Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Michelle (nee) Lock and Elizabeth Lock

Elizabeth Brown, Elizabeth Rogers, Brian Sims, cct, Anna Mary LeBlanc in Chicago

Micah cagley

Richard, Micah, and Jonah cagley in Pittsburg.

Micah cagley, Jackie Plauche cagley, Eddie Barry
Micah cagley, Jackie Plauche cagley, Eddie Barry

Dad says he just caught up with his writing: Lots to read

September 8
Am glad that I did because, among other reasons, Jim whipped up a super meal of potatoes, asparagus, and filet mignon -- all cooked just right. Later we drank a number of his specialty vodka drinks and started telling stories of old times including one I'd like to forget: If a student brought candy or a soft drink into my class, for punishment i would confiscate the contraband and eat or drink right in front of the student's face, usually evoking, to my delight, outrage and chagrin. But after lunch one day Joan Heyman, fran Freeland, and some of their friends cavalierly sauntered in late, annoying me considerably. Joan also carried in a coke can which I angrily grabbed. I took a huge swallow and then had to rush out of the classroom to spew forth a mixture of coffee grounds, coke, Tabasco, jalpena peppers, and slime mold. I have been had by students many a time but rarely as badly.
After leaving ESA Jim graduated from Washington University in St. Louis, picked up an MA, and has had jobs too numerous to remember all over the country. But right now he teaches motorcyle safety and takes care of the house and son while Michelle, the primary breadwinner, slaves away in the basement administering conference calls between clients and her company, headquartered in Seattle.

Sept 9
After Jim and I walked his son to school and Jim cooked a huge breakfast, I Drove most of the day to Minneapolis on highway 94 through the farmlands of Wisconsin dotted with well maintained barns and silos and well contented cattle. Winter will be coming soon
Stayed with John and Jill Maraist. When I arrived, John fixed a number of Old Fashionds for Freddie Bowie and me, after which I remember having dinner with them, but that's about it. Both of them have remarkable credentials: Freddie , a Davidson alumnus and track star,received his doctorate at Berkeley in chemistry. Of Mr. Begnaud, he says, "I would run through a wall for him.". Recently married, Freddie now works in a consulting firm. He wants to combine some business with his academic background to eventually start his own company.
John received his doctorate in Germany after graduating from Tulane. After teaching in Australia, he left academia to join a start-up firm doing technical work so arcane that I cannot begin to explain it. John, perhaps the smartest student whom I've ever taught, once wrote a journal his freshman year entitled "A Mathematical Proof of the Existence of God. " which converted me from agnostic to believer.

Sept. 10
After cooking me a cardiacally unfriendly but delicious breakfast, John took me around Minneapolis. We spent several hours in the Museum of Art looking at a 1964 my freshman year in high school) exhibit with narcissistic interest, and spent a lot of time looking at a show of a really good argentinian painter named Kuipcha (sp?) who uses maps and stadiums as starting points for his ideas, then wandered around the waterfront. The Mississippi comes through Minneapolis, which was a thriving mill town, until fairly recently producing more flour than any other town in the United States. A dam across the river allowed merchants to channel the water through sluices that drove the waterwheels. Below the dam we could see boats moving up and down through several locks and John pointed out the new bridge built where the old one had collapsed into the river two years ago carrying unlucky motorists to their watery deaths. That night, at a sports bar, John, Jill, and I watched the New Orleans Saints send the Minnesota Vikings to their grave. Couldn't be sweeter.

