My Baseball Cap & I Took My Wife On A Birthday Trip

 

Yesterday, March 27, was my wife's birthday and I also had an appointment for an annual follow up with a dermatologist in Lexington so we got up early; drove to Lexington; stopped for breakfast at McDonald's in Stanton, Kentucky, as we often do; went to my medical appointment; and then went to Richmond, Kentucky, for lunch at one of our favorite restaurants, Masala; and, then came back home by about 6pm.  To say the least, it was a long and interesting day.  When we got to McDonald's in Stanton, Candice waited in the van while I went inside to order our food and use the restroom as she usually does when we are on the road to further away.  My order took longer than usual and I struck up a conversation with a man who it happened was passing through on his way to Virginia from Michigan.  He was a self-employed African American man driving a truck and trailer doing contract hauling after having had an injury which now prevents him from doing self-employed lawn and tree work as he had previously.  I would say he was about 30-40, neatly dressed, clearly intelligent, and highly verbal.  We talked at first about our travels around North America and happened to leave the restaurant in the same direction across the parking lot.  During our walk, the subject of the recent accident at the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore came up and I said it appeared to me that the ship captain had done literally everything he could to mitigate the effects of the disaster.  At this point, my new acquaintance went into a repetition of some conspiracy theory he must have heard on a right wing radical "news" source that the captain was from outside the USA and the accident was terrorism.  I reminded him that the police agencies involved in the investigation had stated they had no reason to believe it was anything other than an accident.  Then as he was walking to his truck away from me in an adjacent parking lot, he informed me that he intended to vote for TRAITOR Trump and I said "I think you ought to go home and look in the mirror and ask yourself why you want to do that".  He replied "because I'm a Christian and I don't like homosexuals".  I suggested to him, as I always do to such people, that he follow a little reading assignment for self-professed "Christians" which I have written about on this blog previously.  We were both getting in our vehicles to leave and I never got to carry the conversation on any further.  But I did manage to suggest that he take out his Bible and a "Strong's Exhaustive Concordance" and read Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts followed by the first 12-14 chapters of Revelation and every time he encountered one of the directives for Christians in those books to ask himself if TRAITOR Trump had ever done any of those things which is the gist of the reading assignment.   I never got his name and he never got mine but if he actually follows that reading assignment I believe he would realize he is dead wrong to support TRAITOR Trump. 

 

 

 

 

I always carry a book with me when I am headed into situations where I am likely to need to wait for any serious time length and I happened to be reading "Enough" by Cassidy Hutchinson and wearing the baseball cap in the photo at the top of this blog post which I have written about previously on this blog.  As I usually do in a medical exam room, I placed my book with the spine turned toward the area the doctor will occupy and, in this case, I also placed my baseball cap on top of the book.  On at least two other such occasions, I have gotten into some very positive conversations with a surgeon and a cardiologist whom I also see once a year.  In those two instances, I was reading "The Room Where It Happened" by John Bolton just prior to the 2020 presidential election.  Yesterday, when the doctor came into the room, she noticed the cap and book and said, "Making America Great Again reminds me of Trump.  Who is Jack Smith?"  I said, "Special Prosecutor" and she actually asked "Is he on Trump's side?" and I explained who Jack Smith is and went on to say, as I often do to supporters of TRAITOR Trump that "If he doesn't die in a federal prison cell, it will be the greatest miscarriage of justice in the history of the world."  She seemed a bit surprised by that statement and, in the interest of keeping the conversation brief in support of her busy schedule I just went on to say, "Trump's a TRAITOR.  When you step into public beside Putin and deny evidence from all 17 US intelligence agencies, you are a TRAITOR."  I don't think any of it did a thing to change her mind and I firmly believe she is a TRAITOR Trump supporter.  What is sad about that is that this woman is a doctor who spent her internship at the Mayo Clinic, owns a fairly large private practice, and was forced to relocate that practice to a less expensive setting during the Covid pandemic.  I did not attempt to take the time to ask her anything about her opinion of the unmitigated disaster which TRAITOR Trump created by denying the seriousness of Covid and doing nothing about it in early 2020 after he was told by the US intelligence and scientific communities that Covid was coming and could destroy the country.  I also have never told her that I have spent many days at the National Institutes of Health during the 1990's and am not naive about science or medicine.  I am not scheduled to see her again for two years but I suspect I will have that conversation with her the next time I see her no matter when it is and no matter what the further outcomes of TRAITOR Trump's TREASON prove to be.  I sincerely hope by the next time I see this woman that he is actually in federal prison on his well deserved life sentence and I can look at her and say "I told you so!"  

