a repository of thoughts, photographs, and observations from wherever we find ourselves

Many of you will remember that my dearest friend Judy’s son Ryan passed suddenly and tragically in January.  It’s every parent’s nightmare. When you’re acting as the next of kin, it seems as though there are unending details, unbelievably sad tasks to perform, and very little closure for the raw wound of losing a beloved son.

Ryan was sent to the Los Angeles County Morgue, and spent some time waiting in their backlog.  There were delays in getting the appropriate reports, as well as Ryan himself, back to Minnesota.

At one point - and Ryan, being a stand-up comedian, would have appreciated this to no end - it even seemed as though he might be late to his own funeral.  But he made it in time for the show like a true professional.

Over these past few months, the reports were done and the official business of closing Ryan’s life continued:  life insurance policies, death benefits from his union, government-related requirements because he was a Navy vet, and all sorts of other details to see through.

Finally everything was in place for Judy to close Ryan’s checking account with Wells Fargo.

The bank’s requirements to do this are pretty straightforward.  A death certificate is needed to begin the paperwork.  That was sent to Los Angeles where Ryan had his account, and the L.A. branch initiated the closing paperwork against the death certificate and faxed it to Minnesota.  Judy then completed her part of the paperwork.  Then it needed to be notarized and faxed out to the branch in Los Angeles.  Only then would they send a check for what remained in Ryan’s account.

Here’s where Wells Fargo blew it. The paperwork, although a lot of back and forth, was flowing along nicely.  Judy completed it, and then needed someone to notarize it.  The young man who was helping her walked her over to another desk, whose occupant was a notary public.  Upon hearing the explanation of the circumstances and what was needed, the woman’s first reaction was, “Are you a customer of the bank?” And Judy’s response was, “No, but my son was.”

Now let’s pause in our little story to discuss some of the ways Wells Fargo could deal with this situation. Most normal people - are you listening, Wells Fargo relationship management? - would have said something like the following:

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your loss.  How old was your son?…Oh, what a sad thing.  Here, sit down right here.  Would you like some coffee or tea while we do this?  I’ll notarize this right away for you.  My sympathies.”

and even after it was done, perhaps:

“You know, we could open an account for you right now, and then the money could simply be transferred upon receipt of the fax.  Would you like us to do that?” Surprise! A new customer for Wells Fargo or at least a sympathetic and helpful encounter, right?

Wrong! Here’s what happened:

The woman looked at Judy and said, “Bank policy is we don’t notarize documents for non-customers.  You’ll have to take this to your own bank and bring it back.” This meant that Judy would have to drive to her bank, go in, and pretty much repeat the process she had just completed at Wells Fargo in order for a notary to properly witness the documents.

Judy responded, “Please, couldn’t you just do this for me?  My son’s account was with Wells Fargo in Los Angeles.  I’d be happy to pay for it.”

The woman declined, saying, “We don’t do this unless you are our customer.” The young man who was helping Judy at least had the grace to be mortified, and escorted her to a teller window in another part of the bank, where she finally got the documents notarized.

The next day, Judy had to return to Wells Fargo to pick up a check for Ryan’s last $900.  She spoke with the same young man, and told him she had lost sleep over how insensitive the woman had been.  The young man informed her the branch manager had dealt with the rude employee.  While the exact nature of this disciplinary outcome remains a mystery, we think this situation bears further discussion.

There’s no excuse for an employee being so unempowered as to make an exception to company policy in a case like this.  In fact, Wells Fargo missed an opportunity in this situation, all because an employee, for whatever reason, was unable to service a customer.

A customer is anyone who walks into your bank, Wells Fargo, whether they currently have an account or not.  A customer is definitely a deceased account-holder’s grief-stricken next of kin, trying to wrap up affairs.  A customer is a long-time account-holder, upon hearing this story, who will be moved to take his many accounts and investments to another financial institution, as Judy’s fiance has subsequently done.

It’s a sad state of affairs that a Wells Fargo employee would conclude that they are powerless to bend a rule.  It’s even sadder to think that consequences for doing so might be severe enough so as to make it seem out of the question to an employee.   It’s the saddest state of affairs, however, that Wells Fargo trainers might actually have to address the concept of behaving like a human being, instead of a heartless jackass, with customer service (define irony, here) employees.

While this encounter may have been over for Judy on the day it occurred, and she need have no other occasion to do business with Wells Fargo, the memory of being heartlessly rebuffed when so emotionally vulnerable remains.