Sept. 11
After a late breakfast at a local crepe restaurant with Jill and John, I departed on highways 94 and 32 for Racine, Wisconsin, to visit Charles Barousse and his wife Claire. I would like to point out that since entering Iowa I have seen trees, a few at first in South Dakota, more in Nebraska; but after i crossed the Mississippi at Davenport, the vegetation looked familiar to my accustomed-to-southeastern-foliage eyes However, the pastoral beauty of Wisconsin lived up to the claims of its most ardent admirer, Laura Kolar.
Charles and Claire live right on Lake Michigan which stunned me with its size and might. It's like the ocean, with big waves rolling in and water as far as the eye can see. Charles, who will defend his PhD thesis soon, has taken a job with a start up company specializing in speech recognition. Claire helps out with legal issues relating to patents, and they both hope to strike it rich. At the least, Charles says that he will gain the equivalent of a post-doctoral experience. Charles and Claire's apartment, littered with various musical paraphenalia --trumpet, cd's, LP's, keyboards, guitars -- brought back memories of his days as bass guitarist for the Hekatomic Cherries, a loud, aggressive highschool punk band that had its heyday in the 90's but still maintains a legendary status among certain devotees in Acadiana.

Sept 12

Drove into Chicago, on the south side, near Soldier Field (where the Bears play) and Chinatown, to stay with Mary Anna LeBlanc. Also met her fiancé, Matt, who's a physical therapist. Louisiana memorablilia dots Mary Anna's apartment, indicating her plan to return to her native land soon. After a long, complex discussion involving culinary compromises (Anna Mary hates Middle Eastern; i hate hamburgers and pizza), we decided to have dinner with s number of alumni at Le Bouchon, an obviously French restaurant in one of the trendier parts of town. Attending were Charles and Claire, Anu Gupta Desai (a doctor in NYC visiting her husband who works in Chicago, John kramer (working with the National Trust for Historic Preservation) and his partner ( an architect), Casae Hobbes (studying library science at the university of Chicago) and me ( a homeless nomadic herdsman) . On Charles' suggestion most of us repaired to a well-known bar called the Maproom afterward The dinner party enjoyed the food, the drink, and each other's company very much.

September 13
Had lunch with Stanton Valentino and Emma Arcenaux (beginning her studies at the Art Institute of Chicago) at a dive but a very good Taco place near DePaul University where Stanton has just started as a freshman. To my chagrin Stanton insisted on paying for lunch but at my insistence he also
made a kind donation to the Tates-Tutwiler Scholarship Fund. Admirers of Stanton will be happy to know that he has barred the door to the behemoth of conformity with his brighly dyed yellow hair and a ring through his lower lip But I actually spent most of the day with Emma visiting the Museum of Art, being stunned as always by Grant Woods' "American Gothic," the photographs of Cartier-Besson, and Edward Hopper's"Nighthawks," Later we walked through Graceland Cemetery, where the robber barons of the Industrial Age -the Fords, the Sullivans, the Palmers-- built monuments to the themselves. One notable exception , Cyrus McCormic--who grew up, by the way, on a farm near my hometown of Lexington, Virginia-- only has a simple gravestone to mark his passing. However, he did demonstrate his Scotch-Irish thrift by buying up a whole acre of land --at a bargain price --for the interment of future generations of McCormicks.
That night I had dinner at a good Thai restaurant in downtown Chicago with Michelle Lock Erics, Elizabeth Lock, and Michelle's daughter Tayler ? a very pretty and funny high school senior. Michelle, a nurse, and Elizabeth (an executive at Mars (yes! The candy company) are both married with childrenbal but Elizabeth has a long road ahead of her in child raising whereas Michelle, with an earlier start, has just about finished.

September 14

Meant to visit the museum of Contemporary Art but ended up spending lunch at a Palestinian restaurant and most of the day with Mary Hibbeler who teaches English at the University of Illinois in Chicago. Mary has a sunny, airy house with even a yard on sort of the northern side of Chicago near the Ukranian section of the city. Later, I met Brian Sims for a beer at the ?? Before dining at Arturo's (a Mexican restaurant on the north side) with him, Mary Anna, Elizabeth Brown (just graduated from ULL and just arrived in Chicago in search of a job), and my niece, Elizabeth Rogers (in Chicago on business). Brian, married now with two children) "manages" five schools in Chicago, teaching principals how to do their jobs in blighted urban areas. After leaving ESA, Brian received a Masters degree at Stanford, met his wife Gretchen there, and then began teaching in ghetto schools in New Jersey and in California. Eventually he took a job as a principal in a failing Chicago public school and developed a program of improving the quality of education in at risk schools, a program that president Obama is heavily relying on to further his educational goals.

