Odds ''n Ends

Over a week ago, a rain cell stalled over our building and dropped over 2 1/2 inches of rain on us.  Our patio doesn't drain - it's a long story - and we wound up with a small pond, because the wind was just right.  Our Housekeeping Manager came with a power extractor and sucked up over 50 gallons of water.  Our thanks to him, we have a very dry and clean carpet.
This morning, our newspaper was short sections A, B and C.  I called in the problem to the AZ Republic office and was promised a new paper and a credit to our account.  Now, that's customer service!
If you're interested in pet portraits, look at this blog: http://pamelamangelsdorf.com and read her August 2016 post.
It's official - I'm old.  One son has just retired and a daughter is just about to.  But weren't they born just a few days ago?  Seems like it.
Here's the dust storm that rolled in last week just as we were getting out of our car.

Deception

Deception is something that magicians rely on quite heavily.  Here's another example:
One Friday night, a worker approached the guard shack with a wheelbarrow full of hay.  He stopped while the guard searched the hay.  Finding nothing, he let the worker go home.  That went on for several Fridays, the guard knowing the worker was stealing something, never finding anything in the hay, but just couldn't figure it out.  Finally, the guard stopped the worker and told him he knew he was stealing something, that it was driving him crazy and that he was being transferred to another city.  He begged the worker to tell him, promising not to tell anyone else, just what it was he was stealing.  The worker said "wheelbarrows".

Quiet - War Worker Sleeping

That's the sign we proudly displayed on the front of our house during World War II.  Our father was working the night shift in a factory producing material needed to help end the war, and needed to sleep during the day.  We made sure the neighborhood kids were aware and steered clear.  All street games were played up the street, as quietly as we could manage.  Can you picture us playing tag, whispering?

The Last Time

Our son’s step-son died suddenly at age 35.  Of course, everyone is grieving and  in shock that he could be taken at such a young age.  But, such is life – and death.  None of us know the time of our coming demise.  That is the uncertainty of life: we never know when the last time we see someone will turn out to be the Last Time.  So what does that mean to us?  Should we grieve after they’re gone because of all the things we left unsaid?  Or should we celebrate that we took the time to truly be with them each and every time we had the opportunity?  Regret or rejoice?  I can only hope, for my Last Time, that it will be rejoice.

Post Brexit

Now that the vote has been taken and the majority have said to leave the EU, many are saying they want a second vote.  Why, oh why, are some now saying that they wouldn't have voted to leave, if they knew that would win?  They're saying they voted against the side they wanted to win.  What?  Is that attitude prevalent among voters worldwide?  Good grief!

Some Westminster Village History

This is an article I wrote for our monthly magazine, "The Villager."

 

Note: much of the information in this document was gleaned from issues of The Villager.

Up From Nothing

In the beginning was the word, and the word was PLAN, and the plan was put forward to build a retirement facility in the northeast valley, and the plan was initiated by a small group of Presbyterians from Valley Presbyterian Church. That was in 1981. 

Dick and Helen Chapman watched good friends move into a retirement facility, in which the nursing section was a few blocks away. Noting the inconvenience, they began talking about the need for a combined facility with friends John Finch and George Butler. Once the need was verified by the people at the Senior Center, George gave the group 20 acres of land in Tucson. With Deed in hand, they established a rudimentary organization, got an attorney, a C.P.A. and a bank to approve any needed loans. Subsequent meetings at the church convinced the group that there would be no lack of people wanting to move in.

January 25, 1982 was the first recorded meeting of the Board of Directors of Westminster Village Inc., a Not For Profit corporation chartered by the State of Arizona. Board members were Mel Bowman, Dick Chapman, John Finch, Walter Goelkel, Wilson Kilgore, Maude Ligon, Arthur Nelson and Gordon Nielson. The Advisory Board members were George Butler, Bill Cotton and Hamilton McCrae III; Harry Weyrich was President. Retirement Centers of America was engaged to guide them through startup activities. All they had to do was find nearby land and complete a forty million dollar project.

They found a suitable site at the corner of Cactus and Pima Roads, so they canvassed the neighbors to propose their enterprise. An emphatic “no thanks” greeted them, so an alternate property was found on a corner of Pima Road and Shea Boulevard. Zoning needed to change, but a year and a half after applications were submitted, they were rejected. Then, toward the end of 1984, the atmosphere at Cactus/Pima changed and the group were able, by January 1985, to obtain 17 acres. It had taken three years, and they were ready to move forward.