 

 

We left the medical appointment and drove to Masala in Richmond which is a fine Indian Restaurant and celebrated Candice's birthday.  She created her own version of an Indian buffet at our table by ordering several of her favorite items from their menu.  Then we left the restaurant and drove to Natural Bridge State Park where I hiked for an hour before coming the rest of the way home.  I have also written about several state parks on this blog in the past but somehow have neglected writing about Natural Bridge and one of my favorite hiking trails.  

 

 

 

My final thoughts about yesterdays trip are 1) that I will always continue to confront the ignorance in anyone which allows them to support TRAITOR Trump despite his obvious damage to this country; 2) I will always attempt to engage medical providers and other educated people in political conversations; 3) it is the most important election in American History this year and President Biden must be reelected if Democracy is to survive in America;  4) TRAITOR Trump must be convicted in his criminal trials and must be sentenced to life in federal prison for his TREASON.  

A Cultural Encounter In The Middle Of The Covid Crisis

 

 

On Thursday, June4, 2020, I had an appointment in Lexington and my wife, Candice went with me.  I stopped, as I often do, on the way there to hike for an hour plus in Hood's Branch at Natural Bridge State Park.  Then we headed on to Lexington for my mid-afternoon appointment.  We have been absolutely religious about social distancing and complying with the Covid 19 guidelines and directives from Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear, who is, in my opinion, the best governor in America; but, we had also discussed possibly going to eat lunch at one of our favorite ethnic restaurants because we like the setting, the food, the employees, and the owner. But, now that restrictions are loosening up a bit, and Kentucky has done such a good job of handling the situation under the strong, competent, decisive, and compassionate leadership of Governor Beshear, we had decided we would be willing to eat lunch in this restaurant.  That decision was influenced strongly by the fact that the room is large, open, well ventilated, clean, and run by an owner with common sense and professionalism.  

 

I am not using the name of the restaurant, the particular ethnicity of the food or the owner, or any other identifying data and you will understand that choice better a bit later in this post.  When we arrived, we decided that I would go into the restaurant first, appraise the situation, and make a decision if we would go through with the lunch in light of the fact that Candice has serious health issues and has been in a wheelchair for twenty years.  I got out of the van and as I was walking to the door I realized that the owner was still only serving pickup customers.  The particular food we like to eat in that restaurant is served very hot and Candice particularly likes their soup which is not made to be eaten in a vehicle by a person with mobility and dexterity issues.  As I approached the door, the owner came out to bring food to go to another customer.  I said something or other to effect of "I see you are only serving pickup" to which he replied in his heavily accented speech, "Yes, but I be open tomorrow for dine in.  You can come tomorrow."  I responded, "I live two hours away and I won't be here tomorrow" and started to leave when he recognized me and said, "If you want, I will open for you today.  You can come in."  I agreed to do it and told him I would be right back with my wife.  

 

When I returned from the vehicle pushing Candice in her wheelchair, the owner held the single door he was using open for us to enter and seated us at a table in the dining room which actually had three men ranging in age from probably early twenties to middle seventies who were all of the same ethnicity as the owner and all speaking their native language.  The dining room was all set up for the opening the next day with one row of table eliminated and all the other tables marked in alternating spots to honor social distancing.  There were multiple hand sanitizer stations and all the usual multi-use items and utensils had been removed from the tables.  The owner and one other employee were the only people working so there were five natives of the country in question speaking their native language and Candice and I speaking English.  The owner brought us a stack of paper napkins and served us our usual dishes.  As  he was rushing around covering two, or possibly three different positions, he managed to stop by our table, give us excellent service, and we shared some stories about our previous visits to his business and a story I often tell others about the first person I ever knew from his country.  We had a leisurely lunch which was excellent, had great conversation, and most of the feeling that we were being treated as special customers, regulars, aficionados  of the place.  He gave us the schedule of how he will be open in the future including the days he will be closed and then added, "if you come when I'm not open, knock on the door, I'm usually here and I will feed you if you show up when I'm closed."  