Sept 15

Reluctantly, I left Chicago, regretting the people and places I had not seen or not spent enough time with. I drove back to Lebanon, Indiana, mostly on interstate 65, retrieved the bus (still without electricity, except for the headlights), had a good lunch with Mary Painter (my quondam roommate's (Will's) wife), and headed on interstate 70 through Indiana and Ohio towards Pittsburg. Camped at Madison Lake State Park in honor of the famous Madison Miller. Unfortunately the womAn in charge shared none of Miss Miller's charm
and laughter.

Sept 16
As I cruised by. said "Goodbye, Columbus" in memory of Philip Roth's great novel of youth, then
much later turned off to drive towards a swath of northeastern Ohio and western West Virginia on highway 22 before crossing the Ohio River into a piece of West Virginia and entering Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. This is coal minining country, real Appalachia with all its beauty and poverty and for the first time on this long trip I felt right at home, having grown up and taught in country just like this before coming to ESA. Looking for Jackie Plauche Cagley '85 I drove through Pittsburg rush hour traffic in the rain only to find that I had gone to the right address but to the wrong zipcode. My phone which i also use as my GPS, also died at this point. As I tried desperately but in vain to turn around on a narrow street a car full of hoodlums appeared, threatening with vile profanity to kill me. Fortunately, just as i had grabbed a tow chain and the situation began to really deteriorate, a kind citizen showed up, helped me turn the bus around, and led me to a gas station where another kind young attendant saw my distress, charged my phone behind the counter, gave me a banana and a cup of coffee, left a line of customers to point me in the right direction, and explained the details of my route. Since it was raining heavily, was night, and the windshield wipers did not work, driving to Jackie's house continued to be no fun, especially after I sideswiped some object, leaving the right outside mirror flattened against the side of the bus. Finally I made it but had one last test of backing the bus into jackie's driveway in total darkness, fortunately guided by her and her husband Richard and her five-year-old son Micah, who had waited all day for the bus to arrive and had cried when he feared that I and the bus (which interested him a lot more than me) would not appear.
Jackie and her husband couldn't have been nicer during the whole visit and for once I was able to remember the names of some alumni children: Noah, Jonah, Micah, and Michelle. Notice also that the boys were named in the same sequence that the biblical characters appeared.

Sept. 17.
Spent the early part of the morning talking to Richard, after which Jackie drove me around showing me Shady Side Academy, the most prestigious private school in Pittsburg; a local mansion from the robber baron days; Michelle and Jonah's school, Micah's school, and the cross country course where Noah, also a swimming star, runs. Then she took me to meet Eddie Barry, who lives not far from the Carnegie Mellon Institute on a cobblestone street. Eddie, a sort of land man, puts deals together for oil and gas companies --especially relating to shale properties which are the hottest thing going these days.
After lunch Jackie drove me back to her house where I took a profound nap and then headed out towards Maine, where I need to be on the 22nd to meet my family who are flying in for a wedding. I drove up highway 28 to interstate 80 where I headed east. For the next couple of days the road took me through the most beautiful countryside that I have seen since leaving the West, but in this case immaculately kept up farms and beautiful deciduous forests just beginning to don their autumn foliage.
However at this point I should know better than to enter a state park campground after dark in the bus on a magnificent autumn weekend. Of the 170 possible spaces 170 were filled --although the campground host thought that she had given me the last space. After waiting for about 30 minutes for an idiot who blocked traffic while filling up his RV with water in the middle of the driving lane, To my annoyance found an RV already in my spot Unable to locate the owner, I angrily backed in, with a hostile line of cars behind me, only to gently sideswipe an SUV, thereby adding to an already chaotic situation by causing swarms of campers to emerge with unjust commentaries. Luckily, the man parked in my spot decided to leave even though he also had proof that the spot belonged to him. After his departure I locked myself in the bus and poured myself a stiff drink but was unable to go to sleep for a while because of the raucous noise caused By a group teenagers about 50 yards away.

