“Celebrate endings—for they precede new beginnings.” 

Jonathan Lockwood Huie, author

Christina Rossetti wrote the lyrics to a beautiful Christmas Carol about the “bleak midwinter”. It celebrates finding hope when surrounded by feelings of being forsaken. The Holiday season is like that. Celebrating the birth of a savior, hanging sparkling lights, telling Santa stories, and carefully wrapping gifts; all which bring color to an otherwise faded winter palette. Hope is the key for 2023.

Shiny ornamentation brings iridescence, but it is family that brings the warmth. When I (through a veil of utter denial) understood our house would NOT be built in 2022, I had a mini-meltdown. Okay, it was a major meltdown, complete with tears, and a trip to the liquor store. I had nightmare-quality visions of being stuck in an RV, in a remote area, with inadequate heat, and a spindly, tree twig serving as our sole reminder of the holiday season. I already spent one, lonely, yuletide in a campground, I could not bear two, nontraditional Christmas’ in a row. Thanks to my sister’s abundant hospitality, and visits to our sons, we were blessed with homes filled with laughter and merry-making.

2022 has brought it’s share of challenges and frustrations, but it has also provided adventure and discovery. We have enjoyed mountainous treks, panoramic views, alluring lakes, and an opportunity to explore. We have not lost our wanderlust. Our passion for RV rambling has not come to an end. We merely needed a holiday hiatus.

In less than two weeks, we will be on the road again, keeping close tabs on home construction, but still enjoying the gift of globetrotting.

Happy New Year to all. May 2023 bring good health, good times, and safe travels. Stay tuned…..

My mom’s family was from Beaver Falls, PA, which, is not technically Pittsburgh, but it may as well have been. She had endless Pittsburgh pride. She had a deep appreciation for the hardworking, blue collar laborers, who made up most of the population of her hometown. Her brothers were good ballplayers, and she became an avid sports fan. Forbes Field was her Mecca. She was devoted to the Pirates and was a staunch supporter of the Steelers. Her enthusiasm was contagious and we all grew up with an infatuation for the Iron City.

Isn’t childhood a wonderful place? As a kid, I desperately wanted to live in the Pittsburgh area. My cousins were there. Roberto Clemente was there. Franco Harris was there. Our family made a bi-annual trek across the state of Pennsylvania to visit family but we never stayed long enough. There were always tears when we got in the car to head back east.

Thanks to the generosity of my sister, I am living the dream for two months. I can listen to KDKA, and head “Dahntahn” to visit Station Square and the Strip District. I can visit family, eat chipped, chopped ham, and put fries on just about anything. If yinz’ are from dahn this way, you’ll understand.

Toyland, toyland
Little girl and boy land
While you dwell within it
You are ever happy there

Victor Herbert, Babes In Toyland

PIttsburgh may not be the fantastical nirvana that I envisioned as a child, but it is a joyful, wonderland during the Christmas season.

Childhood’s joy land
Mystic merry toyland
Once you pass its borders
You can ne’er return again

Victor Herbert – Babes In Toyland

I have so many memories of idyllic Christmas moments. As a result, I always want my Yuletide to mimic a Hallmark Movie. I want everyone to be wearing festive clothing while sipping hot chocolate, singing carols in 4-part harmony, and opening the perfect gifts, one-at-a-time. Let’s just say that my expectations tend to be a bit too lofty, and as a result, am always just a little sad at the way things transpire, but I am determined to make the best of the mess that is our reality.

So, in the meantime, we are shopping, visiting the local harness racing track, spending time with a cousin who purchased a mid-century, architectural marvel of a home, and dining at the historic, Grand Concourse with lifetime friends.

When you’ve grown up, my dears
And are as old as I
You’ll laugh and ponder on the years
That roll so swiftly by, my dears
That roll so swiftly by

Victor Herbert – Babes in Toyland

As the end of this year approaches, I am reminded of just how swiftly time is rolling by. It seems that this journey is interminable. Waiting for our house to be built is anxiety provoking, but I just have to keep the faith and enjoy the bumpy ride.