 

After I got home, I told a relative about the incident who agreed with me that it was a special and memorable treatment from a person who probably works more hours in a week than many do in a month; a man who is open, friendly, humorous, and caring; and a fine example of how much this country has and can, in the future, benefit from welcoming immigrants forever just as we always have.  

Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Thanksgiving With Family At A State Park Lodge

Today, my wife Candice and I had Thanksgiving Dinner with ten other members of our extended family at the Jenny Wiley State Park Lodge which has recently been refurbished after a major fire.  There were twelve of us at the dinner which had at least a couple of hundred diners during the time we were there.  Apparently, nobody wants to cook a traditional Thanksgiving Dinner anymore.  We represented three generations of our maternal grandparents' descendants.  There were four of us first cousins there from the seven which were raised by our mothers, sisters Mellie Hicks Hicks and Ellen Hicks Terry. Two of that original seven are now dead.  There were three spouses or significant others of that group, one daughter of my cousin Jack Terry, one daughter of my cousin Greg Terry, and several of Jack's grandchildren.  This was the first time many of us in the family had met Greg's daughter, Shay, who suddenly appeared in his life not long ago after finally learning who he biological father is.  Neither of them had known of the identity or existence of the other until very recently.  That, in and of itself, made it an interesting meal. 

The buffet was served in a large dining room, one of two, which must have seated at least a hundred people.  The staff worked constantly and kept drinks refilled, dirty plates bused, and minor requests for information answered.  I am certain they never received, in that kind of setting, anywhere near what they deserved in tips. The standard 18% for large groups would be in order in that setting.  I tried my best to be reasonable with my tip and so did at least one other in our party.  The setting, twelve people spread along the length of a long table, did not do a lot to benefit conversations.  The tables were a bit too close together and the overall layout of the room made traffic to and from the buffet a bit congested.  Salads, vegetables, and meats were on a steam table along the left side of the room with both sides open for self service.  Desserts were on two tables along the perpendicular  wall on two tables with only one side open for self service.  A staff member was on the right side of the room slicing and serving ham and roast beef from another table with heat lamps.  This setup caused too much traffic across the room, back and forth, and sideways.  

The food was generally acceptable but not outstanding by any measure.  When I got to the turkey to serve for my wife Candice, I found a wet mess of shredded turkey in the bottom of a hotel pan.  There were a couple or three dishes on that steam table which kept eliciting questions among strangers to the tune of "do you know what that is".  The salad makings were a bit too few to make a good salad for the person with vegetarian leanings.  The coleslaw was good and made along a traditional Eastern Kentucky recipe.  The green beans came straight out of an institutional can.  The pies, pecan, peanut butter, and pumpkin, were straight out of a box.  The baked Alaska was good and made on the spot.  The roast beef was far overcooked for my taste without a wink of pink in sight.  The ham was minimally acceptable.  Overall, this was a large restaurant buffet designed to minimally please diners who did not have high expectations without minimizing the potential profit from the occasion.  Nearly every time I have eaten at Jenny Wiley State Park Lodge, which is a frequent choice of some of my relatives who live close to it, I have left once again convinced that most of the other state park lodges in which I have eaten do the job better, especially Natural Bridge State Park Lodge.  I nearly always prefer Natural Bridge to other parks and the setting is usually far more picturesque.  

After the dinner, we hung out for a short time in the lodge lobby talking and split up until this coming Saturday when we will get together for a second dinner at the home of a cousin in Prestonsburg which is a much better idea.  I had told a friend in an e-mail today that I would rather eat bologna sandwiches in a genuine family setting with family than a high class buffet in a restaurant setting anytime.  This dinner convinced me I was correct in that statement.  A home cooked meal with shucked beans, hog jaw, ground hog, squirrels, pinto beans, corn bread, cushaw, and hominy would be far better anytime. 