So we’re sharing the story of a Wells Fargo employee so constrained by her interpretation of company policy that she forgot about being human.  Whatever circumstances spawned the idea that this was appropriate behavior we’ll never know.  But just like the hurt that resulted from this woman’s unbelievable idiocy will live on, so will this story.  Right here on the Internet.

Related articles by Zemanta:

• Leading US banks look as bad as ever (americablog.com)

• Wells Fargo outage said to affect 4 million customers (venturebeat.com)

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Click below to see a fabulous rendition by over 80 performers of the Hall and Oates classic, “You Make My Dreams Come True” at Minnesota’s world-famous Mall of America! Fun!  We do this all the time spontaneously when we’re shopping in Minnesota because, of course, we’re “all above average!” Or, at least we think we are. And, by golly, that’s good enough.

Hat tip to my friend Susan Pryce for linking this on Facebook.

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After dinner we head for the alpha hotsprings pool that has a water temperature of 134 degrees at the source. We saw a young moose as we walked along the boardwalk and then a lot of old farts in the hotsprings pool. We stayed in the pool for a bit and talked to some of the firefighters and helicopter pilots working on the Laird fire (picture attached).

Wednesday is another rainy day as we drive 60 miles though the Muncho Provincial Forest. We see a lot of beautiful mountains, some spectacular lakes, and a stone mountain sheep in the road.

We quickly stop at the Toad River Restaurant to see their hat collection (7,942) before continuing on to Stone Mountain Provincial Park. At 4,248 feet this park is at the highest elevation on the AlCan and sits next to Summit Lake. When we arrive we talk to Pete the park attendant and get the low down on the fishing and hiking trail.

We decide to hike the summit trail to the first summit and leave the trailhead about 3. The trail is about 7 kilometers and goes up to nearly 10,000 feet. We leave without taking any water and dressed very warm. Within minutes we are peeling clothing as we go up some fairly steep transition areas. Along the way we spot 2 stone mountain sheep that provide us with some good pictures.

We make the summit in about an hour and take a number of pictures (attached) before heading back down the trail. We get back to the trailhead at 4 and feel pretty good about two old farts making that hike.

Thursday we leave the Stone Mountain Provincial Park and go directly to the Popular Creek Golf Course in Fort Nelson for a 12:15 tee time. It is a pretty course with some nice holes and length for a nine-hole course. Cortney finally beats me in bingo/bango/bongo, however, I beat him in the score 48 to 49.

We find the Westend RV Campground which is a bit of a shithole and park the RV so that we can have access to power, showers, and laundry. We walk into town, which also seems like a shithole, and go to the library for a Wi-Fi connection. We do a load of laundry and drink a beer at the campground bar before heading back to the RV to grill some buffalo burgers. Next it’s a shower in the RV because the campground is such a shithole we won’t use the facilities.

We walk about a ½ mile to the Roadhouse Bar that Pete the Park Attendant said we should visit. We are the 6th and 7th customers of the evening and quickly strike up a conversation with James who is a Power Tonger from Grand Prairie, Alberta. He introduces us to his buddy Ken, the anti-social prick, from Prince Edward Island that we call ASP for the rest of the evening. Power Tongers thread 40′ sections of pipe to support the hole the drill made to extract gas/oil from the ground.

We start buying each other rounds of beer and the bartender buys us a couple of rounds of shots. Soon I am riding a Segway in the bar (we didn’t bring a camera - probably a good thing. - ed.) before playing about 6 games of pool with James. Apparently we were a hit because the bartender took a picture of us for their “Hall of Fame” photo board which is unusual for Americans. We found ASP passed-out in his truck and decided it was time to walk back to the RV. I knew I had too much to drink as I was looking for a White Castle. We got to bed at 1:30 a.m., and did a pretty good job of keeping-up with the 26 year-olds.

Friday morning we leave Fort Nelson and I feel like dog doo-doo.  [Imagine that. - ed.] Right out of town we cross the Muskwa River which is the lowest elevation on the AlCan and is befitting for the town of Fort Nelson.

Cortney drives the first 2.5 hours and I take over getting us into Fort St. John. We stop at the Visitor’s Centre and I take a nap while Cortney goes to KFC. We decide to take the Hudson’s Hope Loop down to Chetwynd and then back-up to Dawson Creek to play some golf and fish while to chew-up a few days. We get a few groceries and some gas.