I am looking forward to celebrating Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with our daughter, my sister, nieces, nephews-in-law and grand-nephew. Then off to Maryland for continuing festivities with sons, daughters-in-law and grandkids.

I’ll let you know how that Hallmark thing works out…

Stay tuned…

As the days grew shorter and nights grew colder, I knew our time at The Cherry Hill RV Park was coming to a close. Moving on is always fraught with emotion. Life marches forward, but, as always, I was hesitant to leave family and friends. At least our last few weeks in Maryland were chockfull of Halloween hijinks, fall baseball, and an opportunity to temporarily return to my old office and put in some productive time with some delightful and dedicated coworkers.

Our initial plans, when we moved into an RV, were to have a completed house by December of 2022. We anticipated hanging wreaths on our new windows, finding the perfect spot for the Christmas tree, and decking our brand new hallways with boughs of holly. Fa La la la La…. Instead, we were hit with the awareness that we would, unless we did something drastic, be spending another Holiday Season, stuck in a truck, with no family, no friends, and insufficient warmth.

My very kind, very brave, very gracious sister, offered us a two-month respite in her beautiful, Western Pennsylvania home. I was eager to accept her offer, as it meant an opportunity to partake in family, holiday traditions, in a home without wheels, a home with a fireplace, and a fully functional furnace.

Shortly after trekking west, and parking Bertha in an indoor storage facility, we jumped on a plane for a brief jaunt to New Orleans to join some dear friends for a Ravens versus Saints, Monday Night Football game. The weather was spectacular, the sightseeing was amazing, the company was, as always, delightful, and the Ravens did not disappoint! If you ever find yourself in The Big Easy with an afternoon to spare, I highly recommend a visit to the WWII museum. All in all, it was the perfect excursion before settling in to a new chapter in this weird journey.

Thanksgiving was graciously hosted by my eldest niece. Her home was warm and inviting. The food was abundant and delectable and the fireplace was pleasantly glowing. I am so appreciative for the time spent together, telling tales, playing games and making memories with the folks that mean so much to me. Our dogs were a bit over exuberant in their eagerness to roughhouse. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, we were sincerely grateful for the large, fenced in yard. Muddy dogs are preferrable to indoor, crazy-canine calisthenics.

“No matter what the situation is…close your eyes and think of all the things in your life you could be grateful for right now.” — Deepak Chopra

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. ”
― Norman Vincent Peale

As we prepare to celebrate Christmas, we recognize that our setbacks are temporary, and that, through the uncertainty, we are still blessed beyond measure. Our house has been released for construction, and although we will remain vagabonds for several months, we hope to be settled in the spring.

Peace to you and yours. Santa is on his way. Stay tuned…

I’m not sure how it happened, but pumpkins and scarecrows are beginning to appear in stores, on lawns and all over the campground. The evenings are dark and chilly. The early mornings are starlit and downright cold. I stepped out of the camper to walk Gypsy the other morning, saw my breath, and had to break out my hat and gloves. Goodbye, sweet summer.

It happened so quickly. Like Usain Bolt, time seems to be flying by in one rapid-fire blur. One minute we were enjoying September swims, and the next, we were cuddled up, trying to keep warm at fall baseball games. October kind of snuck up on me. Maybe it’s because I have come out of retirement for a short time, to pitch in at my former place of employment. I confess that I had quickly forgotten how precious spare time is when you are working a fulltime schedule. I am thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to be gainfully productive, but I miss my morning crosswords with coffee, long hikes and leisure time.

In truth, I am happy that time is not trudging along. Back in early May, when I knew I would be living in a truck for another full year, I began to despair. A year seemed like such an interminably, long time. It was then that I began to view this trip around the sun as an Advent-ure calendar. A calendar, of which I have already opened over 150 days filled with unforeseen wonders and unexpected twists and turns. And here I am, only seven or eight months from having a solid roof over my head again. I remain optimistic that the construction will be completed on time.

“Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!”
― Humbert Wolfe

I don’t love the short days and the cold nights. I am not a fan of coats and layered clothing. Yet, I love fall covers, and cool air coupled with warm sun. I like harvest moons and migrating geese. I like Ginger Snaps, pumpkin ales, simmering stews and cozy blankets. I also like campers who are in the Halloween spirit.

The remnants of Hurricane Ian welcomed October to the DC area. We had some wet weather and breezy conditions. Foul weather can be arduous in an RV but we are dry and warm. Big Bertha has provided more than adequate shelter. I continue to count our many blessings.

My heart goes out to the victims of this catastrophic storm.

“It must be October, the trees are falling away and showing their true colors.”
― Charmaine J Forde

Holiday season approaches. Stay tuned….

I’m back to work, at least temporarily. I’ve gone from lazy, leisure-filled mornings, sipping coffee and solving word games to 4:30 a.m. wake-up calls and battling the Beltway. Stars illuminate the path for my early morning jaunt with Gypsy, then it is off to the gym for a pre-workday workout. When I-95 is being kind, which is not often, I can get back to Big Bertha by 6:00 p.m. Traffic delays are just a part of the routine. <sigh>

Now that long days and jam-packed weekdays are the norm, I have to pack my weekends with fun, family, friends, frivolity and football. It’s fall, you cannot underplay the football factor. We recently joined our fellow Ravens fans for a successful food drive that was the kick-off to a victory over the New York Jets. Several days later, Gypsy and I wandered over to the University of Maryland and crashed a Terps tailgate party. We were trick-or-treating for free beer and food. It’s not yet October, but we felt the need to practice our begging skills so that we are in top form for Halloween.

“Crazy friends provide for crazy times, and such crazy times we’ve had.”

Neil Young

With great pride, we watched Betty hurl herself down down a windowed, concrete wall. She’s determined and dedicated, with nerves of steel and a whole lot of lunacy. She’s a hero.

It was amazing to watch the Special Olympians cheer her on. There is a genuine gratitude that is reflected upon the faces of those who benefit from these feats of bravery.

Gypsy had an opportunity to shake hands with a few of the athletes and there was a whole lot of mutual love between them.

Monday morning will arrive too quickly. I am off to enjoy one of the last summer-like Sundays of the year with my glorious grandkids. I’ll be streaming football while playing at the campground pool.

Go Ravens! Stay tuned…

After a whirlwind of summer travel, we have temporarily settled down in the Washington, DC area. We are in a campground that is close enough to the kids and grandkids that we can enjoy some much-needed family time before resuming our quest for a quieter, lakefront life. It’s been a long, erratic expedition. Ten months of life in a truck, doing battle with Big Bertha’s list of bugs and breakdowns has been taxing. I feel like Don Quixote, battling windmills, in search of grand adventure. It’s time for a short intermission.

“This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far… “

Joe Darion ~ Man of La Mancha

It certainly is wonderful to be within reach of both family and friends during this hiatus. We’ve been able to enjoy campground activities with the young kids and some Maryland State Fair, horse racing with the old kids. It’s good to be a kid no matter your age!

This temporary hiatus also placed us in commutable distance from our home builder. We spent a day selecting flooring, paint, placement of electrical outlets and materials for kitchens and bathrooms. With limited choices, due to supply chain issues and inflation, some of the selections were a little difficult to make. Yet, we left feeling confident that we made practical, but decent design decisions.

I have champagne tastes but a Budweiser budget. I don’t want to pay for future home upgrades with my retirement funds. Thus, I am back to the grind. I have been very fortunate to have a former employer who has welcomed me back, to fill in when there is a need. I enjoy the work, the challenges, and the camaraderie. I am thrilled and grateful to have this option. It gives me a sense of purpose without the burden of a prolonged commitment. Temporary assignments are perfect for me.