“The land was found; hopes were high but the pockets were low. At this point the members of the board and friends had either made gifts or made loans to pay the necessary expenses as they went along and a small income eventually came in from the sale of George Butler's land gift which helped a great deal but organizations such as RCAI, Arthur Anderson, the law firm, and the architects were all 'on the cuff.' If the thing flew they would get paid. If it flopped they wouldn't.. The enthusiasm and faith of our small band had become contagious. A most fortunate arrangement was made with Sam Kitchell. He would buy the land and hold it for W. V. If W. V. could come up with the price he paid, plus the cost of holding it, the contract for the building would go to Kitchell Contractors. When the land became available it had seemed fairly simple to raise the money. Just copy others such as Royal Oaks in Sun City. Get an underwriter and sell bonds. To do this you must first sell half the units, so the group opened the Hayden Rd. office with its model apartments and went into high gear. In early Dec. 1985, 35 units were sold. Just over a year later 48% were sold and Morgan Stanley agreed to market the bonds. Months of work go into preparing the hundreds of pages needed to present a bond offering. By March of 1987 things looked pretty good. Morgan Stanley sent their David Blair to Scottsdale to talk to the eager prospective retirees. In April came the groundbreaking ceremony. Then suddenly interest rates were up and Morgan Stanley almost pulled out because the bonds would not sell at an affordable interest. In June came a bit of hope. Parkside, a Lutheran group, joined the endeavor and brought 5 million dollars to the rescue. On July 15^th 1987 the bonds were finally handed over to nine purchasers and at 11.00 A. M. the directors of W. V. wrote checks to pay off the debts they had incurred. Seven million dollars worth. Building started the very next day.” From Vol. 1, #4 of The Villager, August 1989.

“You might think the people behind W. V. would be exhausted by the time building started but their work was not over. The place had to be finished furnished and filled. A project so big was understandably fraught with frustrations as for instance when the road caved in on Nov. 1^st 1987 over the improperly constructed city sewer line, causing a year of litigation. However light was showing at the tunnel's end, and residents would soon be needed. The first deposit check was dated May 1^st 1985 and by the end of the month 14 units were spoken for. Early signers became known as the 'PIONEERS.' Their names were put on a plaque and a cut off date was set to encourage others to get in while they still could have the honor of belonging to the 'CLUB.' Eventually there were 82 pioneers but by the time the building was close to ready the numbers were lower. Some had died, some had changed their minds and some were scared off when the financing had seemed iffy. Of the remaining pioneers there are 35 living here now and 7 or 8 are expected soon. Just as the bond market had brought a temporary disaster to the financing dept. so the housing market has brought one to the sales dept. At one time the place was 82% sold. Today the percentage is down to the high 70's, but sales are steady and when we think of how much has been accomplished by faith up to this point it becomes easy to believe that we will soon be full.” From Vol. 1, #5 of The Villager, September 1989.

Busy, Busy, Busy

It's been quite a while since I posted anything, but here I am.  So what's been happening?  Well, volunteering at Westminster Village has kept me very busy.  Here are some of the things I've been involved with:
Activities Committee: working with the activities department to suggest things to entice residents to get out of their apartments to participate in fun and educational sessions;
Villager staff: help prepare our monthly magazine by contributing ideas for articles, writing articles, editing and printing the finished copy;
Fundraising Committee: as a part of the Westminster Village Foundation (a separate charitable corporation), help in all fundraising activities;
Putting Contest: conduct a weekly putting contest with interested residents, handing our coupons (worth 50 cents in our Garden Café) to all participants.
There are three or four others, but you can get an idea from these.
We can be as busy as we want to be; there are enough things going on around here that it's virtually impossible to participate in everything.

Go West, Middle-Aged Man, Go West

 

It all started with Sam. He was a New York State Trooper and a neighbor. He lived a few doors down from Painters in Henrietta, New York. Because of a heart problem, he retired early and moved to Scottsdale, Arizona, with his wife and two daughters. A year or so later, Dick and Maryann flew down for a visit. After touring the area and liking what they saw, decided to find a place to call their new home.

The following year, Painters found a community – Mission Monterrey on Scottsdale Ranch – and negotiated the purchase of a patio home. Because he was still gainfully employed, Dick rented out the house, under Sam's watchful eye. After retirement in 1987, Dick sold the Henrietta property and hauled his spouse and Basset Hounds to his new digs, where they all settled down to their new life. Dick found employment (as a volunteer) on the Mission Monterrey Board as well as on the Scottsdale Ranch Board, where he ruled with an almost-iron hand.