Sept. 18
It turned out that the rowdy teenagers were, irony of ironies, about 20 Amish boys and girls having a big time. The girls, wearing blouses revealing nothing, long "prairie" skirts, and either scarves or those little caps in their hair, giggled together a lot and were as cute as they could be.
Loafed around all morning reading a book by Ian Fraiser called "the Great Plains" and watching the Amish teenagers until I finally summoned up the energy to leave. Continued on interstate 80, then took interstate 81 north, then connected to interstate 84 east. Beautiful all the way. Nothing but Incredible forests turning gold and red and farms on a rolling countryside that challenged but did not defeat the energy of the bus.
Picked up a hitchhiker on the way to Albany, New York. If he had not been so boring I would have taken him further but instead dropped him off, feeling guilty, and found Land of Glory State Park just west of the New York state border. Much better situation with nicer people, less of a crowd, and no craziness. BTW I found out the next day that it was probably the hitchhiker who stole my credit card and made himself $500 richer at an ATM machine.

Sept 19.

As I write these words, a flock of robins, migrating undoubtably to Louisiana gathered bugs around the campsite. I will be following them down very soon.
Later, pushed the bus along interstates 80 and 81 (through the rest of Pennsylvania) 84 (through New York State and Connecticut and part of Massachusetts), 495 (through the rest of Massachusetts), and finally 95 (up into New Hampshire and Maine) -- 400 miles today and made it to South Portland, Maine, where I'm staying safe in the bosom of the northern side of my family. The southern side will arrive in a few days and we will have a big old time.
My only long stop of the day was at the New Hampshire State liquor store, right across the border from Massachusetts. Since New Hampshire has no sales taxes and since they discount the liquor, it's probably the cheapest place to buy legal alcohol in the world and thus the store is always packed with customers filling up their shopping carts, getting ready for a big time. There's an exit off the interstate solely devoted to this store; and just so you don't have to turn around and go back in case you mised it, there's another exit to another store six miles down the highway. Last year I stopped here to supply the ingredients (rum, bourbon, brandy, champagne, etc.) for the artillery punch that I make for the alumni Christmas party but alas, my friends and family consumed all of it by September.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

John Maraist


Emma Arcenaux, Stanton Valentino
Kfras, cct,Elizabeth Pyenson , Lew P, Ben P, Emily p,Anders p, Nick

Jim, Andrew, and Maggie Meier

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Sept 4- Sept 8

September 4

Later... Since i received so many comments on bus mechanics after a recent post:

So brokedownbus.blogspot.com after doing so well and taking me from Omaha to Chicago yesterday fell victim to a busted brake caliper. I'm stranded in Wilmington, Illinois -- a nice little town. Last night I befriended the local police, attend the high school football game, talked to my mechanical guru Mr James Adams (formerly transportation chief at ESA ) and shed a tear in my beer. James also explained to me why the bus cruises 10mph faster now: the guys at Rocky Mountain Diesel had disconnected the governor when they repaired the throttle linkage.
As luck would have it, Tom Brown, from brown's wrecker service, ordered the parts (caliper assembly and brake pads) that I needed and found a local mechanic who pulled the wheel off, disassembled the brake system on the back left tire, and replaced it with a lovely new assembly. What had happened was that the brake pads had worn all the way through, causing the pistons in the caliper system to overextend themselves, which in turn led to the destruction of the whole assembly.
Anyway, back on the road again, I drove like mad on highway 80 and then on 94 straight to Ann Arbor, Michigan filled with fans (including Tyson Cromwell -whom i missed) for the opening University home game as well as parents saying goodbye to their children who would start school the following Tuesday after Labor Day weekend. I was determined to meet the six Pyensons having a family reunion.
Despite a worrisome leak of power steering fluid, which compelled me to stop every hundred miles, I made it in time to have a great dinner and even better conversation with Kristen Fraser who begins an impressive PhD program in English.