Two Hundred Mile Chow Chow

Chow Chow Photo By Roger D. Hicks

On Friday, July 21, 2017, my wife Candice and I took a road trip around Eastern Kentucky for about 8 hours and exactly 200.1 miles.  The trip was motivated by our desire for a jar of chow chow.  For several years, we bought chow chow at a produce market here in Morgan County from a man named Timothy Shenk and his family.  After a family tragedy in 2013, the Shenk family decided to return to Ohio where most of their family live.  We lost our link to this particular chow chow which was being manufactured by a Mennonite family in Manchester Kentucky.  The Shenks had been buying it in bulk and reselling it at their family produce stand.  For the past several years, Candice and I had been missing that particular chow chow especially when we are eating pinto beans.  Candice got on the internet, which nearly no Mennonites use, and managed to find some comments about H & M Produce in Manchester Kentucky and we called them to verify that they are the makers of the particular chow chow we like to eat.  After confirming that they manufacture that chow chow and they had at least a case of twelve jars to sell, we decided to drive to Manchester to buy it.  

We are somewhat familiar with the Manchester area since we used to have a friend in nearby Burning Springs, KY, named Paul Gilbert whom we used to visit.  I also worked in neighboring Jackson County Kentucky for a few years and was familiar with all of the route.  We like road trips whether they are fifty miles or five thousand.  So we decided to take a road trip and, as we usually do, we chose to drive the two lane roads with the exception of just a few miles of KY 15 between Van Cleve Kentucky and Jackson Kentucky on the way there and about twenty-four miles of the Mountain Parkway between Slade and Helechawa on our way home. We left the house early and took about a mile of US 460 from our house to KY 1000 which we took to Cannel City where it connects with KY 191 to Helechawa. At Helechewa we got on KY 205 to Van Cleve where we picked up KY 15 south to Jackson.  In Jackson, we picked up KY 30 West to Booneville, KY, where we picked up KY 11 to KY 15 South between Manchester and Burning Springs.  From there it is just a hop, skip, and a jump to Manchester proper, the home of H & M Produce. The route from Booneville to Manchester goes straight up the South Fork of The Kentucky River and it is a beautiful drive.  The land is sparsely settled and it has some really nice farms on it.  The views are great. 

I realize that the route to Manchester from our house sounds somewhat complicated.  It is nearly all two lane highways and that is the way I like it.  I love to drive the two lane highways of Appalachia and I have traveled many miles over these particular roads during the past twenty-five years or so.  When you leave Morgan County and enter Wolfe County at Helechewa you can actually tell the difference in the two counties fairly soon.  The route goes through Lee City and it is known for some poverty and crime.  There is also ongoing construction to upgrade KY 205 for a few miles in that area but it did not slow us down.  For me the worst part of the trip is that section of four lane highway on KY 15 south between Van Cleve and Jackson.  It is wide, fast, and boring.  But as soon as you get on KY 30 west you are in rural Breathitt County and it becomes a fun trip.  You drive through the little community of Canoe just east of the Middle Fork of The Kentucky River.  There is nearly nothing in Canoe except one little general store with two gas pumps and a car repair and/or junking operation just before you get to the river.  There used to be a wonderful old steel bridge at the river crossing, painted blue, and awesome to look at.  But it has been replaced in recent years with a modern concrete contraption that has no eye appeal whatsoever.  Then you cross a pretty sizeable mountain into Turkey Creek which is an old fashioned Appalachian farming community and it is a nice piece of two lane.  Once, when I was working in Jackson County and driving this stretch of road every day, I popped around a curve on the downhill side of the mountain and struck and killed two crows as they were trying to eat a road killed possum.  That is the only time I have ever hit a crow in a car.  These two had set themselves up to eat too close to the curve and they didn't have enough take off time to get airborne when I popped around the curve.  As most of you know, it is virtually impossible to hit a crow in a car even if you tried.  They are incredibly smart birds and can actually calculate both the speed and angle of approach of an approaching car.  Crows will sometimes sit quietly on the edge of a highway and let a speeding car go ripping by if they can see that the angle of approach is not directed at them.  They are also excellent at timing their departure just so they leave the ground at the last possible second before a car approaches.  The great Nobel prize winning ornithologist and zoologist Konrad Lorenz who did incredible early work on imprinting and language in birds did some wonderful writing about birds in general and crows and ravens in particular.  Any of his books are well worth reading and will teach the average reader a great deal.  I particularly recommend his books "King Solomon's Ring" and "On Aggression".  They are both masterpieces.

