiles. 

My new friend Helen shared she used to skate at the Bears junior rink when she was growing up in Smiths Falls. It was THE dating scene. She is happy to see it come back.  

I was invited back on Tuesday. At that point we had no plans for Tuesday, so I said peut-etre.

Thursday Night in Ottawa

This will be the shortest post of the trip.

While driving North I found a website talking about what was happening in Ottawa. There were a couple of events that caught my eye. The first was a free performance by the Sechile Sedare, siblings who sing songs of family. They were to sing at the Wood Terrace, a 400-person space where people bring their own chairs and enjoy an outdoor concert. 

If only we had also brought our chairs!

The second was the Urban Art Collective Hintonburg Night Market, featuring local food, local artisans, and an overall local vibe in the Wellington West food and shopping district. 

We opted for the latter.

Hintonburg is a trendy, hipster neighborhood in Ottawa, about as far away from the tourist district as possible. This was represented in free parking and food for half of what we paid in other parts of the city.

The night market did not catch our interest. It was crowded, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We only lasted a few minutes, and didn't even take a picture.

That night the local craft store was sponsoring a home goods swap. I went inside and bought a pair of ladderback earrings because I wanted to support them, and because they were cute.

We went across the street for dinner at The Third, a cozy local pub. While waiting for our table we studied the odd marble statue street art. The statues were all the same size -- from string bass scrolls and head box to a pod of peas.

From dinner we were pleased to see we only had a 20-minute drive to our hotel in Gatineau. We were ready for sleep, and to start our adventures.

Thursday Drive to Canada

We decided to rent a car for our drive to Canada. We love both of our cars, but they are 18 years old. Rental cars have better gas mileage, empty trunks, newer technology, and no need for us to do extra car maintenance. 

That said, with no plans in place, we packed peanut butter sandwiches and drinks for the drive and got a late start.

At the first rest stop I went to the bathroom while Don filled up our tank. We use a rental car company that does not start with full tanks, but is close to home. The bathroom door was locked. The person inside said "we have a cat emergency."

A cat emergency? I expected a toddler issue or an elderly person issue, but cat?

Feeling bad for me, they opened the door. Inside were two women and a large grey cat named Gonzo. Gonzo had had an accident in his carrier. Seeing me as an ally, Gonzo proceeded to rub up against me. After asking the humans, I picked him up.

The women were stunned.

They gathered his carrier and asked me to put him inside. I directed them to stand it upright so I could use gravity to put him in. A trick I once learned from a vet.

Gonzo easily slid in. The women locked the door. Thanked me profusely and dashed away for the last leg of their trip.

My good deed for the day.

The rest of the drive was smooth. At the border we were behind one truck. Only one truck. Only one lane was open. Since we signed up for Nexus we have not had any waits at the border.

Easy drive on a sunny day.

Planning a Trip on the Drive

When our trip to the Azores was cancelled due to storms, Don suggested regrouping and going someplace else.

I said I didn't have the energy to book a second trip, but he did.

Yin and Yang. 

Life often feels that way with us. One is tired, the other energized. It can be frustrating at times. 

This time, though, it was what I needed.

The basic guidelines were:

1) I did not want to deal with an airport.

2) I wanted someplace international.

Clearly that meant a trip to Canada.

Don wanting to recreate the highlights from the Azores trip and looked for a spa similar to the one we went to in Melbourne. More of a hot springs than a place for massages. He found the Nordic Spa in Chelsea. He found a good deal on a rental car, and for a hotel in Gatineau (across the river from Ottawa) that had an urban spa.

That's it.

We also had an eight-hour car ride.

While Don drove, I googled things to do in Ottawa. Our bags were packed for the Azores, so we added a few things for Canada, including roller skates because I knew about skating nights in Smiths Falls.

Much more than we had packed for our flight.

During the drive I came up with the following itinerary:

Thursday: drive (we didn't leave until noon)

Friday: Smiths Falls, check out their skating night

Saturday (rain): Diefenbunker, Carp's Farmer's Market

Sunday (rain): ??