Turning off the AlCan we head south on highway 29 and encounter some steep 10% grades as we go up and down through the river basin. I’ve only eaten a breakfast bar and had 2 cups of coffee all day and start to feel dehydrated. So I quickly eat a banana and drink some water. We finally pull into the Moberly Lake Provincial Park around 7 have covered 340 miles. We eat a quick dinner of spaghetti and hide-out in the RV for the mosquitoes are numerous and ferocious. It is a low key evening of journaling, postcards, and bedtime.

Saturday we leave Moberly Lake Provincial Park and head for the Moberly Lake & District Golf Club. We are the only golfers on the course when we arrive but must tee off by 10 because a family has bought the course for the day beginning at 1 in the afternoon. We load our clubs onto the cart and head for the number 1 tee.

While the course has some beautiful views of Moberly Lake, the tee boxes are ant hills, the fairways can be best described as cow pastures, and the greens are thick grass with many dandelions. At first it is amusing, however, around hole 3 both of us get a little frustrated when we hit shots in the fairway that we can’t find. [Moberly Lake promotes its fishing, not its golf.  Legend has it the lake is bottomless and a Loch Ness monster-like creature inhabits it. - ed.]

When we are done we head to Chetwynd which is reputed as one of the most livable small communities in B.C., and also the “Chain Saw Sculpture Capital of the World”. In fact, last weekend was the annual contest. We stop in at the Visitor’s Centre to get some information and take a look at a dozen or so chain saw sculptures.

Even though Chetwynd is one of the most livable communities in B.C., we head out of town for Dawson Creek. When we arrive we stop and take a picture at the “0 Mile Marker” for the AlCan and grab a beer at the Alaska Hotel that is 55 paces from the 0 Mile Marker. It seems like another shithole so we head for the Swan Lake Provincial Park.

After a 4Km drive over washboard gravel roads we get to the park and get one of the last spots available (apparently Father’s Day is a huge camping weekend). We both grab our fishing gear and head for the lake. Cortney has one hit but no fish and I land 2 small perch. Still, I got to do some flyfishing and apparently was a sight to behold as everyone kept pointing to the guy standing in the water. Talked to Brian and Nathan who are a couple of guys from Grand Prairie and called it a night.
We are in Grand Prairie [the northwest green dot on the map - ed.] on Sunday morning and it is Father’s Day. First time I’ve been away from my children on this day and am missing home. From here we will make our way to Edmonton and then Calgary for Cortney to catch a flight home and me to pick-up Mary. Fishing is probably done so it is mostly golf and driving at this point. RV is running great.

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I was excited when Lori Hoeck, who writes an outstanding blog, Think Like A Black Belt, asked me to read and review her new e-book.  Lori is a favorite tough gal: a former EMT and volunteer firefighter, she is a senior martial arts instructor and has achieved black belt status in both tae kwon do and tang soo doo. When Lori’s email request revealed she has worked on this project for over two years, I couldn’t wait to have a look.

Think Like a Black Belt - Take Charge of Your Own Safety is a comprehensive guide to mental toughness and personal safety.  Written from the perspective of enabling parents to pass along personal safety and awareness tips to children and teens, Lori’s e-book goes beyond to a more universally valuable approach.  This e-book is for everyone - because everyone at one time or another finds themself in an unsafe situation.

Lori starts out by introducing us to the transformative nature of martial arts training - the brainy stuff behind the physical prowess.  Martial arts training replaces inner timidity and doubt with confidence, skill and determination in its students.  The concept of layering specific techniques from this book and applying them in unison creates protection, just like when you put on extra layers of clothing to protect you from severe weather conditions.

One of the most powerful insights Lori has shared on her blog is that criminal or emotional violence is not a one-sided relationship.  There is interaction between the perpetrator and the victim during the encounter.  What the attacker is doing is creating a scenario in which he hopes to fulfill his own need(s). Whether the attacker is sadistic, needs to vent anger or another emotion, feels entitled, is manipulative or requires power, the victim is intended to provide.  Obviously, this isn’t a relationship anyone in their right mind would ever want.

A Victim Zone (Lori’s term) is created when you appear on an attacker’s radar.  Lori’s book tells us we should see attacks as relationships . . . with a beginning, a middle and an end. Once we see the situation in this way, we are more free to take action to prevent, escape or end the relationship.  When we are more fully aware - of both the threat and our skills - we will respond with action that keeps us safe.