Konrad Lorenz Photo by Nobelprize.org

Not long after you leave Turkey Creek, you enter Owsley County and come upon the community of Lerose which is not a particularly appetizing sight.  Owsley County is historically poverty stricken and it shows.  You will see clear cut evidence of the stratification of the community as you drive toward Booneville, the county seat.  You will pass a few houses in the six figure range and see a lot of beaten down rental trailers not fit for human habitation.  The county seat of Booneville is one of the smallest county seats in Kentucky with a population of only 81 in the 2010 census.  I suspect there were a few more people who simply refused to participate in the census.  I tend to believe the town is slightly larger than that, perhaps 150 to 200 people might be accurate. But I also tend to believe that if it wasn't a county seat, the town would quickly die. Several years ago, I had an interesting encounter in Booneville on my way to work in Jackson  County.  I used to always stop at the gas station in Booneville for a bathroom break and a Coke.  On one of these stops I saw a man as thin as a rail with a heavily loaded lightweight bike leaned up against the building.  I struck up a conversation and learned that he had been in the middle of a cross country bicycle trip from California to Washington, DC.  He informed me that he usually worked federally funded construction jobs and saved his money for a long adventure about every two years.  Now that is the way to live.

In Booneville you turn up Kentucky Route 11 toward Oneida and the drive nearly all the rest of the way to Manchester is beautiful.  It is also elk country but, somehow, I have never seen an elk in Kentucky.  The river views, hay fields, swimming holes, and fishing spots all blend into a pretty picture.  About half way to Oneida, you cross the Clay County line and realize that you are getting closer to Manchester.  

At Oneida you turn more westerly toward Manchester and come into a few really commercial looking farming operations with some tobacco fields which are few and far between in Eastern Kentucky these days.  You also see some large hay fields, big barns, cattle herds and can smell the money you could not get a whiff of in Owsley County.  Then suddenly you come to the intersection of KY 11 with US421 and turn south toward Manchester.  This intersection is about half way between Manchester and the little community of Burning Springs where my friend Paul Gilbert used to live.  When you arrive in Manchester, you realize you are in an actual town with gas stations, fast food restaurants, motels, and most of the small town businesses you never see in Booneville.  We stopped for gas at a large shell station and life got interesting quickly.  There was a woman about fifty, disheveled, and with all the appearances of poverty and probable drug addiction parked on the sidewalk in front of the store without any apparent harassment from the employees.  I went in, used the bathroom, grabbed a couple of drinks and snacks and went to the counter to pay.  As I approached the counter, the phone rang and the woman who seemed to be the manager answered "Burger King".  I could tell instantly from her responses that she had answered a call from her supervisor, either the owner or general manager.  She responded "Yes, she's right here." and handed the phone to the other older woman operating the register.  That woman said "Hello." and instantly snapped "Stock before I leave!  I always stock before I leave.  Well, just for that I'll walk out right now."  She had already rung up my gas and had my fifty dollar bill in her hand without having made my change.  I responded, "Well, check me out before you go, if you don't mind."  She didn't seem to see the humor in it.  As I walked back to my van, the woman on the sidewalk tried to approach me to either panhandle or turn a trick, I'm not sure which.  I ignored her and kept walking. 