September 5

Wandered around Ann Arbor on a beautiful fall day with Kristen until 3 o'clock, when we met the Pyensons. Catherine, the only family member living there, is in her second year of architecture school at U. Mich. Ben lives in Montreal and studies biology in an MA program. Nick along with son Anders and wife Emily, has like me spent the summer driving cross/country from Vancouver to Washington DC where he has a job as a curator at the smithsonian museum. Their father Lew is a professor at western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. Warm in their praises, All agreed that ESA gave them a more focused education and clearer memories of classes than any other institution that they had attended.
After lunch, I had more happy times buying cheese, olives, prosciutto ham, and power steering fluid for my drive the next day. Kristen and I did a lot more walking and sight-seeing followed by a late dinner and parting. Since Kristen wants to study Ecocriticism, I lent her a book written by alumnus Anthony Wilson , entitled Shadow and Shelter, which surveys the literary treatment of the swamp in Southern literature.

Sept. 6

Drove south to Lebanon, Illinois, on 94 and then highway 69 south where
my former college roomate Will Painter and his wife Mary reside in a farmhouse with three Shelty collies and a beagle. Will's retired but busier than ever with engineering projects in the Dominican Republic and with a huge football stadium in North Carolina. Besides that, he's been a race car driver since we graduated and was off to Watkins Glen the next day. Mary, the saner of the two, trains dogs and runs the many projects going on around the house. Will fixed me up with a mechanic in Lebanon to try to figure out the power steering and loss of electricity issues in the bus and lent me a van for my trip north the next day. Will, formerly fanatical about our alma mater Princeton, has soured on the school ever since they refused to give his daughter Gallia enough scholarship money to attend, and has transferred that enthusiasm towards the military. Justly proud of his service to our country, ( he recently retired as a naval Commander) , he sports his Vietnam-Desert Storm Veteran's cap, has a big Go Navy sign printed on his trailer, a puppy named Shooter, and a number of American flags planted strategically around the house. I had almost forgotten how much I love this guy.

Sept. 8

Left lebanon headed to Minneapolis on interstates 90 and 94 to see the John Maraists and Freddy Bowie. While passing through Rockford, Illinois, I remembered that an alumnus Jim Maier lives there. So I had already entered Wisconsin, thinking of Laura Kolar, a former teacher who was very proud of her natal state, when Jim called back. So I reversed course to visit him, his wife Michelle, son Andrew, and Brittany spaniel Maggie.

To be continued

August 31- Sept 3

August 31

I sit here tonight in Badlands Nationsl Park under a big sky as the stars come out after cooking a perfect pasta dish. Today was incredible: woke up with Devil's tower gazing down, cooked some oatmeal, and drove through the Black Bills of Wyoming and Douth Dakota and ended up in Badlands. Saw prairie dogs, bison, bighorn sheep, and mule deer in the park. This trip has made me believe that the USA is the most beautiful country in the world. It takes a lot of time and effort ,but once the children have left and the dog has died, I recommend that all of you get out there and see it. Or see it with your children. It's no wonder that I see so many geezers like me, driving their RVs with stickers that say, "We are spending our children's inheritance.". We geezers are allowed into National parks and Monuments for free and get to camp for half price (usually six dollars). For some reason attendance in national parks Is down, so you can usually drive right in. Tonight I can see the Milky Way in all its glory, something that hasn't happened to me since childhood.