Fall sports will undoubtedly monopolize much of my free time for the next several weeks. I thoroughly enjoy watching my son coach a 12-U baseball team, for which my grandson plays 1st base. Passion for the game must be a part of our DNA. We have a multi-generational love for life on the diamond.

The boys of summer are advancing into Autumn….

Fall is also football season, and a good many of my friends are gridiron groupies. It’s time for the season openers.

Let’s go Ravens. Stay tuned….

“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever.”

~ E.B. White

I love summer. I love the long days, and the embrace of the sun. I like flip flops and tank tops and sultry, starry nights. I love wading in the warmish water. I love the smell of Coppertone and the songs of the cicadas. George Gershwin had it right, “the livin’ is easy” in summertime. It is why I always slowly, slowly, with a bit of sorrow, surrender to autumn.

We are spending the tail end of August at Lum’s Pond State Park, along the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. I was so delighted that my dear friend (of 48 years…. but who’s counting?) was able to join us for part of the journey. We have been bosom buddies, soul-sisters, for nearly five decades, and have an uncanny ability to simply pick-up where we left off. Even with our incessant chatter, we were able to manage some biking, some hiking, some singing around the campfire, and a few card games. Because we noticed signs of impending autumn all around us, we squeezed as much summer as we could out of each and every day spent together. These are treasured times.

If you have not biked along the C & D Canal, you should add it to your bucket list. It is roughly 15 miles in length, extending from Delaware City, Delaware to Chesapeake City, Maryland. The ride has a few small hills, requiring a gear change or two, but for the most part it is flat and runs alongside a scenic canal. Delaware City has a quaint shopping area and several places to grab some crabs or a cold drink. Truly a must do for any cycling enthusiast or an amateur like me, who rides a Schwinn purchased from Target. I’m neither appropriately equipped, nor particularly skilled, but I make up for it in determination.

We are capitalizing on the recreational opportunities that are available to us at Lum’s Pond. We have biked the park trail, which is roughly 9 miles of varying terrain. There is loose rock, fine gravel, sand, mud, grass and a few interesting roots to navigate through. I am prone to panic and have been known to dismount and walk my bike when the topography gets too tough. Not my husband. He’s still got a bit of youthful, daredevil in him. He is the Evil Knievel of the senior citizen, trail riding circuit, and now he has the bruises to prove it. Public Service Announcement: Wear your helmet. He’s glad he did.

Even Gypsy is getting in on the action. Lum’s has a dog park with an off-leash hiking area that includes a beach. It is the perfect place for dog lovers who want their furry friends to have the freedom to run, swim and socialize.

As the few days left in August dwindle down, we will continue to enjoy this location. The campsite is spacious, the park is enormous, and the area offers much to do. I am not always overjoyed about life in a truck, but I am sincerely grateful for every day that I am surrounded by nature’s abundant riches. Homeless but healthy. It could certainly be worse.

College Park, here we come….

We are eager to spend football season with family and friends in our old stomping grounds. Stay tuned….

“You go through life wondering what is it all about but at the end of the day it’s all about family.” 

—Rod Stewart, singer

We have the type of family that is spread out all over the place. Some members are in New England, some are in the Mid-Atlantic, some are in the South, and a couple of us live in a truck, with no real place to call home. In spite of the miles between us, we are determined to remain a cohesive clan. Because life often gets in the way, it appears to be impossible to get ALL of us assembled but we managed to get the majority of our brood in the same place, at the same time, for at least long enough to make a few memories. Those who could not join us, mainly due to work obligations, were sorely missed. We’ll just keep trying to hit that 100% participation mark.

Ocean City, Maryland provided the backdrop for the 2022 reunion. Conditions could not have been better. The sun was abundant and the ocean water was refreshing, not frigid. The waves were calling body surfers and boogie boarders of all ages to jump in and frolic amidst the breakers. Grandparents, parents and kids were all being tossed around in the tide, losing footing and an occasional bathing suit bottom.