The following year, Shirley and I decided to haul our travel trailer across this vast country, stopping in Scottsdale for a nice visit. We were given the 50¢ tour, were impressed enough to decide to move here before continuing on to California. After returning home to talk with a realtor, we came back to a KOA in Avondale for the winter to house-hunt and find a builder. Our location of choice was Tierra Santa on McCormick Ranch. After we completed the purchase negotiations, we headed back to Ontario, New York, to house-hunters and garage sales. We wound up living in our trailer in Shirley's mother's yard after the house was sold – we had been next door neighbors. We rented a U-Haul to bring to Scottsdale what few possessions we kept, and stored them in a rented locker that Dick had found for us.

Eventually, we camped at Valle Del Oro in Mesa and made frequent trips to our lot to check on construction progress, taking ownership in February 1990. Sam, who started this migration from Henrietta, wound up having a heart transplant in February 1991, and, I'm happy to report, is doing quite well. So thanks, Sam, for leading the way to paradise.

The True Trans-continental Rail Connection

From an historical sign near Strasburg, Colorado:

THE RAIL CHAIN'S FINAL LINK

PACIFIC ATLANTIC

A CONTINUOUS CHAIN OF RAILS FROM ATLANTIC TO PACIFIC - A LONG VISION OF PIONEER RAILROADERS AND FRONTIER FARMERS - BECAME REALITY AT 3:00 P.M. ON AUGUST 15, 1870. AT A POINT 3,812 FT. EAST OF THE DEPOT IN WHAT NOW IS STRASBURG, COLORADO. NEAR COMANCHE CROSSING, NAMED FOR A USUALLY DRY, SOMETIMES RAMPAGING CREEK, THE LAST RAILS WERE SPIKED BY KANSAS PACIFIC RAILROAD CREWS DRIVING WEST FROM KANSAS AND EAST FROM DENVER TO GIVE THE NATION ITS FIRST TRULY CONTINUOUS COAST-TO-COAST RAILROAD. ON THE FINAL DAY THE CREWS LAID A RECORD-BREAKING 10 1/4 MILES OF TRACK IN 9 HOURS TO WIN A BARREL OF WHISKEY WHICH CANNY FOREMEN HAD PLACED MIDWAY IN THE FINAL GAP.

ERECTED BY THE UNION PACIFIC COMPANY IN COOPERATION WITH COMANCHE CROSSING HISTORICAL SOCIETY.

Sorting Out

As far as I know, I've never met an illegal immigrant. How would I recognize one? They come from all directions: North – Canadians; East – Europeans and Africans; South – Mexicans, Central Americans and South Americans; West – Asians, Orientals and Australians. They come in all sizes, shapes and colors: male, female, tall, short, heavy, slim, women, men, children, white, yellow, brown. I do know one thing: they are not here legally. Somehow, they violated our laws and borders to be here. I also know that some are murderers, as witnessed in the local newspapers recently. I'm also sure, as Donald Trump has said, that some are nice people. I wish the nice ones could become citizens and stay here to make a positive contribution, but nobody seems able to sort them out. Any ideas?

Being a Cowboy

“Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoof-beats of the great horse Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again!”

All the boys in our little neighborhood area of Batavia, New York, would religiously head for their parlor radio after dinner in time to listen to The Lone Ranger Show. It transported us to a time and place where we could become the hero cowboy and drive the villians and varments out of the wild, wild west. After saving the beautiful storekeeper's daughter and restoring law and order, we would ride off into the sunset on our handsome Palomino. It was difficult to come back down to earth after such nobel adventures, but reality would settle in a day or two later, after we had all told each other of our exciting imaginary deeds three or four times, each telling becoming somewhat more embellished.

Then in 1939, the cowboy gods smiled down on us. Uncle Henry, Mom's younger brother, sent a package for Fred (my brother) and me from Tucson, Arizona, that contained cowboy vests, cowboy chaps and two gun and holster sets. Shazam! I was a real, live cowboy!

Now what better thing to do than to put on our own cowboy show? What, indeed? So Fred and I invited the neighborhood to our show, at the amazingly low price of one pin. We had wanted to charge real money – one cent – but Mom said just a pin was enough; after all, we were still coming out of the Great Depression, whatever that was.