Monday: Nordic Spa

Tuesday: Back to the Nordic Spa? Maybe hiking in Gatineau Park.

Wednesday: Drive home

I updated as we drove:

Thursday: Hintonburg Night Market

Sunday: House of Commons tour (unfortunately none were available in English)

Monday: Bytown Museum Colonel By Day with Indigenous Walks

Tuesday: Empanadas Ilegales performing at the Wood Terrace (wishing we had added folding chairs to our overfull car)

By the way, the Ironman Ottawa is taking place on Sunday and there will be a lot of road closures.

What actually happened was:

Thursday: Hintonburg Night Market

Friday: Smiths Falls, and, yes, I did go roller skating

Saturday: Carp's Farmers Market and Diefenbunker Cold War Museum

Sunday: Church at Knox Presbyterian Church and visiting Almonte in the rain

Monday: Tour of Parliament in French, Colonel By Day, Indigenous walking tour, and the Nordic Spa

Tuesday: Surprise dig at Gatineau Park, interviewed by Canada TV, hiking in Gatineau Park. Forgot about the concert at the Wood Terrace.

Wednesday: leisurely lunch in Carleton Place, and drive home.

This page will be updated with links to blog posts about what we did.

Ten Hour Vacation to Newark Airport

Life has been crazy lately. About three weeks ago I looked at our calendar and knew July was jam packed. I was heading to Maine with the church mission trip. While I was in Maine, Don planned a camping trip at a music festival near Pittsburgh. About a week later plans had us heading to the Azores, Lisbon, and Porto. Four days after returning home, I am to head to Montreal to see a long-time friend.

In-between the usual fun activities were planned: going to see Luma Luma in Asbury Park, gatherings with friends, a retirement party for my favorite doctor, etc. etc.

You have probably heard the expression: the best way to make God laugh is to tell her your plans.

Dad's sudden, not sudden passing had me returning early from Maine, and Don cancelling his camping trip. We saw family and friends non-stop for over a week. 

I was really looking forward to relaxing in the Azores when we headed to the airport on Tuesday, July 28. Pam offered to drive us to the train station, which would take us to the airport. Before we boarded the train we knew our flight was delayed, but we had a plan with too many moving pieces to shift. Besides, I love airports. I find them relaxing.

We are at the airport super early. We cruised through the TSA Precheck Line with only a person or two ahead of us. Now we have four hours to wait. We ate the turkey sandwiches we packed and got comfortable. 

One of the reasons I wanted to arrive at the airport early was that I had not finished researching what to do on vacation. I had spent a lot of time figuring out what to to in the Azores -- I had too many things to do in the Azores! I found a walking tour of Porto that would occupy most of our too-little time there. I had not looked into what to do in Lisbon other than look at the photo album from our 2003 trip with a one-year old for inspiration. Sitting at the airport on my regular cell phone data plan would give me the time I needed to actually make plans.

As we sat at the gate and the time kept changing for our flight, I had flashbacks to when our trip to Bali was cancelled in 2024. The airport was eerily calm, even as flight times were pushed back, and eventually cancelled.

Our 11:05 pm flight was pushed back to 12:02 am.

Then to 1:58 am.

Then to 2:22 am.

Then to 3:31 am.

Then cancelled around 2:30 am. I don't know the exact time because I fell asleep on top of my bag around midnight. The flight was only supposed to be 5 hours long, so I figured taking a nap would help me in the long run. Don said I was out cold.

We called for an Uber at 3 am -- the first time we have called for an Uber in the United States. It was either that or wait for the first train at 5:04 am to Princeton Junction and then having to find a ride home from the train station. The train tickets were about half the cost of the Uber.

A few stories from our long wait.

1) At TSA precheck I met a woman who Ubered from LaGuardia to Newark because her family's flight from LaGuardia to Cleveland was cancelled. They thought they would make out better from Newark. Only to have that flight cancelled, too.

Later I wondered if they would have made out faster renting a car from LaGuardia and driving to Cleveland. Alas, that was not an option for us that night.

