I am Not Going to Chance It

Ed and I habitually stop at state Welcome Centers. The staffs typically offer free state maps and brochures featuring regional attractions. At the Illinois State Welcome Center just cross the Missouri line on Interstate 70, the helpful lady on duty suggested I visit the Cumberland County Covered Bridge along our route.

“Oh, no thanks. We travel in a Prevost motorcoach/ bus conversion RV. We need to avoid covered bridges in such a big rig.” Later that day, I would hear that conversation replay in my mind.

Ed pulled off Interstate 70 in Greenup, Illinois. He bought a newspaper at the town grocery store. And, he got directions to an out-of-the-way place for us to boondock for the night. At the intersection where he should have turned left, Ed went straight. I remarked on the brown roadside attraction sign that pointed right to the Abe Lincoln Log Cabin Historic Site. It was above the other brown sign pointing straight ahead reading “Covered Bridge.”

That’s when I probed, “You did get directions, right?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to turn there,” Ed cheerfully replied and pointed behind him. He was referring to the left turn at the intersection we’d just passed. “I like this road better.”

Barely a moment later, he stopped the coach on the two-lane country road. “I’m not going to chance it,” he said calling over his shoulder as he dashed down the steps and out the door onto the road. I could clearly see the covered bridge on the road ahead.

Our Prevost is 40-feet long, 8-feet wide. The dolly and Toyota Corolla behind the coach make us 72-feet long. Our vehicle weight is approximately 23 tons. The height peaks just under 14-feet. We do not cross covered bridges.

The few motorists along this two-lane road passed around our parked rig with the emergency strobe and flashers blinking in warning. One driver stopped to give Ed the same directions he previously ignored. The lady on the riding mover behind the fence of the fairgrounds stopped mowing.

It was Paula, the lady on the mower who saved the day. He husband Dave had a key to the locked fairgrounds gate. With the gate open, Ed could drive on the fairgrounds’ roads and get us out of our perceived mess.

Paula came on board to visit with me while Ed cautiously walked the fairgrounds with Dave to be sure we wouldn’t get trapped again. Not only would we be routed away from the questionable bridge, but we’d found a place to boondock. Dave helped us park near the horse stables where we could access electricity and water.

That evening when they finished mowing, Dave and Paula joined us for “Happy Hour” enjoying some of our Mexican tequila and gin. The next day they showed us the Flood Line markings on the Grand Stands. In 1957, the Embarras River crested at 5-feet, 1-inch. In 1973, the floor waters came up 1-foot, 6-inches. The most recent floor in 2002 raised the river waters 3-feet, 7-inches. The morning before we move along on our trip, Paula stopped by for coffee and some “girlfriend” conversation.

Ed and I eventually visited the Cumberland County Covered Bridge. We took our bicycles. That’s when we learned that the bridge had been renovated. It is now the country’s longest clear-spanned covered bridge in the US without a weight limit. We could have “chanced it”, but nobody told us.

The Cumberland County Covered Bridge is located on West Cumberland Road in Greenup, Illinois. This self-supported covered bridge stretches over the Embarras River. The original bridge was 200 feet long. The reconstructed bridge was dedicated in September 2000.The Bridge is part of the Historic National Road transportation corridor.

May 5 – May 8, 2008

Sometimes We're Lucky

Because we live on the road in our Prevost bus conversion, Ed and I have the luxury of meeting new people and exploring places most people would never experience. This luxury doesn’t come without responsibility and much of that responsibility falls on Ed. He takes care of the coach.

Ed keeps the 225 gallon fuel tank full of diesel at the Flying J Truck Stops. He fills our water tank so I never need to go a day without a shower. And, he has the dirty job of emptying our holding tanks. I look to him for reassurance that turning on an appliance or the printer won’t blow a circuit breaker when we’re plugged into an electric source.

We haven’t needed to do any major repairs since our visit to the Prevost facility last October for brakes and assorted other repairs to make the coach road ready and safe. Then, on Sunday night, the generator would not make power. That meant no microwave for cooking an egg breakfast and no hot water for a morning shower. We’d use the limited power of the inverter for any electricity.

We were boondocked in Greenville, Illinois in a parking lot. The sign in the store-front window was left behind from a Dodge auto dealership that once operated there. There was nothing I could do about the generator, so I busied myself updating our spending in QuickBooks. Ed puzzled over the failed generator.