Sept. 1

Spent a good part of the morning learning about the successful reintroduction of swift foxes, black -footed ferrets , prairie dogs, bison, and bighorn sheep into Badlands NP. The ferrets were assumed to be extinct but about 10 years ago someone found a tiny population in Wyoming, some of which were captured and sent to the park. I had never heard of the very rare swift fox which only weighs about five pounds and, like the prairie dog and ferret, was practically eliminated through poisoning campaigns. Basically the same process holds true for the rest of the animals mentioned, so the park acts as a kind of Noah's ark.
I drove east on 90, as usual, but turned south on highway 83 at Murdo south Dakota, and drove all the way to North Platte, Nebraska. Camped in the city park (5 dollars) where Mosquitos annoyed me as I cooked. Felt like home! Along those lines, I'm now back in central time zone, for the first time in 2 and a half months.
All the areas I've driven through in the last two days are Plains Indian territory, where Custer fought and died , where the tragedy of Wounded Knee occurred, where Buffalo Bill had his heyday, where recently the shootout at Rainbow Ridge occurred. The plains Indians were an endangered species themselves, but I see many signs of progress on the numerous reservations around here.
Highway 83 passes through what my guidebook says are some of the most remote parts of the USA. I loved driving down it. The wind drove the dust in south Dakota into every crevice in the bus. So I thought quite a bit about Woody Guthrie's songs of the Dust Bowl era and sang Dylan's "Hollis Brown" over and over again in my head. Nebraska was much more verdant. I crossed a number of rivers and began to see more trees. Bruce Springsteen has a very lugubrious album called "Nebraska" and I can see how lonely it can be. It's like a green west Texas.

Sept. 2

Today I go looking for the Platte River, often described as " a mile wide and an inch deep," Buffalo Bill's mansion, and Julian Gradingo (sp?) in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Later ... Found all of them. Had a great dinner with Julian and his best friend Jan. Julian's in a microbiology Phd. program here at the university of Nebraska. But he still loves computers and we chewed over stories about run-ins with mark broussard over hacking incidents. As the night wore on Julian became more and more effusive about how ESA had shaped his life, how much the teachers had meant to him. Especially considering that he's a graduate student, Julian made a very generous donation to the Ts-T Scholarship Fund. His warmth and generosity touched my heart as much as anything on this trip.
I drove off into the night headed for ann arbor which I have to make in two days, but only got about 20 miles down highway 80 when I pulled over and fell asleep in a rest stop.
I see definite signs of fall up here: high school football games, geese flying over, cool weather, blackbirds gathering up.

September 3

Woke up at 5:30, started driving, passed Omaha --home of my hero, Warren Buffet (who's making this trip possible), crossed the Missouri river, and entered Iowa, thinking of Barbara Bridges, our conversations in the faculty lounge. Wish she could be here now! Will drive all day today.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

And Then There Was One

I'm back in New Orleans, so now Dad's travelling in that bus, all alone. Here's what he has to say:

August 19 -- the first day that I felt better, so late in the afternoon I took the bus down to the central part of the city, bought a lot of books -- especially at a store specializing in crime fiction with every Michael connelly, James lee Burke, and Lee Child novel ever written. Ended up at the huge Pike street market where I bought a dozen west coast oysters and three huge Dungeness crabs for a good old Louisiana oysters- on -the - half shell and boiled crab dinner. A great meal if I do say so myself.

August 20-21 Craig mitchell's parents, brothers, sister-in-law, and nephews flew in for two weeks so suddenly we had 11 people and a dog in the house. Lots of fun! Recovering from my backaches, I spent half a day in the Seattle Museum of art, where not only did they have a Cranach version of "Leda and the Swan" but also a Kurt Cobain and Andy Warhol show --not to mention a fine collection of Northwest Native American arts and crafts.
The Asian Art Museum on Capital Hill sits in the middle of a beautiful park surrounded in turn by some of Seattle's most impressive houses. My favorite parts of the museum were the Hiroshige paintings of rural scenes and the modern art room filled with striking paintings composed by various artists from the school of Murakami. After dinner chez Les Mitchells, I had a bottle of wine with an old friend outside the Calcutta room at the Newcastle Golf Club, which overlooks the whole city of Seattle.

August 22nd

After a leisurely morning with Missy and her family, I took the ferry from south Seattle to Vachon island where I spent the night with Billy Plauche, his wife Ashley, and their two sons. They took me all over the island. We stopped at a number of farms along the way and ended up, after snacking on calamari an hour before dinner, having an amazing meal of mussels, shrimp, and salad at their house stuck right up against 400 acres of forest in the middle of the island. Besides his involvement in making BP pay up, Billy is the lawyer for the mollusk industry on the west coast, which makes him a great person to know.