2) I met a family from Florida who was supposed to fly to the Azores the night before. Ironically that flight left early before their flight arrived from Florida made it to Newark. I saw her taking a picture of her nieces in a cutout of an airplane having them say "Cancelled" before our flight was officially cancelled.

The shops at Newark Airport seemed to be closing around 9. Not all shops, just some. I came across a shop with the magazine racks pushed to front along with a couple of shopping baskets giving the aura of coming back soon. I popped in and saw the crossword book I wanted -- Dell (not Pennypack) variety (not just Sudoka). A book that will keep me entertained for many future flights. Trouble was, there was no way to pay. I peeked in the back. I waited. I shrugged my shoulders as others wondered if it was open or closed.

Then I got a text from Don. It was 10:15 and they just announced our gate was changing.

I figured he was okay sitting still and waiting for me to move our two carry-ons and two personal items. But he was impatient.

When I made my way to the gate, alas without the perfect crossword book, he had moved to the new gate. I found him. At the gate were four flight attendants finished with work for the day but stranded at Newark. They were trying to figure out how they could get home. None of them were on our flight, so we wished them luck and left them in peace. No idea why they didn't hang out in a space not so visible to the public.

By now our flight was moved back to our original gate, so we brought our bags back and settled in the same seats. Along the way Don came with me to see the situation at the CIGO shop. We talked to someone at a different CIGO shop. He said we could pick it up from the one and pay him. Felt like stealing, but no one stopped us along the way. And, yes, I did pay for it. I thought security would be a bit tighter at the airport.

The Uber ride was quiet. I stopped our driver from making a couple of wrong
turns, but he was not up for engaging in conversation.

Back home we reached out to the travel agency. The best United could be offered was standby on a Sunday night flight. The best the travel agent could offer was a Sunday flight to Porto, the next part of our vacation, and scrapping the first four days of a nine day vacation. We said no thank you and called the travel insurance company. They offered to refund our trip because United could not offer a flight within 24 hours. 

After a mopey day at home trying to regroup, Don encouraged us to still go away. It would have been easy to stay home. Friends were offering to fill our newly found free time with dinner, lunch, baseball games, a walking tour of Trenton, a tour of a handbell factory, etc., but Don recognized I really needed to get away. He took the reins and away we went.

Adieu, Adi

This has been the year of retiring doctors. Started with my OB/GYN last year, followed by my eye doctor, my primary care physician, and then my endocrinologist, i.e.,  the woman who gave me faith that I could become strong again.

Adi became my doctor in the beginning
of the pandemic when I was hitting the end of my rope. She was the first doctor to truly listen to me and to look beyond the numbers shown in my bloodwork as she looked at the total picture.

I was devastated when she announced her retired. 

Still am.

Tonight about a hundred of us gathered to wish her well in her retirement. We each paid to be at the event. Many of us paid extra to chip in money so she could go take Pilates classes in Paris. Yes, she is moving overseas with her loving husband who was offered a three-year position in the City of Lights.

Back in 2012 Adi followed her dreams an opened her own practice. She wasn't sure anyone would even go to her. Her approach was unique: use both eastern and western medicine in an integrative way to treat patients as individuals.

As someone put it tonight: she takes the patients other doctors don't want because we are too difficult. We don't fit in traditional boxes.

Appointments with her were in a living room-like setting in an office building. There were two chairs next to a small table. She scribbled notes, which she later transcribed into a computer. She really looked at you and listened and asked gently probing questions. She fills each of us with hope and encouragement. As we hung out and chatted with each other, we all had to acknowledge we are likely to never find another doctor like her. It was a bit like a wake in that sense.

We swapped our tales of doctors we have tried since she announced her retirement: the good, the bad, the ugly. We know better than to settle for someone just because they have an MD after their name. We swapped contact information to help each other on our journey.

Her assistant, Brenda, was also there. She was just as warm as I expected, but also younger and tinier. Besides being a part-time assistant, she is also a full-time preschool teacher. She said she loved communicating with us adults after school.

She, too, will be missed.