“I can’t figure it out,” he announced, “so I’m going for a walk.” Moments later he called me from the VFW. “Do you want to come over for a beer?” I declined. Beer vs. accounting, I do sometimes have discipline.

When Ed returned, he was elated and it wasn’t from the cold Miller Genuine Draft. The fellow at the VFW told him about a RV generator repair shop in the very town where we had stopped for the night. How’s that for luck!

At 8 AM on Monday morning, diagnostic work began on the generator at TNT RV repair. By 1 PM, the technician installed a new voltage regulator and the generator was fixed. Now, what are the chances that the generator would go bad in a town in Illinois where a skilled technician was handy? Sometimes we are lucky!

May 5, 2008

I'm Not Stalling

Saying “Good-bye” to Suzie never comes easy. I like those last moments to stretch out and the hugs to fill my heart until our next visit. Ed and I will continue our 10,000 Mile Grand Tour of the US and Canada. Suzie will spend the summer months near St. Louis giving youngsters riding lessons and training horses. On the Sunday morning of our departure, Suzie and her roommate Nicole came to visit.

“Would you girls like something to eat?” – I’m not stalling…We ate an early lunch of ham sandwiches, potato chips and fruit.

“Let’s get some photos of you girls with the coach!” – I’m not stalling…Suzie and Nicole hung from the mirrors then each posed with me, and then took turns posing for the camera with Ed.

I could feel my tears burn and well in my eyes when I gave Suzie a dozen kisses and held her in a bear hug. We had a wonderful visit and I’d miss her every day until our next trip to Missouri.

We were about a mile out of Fulton when my cell phone rang. Nicole asked if I’d check the coach for Suzie’s phone. I found in the cushion of the living room chair. “Meet us in Kingdom City at the Denny’s,” I told Nicole.

I got to hug my Suzie again – I’m not stalling.

May 4, 2008

Happy Birthday Dear Ed!

We plan to celebrate Ed’s 60^th birthday all through the month of May. We started with a party at Suzie’s university apartment. We put trick candles on the ice cream cake. Any candle on university property is a violation, so we sang real fast, let Ed make a wish, and then tossed the 12 smoking candles outside. As a gift, Suzie and I gave Ed a new Coach wallet. It replaced the Coach wallet given to him by a girlfriend 21 years ago, the wallet that was older than some of Suzie’s friends who stopped by for dinner and cake.

A day later, we visited our business associate Sean Kelchen at his home near Kansas City. Knowing that Ed had asked for an ice cream cake, Sean bought one at Marble Slab to serve as desert with the lunch he prepared. Slyly, he brought the cake from the freezer and tipped it to show me. We were both surprised when the cake began to slide off the cardboard platter. Sean caught it before it hit the floor in a quick reflex action tipping the cake against his shirt. Good thing the cake was frozen or Sean would have been wearing more that a bit of green icing. We laughed until we were speechless and bent over. Ed heard us laugh but he hadn’t a clue that we’d almost lost the surprise cake.

Finally, on Mother’s Day, Grandma made a special pineapple cake for dessert at my son Jason’s house. We carried this cake flat and didn’t have to worry about candles. We tied our granddaughter’s long hair in a pony tail and let her help Poppy Ed blow out the candles.

“Happy Birthday, Dear Ed…Happy Birthday to YOU!”

Ed's Birthday is May 6th

Anyone for Exploring?

I almost lost my nerve in Connor’s Cave but the fear of turning back into the dark cavern to retrace my steps alone frightened me more than going forward with the group.

“Come on Mom, don’t wimp out,” Suzie urged.

“Give me your hand,” offered Ed.

Suzie confidently led us into Connor’s Cave.

We were in Rock Bridge Memorial State Park in Columbia, Missouri. Suzie planned this outing for our visit because she knows I have an affection for caves. My interest in caves started when the Brothers and some daring Little Sisters of Sigma Alpha Epsilon Fraternity crawled and squeezed through the “unexplored” sections of the Laurel Caverns near Uniontown, PA over 30 years ago. Now, at 52 years of age, I much prefer the guided tours of the Merrimac Caverns or Carlsbad Caverns. But, here we were at Connor’s Cave – Suzie, Matt, Nicole, Ed and I – ankle deep in an underground stream with bats clinging to the rocks where I almost placed my hand for stability.