This view is immensely empowering.  The 15 Safety Tips in Think Like a Black Belt, range from keeping danger at a distance to activating intuition and sensory skills to acknowledging your power.  All of the Safety Tips minimize vulnerability.

Anecdotes abound throughout the book’s 116 pages.  All are taken from real-life situations, and the reader can easily imagine being in the center of each one.  Lori drives her points home in a matter of fact, low-key way that is powerful.

The Bonus Section is worth the price of the e-book alone. This is an activity set designed to fine tune your senses in your personal daily environment.  This D-I-Y workshop that will have you looking at your world in a fresh way while creating a strong anticipatory mode that will keep you more safe.

Make no mistake - Lori doesn’t pull any punches.  She is not out to sugar-coat her message.  She is matter of fact, encouraging and ultimately, very convincing.  We can defend ourselves from the bad guys and we can teach our children how to recognize and deal with them, too.

I’m more than impressed with Think Like A Black Belt - Take Charge of Your Own Safety.  Every parent and child can benefit from Lori’s wisdom and experience.  Most of us are ill-equipped to deal with being the targets of any sort of aggression, whether it comes from the 3rd grade bully, the overbearing co-worker, or the stranger lurking in the street.  Based upon the high cost of self-defense courses, this download is a steal at$19.95. Don’t even think about it.  Just get it.

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We heard the confirmation that this gathering would occur.
A gracious plan had been devised from which we’d not demur.
The party, we were told, was comprised of relatives galore
With treasured friends thrown in the group would fast approach a score.

My Uncle Bob has lived for years with his partner Hal on a 3-1/2 acre property in the middle of Galena, Illinois.  At our family reunion last year, we decided we would celebrate the birthday of the Burton twins, Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary, in Galena.  It was a central point for the family to gather.  There was quite a bit of trepidation over the winter that Aunt Mary, her husband Uncle Charlie, and my Uncle Jack - the oldest Burton brother, might not be well enough to attend.  But as it turns out, everyone rallied and made the journey. 

Galena is a charming river town, which at one point in Illinois history was larger than the settlement of Chicago.  Galena grew to prominence during the early years of steam travel on the Upper Mississippi, and after the first formal survey was done in 1836, construction began to boom.  After several major fires, the city passed an 1850 ordinance requiring that new buildings be built of brick.  The result was a unified wall of Main Street commercial buildings and shops in the downtown district.

Galena’s boom extended through the Civil War, most notably due to the area’s lead mines which supplied the Union Army.  Galena also proudly celebrates the fact that she sent nine Union Generals into service, including Ulysses S. Grant.  This number is more Generals per capita than any town either north or south.

Galena is remembered as a “lead rush” town, filled with opportunity.  The boom didn’t last, however, and by the later years of the 19th century, shipping and transportation routes across the country were transformed by railroad networks.  Galena’s importance as a shipping center waned through the turn of the century.  Since property owners couldn’t afford to raze their buildings, most of Galena’s downtown remained as it was.  In 1969, about 85% of the community, including all of Main and Bench Streets, was granted status by the National Register of Historic Places.

The 19th century architectural diversity in Galena is most remarkable, ranging from original hewn and chinked log to Greek Revival, Federal, Italianate, Vernacular, Romanesque Revival, post and sill, Georgian, and Queen Anne structures.  Flood gates and a large levee along the Galena River protect the commercial and lower districts.  Residences and churches are scatter shot and perched on the bluffs overlooking the town.  The village streets are fearfully steep, with a few designated for pedestrian traffic only.  Two sets of near vertical pedestrian stairways on Washington and Green Streets rise up from Main to Prospect Street, at the end of which my Uncle Bob lives.

“A Burton is,” as I was told, “as stubborn as a mule,”
Which led to the stern mention of a hard and steadfast rule:
“No Gifts!”was the admonishment. “We do not need more stuff.
“The house is full of crap! You’ll see! We’ve got far more than enough!
“We’ll all enjoy each other; we’ll number near a score
“With all of us together. Who could ask for more?”

Hal purchased the property where he and Bob operate Linmar Gardens in the 1970’s from a couple who had owned it for more than 20 years.

Perched on the edge of one of the village bluffs, the property is so high that the view from the home’s back terrace is directly across to the steeple’s spire of the Westminster Presbyterian Church on Bench Street below.

The previous owners renovated the house, which dates from 1857, from a state of interior collapse.  Today, the property’s main residence is a charming, meandering villa comprised of the original brick structure, which has mostly Greek Revival elements - including notable glass sidelights around the front door - and several additions that march up the parcel’s incline.