August 23rd. Said goodbye to Ashley and the boys, then two hours later toMissy Dinkins, her husband Craig
Mitchell, his parents, his brothers, their famies, and the West Coast -- all of which I came to love. Drove over the Cascade Range on Hwy. 90 and then took 97 to wenatchee, Washington where I stayed with Bindu Manuel Nayak, her husband, and their three children. Wenatchee calls itself "the Apple Capital of the World." Even though it's on the edge of the desert, the Columbia and Wenatchee rivers meet there, allowing lots of irrigation for the orchards. Bindu took
me to dinner. It was great seeing her and catching up with her life as well as hashing over ESA matters and medical theories. She's an endocrinologist married to a cardiologist -- a family good for just about anything that ails someone from south Louisiana.

August 24th

A long day driving all the way to Missoula , Montana, where I met my daughter Isabelle and some of her friends including Emile Legendre -- both of whom had just arrived , ready to start another school year at the University of Montana. Dinner consisted of buffalo meat, hot dogs, and Cold Smoke ale from the great Kettle House Brewery.

August 26 waiting around Missoula for Rocky Mountain Diesel to take a good look at the bus in preparation for the Big Drive East to New Hampshire, where I have a wedding Sept. 25th. But there's a festival here this
weekend starring Robert Earl Keene, one of my favorites, so I will stick around until Sunday.

August 27.
Brett goodell hosted a gathering that I attended with Isabelle and Emile Legendre. Brett lives in a house with some other rugby players -- big, friendly guys who know how to party
Like some of us did in our animal house days of yore. The usual sorts of excesses took place with much singing, laughing, and yelling. Isabelle and I left early, around mIdnight, but not so early that we did not have some regrets the next day.

August 28

MIssoula has a great open market on Saturday. So IsabelleI and i bought some vegetables and buffalo meat for my trip east. But the big event was the River Roots festival which featured Robert Earl Keene. He didn't disappoint, playing lots of new songs with his really good Austin band. He's quit drinking and looks better than he has in 20 years; but he still finished off with a few of his big hits from his salad days. The audience all chimed in when, in "gringo honeymoon," he sings of an American refugee in Mexico who abandoned his wife and family and lives in a "little one-room shack" who, when asked of his plans, answers, "I ain't never going back." the other line that the crowd loved is "the road goes on forever and the party never ends.". The song actually is about a couple who get involved in a drug deal. The guy gord to the gas chamber because he took the fall for the girl who shot a policeman but she ends up with all the money. So the moral of the song is more than a bit ambiguous but the guys didn't care.

August 29
the bus is in the best shape that I've ever seen it, thanks to the guys from Rocky Mountain Diesel. It charges up hills (well, a lot of them, anyway) and travels about 10 mph faster than previously. So I will try to make 1800 miles from Missoula to Ann Arbor by the fifth of september (which i previously deemed impossible) in order to meet the Pyenson family who will reunite there on Labor Day weekend. Left Missoula and Isabelle who has her first day of classes on Monday.
Drove on interstate 90 down to Columbus, Montana. Camped at a city park there by the Yellowstone River. A big storm came in that night and I was glad to sleep blissfully and securely on the bus.

August 30
Continued on 90 (which goes all the way to the Atlantic). Drove through Billings in a downpower until Sheridan, Wyoming, where the weather began to clear off. This region, the Bighorn Mountain Range of course was made famous by General Custer's defeat but also by CJ Box's crime novels starring game warden Joe Pickett. Beautiful, lonely country still filled with Crow Indians (who have a huge reservation here) Prarie dogs, antelope, and bison -- all of which I saw today.
Finally stopped and camped at Devil's Tower, Wyoming, made famous by ET. Since leaving Missoula I've eaten nothing but buffalo meat -- buffalo sausage for breakfast and buffalo steak for dinner. On the Pacific coast I always ate Salmon. I used to like it but after a while I came to detest it. P