Being new to the entertainment business, we had no idea what to do, now that we had an audience, so, being the troupers we were, we improvised. Fred would do something and I would draw my gun and arrest him. Then he'd have an idea and tell me what to do, then I'd set the next scene, and on it went. Thunderous applause at the end? Well, not quite. Any applause? Well, a few polite claps.

We did continue our roles as imaginary cowboys, except that now Fred and I could put on our outfits and become the “real thing.”

Fast forward to 1949! Here I am enrolled at Oklahoma A & M College, right in the middle of the Indian Territory (school nickname: Cowboys; mascot: a cowboy named Pistol Pete). Like all my New York buddies, I rushed right out and bought flight boots, the nearest thing to cowboy boots I could afford, then asked one of my neighbors to make me an authentic lasso. Whallah! Instant cowboy!

Really? Well, close enough so that I could visit some friends on a farm in Hoyt, Oklahoma, and practice roping the young pigs. That is, until the father told me to practice on his fence posts, as roping affected the quality of the pig meat. Who knew? So I became an expert at roping fence posts – so to speak. I was even asked to mount up one of the horses and go shag a couple of cattle that hadn't come in for the night. So off went Cowboy Bob, into the dusk, to save the 1,000 head of longhorn steers from being rustled by them thar varments and villians. Except the horse knew he had a pilgrim on his back and proceeded to try to rub me off against a tree along the path. Managing to head the cayuse away from such shenanagins, he and I brought the errant herd to the barn for the night.

And so ended the career of Cowboy Bob, who went on to other adventures, but always cherishing his days ridding the Wild West of varments and villians.

Barbers and Barbershops

It may have started when that first person rid me of my golden locks, but I don’t relish going to the barbershop for a haircut.

I was ten when we moved to Rochester, New York, and my brother and I started going to Frank’s Barber Shop, which was just at the end of our street. Frank was old, in my view, but probably only in his early 60’s, a heavy smoker, but a good barber. My mother would give us a dollar for the 75 cent haircut and remind us to make sure Frank kept the change. As time went on, we noticed Frank’s hands were beginning to shake and more and more he was pulling out our hair rather than cutting it, so we moved on to Norm.

Norm had a shop a few blocks down Clinton Avenue, next to the blacksmith’s shop, where we could stand in the doorway and watch horses being shod. Norm had been a barber in the service during World War II and said he was given two minutes per recruit to strip them of their pride. It was a treat to go in on Saturday when the operas were being broadcast on the radio, because Norm would join right in with the lead tenor, or whoever he decided needed his assistance. We stayed with Norm all through High School and summers home from college, through brush cuts and “the wave” and other such styles as were in vogue.

With moves from place to place, it was a struggle to find someone who could do a good job. Prices rose, and so did my expectations. Having moved to a suburb, I found a place in a shopping mall and went there until the owner was arrested for taking bets on the horses over the phone. He never let a haircut get in the way of taking a bet, but he did a good job of cutting my hair. His younger brother worked there, and had applied to the Sheriff’s office to become a Deputy; unfortunately, his brother’s arrest ended that quest - and sent me on a new one of my own.

Over the years, I’ve visited many shops, some of which earned return visits. However, my quest has finally ended here at Westminster Village with my own personal barber, my wife Shirley. And no appointment needed!

 

                                                                

　                        

Time Changing

Back in the days before the use of logic, some well-meaning citizen thought it would be a good idea if there was another hour of sunshine when people got out of work in the winter. So he presented the idea to his Congressman, who immediately thought that everyone should adjust their clocks twice each year in order to gain the extra hour. Dimwit that he was, a requirement for being a Congressman, he never thought of the alternative of allowing everyone to simply start work an hour earlier in the morning, and leaving work an hour earlier in the afternoon. And so a law was passed that required clocks to be adjusted in all states, unless the Legislature of any state voted to opt out, which the Arizona Legislature promptly did; the Indiana Legislature allowed some areas of Indiana to opt out as well. So here we are some years later when the world has made great advances in the application of logic, when one newly-elected legislator in Arizona announced that he would introduce a law requiring Arizona to conform to that ancient edict. Imagine his surprise when he received an avalance of comments opposing his idea, so he promptly back-tracked. So now the question to be asked is: Should we abolish Daylight Saving Time and allow people the opportunity of changing their work hours? What say ye?

Old Timers Mantra

Never walk when you can stand.
Never stand when you can sit.
And never pass up a restroom.