The walk to the cave was easy enough. The path wound through a short segment, maybe half-mile, of the 15 miles of trails that traverse the 2,273-acre park. We posed for groups photos along the way. Part of the trail was like a boardwalk, so I admit, I was a bit surprised to find myself walking on the muddy, slippery rock surfaces and wading in cold water in Connor’s Cave.

Challenging myself not to “wimp out”, I grasped Ed’s hand. We hunched over in the low spots of the cavern. When we could stand, we’d shine our flashlights up into the rock crevices. Mostly, we moved single file until to my relief we could go no deeper into the cave. I felt relief enough to smile broadly for the camera as we tried different group shots on rock ledges and wedged between the underground crevices.

Rock Bridge Memorial State Park is located on Highway 163 South in Columbia, Missouri.

April 29, 2008

Horses, Horses, Horses!

“If you take riding lessons, you’re also going to have to take responsibility for the horses. That means you’ll have to muck out the stalls,” Ed explained to Suzie.

Our nine-year-old tearfully responded, “I don’t want to muck out stalls. No Way! I want to ride,” she added between sobs as she dashed to her bedroom.

Suzie will be 20-years-old in August. She did learn to ride. And, she did learn to muck stalls. Every Saturday for six years, Suzie took riding lessons – first with Robin at Johnson Highland Stables in Gibsonia, Pennsylvania; then with Vanessa at Silver Crest Equestrian Center in Valencia, Pennsylvania; and finishing up with Colleen at BCXR Horse Center in Troup, Texas.

In August 2008, Suzie will begin her senior year of university education at William Woods University in Fulton, Missouri. She picked this school because of – HORSES! She studies Equestrian Management, rides, and mucks out stalls.

According to the WWU website, “All of the more than 150 horses used in the program have been donated to the university. Breeds represented include the American Quarter Horse, the American Saddlebred, Appaloosa, Arabian, Morgan, Thoroughbred, Paint and several different American and European Warmblood breeds. All WWU horses are managed and cared for by WWU students.” (That means students muck out stalls.)

During our week -long visit with Suzie, Ed and I did what we had done so many Saturdays for nine years, we watched Suzie ride. On Monday, Suzie saddled up Misty, a sensitive horse that she had never ridden in class. I thought the horse seemed a bit disturbed as Suzie led her from the barn. Other horses were being fed and Misty was being led to the arena. Maybe that’s why Misty reared up and dumped Suzie when she mounted her. The horse took some steps forward then lifted both front legs into the air. Suzie slid off like a kid prone on a sliding board, arms up, belly down, landing feet first, and rising to a standing position behind Misty. Suzie could have gone back in the barn and selected a different horse, but she didn’t. She got right back on Misty, this time with another student standing in front of the horse to prevent any movement forward and a palm full of peppermints as a sweet distraction.

“Suzie, you just gave me a heart attack,” I heard her instructor holler then give her instructions in the ring on techniques to calm Misty and get ready to take some jumps.

Later, I also heard Suzie’s instructor ask a bit more softly, “Whose parents are they?”

“They’re Suzie’s parents,” the student replied.

“Oh great! Suzie gives me a heart attack and her parents too!”

Suzie cantered and trotted Misty around the outdoor arena taking control of the horse. When she approached the jumps, she had full control. Her body flowed with Misty’s in one rhythmic movement.

Suzie told us she’d be riding Misty again for Wednesday’s class. And, we went to class again…this time with a pocketful of peppermints. On Friday, Suzie and her roommate Nicole signed up for free riding time to show me their equestrian skills – Suzie rides Hunter/Jumper, Nicole rides Saddleseat. Suzie chose Houston for her Friday ride, a calm horse who she’d ridden all semester. They weren’t alone in the arena. A woman – not a student- was working her horse. I later learned that the lady riding in the inside arena when the girls showed me their talents was the famous Gail Lampe.

Gayle Lampe is recognized as a national and international leader in equestrian science. She has been an instrumental in developing William Woods University's nationally acclaimed equestrian studies division. She has trained several William Woods horses to world and national championships. My research on Gail found that I had more reasons to be in awe of this woman. In 1996, she coached the US saddle seat equitation team to capture a gold medal in team and individual competition at the first-ever Saddle Seat Equitation World Cup. In 1983, she personally won a national championship at the Grand National Morgan Horse Show.

