Sojourn to the Berkshires 3, Last Day (kind of)

 Okee dokee. At the moment I am in a beautiful hotel room in Missoula, Montana, having hugged my son and daughter-not-in-law-but-so-for-real for the first time in a year. My lovely soul-mate is sleeping in the king-sized bed behind me, and I am up after being comatose for nearly 12 hours to (begin to) get caught up after a challenging mess of a set of flights home from Albany.

What happened, you may ask.

I may answer.

Friday morning Jimmy came by the Fairfield Inn and we took the Purple Charger to breakfast. Or we took ourselves to breakfast. A skip and a jump up the highway to the Rio Café we went. It's a cute little place with a back lawn hosting well spaced picnic tables and we took one, chatted about the play and life and family, just enjoying one another's company. It had been 7 years since we had been geolocated and it felt so, so good to be with him. And it had been around 42 or 3 years since we had met as young men in Alaska, becoming fast friends who have stayed in touch along our meandering paths through lives. I love him and trust him completely. 

After a tasty breakfast, I took a selfie. This is us, together and happy. 

Two old friends at Rio Cafe

We hugged goodbye a couple times in the motel parking lot, bid each other see-ya-later, and he drove away to his next rehearsal. I had already checked out and minutes later I was on the road northwest to Albany. I called Lee Ann and chatted a few minutes. She was elated to hear that Seamus was home from the hospital, beginning to recuperate after his two latest brain surgeries and The Virus (that's all I'll say but it was a challenging few days for my brother). I told her that since I had several hours before the flights home (an optimistic assessment), I was thinking about spending one of them at the Turn Park sculpture garden, an attraction along the way. but as we spoke I encountered a sign that said "Berkshire Botanical Garden" and quickly came up on it, turning into the entrance. That's my favorite way to travel, friends, making it up as I go. Like life, you know.

I took a number of photos during the hour I enjoyed strolling through the gardens, but I'm going to save some blog-time here by sending you to the Garden website photos, which are generally mo' better than mine. I do like this pano though, so click on it to view it larger and scroll it, then click here to see the official pics. 

Berkshire Botanical Garden

I was sweaty enough after an hour or so enjoying this beautiful set of gardens so I returned to Purple and hit the road. In Albany, I returned him and got inside through security uneventfully. I figured I would have a beer or two over the next few hours and grab a salad. 

I found my parking spot before flying home!

I spent a couple hours working on my previous post and ate a bad salad with undercooked chicken which I scraped toward the side of the plastic go container, along with two 20 oz. local draft beers, and headed to my gate at the appointed time. On the way, my phone vibrated.

What? 

In a nutshell:  Look here, there's a message from American Airlines that my flight has been cancelled. I rushed to the gate counter and sure enough, it had. No line before me, I approached the harried but really helpful service counter attendant and after some discussion of alternatives was booked on a new flight to Nashville, not through connecting flight to Chicago, but to Charlotte, North Carolina. And not arriving that night, but flying out at in an hour or so and out of Charlotte at early AM the next morning. I grabbed my phone and found a room at the Hampton Inn at a sale rate (what a deal--not subsidized by AA and costing me 250 dollars and tips for shuttles and grabbing me oh about 4 hours sleep before grabbing a Lyft another unexpected expense, at 5 a.m. to get boarded for home. The flight to Charlotte was half hour late but hit the sky, in an hour or so hitting storm turbulence that elicited at least one scream from a passenger. Perfect. 

I called the motel upon landing and barely caught the last shuttle, got into a weird suite at my ersatz bargain rate, hit the 7-11 next door for a turkey sandwich, a breakfast sandwich to micronuke the next "morning," (it already WAS morning by then), wolfed down the first, drank a canned margarita and half a liter of water, laid down on the giant bed, and did not move until my 4 a.m. alarms went off. I showered, dressed, inhaled my bad microwaved 7-11 breakfast sandwich, and raced down to my Lyft, which got me to the church on time. I had no bags to check and things went well at the airport so up in the air I was.