We drove down the street about two blocks to the H & M Produce Market   which is actually formally known as Highway Produce Market but it owned by and/or affiliated with H & M Butchering in Manchester.  It is Mennonite owned and that is always a good thing.  I deal with Mennonite businesses every time I need anything that I can purchase from Mennonites.  As I write this blog post, Ottis Conley, a local Mennonite window installer if putting new windows in my house.  The produce market is a large metal pole building on a street corner lot in Manchester.  It is staffed by an older Mennonite couple and a young woman who is probably their daughter or granddaughter.  They are dressed in typical Mennonite fashion and there is a printed sign in front of the cash register telling customers "Out of respect for our Lord and God, please be dressed from your neck to your knees."  I always try to show appropriate respect to any serious member of a religious group and honor their particular strictures about such issues.  I suggest that you try also.  It is a simple matter of respect.

We did not stay long at the produce stand.  I talked to the owner, told him who I was, and he went into the back to get my case of chow chow.  In the meantime, Candice picked out some fresh tomatoes, miniature sweet peppers, and a jar of jam.  I paid up and we returned to the Shell station to buy a bag of ice for our ice chest which we always keep in the van for purchases of groceries.  The same aged, unwashed woman was still sitting on the sidewalk.  The recalcitrant clerk was nowhere in sight.  I have to assume she really did walk out after she waited on me.  The same manager sold me a bag of ice and accompanied me outside to the ice freezer to unlock it after saying, "We have to keep it locked up.  If we don't, they steal it all."  To my knowledge most gas stations in Eastern Kentucky still leaver their ice freezers unlocked in broad daylight.  Maybe crime is worse in Manchester than I thought.  We left Manchester on KY 11 North headed all the way to Slade Kentucky in the Natural Bridge area where we intended to eat lunch at Miguel's Pizza, a restaurant and tent camp ground on the side of KY 11 which caters to the large rock climbing community in the Natural Bridge area.  The Red River Gorge area is one of the finest rock climbing areas in the entire United States and has developed a sizeable community of year around climbers over the last twenty or thirty years with the world wide increase in rock climbing.  A few years ago, I picked up a young hitchhiker from Canada who was headed to the Lexington Greyhound Bus Station to return home after a winter of climbing.  He said he and his brother owned a farm in Canada and he climbed in winter and returned to the farm in spring, summer, and fall to earn his keep.

Miguel's Pizza serves a good, tasty thin crust pizza with your exact choice of ingredients from a long list.  A large pizza, an Ale 8 One, and a water were about $23.00 which is maybe a bit steep but not outrageous.  There is a large outdoor seating area scattered throughout the tent camping area which surrounds the restaurant.  The indoor seating area is small, tight, crowded, and handicapped seating for Candice could only be arranged by moving an old school bus seat from the end of a table after asking the single male occupant if we could join him.  The parking lot is tight packed pea gravel and a parking spot was available near the front door which allowed Candice to get inside with a minor push over the door jamb from me.  The unisex bathroom is a bit small and has a four inch drop to the floor from the main seating area.  An unaccompanied wheelchair person could not access the bathroom alone.  The service was efficient but curt.  I could not describe the atmosphere from the staff as friendly.  The pizza was produced in reasonable time, served on a flat piece of round cardboard with plastic utensils and brown rolled paper towels.  The crust was cooked to eating condition but not overly crisp.  The tomato sauce was minimal and the vegetable were still crisp which I like.  The overall effect of the meal was satisfactory but not overwhelmingly wonderful.  You bus your own table and dump your paper in a garbage can near the door.  There are empty cases beside the garbage can for the Ale 8 bottles which are refundable.  I am certain that this setup saves them a great deal on labor.

I understand that Miguel's caters primarily to the Natural Bridge Rock climbing community and does damn well financially by doing so.  But with a bit of an upgrade here and there to the parking lot, bathroom, and service they could pick up a far larger portion of the general tourist business in the Natural Bridge State Park and Red River Gorge scheme of things.

After we left Miguel's we drove down KY 22 to the intersection of the Mountain Parkway and turned east toward home.  We got off at Helechawa and retraced our route back home.  We arrived a bit tired, but not hungry, and the proud owners of a winter's supply of good chow chow.  If you need to do business and can use a Mennonite provider, you will always come out ahead in terms of competence, honesty, ethics, and professionalism.  I cannot imagine living again in any community without a Mennonite enclave to rely on. Oh, by the way, I am not remotely religious.