The girls were unfazed by the presence of this renowned equestrian casually saying, “That was Gail Lampe.” I was wowed!

Suzie’s come a long way from that tearful little girl who didn’t want to muck out stalls. She’s an accomplished rider with ribbons on her apartment wall. She’s attending a university program with a national reputation for its equestrian program. And, this summer she has a job at a St. Louis barn teaching little girls how to ride.

April 28 - May 4, 2008

To Do: "See Your Favorite Daughter"

Ed and I keep a little erasable white board and black felt-tip marker on the refrigerator door to remind us of important matters. Fix the window that swings loose when motoring down the interstate at 55 mph. Renew the Toyota registration before June 30th. Buy coffee and creamer today! After leaving Suzie and Matt off the coach at their University apartments early Sunday evening, we found a new message on our board from Suzie, one that warmed our hearts: “See Your Favorite Daughter.” That is exactly what we intended to do for the next week – April 28 to May 4. This would be the last week of classes at William Woods University, a time Suzie recommended – time before finals and before she started her summer job at the equestrian center in St. Louis. During our visit the “To Do” List under “Visit Your Favorite Daughter” went like this:

“To Do: Cook”: Was Tucker closed? No, the University cafeteria still offered meals, but the kids didn’t eat there all week. For lunches and dinners, Suzie, Matt, Nicole, Ed, and sometimes AJ squeezed around my old kitchen table in Suzie’s apartment. On the menu – tuna noodle, beef tips in wine, salads, Hungarian dumplings, cheesy potatoes, lasagna – all Suzie’s favorites.

“To Do: Go Shopping”: Suzie and Nicole needed dresses to wear to the upcoming University graduation so we piled in Suzie’s car for the ride from Fulton – which has no mall – to Columbia Mall in Columbia, Missouri. Ed got lost at the Barnes & Noble Bookstore; Matt dutifully sat in the chair outside Dillard’s dressing room while Suzie and Nicole modeled dresses. Two dresses, one pair of shoes, six polo shirts, and a Clinique compact later, we met Ed in the book store coffee shop.

“To Do: Take Stuff to Storage”: We scavenged wooden pallets from the local hardware store. Suzie needed these bulky things to create raised flooring in the 8’ by 10’ rented storage cubical, a precautionary measure in event of water seeping into the space. We got banana boxes from Wal-Mart to pack winter clothes, books, and everything else. We put $10 of gas in Matt’s truck’s empty gas tank and hauled the stuff to storage.

“To Do: Repair Apartment Wall”: The hole in the wall was the exact shape of the front door handle. The handle went right through the drywall when Suzie, Nicole and AJ were clowning around a bit too rough. Ed and Suzie’s first attempt to fix the hole failed when the weight of pink repair mixture guaranteed to dry white fell into the wall cavity. Ed’s second repair effort met success so we painted the patch a color barely matching the wall.

“To Do: Watch Suzie Ride”: Suzie is in the equestrian program at William Woods University. We watched and photographed her and her classmates take the jumps. They are all talented riders who love horses.

“To Do: Have Fun!”: Suzie taught Ed how to play Guitar Hero. His skill level never progressed past easy. He played the same song over and over until he succeeded in not being “booed” off the virtual stage. I learned how to play Beer Pong, a game that will get you drunk whether you win or lose. One night, we experimented with recipes for smoothies. Another night, Nicole treated me to a Grande Margareta at a Jalisco’s Mexican Restaurant. I thanked our waitress for taking our party’s picture…in French…just to have fun!

"Just Saving A Turtle Officer": Suzie and Matt Hitch A Ride to William Woods University

Suzie and Matt enjoyed spreading out in the coach for the ride from Theodosia, Missouri to back to William Woods University in Fulton. I gave Matt my captain’s seat. Suzie lounged in the living room chair. I got cozy on the couch. Our ride, took us east across Missouri Highway 160 for a short while. It is not marked as a scenic byway, but it surely could be.

Spring painted the landscape bright green on the backdrop of blue skies. With each turn in the road, we remarked on the scenery of lush trees and spring blossoms. The view stretched for miles as the coach climbed the summits, and then rolled past the rural farms. Cows grazed in the fields of fresh grass. And, an old mule called back to us with a “Hee Haw” when Ed sounded the air horn just for fun.