Let me hold forth a bit about COVID-19. I am quad-vaxed. I wore a KN-95 mask on my trip anytime I was anywhere in close proximity to strangers. I was never harassed about it, only got a few demeaning looks from others, and hated the claustrophobic feeling of the hot breath for hours at a time. In airports, I was in the fairly small minority of folks doing that, but I did not give a hoot. I'm pretty sure I do not have COVID. Enough said.

Lee Ann picked me up and home we went. I went straight to bed because we were flying at 5 something the next morning, bound for Montana. 

I'll consider this the end of my Berkshires trip, and a memorable one it was. Will I continue this blogfest with descriptions of my week-long trip to Montana? Maybe. We'll see. 

Sojourn to the Berkshires Day 1

 Good morning from the Berkshires, Great Barrington, Massachusetts, particularly. I'm going a-walking this chill morning. I'll start a little travelogue here and update it to keep records of images I'll collect in my travels here. The entire Google album of my little sojourn will be archived here.

It's only a two day trip, as mentioned in my previous post, but one of my new goals in iPhotography is to collect images I may want to paint in the future. 

Tuesday I walked my best buddy Watson and tossed him into Casper the Friendly Kia to take him to K9 Logics, his home away from home, for fun on the farm. He initially wanted to drive.

No, Watson, you may not drive Casper the Friendly Kia

In the afternoon I met my dear bud Rocky at Tailgate Headquarters for a bite to eat and a beer, capped off with a cigar. After an early to-bed, Lee Ann and I were up by 4:30 so she could drop me off at BNA for the trip.

I made my away through the crowded airport through security and after grabbing a turkey tomato sandwich at the high tech Amazon islands (how cool to register your handprint to a credit card, get want you want, and leave without any further interaction with a cashier--bye-bye jobs) boarded a 7:07 AM American Airlines flight to Albany, NY, via Chicago, IL. The first flight was on a 737, so I crossed my fingers a lot. All good excepting the flight was around 40 minutes early arriving and we sat on the ORD tarmac for 45 of that awaiting permission to dock. I had around 30 minutes left to snag my flight to Albany. That turned out to be on a teenyplane, you know the ones with two seats on the right and one on the left and not enough headroom for 6-footers. I power-walked and they were just calling Groups 6 and 7 to board when I huffed up to the gate, which was about as distant from my landing gate as they could make it. That flight was fine, just cramped for leg room, and I made my way to the car rental tables only to find the Enterprise booth empty, with a sign on the plexi telling me to "Please proceed to the Alamo, National rental station in the parking lot." 

I did so and the nice attendant-of-many-rental-services, Sam, who gave me my options. There was a Dodge Charger, a Toyota Camry, and a Kia Forte. I asked Sam which one he would pick, just for fun. He unhesitatingly said, "I would personally take the Charger. It's sporty and a little ballsy, you know, a muscle car, and not too hard on mileage." I did. Little did I realize it would get even better. I walked the way Sam pointed and found the purple car:

Bruno the Charger

What hat a lovely drive down southeast to my motel. Here are two quick snaps I took whilst the car was resting:

Waiting for his master's voice! Nipper is patient.

One of those bridge-is-one-lane red lights

I made it to my motel around 3:00, after winding through blue highway small towns and enjoying the view at every turn. I plan to take my time up to the airport for my late afternoon flight on Friday and see what I can see in some of those towns. Though I see on the news that beaucoup holiday flights are being cancelled all over and I should give myself 3 hours at the airport. 

I got settled and drove out to explore a little and catch that late lunch I needed, landing at the picturesque and friendly Barrington Brewery and Restaurant only a couple long blocks away from the Fairfield Inn by Marriot where I am staying. I caught a beer at small but cozy bar

 

and after Jimmy called to say he was on the way I moved to a table where we could talk privately. We hadn't seen each other in 7 years--since my lovely daughter Miranda's wedding in Nashville--and I got a little weepy for a number of reasons when I got my long delinquent hug. We sat, talking for a bit. There have been some complications that I gather could have been much worse (thank you, universe, for it not being that) that have precluded Riad, Jimmy's beautiful wife, and Seamus, his son and my godson, from attending, which was the plan. I won't elaborate here, and though I am disappointed to lose those hug opportunities it is what it is, and everyone is predicted to be okay. These complications bring an oddly absurd level to the performance I will see tonight and which Jimmy will repeat for every night for the play's two week run. I am certain it will be powerful however it goes: One accomplished actor, around 2 hours, ~11,000 words, in the small Leibowitz Black Box Theater at Bard College, taking us into the present tense beginning 12 years ago in the family's hospital "home."

