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| Our Daily Visitor |
Thirty days hath September…..except for our summer
road trip which hath 142 days. The first eighty days around upstate New York we
have whiled the hours at campfires with fellow glampers and grill-to-table
feasts. Our new camaraderie, sparked by
hours of ember glows have been keenly enjoyed with campmate Mayfair-ites and
picnic table hopping to neighboring cohorts as we all indulge in pick-me-up
liquid infusions and victuals.
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| Debbie and Scott's Tree |
One of our congregations celebrated Christmas
in July. On a warm, sun-filled Saturday Santa pulled into the campground on a
John “Deer”. The Mayfair-ies prepared a holiday meal that included turkey,
cranberries, and smashed taters with gravy. Dave made his famous-to-us eggnog
spiced with Meyer Rum while Santa pulled out some secret gifts from his
camo-bag.
It is interesting the conversations held circling
burning embers – sometimes the Tower of Babel is recreated nightly. Three
certain chat themes are shared: camp vehicle glitches, camping yarns, and of
course, food. In the course of the
hundreds of campfires since our tent launch in 1973, I have decided that
cooking is all about personal history.
The influence of our mothers and grandmothers and theirs, as well, is a
legacy we all share, no matter where we grew up and in what decade. In our
little Mayfair-ite circle recipes are exchanged, with hopes that we remember
them the next day. Or we become very inventive as we infuse a little of this, a
little of that to concoct the perfect palette pleasure.
Intermingled with home repairs and yard work at
Dave’s folks’ home we have been day-trippers to ramble through the nearby
counties of Madison and Oneida. We found
a gem near the hamlet of Fenner, a little shop operated by an Amish family, the
Troyer’s, who raise grass-fed beef and daily bake fresh home-made bread and
delicious cookies fill the shelves every Friday and Saturday. The Troyer’s stock their shelves with authentic
Amish goods including jams, jellies spices, and dry goods for baking and
cooking. Fresh processed cheeses from the milk produced on their land. The shop
is simple with its white-washed walls, hewn beams and gas lights. The uniformed Amish baking and helping
customers are reposed and noticeably there is no background noise of radio or
television and no conversations among the teenagers. It is a sterile environ.
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| Pompey Center NY |
The definition of a back road is a road away from
the main road. That is what we traveled as we crossed over the country roads of
the town of Manlius. Dave’s great-greats settled in this area during the
mid-1850s, having emigrated from the famine-worn isle of Ireland. We are
surrounded by beautiful hardwood forests of maples, oaks, and birch. Dairy
farming is common throughout this area as we go up and down a series of steep
hills and wide, flat valleys. We ascend Pompey
Hill where at a rise to 1,728 foot we can view seven surrounding counties.
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| The Costello Family: Dave, Carol (Davis), Steve, Karen |
During the third week of July we have made an
impulsive decision to get our kid/grandkid fix, and so we wrap up the campsite
to travel to the mighty Mississippi and level down at Sundermeier RV Park in
Saint Charles. Our kids are thrilled as
well.
On July 27th we headed to where all sunsets begin,
to the west. We are homeward bound to St. Charles Missouri (fondly referred to
as St. Chuck’s) where we doffed our hats and hung our coats for fourteen years.
We lived a whole of seventeen years in the Saint Louis area but St. Chuck’s has
been the favorite address for us during our 40+ years of home ownership.
And so we begin our journey and observations along
the way.
Seeing truck drivers and people texting while
driving is very distressing and disturbing.
To be traveling on an interstate at a nominal 65 mph while following a
tractor trailer that swerves and veers across lane markers and then to see that
said driver is texting is not only irresponsible and careless of the driver but
reckless with those who share the road along side of him. A study was done of
texting truck drivers who took their eyes off the roadway for an average of 4.6
seconds to text. At only 55 mph, this
compared a driver traveling 371 feet, or the approximate length of a football
without looking at the roadway! A
typical crash only takes 3 seconds of inattention to happen. Not only is he
putting his life at risk but everyone who maybe following next to him. And is it an assumption that this does not
matter unless a driving tragedy affects you and your family personally. How
sad. 
Kudzu: no
matter where you drive, highway, byway, parkway you will see the invasive vine
smothering plants and trees. It seems that
has taken over the edges of our roadways. And our government is responsible for
its uncontrollable infestation. What
really surprised me is that this weed was brought to the United States way back
in 1876 to be used as ornamental plantings in the south. Then it was used as
cattle feed and a government agency responsible for controlling erosion decided
it would be a wonderful method of soil control. It is incredible the growth of this weed which
is about a foot a day. As we travel
westward we see how kudzu has morphed into monster-looking coverage.
Reaching the familiarity of Illinois and Missouri
we cannot but help to “remember” this’s and that’s. Leveling down on site 72 at
Sundermeier’s we can’t wait to revisit the familiar and comfortable “knowns” of
Saint Charles.
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| Our Daughter, Carol with her Dad and Mom |
As we near the end of our hello-goodbye tour in the Midwest
we reflect on fourteen days of visiting former neighbors and co-workers. Coming
across new roads, restaurants and neighborhoods. Going back to memories made ten, fifteen,
twenty years ago. We have become conscious of several things:
1. You can never
go back – the proverbial saying, things change, is so much more apparent as we
grow older. We made a trip along the Mississippi River to the small town of
Hannibal, infamous for their native son, Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain. Years
ago we always stopped at Sawyer’s Creek for delicious soup n’ salad, now the
restaurant has closed and you can get a rubbery hot dog. Also very
disappointing was finding that our favorite Christmas shop has become a
purveyor of made in China garbage.
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| Our Son, Steve with our "daughter" Adrienne |
We ventured
over to the other side of the road to the Mark Twain campground, where we had
camped several times, including when our son-in-law was working up the nerve to
ask for our daughter’s hand in marriage. Disappointment two; the campground is
empty for the middle of the summer. Shaking our heads in disbelief we continued
onward a few miles to Hannibal; the empty storefronts told the immediate story
of gloominess and an economy-despair. Disappointed in what we thought would be
a great day we returned to camp with less memories made on this trip.
2. We are reminded during our time here how
much we miss this area. We met with the owner of our former home and had the
opportunity to see the improvements made interior and exterior on the property.
We have reconnected with several neighbors, friends and co-workers who had been
such a part of our lives for the seventeen years we lived here in the midwest. And
we learned how much we have missed these special people and the poignant events
of their lives.
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| Steve and Adrienne Costello |
3. Most importantly is how much we miss our children and
grandchildren and the interaction of their lives; the good, the bad, the joy,
the sadness; the every day of living.
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| The Davis Family: Our Daughter, Carol, our "son" Eric, our grandsons, Kyle and Alex |
We
catch glimpses of the child in our grown children that touch our hearts; quirky smiles, childish quotes that have
repeated themselves for over forty years, the eye signals that bring to mind a
remembered moment in time that sits in our hearts.
Second thoughts of regret of moving so far
away for our grandsons and missing their school plays and events. And experiencing the bizarre, the weird and
the unexpectedness of watching them grow into young men. Above all, this summer trip to the Midwest reminds
us of our love of family and our family of love.
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| LIFE IS SHORT: ENJOY THE RIDE |