Don and I noticed Adi's patients all looked healthy, with very clear skin and bright eyes. We know they are all battling health issues, or else they would not have been in the room. Standing around posing for pictures with her and wishing her all the best I wished we could form a club and have annual reunions to keep abreast of each other's journeys. So not at all how I felt when my other doctors retired. I barely said good-bye to them, and definitely did not carve out time to attend a going away party.

Wish my luck on my continued healthcare journey.

Sitting Shiva for Dad

Our family funeral traditions often include an opportunity for family and friends to walk past the casket with the loved one prettied up, looking better than they did in life, or completely differently than they did in life. This might last over two days, with the second day ending with a service saying nice things about the dearly departed. Followed by a caravan to where the person is buried. 

This can vary a little bit. It often takes place about three days after the person dies, something I attribute to Jesus raising Lazarus on the third day (making sure the person is good and dead). 

Dad's service was held nine days later. We had a two-hour open casket viewing, followed by an hour-long service, a quick boxed lunch in the Fellowship Room, a 90-minute drive, a 20-minute burial, then an early dinner at a local restaurant. 

Conversely, my Jewish friends hold the service the very next day and sit Shiva for seven days in their home. Since learning about that tradition, I've told myself I would like to do the same after my parents pass.

However, in the era of political correctness I didn't want to use the term shiva, so I asked what I should use instead. A friend suggested informal gathering to share stories. This got so confusing, at the encouragement of my friends, I started to call it a shiva.

Friends came from different stages in my life. Some also went to the service. Just about everyone brought food. We did, as Lisa called it, prime the pump. We knew food was coming, but you have to feed the first ones. 

It was wonderful seeing people. My friend Sylvia from high school, met my friend Sylvia from an early job. They got along as well as I expected they would. 

Santa came, giving me the chance to
show him the pictures we put out at Christmastime. He was between two Christmas in July events.

After they left, we had tacos for dinner. I chose tacos because we don't have emotional attachment to tacos. Mom remembers Dad having one, and not liking it. It was no tears food.

People had a great time, as evidenced by their lack of ability to leave. Which was fine until they started to open food I had put away for the next day, and it snapped in my head that Don and I were the only ones cleaning up. I was also the only one to prepare the house and make the arrangements. We were the only ones to pay for the food.   

Today everyone decided to leave me alone. I'm due back with the family in an hour. Meanwhile, I am enjoying the peace and quiet.

I went to church this morning and broke down during the last stanza of "Precious Lord, Take me Home." As the bulletin had listed condolences to our family, those around me snapped to putting their arms around me. 

Precious Lord was sung at his funeral a scant two days ago.

...And then one day, I'll cross the river, I'll fight life's final war with pain. And then, as death gives way to victory, I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know he loves.

Oh, Jan, I don't know how you got through that knowing you chose it to honor your Marty who passed away not that long ago.

It felt good to be surrounded by much church family at that moment.

Hiding Kitties .... leave them alone!

Lucy Cat and Kitty Mimi are recovering from the trauma of having a house full of people. 

Mimi is back to hiding inside the piano no one plays. Lucy seems to be holding up better today. She knows we don't usually have company two days in a row. That was until the doorbell rang and she dashed back to her safe place.

Public service announcement to people visiting homes when there are anti-social pets: leave them alone!

My cousin's kids, along with an adult, decided to play "look for the cats." Even after I said, the upstairs is off limits. Even after saying, the cats are hiding. Perhaps I should have been stronger aid thrown the family out the window, or at least ushered them downstairs. Instead, I went to the bathroom.

I did lose my patience level after spending two hours cleaning up when my sister decided to open a closed box for another treat. 

Meanwhile, Lucy feeling unsafe peed in our bathroom rather than risk going downstairs, past more guests, to use the litter box.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest as I enjoy my blessedly quiet house.

Dad's Eulogy

Nearly a decade ago I spoke at Don's mom's funeral, a woman we lovingly called Honey Bunny. This weekend I sent my dad out in a similar fashion.

Here are my words:

Hi, I’m Jacquelyn, Dawn and John’s oldest child. I’m going to share a few words about Dad.