Inside, the house is a visual feast; the aesthetic is pronounced and eclectic.  Cloisonne pieces Hal created with his father depict religious and historical themes.  There are bowls, objects and statuary from all corners of the globe.  Imposing 19th century portraits of the original master and mistress of the house give benign blessing to the living area warmed by a cozy fireplace and Oriental carpets.

The library boasts etchings and portraits of General Grant, along with other memorabilia clustered around a captain’s desk he might have admired.  The sunny end of the library is home to a pianoforte that came up the Mississippi to be installed in the house.  This is where Hal practices his church choir music.  The easterly wing of the house contains a private sitting area and master suite flanked by two terraces, one with fountain.  It is all quietly and comfortably exquisite.

Bob’s right about the family trait we’ve seen for all these years.
It’s such that his instructions fell upon the deafest ears.
I’m stubborn too, and wouldn’t dream of coming all this way
Without poetic mention of the things I want to say.

Bob and Mary Burton, the twins who have no peer.
A fateful year, your 80th, for which we gather here.
Tradition holds a gift of rhyme should celebrate the day.
With myriad memories flooding back, there’s plenty one could say.

My mother, her older brother Jack, and the twins Bob and Mary are pictured here about 1930-31 in Flint, Michigan.  They later moved north to Alpena on the shore of Lake Huron, which was where my grandparents and great-grandparents had lived, and where their youngest brother, Richard, was born.

It was a tough comedown during the Great Depression for my grandmother, who moved her young family back in with her father due to financial hardship.  She worked as a waitress while my grandfather sought work out of town.

Grandpa Emerson, by most accounts, was a tough old curmudgeon who didn’t particularly like sharing his house with the four young Burtons.  They interpreted this as him not liking them very much at all.  Some might say with respect to my grandmother that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

The Burton kids all graduated from Alpena Central High School.  My mother and my Uncle Jack, who had deferred his college years with service in the Army Air Forces during World War II, graduated from Michigan State after the war.  Aunt Mary, who had declared she wouldn’t be caught dead in the likes of the poor student’s wardrobe my mother had worn to college, went to work for the phone company.

We’ll start with our Aunt Mary - a legend in her time.
The phone company was mere distraction from a social life sublime.
To lure the boys at happy hour, her wardrobe changes functioned
As disguise from those who were without sufficient gumption.

Mary and her fellow phone company operators were social media mavens in their day.  Flirtatiously, they ascertained who was going to be where after work, and made dates with prospective swains by voice over the phone.  Their fail-safe methodology was to have a change of clothing on hand.

The girls would sashay into the beer joint and have a look-see to identify their prospective dates.  If the boys passed muster, they’d change into the outfits they had previously indicated they’d be wearing, then re-arrive to enjoy their evening with the young men who were scanning each female with a specific description in mind.  If the prospects looked like duds, they remained incognito and looked for other fun.

I’m pretty certain it was in this way that Mary met Charlie, my dad’s best friend, who must’ve passed the handsome test because she married him.

Here they all are on my parents’ wedding day in November, 1953.  Back row, l to r:  Charlie, my dad - John, brothers Bob and Jack.  Front row, l to r: sisters Mary and my mom - Jeanne, Sis (Bob’s wife) and Nina (Jack’s wife):

Back in the day, Aunt Mary, like Esther Williams, would emerge
To swim the length of Middle Lake with barely a submerge.
Kids weren’t allowed into the deep, so her escape was solitary
From the cacophony of all the brats, yelling “Mommy” or “Aunt Mary!”
The lazy days spent at the lake were an idyllic childhood dream.
“Come on, you birds!” The spell would break with Mary’s piercing scream.

We cousins numbered 7 most summer days at the lake with various neighborhood hangers-on making a real crowd.  While we were waiting the mandatory hour after eating lunch, Aunt Mary had the lake to herself.  We were never allowed out as far as she.  I can remember watching from shore as she faded from view.  No doubt she needed the brief “alone time” her solitary swims afforded.  She taught me the sidestroke back then and still enjoys pool time.

Casually cynical, Mary’s humor ruled the day,
Even when called “Mrs. Meadowlark” by a member of the PTA.