Ed worked hard driving along this two-lane winding road, setting up the coach to approach each curve. He kept the revs up to climb the hills. He even worked the brakes to bring us to a gentle stop when Suzie spied a turtle crossing the road.

Ed turned on his caution beacon, a light mounted on the coach roof. We barely had seen any other vehicles on the road, so he simply stopped. We all watched the turtle for a moment, then Suzie bolted out the door of the coach. That’s when I noticed the Sherriff pull up beside the coach.

“Everything all right?” he asked Suzie.

“Just saving a turtle,” said Suzie smiling as she picked up the little fellow and carried him safely across the road.

As she scurried back to the coach, the officer grinned and wished her a good day. I guess he felt relief that he would not have render help or deal with a big RV blocking his highway beat. I breathed a sigh of relief too that he was good natured about our random stop.

Highway 160 connected Route 63 North, a four-lane highway in West Plains, and then onto Highway 54 in Jefferson City before reaching Fulton. On these roads, our attention turned less to the scenery and more to conversation. We only stopped for pizza, no turtles, along this route.

April 27, 2008

Momma, I'm really close to Arkansas! And, so was a UFO!

If I could have stayed in Hardy, Arkansas, Faye would have shown me how to knit a scarf with the blue and green railroad yarn. Instead, she confirmed that Hardy was not far from Bull Shoals Lake in Missouri.

Suzie’s phone call interrupted my shopping. “Momma, where are you?”

“I’m close to the Missouri border shopping in a little historic town in Arkansas. Dad and I are taking our time coming up Route 63 to Missouri since you are away for the weekend. We’ll be in Fulton Sunday night or Monday morning.” I replied.

“Momma, I’m really close to the Arkansas border!”

Faye assured me the distance between me and Suzie was a short drive. Hastily, Ed and I consulted the map and called Suzie back. We could take Route 160 West and meet her in Theodosia, Missouri in about 2 hours.

There was no missing Suzie when we rolled into Theodosia. She waved wildly from her perch on a brick wall at the town bank. She wore huge clown glasses. Her blond pony tail swung when she rocked from left to right. What a joyful sight! I hadn’t seen Suzie since December – four months, the longest time lapse ever. And, I missed her!

She and her friend Matt had come to the lake house to celebrate Matt’s Dad’s birthday. Now, we would celebrate a reunion with Suzie too.

Our coach fit on Phil and Diane’s property next to the boat storage building. That evening, we enjoyed their hospitality. We feasted on barbeque ribs and pork chops. Suzie introduced us to the family's pet dog Buster. And, the kids gave us a ride on the Gator to see the lake. The water level was high. The recent rains caused flooding of the banks and docks.

Before nightfall, Ed and Matt built a fire. The “parents” settled into chairs on the porch to watch the fire and enjoy the deer which had gathered to graze in the clearing. The “kids” went inside to mix Margaritas for the “parents.” That’s when something weird happened.

“Did you see that?” asked Phil as he grabbed the arms of his chair and leaned forward. We’d all seen the neon blue light emerge from the trees over the lake, move parallel across the sky, then vanish.

We were in an excited chatter when the kids returned from the kitchen with our drinks. I’m not

sure who said what but the conversation went something like this: “It couldn’t have been a plane.” “That wasn’t a flare either.” “Shooting stars don’t do that.” “What the hell was it?” “That was weird.” “It had to be a UFO.”

Suzie and Matt were unconvinced but knew that the four of us were good story tellers but not conspirators. We saw something. Shook-up, we put the Margaritas on hold. “Matt and Suzie, pour a round of shots of that Mexican tequila. We just saw a UFO!”

Now, I will admit that I have never been a believer in UFOs. So I researched on the Internet to see if there could be a logical explanation for what the four of us saw. I didn’t find any answers. Phil called his son several days later to say that other folks in that part of Missouri saw the strange, unexplained light too.

I was glad to see my Suzie. And, it was a pleasure to meet the Mueller Family. But, I’m stunned by our encounter with that weird light in the sky.

April 26, 2008

There's Lots of History in Clover Bend, Arkansas

I’m still leaving a puff of Texas Gulf Coast sand on the ground even though it’s been nearly three weeks since our visit to the beach in Gilchrist. On April 25^th, our grand tour brought us to Clover Bend, Arkansas – a town that I could not find on the Rand McNalley Atlas 2008, but I was told is located on Highway 228 West.