Jimmy had to leave to run lines with his director, Robert Egan, and to get some rest. I got a selfie, finished my delicious BBandR fish and chips, and headed back to the motel to get some rest myself. I slept pretty well. Got up this morning for the "free" breakfast, came here to blog. As you know, I'm committed to adopting that habit more consistently. Enjoy it or not, it's my "book."

Here:

Me and Jimmy, a few years later; see previous post

More later. It's 9:12 in the morning and I'm going Great Barrington exploring.

Alaska Photoarcheology

 There I am making up words again. But seriously, I had some fun over the weekend unearthing some ancient history. Back before the dawn of the computer, people used devices called "cameras" to record and share images. Sometime later, as we all know, cell phones put a camera in everyone's pocket. 

Well.

I am heading up to Massachusetts a week from tomorrow to attend opening night of my dear brother-from-another-mother's one man play, running two weeks at the Bard College Leibowitz Black Box Theatre in Great Barrington. I'll actually fly up to Albany, NY, where I'll pick up a rental car and drive down to Great Barrington, stay a night, explore what I've been told is a great (sorry) little town, see the play, take another motel sleep, then get up and drive back to Albany. I'll fly back and prepare for a sojourn with my life's love, who is coincidentally my much loved wife, to Missoula for a visit with our son, Colin and his lovely Kat (and their lovely two cats). 

Anyway, where was I. Oh. Right here.

I am SO excited to reconnect with James Morrison, known in my personal brain as Jimmy, and to see 

.

The play centers around my godson Seamus's cancer and recovery in his 10th year on the planet. It's around 11,000 words in its final state, and I am incredibly pumped to witness its delivery to the world on the 30th of June. just nine nights away. I understand that Riad and Seamus will also be there and I'm excited to see the both of them, too! I gather the playwright will be there, too, because he will be acting the role of himself, onstage. Win-win. Win.

I've been doing some reminiscing lately about our time in Alaska, and that led to some googling. I managed to move through several dead ends to the little treasure trove of the University of Alaska Archives online repository, where I discovered some things I hadn't ever seen. Here's one: 

Fantasy Factory improv group nominally entertains a group of little kids, somewhere in Anchorage, circa 1977-8

I don't see Jimmy in there, but look closely and you will see a tree that looks a lot like the 27 year old me. Let's see another:

Scene from Diamond Studs, 1978, Fairbanks, Alaska. Luan Schooler and I had the spotlight, but there are plenty more talents in the pic, including a 22ish year old James Paige Morrison (kneeling, red bandana). 

That denim vest was handmade for me by a dear friend as a parting gift upon leaving Knoxville for Anchorage in 1975. It's Don Ruddy behind the bar, and I see Susan Mendel behind the mic stand, Ernie Norris catching a bit of spotlight behind me, Warren Elkins playing bass, and I can almost recall the name of the fellow in the bottom right, but not quite. Another one?

Alaska Repertory Theater apprentices/stagehands for Four Poster, UofA Fairbanks, 1978. 

Top to bottom it's Chris Fairbanks, me, Jimmy, Susan, ?, and Luan Schooler. What the hell am I wearing on my head? Doesn't matter. I do recall that for the run of that play I ran the light board, and important and fun job. I also helped hang them, straddling 50 foot a-frame ladder to get that work done. If I were to try that today I would so end up a bag of broken bones at the ladder's foot.

I'll end this post with a pic I have in my own archives; from a visit to LA long ago, it's two young men with an abiding love for one another and everything out in front of them. So long Memory Lane, and I will see you next week, old friend, brother, hero.