My mother, being a schoolteacher, wanted nothing to do with the PTA at our school.  She never really elaborated on her reasons, but they had to be the maddening bureaucracy and posturing that still exists nowadays.  Suburban life in the 50’s and 60’s must have been such that a little nip or two throughout a housewife’s day made the world less dreary.  Mary remembers the next door neighbor who was never without a coffee cup full of booze.  The story of Mary’s ride home from a meeting where an overly friendly sort repeatedly slurred her married name into a hysterical misnomer has lived on for nearly 50 years.

Bob was the exotic twin, whose work took him afar.
Texas and Hawaii seemed like domiciles bizarre.
One fateful Christmas a large gift box arrived from Honolulu
Filled with Chinese porcelain dolls and statues from Oahu.
We combed their hair, and admired their kimonos closed with obi.
To us, he may as well have been stationed in Timbuktu or Nairobi.

We didn’t see as much of Bob and his family when we were growing up.  He had studied nursing and had chosen the Army as his career.

After he completed an anesthesiology course, they were transferred to Honolulu, which was fast becoming the staging area for the Southeast Asian military theater in the 60’s.

We were awed by the gifts Bob sent.  Not only the dolls and Japanese fans, but fragile, live Hawaiian orchid leis arrived by express shipment.  My mother wore hers to church and received much acclaim.  My grandmother, clueless, cut her expensive orchids apart and pinned them to her dress as a makeshift corsage.  Michigan’s cold weather did all in within what seemed like a few minutes.  Such extravagance!

San Antonio seemed more normal with the Alamo and all,
And then before we knew it for Germany he got the call.
A full career of service for which we all are grateful,
And then a partnership with Hal that turned out to be most fateful.

Uncle Bob described for us the pinnacle of his military career as occurring in 1968, during the Tet Offensive in Vietnam.  His team of surgical nurses performed at the top of their game under harrowing conditions in Long Binh.   The surgeons were operating in flak vests with sidearms at the ready, and the hospital was nearly overrun by Viet Cong.  Still, the wounded came in wave after wave, and were treated.  “We were doing what we had been trained to do.”  Typical understatement from someone who doesn’t talk about those things very much.

A peaceful life with those we love is all that we require
And such is an example for all of us to aspire.

Bob and Hal have found peace and fulfillment in Galena, where Hal creates his art.

The Linmar Gardens are Hal’s transformation of a former trash dump spilling from the bluff above into a netherworld of meandering woodland paths, waterfalls and ponds, shady vistas, and architectural elements punctuating the design.

“I am not a gardener,” says Hal by way of explanation.  Instead, he is a visionary, using the medium of earth and the botanical method to create structure, depth, and coloration in a breathtaking, sensual experience.

Bob accompanies visitors on a walking tour, providing  snippets of history woven into an entertaining narrative resplendent with Latin plant names and anecdotes.

Experiences in the world usually serve to keep things in perspective.
It’s tempting since the years have gone to pause and get reflective.
There’s plenty to learn and plenty to say, but not all needs to be said.
We’re happiest that we could be here today and that we can look ahead.

Over the years, time and physical distance have separated the Burtons and their progeny.  My mother passed in 1992, and it wasn’t until a few years ago that I saw Aunt Mary and Uncle Charlie again at my nephew’s graduation.  Last year’s family reunion was the first time I had seen Uncle Bob in nearly 40 years.  We cousins have scattered, married, divorced, raised our own children, and come back together now.  This, we all agree, is wonderful and good.

Tradition holds with those we know that once you reach age certain
You’re allowed to do whate’er you like, so Bob and Mary Burton,
Enjoy this milestone - not easily reached - with our congratulations!
We’re honored you would celebrate with all of us relations!

Credits:

Aerial Photo - Galena CVB
Downtown Galena and Linmar Gardens Photos - Peter Wuebker
Vintage Photos - Collection of the late Jeanne Burton Meisenbach
Poem “On Bob and Mary’s 80th Birthday” - Betsy Wuebker
Alpena Central High School - Alpena Public Schools

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Saving what I have to say to do our weekend in Galena justice.  In the meantime, we came home to lots of growth and activity in the June garden.  I had Pete take some close-up photos for you to enjoy the transition.

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We’ll be starting out early tomorrow, traveling the Great River Road along the Mississippi from the Twin Cities to Galena, Illinois.  The occasion is the 80th birthday of my mother’s twin siblings, my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Mary.  You know you’re getting older, as my cousin said last year, when a family reunion sounds like fun. 