When these first thoughts flew into my head, he was still very much alive. The next day he began a sudden 24-hour decline.

But I didn’t know that on Monday night when I started to write this up as a blogpost.

All I knew was I was in Maine on my first church mission trip. Instead of hearing God’s voice, I kept hearing my dad’s. I want to share a few of those dad-isms with you today.

Dad’s voice was crystal clear as we waited an hour until we were given our orders for the day. In my head he said it's the hurry up and wait game. 

Yup, dad, hurry up and wait. We had to rouse at 6:30 am to have breakfast at 7:15 am to meet in the lobby at 8:45 am to be at the church at 9 am. We thought we were driving someplace, only to find out our half of the group was to stay put and pull weeds and scrape paint. The other half drove to a different site to do carpentry and install cabinets.

The next time Dad reached out to me was as I was pulling those weeds -- a task I procrastinate for as long as possible at home. But a task dad used to do regularly. I could hear him say: make sure you get the roots.

On the other side of the property, I was moved to the scraping paint part of the project. I was reminded that each summer, growing up in Paramus, dad scraped the paint on the wood siding to prep it for its annual paint job. One of the 300 pictures in the slide show is of my dad scraping paint or painting the house in Paramus. Trust me, he did it a lot more often than the pictures indicate, but he lived many decades in the pre-digital era when film was precious, or, conversely, we had one or two pictures we had to take before the roll could be developed. I see you nodding, most of you remember those days. I suspect the painting and yard work pictures fell in the category of finishing up the roll.

Anyway, the side of the house that saw the most sun was painted annually. The other three sides were painted on a rotating basis. Or so I remember.

I do not remember him ever inviting us to join him to scrape the house -- a skill at that moment in Maine I wished he had imparted. We live in a house with aluminum siding that never needs to be scraped. 

Before I even left for Maine, he said don't forget your poncho. It was always poncho, never raincoat or umbrella. I commented there was no rain in the forecast. He said it will rain. Wouldn't you know it, it rained and my poncho was back in my room! 

~~~

As I sit in my office with the window open on what my dad would call a top ten day, planning to have some sippy and cookies in a few minutes, more dad-isms bounce around my head:

On a long highway drive, get behind a truck and let him lead the pace. Advice I disagree with ever since I saw a tire break on an 18-wheeler I was behind just moments earlier. I was grateful I had changed lanes, but I still heard the advice as I drove home early to be with family.

Always bring a book, because you don't know how long mom will be (or how long you'll have to wait). Advice I remembered yesterday when waiting at DMV.

The GPS also channeled my dad on the long drive home. As I paid the first toll on the Garden State Parkway it asked, “do you want a faster route with tolls?” For whatever reason I agreed, even though I doubted it would be easier or even faster.

The GPS directed me to Exit 163, the Route 17 to Route 4 exit through backroads in Paramus to Route 80 to the New Jersey Turnpike.

In other words: through the neighborhood where our parents raised us, past the airport where he worked for four decades, past the neighborhood where Dad grew up, past the neighborhood where he lived as a newlywed, to the commute he had the last couple of years he worked at Teterboro Airport. I had already passed a train in New York (albeit a commuter train and not a freight train) and was now driving under the jets at Newark Airport on the way to the home my parents have shared for the past two decades.

It was the This is Your Life, John Koetting drive.

Tomorrow you are all invited to our house, and to their house on Sunday, to share more dad-isms and more stories. Thank you for being here today, either in person or online.

~~~

Aunt Barbara, dad's baby sister, and Ashley, Dad's eldest granddaughter, also spoke. Barbara was tasked with talking about her brother growing up, and Ashley was to speak about Dad as a grandfather, as Papa John, or simply Papa. I was to cover him as a dad.

Barbara mentioned Dad was a dreamer throughout school, and she has his report card filled with C's and D's to prove it. This prompted me to add one last Dad-ism. I looked at Ashley and said, you know this one: Study hard and get good grades. 

The service is visible on the Allentown Presbyterian Church YouTube page.

The slide show of images can be found here.