We had attempted to boondock in Hoxie close to our route north on Arkansas Highway 63. Officers in the police department advised us that our coach was too big for the city park. Their recommended pull-off site for big rigs half-mile down the road proved to be too noisy. Ed drove on in his persistent search for a great site for boondocking. He went to ask permission to park in a gravel lot next to four big grain silos but never made it to the farmer’s house. Two men in a white pick-up truck from Dickey Tree Service offered to show us a “perfect place” to park for the night.

They led us to the historic Clover Bend School. Ed Dickey and Ron Gaither boasted that the community united to renovate school and surrounding property. The efforts earned Clover Bend School a designation on the State and National Registers of Historic Places. The renovated school housed grades 1 to 12; an adjacent building housed the gymnasium. Ron attended Grades 1 and 2 back “in 1957, or thereabouts” he said. Each grade had 18 to 20 students in the class. In 1983, only three students graduated and the state government forced it into consolidation and eventual closure. Ron and Ed credited Viola Meadows, President of the Clover Bend Historical Preservation Association, with the preservation efforts.

There’s a lot of history in Clover Bend. We learned from Ed Dickey that the land had once been a sizable plantation and during Roosevelt’s New Deal this big plantation of yesteryear was subdivided. Homesteaders received “40-acreas and a mule” to work the land. Ron explained, “There are no small farms now.” A smallest farm is 185 acres. Most operating farms span 12,000 to 30,000 acres. Crops include rice, soybeans, corn and wheat. Some folks make a living on timber.

Shortly after we leveled the coach and settled in for the night, Ron returned with his 92 year-old mother Ruby A. Gaither. Her silver hair was curled real nice and looked like she’d recently been to the beauty parlor. Her son was taking her out to dinner on this Friday night. Ruby had come to Arkansas from Illinois in 1953. She said back then she’d get homesick and long for letters from family in Illinois. She remembered sending several of her children on the bus to the Clover Bend School, seeing homes modernize, and gravel roads paved. People knew everyone on the community back then, now Rudy says she doesn’t know all of her neighbors anymore. She says she looks forward to the once-a-year hog roast at the old School when folks get together like in the old days.

We wanted to see a bit more of this bucolic, historic community before hitting the highway. We decided to drive the coach to the Black River when we pulled out of the School lot. The Black River flows around Clover Bend in the outline of a clover leaf giving the town its name. When we came to a “T” in the road, signs pointed both left and right for access to the Black River. This makes sense since the river winds around in a clover shape. Do we go left or right? Ed hesitated, and then he decided to go to a local farm house for guidance. That’s how we met Vada Ballard Smith.

Vada came on board our coach early in the morning. She said she’d been on this farm for 50 years. She remembered helping to run the tractor until she and her husband could afford a hired hand. There were row crops, sweat potatoes, beans, and wheat on the farm. Since her husband passed away, her son-in-law stepped up to manage her 200 acres. She proudly shared that her only daughter attended the Clover Bend School and served as Valedictorian in the last graduating class. She thinks children can learn wherever they go to school. Reflecting on her observations about life today, Vada says people “rush, rush, rush” too much these days.

We certainly weren’t in a rush that morning. Ed and I visited with Vada and enjoyed her gentle ribbing of Ed. Our coach was parked at the “T” in the road for quite awhile. I never did get to the Black River, either direction would have taken us there. But, the river was high on its banks and not safe passage for the coach. We were pleased to learn about the history of Clover Bend and meet its lovely, friendly people.

What I Miss: Thoughts on Fulltime Rving

April 30, 2008 – One year ago today, Ed and I sold our Whitehouse, Texas home to move into our Prevost – a motor home/bus conversion. On this anniversary of “going fulltime Rving,” I have given thought to what I miss.

I miss sitting around my oak kitchen table. My daughter Suzie, Ed and I shared our meals at this table in my kitchen window nook. We’d talk about the events of the day and resolve family issues seated around the table. We’d play competitive games of Rummikub or Canasta at the table. We’d use its surface to wrap birthday and Christmas gifts. When entertaining friends on the 4^th of July, the table held chips, pretzels, and beverages. I miss sitting in my chair and watching hummingbirds sip from Ed’s feeders.