The Great River Road is a National Scenic Byway that we’ve traveled before.  The Mississippi Bluffs section in southeastern Minnesota provides opportunities to observe bald and golden eagles, ospreys and other majestic birds soaring in the headwinds.  We’ve written about the National Eagle Center in our post “On the Wings of Eagles. ” If you look on Pete’s Facebook page, you’ll see this close-up he took of Harriet, one of the teaching eagles, at the Center.  His Wildlife Forever group page also uses WF’s eagle logo.  We just love our eagles!

We won’t be stopping in Wabasha or Winona, or any of the pretty river towns for long, though, because we are expected at Uncle Bob’s by mid-afternoon.  My Uncle Bob is an interesting guy, to say the least.  He is career Army, retired, after reaching the rank of Colonel.

Uncle Bob did two tours in Vietnam as a Registered Nurse, including work at the Long Binh Evacuation Hospital.  One of the anesthesiologists stationed there during the Tet Offensive remembers:  “We all went over to the OR area to wait for the initial influx of wounded. When they finally arrived we were almost overwhelmed. I remember deuce and a halfs arriving full of wounded VC and the MP’s with automatic weapons waving the drivers off and sending them over to the VC compound. They were stacked like cordwood in the trucks. We didn’t have anyone to go over there and administer any anesthesia or surgical care because we were all too busy with GI’s. I remember a lot of shit I wish I didn’t.“  Uncle Bob doesn’t discuss Vietnam, but my mother knew where he had been and some of what he had seen.

Today, Uncle Bob and his partner, Hal, live in Galena for most of the year, and winter in Florida.  Their 1853 Galena residence is situated on 3-1/2 acres in the middle of town, and the gardens and grounds are open to the public for tours and special occasions.  Hal, an artist, purchased the neglected property in 1976, and then spent years in restoration.  Now the site features waterfalls, pathways, meadows and statuary.

From their website:  The crown jewel of Linmar is a sunken garden, the foundation of the Union Baptist Church, the first African American church in the region. Staying in context with the building’s origin, a baptismal font theme leads visitors to quiet reflection.

Pete hopes to do a lot of photography in the garden this weekend. 

Tomorrow night Uncle Bob is treating everyone (party of 20) to dinner at his favorite restaurant, Pepper Sprout.  And on Saturday, he and Hal have an old-fashioned barbeque planned at the house.  They’ve decided the menu months ago, and we are not allowed to bring gifts or anything else.  This is a rule we plan to break!

Galena is filled with interesting history.  It is home to more than half a dozen Civil War generals, including U.S. Grant.  Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass both spoke from a balcony of the DeSoto House hotel.  General Grant returned triumphant to Galena after the Civil War, and awaited the results from his own election to the 18th Presidency in the home of his friend Elihu Washburne which is also open for viewing.

But the things that excite me most are the Cemetery Walk and Ghost tour.  The cemetery walk features residents costumed like famous ghosts as you wander through the murky twilight and evening darkness.  I’m hoping to convince one or more of my intrepid cousins to join in.

We’ll be back after all the fun is over this weekend with lots more to tell!

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The latest from our friend John on his RV odyssey from Minneapolis to Alaska.

Good Evening from Skagway:

You can see DukDuk and me in the attached picture as we entered Alaska and, yes, I am smiling with thumbs up. The drive down was interesting as some of the landscape looked a bit like what the moon looks like in pictures. We arrived in Skagway Sunday afternoon with 3,801.9 miles on the trip odometer and spent the day reloading our liquor cabinet and getting familiar with the town.

I thought there would be RV service centers in town and there is not. So, Monday was clean and service the RV. Following the mantra “take care of your equipment and it will take care of you” we changed the oil & filter (hadn’t done that in awhile), did about 6 minor repairs, washed the whole unit, and reapplied Rainx to the windshield.

Later we made contact with a fishing boat captain and booked a 1/2 day afternoon trip on Tuesday before finishing the night at the Skagway Brew Pub [established 1897 - ed.] with a couple of cold local beers.

Tuesday morning we did our souvenir shopping and had a quick lunch before we hit the docks. We met Captain Mike Hardy of the Choctaw Lady and headed out into the Taiya Inlet which is part of the Inland Passageway. We saw two humped back whales and a pair of eagles but no fish action for about 3 hours (we are 3 weeks early don’t you know). Finally I got a hit and landed a 27″ King Salmon that had to be 28″ to keep so it was released.