Monday, 15 December 2014

I woke up this morning to find the other side of the bed empty.  Shirley had another one of those nights when she couldn't sleep so she was up early.  I laid there and tried a bit of mindfulness meditation, but wound up thinking about an incident back in December 1948.  I had been in an automobile accident and the top coat I was wearing wound up with a large L-shaped tear near my right shoulder.  My mother was working at Krolls, a women's wear store in Rochester, NY, so she knew all the seamstresses and tailors working there.  Someone, I don't know who, took my top coat and re-wove the fabric so that the tear was invisible.  That was truly the work of an artisan.  In this age of automation and computer-driven machines, I doubt the repair could be made.

Ferguson and Justice

As regards the death of Michael Brown, we want justice.  Yes, we want justice for the store owner who was bullied and robbed by Michael Brown.  Yes, we want justice for those whose businesses were burned down in honor of Michael Brown.  Yes, we want justice for the owners of automobiles vandalized and burned in honor of Michael Brown.  And for those looters and arsonists, we suggest they have a word with Martin Luther King, Jr., about the dream he had and how their actions are affecting that dream.  Justice for all.

Art Display and Sale

Today, Westminster Village will initiate a new feature: local artist, Gayla R. Bonnell, will showcase 46 of her artwork in our halls. They will be on display until the end of January, and are available for purchase, prices ranging from $400 to $2500. A portion of the proceeds from the artwork sales will directly benefit the Westminster Village Foundation. The intent is to offer artists, resident and non-resident, an opportunity to gain recognition for their talent. So if you happen to be in the neighborhood, stop in and brouse.

Hello, Again

It's been a while since my last post.  I've been busy writing articles for our newsletter, The Villager.  You can view the current issue at www.wnvaz.com, click on RESIDENTS and go to the newsletter page.
Our 10th great grandchild, Nolan, was born in August and I'm still working on a couple of pieces of art for him.  Shirley crocheted a blanket, which he already has.  I hope the art gets there before he becomes a teen-ager.
We took the bus to Four Peaks Brewing Company yesterday, along with a small group from Westminster Village.  Good beer, good food and good conversation.  Tilted Kilt beer and Fish and Chips.  It's nice to go somewhere, have a glass of beer and not have to worry about the drive home.
Have a good evening.

What's Going on Outside?

This is my latest article as published in The Villager at Westminster Village:

What's Going On Outside?

The appearance of our campus is being transformed. Our Landscaping Department has been busy planting, trimming, weeding, and all the other necessary chores to make this a beautiful place to enjoy the out-of-doors. We have two fish ponds, a cactus garden along the east drive, lots of Lantana and Bougainvillea, beautiful flowers, and everything continues to be trimmed to perfection. Have you noticed the plants by the trash bin at the delivery gate? The new flag? So after all that, what's coming? Hold onto your hats, folks, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

How about a Bocce lawn? Coming. Croquet court? Coming. Pitch and Putt course? Coming. Where? The gravel area west of the Bank door will be transformed into a park-like setting when these new features are added. Included will be an equipment storage locker, drinking fountain and seating area. All this without affecting existing plants. When? We'd like to have them in progress by the end of the year.

The existing Putting Green will soon be extended in size; plans for the relocated holes have already been submitted by a resident committee.

Lantana, trimmed to our special layered look, will continue to be added along all sidewalks and curbs, except where access is required by the Fire Marshall. The front entry flower beds will be replanted with annuals for a layered look. More cacti will be planted along the wall on the east. On the south side, the river rock area near the F-1 door is a candidate for a water feature, details not yet worked out. The south-west corner will become a nursery where we will grow our own cacti, and will be screened by trellises. A dog run will be coming to the west side between the D-1 and E-1 doors, with some grass areas, water and more plants. The northwest river rock area is being considered as a wildflower meadow. Yellow Bells will continue along the north wall to help screen noise and dust from Cactus Road. A sitting area under a new tree is envisioned by Park North. The cactus garden across from the J-1 door will be expanded and a path added. The “rock garden” on the north, between the H-1 and J-1 doors, will be transformed into a mountain stream, with more Pine trees and Juniper bushes added. An edging of plants will separate the grass from the sidewalk by the J-1 door, helping to keep the sidewalk dry. Each area will have shaded seating. Trail and distance markers will be installed as areas are finished, to challenge Residents to get out and walk through the new feature gardens; all will be wheelchair accessible.