I miss the arrangements of fresh cut flowers from my seasonal gardens -- bright yellow daffodils, white and peach-colored gladiolas, ruby red canailles, Texas roses.

I miss harvesting my herb garden. The oregano, basil, sage and rosemary that I dried in 2007 are long gone forcing me to use McCormick seasonings, not nearly as good as fresh.

I miss our family dog Rusty. We gave our beloved Corgi to a good home with three children who play “keep-away” with him.

I miss my washer and dryer. Now, I need to have a roll of quarters for the laundromat or do very small loads of laundry in the coach all day long when I have the luxury of plentiful water or electricity.

I miss drinking my morning coffee on the back porch Saturday and Sunday mornings where the wooded acres gave me privacy and scents wafting from my herb garden awakened my senses.

I miss the squeak of front porch swing and how its back and forth motion could lull me a restful state.

I do not miss my property taxes or mortgage, the ball & chain of a demanding career, or the learning that my flight home on a Friday night is delayed or worse yet, cancelled.

I like being with my husband each day instead of my clients. I like what my best friend Val calls “fret free living.” I like feeling healthy and refreshed, not stressed. I like waking up every morning and wondering what new joy the day will bring our way.

If Ed and I had not made a decision to “go fulltime Rving”, I would have missed boating on Lake George, waking to a lake-effect snow in Erie, riding the Los Ebanos hand-pulled ferry to Mexico, seeing alligators in a Louisiana swamp, experiencing the catch of 47.8 pound catfish at sunrise, and meeting all of the people who have made our road trip memorable.

There's No Sneaking Out Early for the Peabody Ducks

If you have ever tried to leave work early, I hope you fared better than the Peabody ducks. One these famous ducks waddled away from the hotel lobby’s Italian travertine marble fountain. Then, the other four ducks must have thought it was quitting time and started to follow. Their exit came to an abrupt halt. The Duckmaster at The Peabody picked them up one by one with help from a waitress and gently plunked them back in the water.

“That’s what happens when you try to leave work early,” he reprimanded the ducks and drew laughter from the gathering crowd of people in the Grand Lobby.

I checked my Seiko – 4:37 PM, getting close to 5 PM. At the top of the hour, we see the Duck Parade. The mallards would go down several steps from the fountain and follow the red carpet through a crowd of spectators. They’d waddle into the elevator for a ride to their “Duck Palace” on the hotel roof. This occurs every day at 5 PM. The ceremony is reversed daily at 11 AM.

Ed and I had joined the growing crowd of people in the lobby of this downtown Memphis hotel, The Peabody. We arrived at 4 PM when there were still tables available in the lobby surrounding the fountain where the five Peabody Ducks swam in slow circles. Waiting for the hour to pass, Ed read a USA Today and I visited with some ladies in town from Alaska for the Garden Club National Convention. Occasionally, I’d break from the casual conversation to shoot a few photos of the ducks – one male and four females.

We watched the crowd swell to standing room only in the expansive lobby. Even though our table was close to the fountain, our great seats became obstructed with the view of people’s behinds. It occurred to me that we needed to be in the balcony above the scene, not lobby level. We found the stairs and claimed a place at the balcony railing.

At about 4:50 PM, the Duckmaster told the crowd that the tradition of the Peabody Marching Ducks began as a practical joke at a time when live ducks were used as legal hunting decoys. The story goes that in 1933, Peabody General Manager Frank Schutt and his friend Chip Barwick returned empty-handed from a duck hunting trip in Arkansas but full of the effects of Tennessee whiskey. They decided to put their three live duck decoys in the fountain in the hotel’s Grand Lobby. Hotel guests reacted with delight. Eventually, five North American Mallard ducks replaced the original ones. The joke turned into an attraction, one we’d enjoy decades later.

Shortly before 5 PM, the Duckmaster unrolled a red carpet. He invited children to sit along its edges. Adults crowed behind the kids, filled the lobby, and hung over the balcony. The tune of John Philip Sousa’s King Cotton March signaled the Duck Parade to begin. The Peabody Ducks waddled single-file out of the fountain, down red carpeted steps, and along the red carpet, stopping briefly to wiggle their tail feathers and sprinkle the startled kids with water. They entered the elevator for a ride to the roof and retire for the evening. It was truly quitting time.

April 24, 2008