That night the Captain invited us as his guests to the local Eagles Club for a couple of beers and to watch game 6 of the Stanley Cup finals. This was the first live TV I had seen in nearly 3 weeks. I met a local artist that turns wood and bone into bowls and pens who gave me a few places to flyfish on the way to Whitehorse. The Captain offered us a good deal for the next afternoon to join 2 pre-booked guests and we accepted the offer.

Wednesday morning we woke to some light rain and headed into the one grocery store in town that gets its inventory delivered on Tuesday. It seemed the whole town was there and we bought what we needed and headed back to the RV. At noon we were back on the docks and joined Captain Mike and two guys from Vancouver. Again we headed into Taiya Inlet but this time went 6 miles out into 700′ of water.

One of the Vancouver guys caught a shaker that had to be released and about 3 hours into the trip Cortney hooked into a fish that took 7 minutes to land and a picture is attached. This monster was 42″ long, weighed 36lbs, tied this season’s record, and is a native not hatchery fish. It is Alaskan Gold! [Holy buckets!  Now that's worth getting the camera out! - Ed.]  After the charter Captain Mike cleaned the fish and cut off 2 salmon steaks that we will be grilling shortly.

We are meeting the Captain for a beer later and to listen to a popular Blues singer from Anchorage. Not sure what our plans are for tomorrow but we will be starting the trip back no later than Friday.

Again, all is well.

Related articles by Zemanta

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• From the Road: Into the Yukon (passingthru.com)
• From the Road: New Friends and Old Trees (passingthru.com)

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“The only society I like is that which is rough and tough - and the tougher the better. That’s where you get down to bedrock and meet human people.”  - Robert Service

This is the latest dispatch from our friend John’s odyssey.  He’s made it into the Yukon and it looks like the real fun is beginning.  Now that he’s actually crossed the provincial border, these lines from the Bard of the Yukon, Robert Service, seem apt:

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new. . .

Good evening from Teslin, Yukon.

It has been a tough day on the road getting the snot kicked out of us on the Cassiers Highway. [Pfffttt!!  This guy did it pulling an MGB in a trailer behind his RV, for crying out loud!  He does say it's rough. - Ed.]

It took 3 hours and 45 minutes to cover 140 miles of gravel and frost-heaved pavement this morning before we got on the AlCan Highway going west. Even then we ran into 2 sections of 10-mile gravel road that we could only go 25 miles an hour or risk getting shaken to death.

Still, we’ve had some good moments in the last 3 days. Wednesday night we stayed at the Round Lake Campground hosted by Wayne and Nina Hemalin. That evening we used a row boat to get out on the lake and between us caught 1 squaw fish and 36 pea-mouthed chubs. The chubs are supposedly good eating but we threw them back because it would have taken forever to filet enough of them to make a meal for two.

The next morning we went out in a canoe and trolled the lake with no luck. However, we saw 3 pair of loons that came within 20 yards of the canoe, an eagle, and an osprey diving in the water for fish.

We left and fueled-up in Smithers before heading for the Meziadin Provincial Park on the Cassiers Highway.  [Here is a photo gallery -  gorgeous! -Ed.] This has been the most beautiful park we’ve stayed in to date and in the morning the park attendant, Marvin Reid, took us fishing. I caught a nice 3lb Dolly Varden and a small Rainbow (picture attached) while Cortney caught a 3.5lb Dolly Varden.

After fileting them we took off for Dease Lake and saw 8 black bears and 2 grizzlies along the way (picture attached).

We stayed at the Water’s Edge Campground in Dease Lake and shared our meal of fish with Murray and Pat Crees from Vancouver Island. They went to bed after “blubbering a bib-full” with us for a couple of hours and we played a game of “hit the stick in the lake with a rock” which I won 11 to 7.

We left at 9, got to the Yukon around 1 (DukDuk picture attached), and finished the day around 5 at Dawson Peaks Resort. Tomorrow we will make Skagway - 3 weeks from when I left MN.

All is good.

Related articles:

• Northern exposure (guardian.co.uk) [This is an awesome article about cruising Alaska's inside passage by ferry - a great alternative to more expensive cruise ships.]
• Teslin library to reopen at former trading post (cbc.ca)
• RuralCom Corporation to provide cell phone service to the Alaska Highway and the BC North Coast (newswire.ca)
• Crews work to contain rapidly spreading Lillooet, B.C., fire (cbc.ca)
• Whitehorse cafe owner, friend win $292,000 in Lotto 6/49 jackpot (cbc.ca)

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