Dreaming big? Certainly. Will it all happen? Not without your support, both moral and financial. If there's some project you'd like to see move forward, see Tom Winkelman and he'll be happy to discuss it with you.

From 1989, Returning From a Trip

May 26, Thursday. Well, here we are back home. Bandit has been in her yard since we arrived, with no signs of ever wanting to leave. The Azaleas are in blossom, as is one Dogwood. The Rhododendrons are about ready to blossom. The Iris are forming buds. Jim Cole had done a good job on the lawn. It took a while to get the trailer cleaned out of clothes, food, and books. More to come, but we are too tired to continue.

Things I learned on this trip

• That hub caps do fall off Travel Trailers and are never seen again.
• That a group of businessmen in Toronto, hoping to capitalize on the Blue Jays training camp in Dunedin, Florida, started a development of mobile homes in Dunedin, called, appropriately enough, Blue Jay Estates. Unfortunately, it didn't catch on with the Canadians.
• That 95 year old Aunts are fragile human beings, and when they have heart attacks and fall and break their hips, they don't last long. Hopefully, her 85 year old brother, the last of my father's brothers and sisters, will be able to relate to me all the stories she told him of their childhood.
• That it rains hard in Louisiana.
• That some Rotary clubs are very difficult, if not impossible, to track down.
• That it is almost the same distance from Key West to the Alabama border of Florida as it is from the Louisiana border of Texas to El Paso.
• That the KOA at Fort Stockton, Texas hasn't improved in the past year.
• That desert starts just past Houston in Texas and extends to the mountains around Los Angeles.
• That it is a good idea to check the batteries in your photographic equipment before you plan to enter Carlsbad Caverns. My flash unit wouldn't work, so the slides are very faint.
• That the continental divide is almost unnoticable in New Mexico, but very apparent in Colorado.
• That March is too early to see Azaleas and Rhododendrons in Alabama, and Hummingbirds in southern Arizona.
• That the sun shines in other parts of the country.
• That some Bassett Hounds can open purses, remove glass cases, and chew the earpieces off the glasses. Also, that Lenscrafters will repair the damages free.
• That Oak Creek Canyon and Sedona in Arizona are very pretty and need to be visited again.
• That it's no fun to change a tire in the heat of the day, below sea level, in Death Valley. And especially so when the jack won't fit under the axle.
• That people will stop to offer assistance in Death Valley, but only after the tire is changed.
• That automobile warranties are very carefully planned, such that replacing the bearings in the differential of our Suburban wasn't necessary until several thousands of miles after the warranty had expired.
• That the Descanso Gardens in La Canada and the Huntington Library & Gardens in San Marino are worth every minute one spends there.
• That prices in California are too high for the merchandise.
• That one should never be surprised to run into acquaintenances anywhere in the world. We saw the LaCounts in the gift shop at Hearst Castle in San Simeon, California.
• That the roads indicated as “Scenic” on the AAA maps are usually scarey as well, most winding around mountains and at the edge of cliffs.
• That some grapes grow on trees.
• That breaking a crowned tooth in not a total catastrophy.
• That Ballys in Reno, Nevada redecorated two suites for Frank Sinatra's stay: one for Frank & Barbara; one for their dogs, including installation of a sandbox.
• That the California Railroad Museum is worth visiting, as is the Colorado Railroad Museum.
• That teaching is a team effort, the team composed of a teacher and both parents; the parents should be willing to perform some of their team responsibilities at school during the day.
• That it's not as much fun to visit Salt Lake City when your genealogy records are in Ontario.
• That the railroad spike completing the link-up of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans was not driven at Promontary Point,, Utah; and that the spike was not of gold.
• That Buffalo Bill Cody and his wife are buried atop Lookout Mountain near Golden, Colorado, far from their children's graves in Rochester, New York.
• That the Interstate highways need much work to eliminate the wash-board effect.
• That Whip-poor-wills can make a fierce racket in the evening and early morning.
• That some merchants in the US of A will accept an out-of-state personal check with no questions asked and no proof of identity. It happened in Hannibal, Missouri and again in Shipshewana, Indiana.
• That the law suits resulting from the collapse of the walkways in the Hyatt Regency in Kansas City, Missouri were just recently settled.
• That many areas of the country are working to increase tourism, that being a way to bring in capital without requiring major expenditures for improvements in services, unlike attracting industry.
• And finally, that people are fun, and funny, no matter where one goes.