We spent time at the beach, in the bay, by the pool, on the boardwalk, at the amusement pier, and at a tiki bar or two. We rafted, swam, rode bikes, played games, drank a few buckets of margaritas, and chatted the days away. Even the time allowed by an extended weekend was insufficient for spending adequate time with everyone.

It seems like just yesterday that my dad hooked up the pop-up trailer to our Chevy, Bel Air station wagon, and took our family to Ocean City for a sabbatical in the sun. I’m not sure how it happened, but now, as a Grandma, I am in the eldest generation of our family. Although not a fan of aging this swiftly, I am exuberant about watching our “kids” branch out, pursue various careers, and have kids of their own. Our family tree continues to spread, and to grow new, sturdy branches.

On the lakefront situation….

We are hoping that the 2023 reunion (with 100% participation) will be held at our Lake Anna home. No, the footers have not yet been poured, but we are in the permitting process. We do not have a house. We do not have a boat. We do, however, have a newly completed dock! You have to start somewhere….

Onward to Delaware.

Stay tuned….

My amazing Aunt was a nun in the order of the Sisters of Divine Providence for 80 years. Her recent passing, at the age of 97, was difficult to digest. She was an inspiration to our entire family. She was open, honest, caring, devoted, educated, interesting, loving and admirably feisty. Because I was in Arkansas at the time of her death, I was deeply saddened that I was unable to attend her funeral service.

Our trip back east was supposed to go through southern Kentucky, but due to flooding we were rerouted to an area of West Virginia, in which my dear aunt helped to run a Catholic Mission that was designed to assist the poor of Braxton County, WV. She accepted donations, and taught the residents of “The ‘Holler” to run a thrift store and how to mend, and launder the contributed clothing for resale. She often commented on how rewarding it was to really make a difference by working with the poor of Appalachia.

My husband and I went in search of Saint Michael’s Mission. The edifice remains, but is no longer a functioning mission. I walked down Kanawha Boulevard, entered the grounds of the community park, and planted some flowers in Sister Mary’s honor. I felt her spirit hovering over me as I chatted with an elderly resident who remembered, and reflected upon, the charitable works of my beloved aunt.

Afterwards, we ventured to Bulltown, an historic area near Burnsville Lake, where during the civil war, Union forces were attacked, but refused to surrender, protecting the Gauley Turnpike, an important North-South route in a largely unsettled area. It was here that we learned about Confederate General “Mudwall” Jackson, cousin to a much more famous Stonewall Jackson. I guess every family has its black sheep.

The area is resplendent with dazzling, mountainous terrain but the region is also quite quirky! Small-scale Sutton, WV boasts both a Big Foot Museum and an exhibit dedicated to the Flatwoods Monster; an entity sighted in Braxton county, after the appearance of a UFO in the early 1950’s. West Virginia: Wild, Wonderful and Whimsical!

Next stop: the happy hills of Hancock, MD. Normally, this is part of our “fly-over-zone” as we zip between Deep Creek Lake and the Baltimore area. Not, this time.

The Hancock area provides easy access to the Western Maryland Rail Trail. We rode our bikes out of the campground, down the rocky, ATV trail, to the paved rail trail. To be a bit more factual, my husband rode to the path, he has the spirit of a mountain biker. I walked my bike, like an octogenarian with a two-wheeled walker, at an outdoor assisted living facility. I had a bike accident once, and I carry a PTSD neurosis with me when it comes to bicycle riding in rough, terrain with loose rock. In other words, I’m a huge chicken, a big baby. I still want to ride my bike, but only in ideal conditions. This trail was pretty perfect, as I managed to complete the 30-mile trek. I was grateful, however, for my cheap, Walmart, bike helmet when we rode past the FALLING ROCK, slide areas of the trail.

We rewarded ourselves with a filling lunch at Buddy Lou’s (extremely dog friendly) Restaurant after completing our ride. This eatery is a gem! I would purposely pull off of I-70, just to go there again. There are offerings of unique flatbreads, craft beers, ice cream, and boozy milkshakes. Novel statuary, which can be purchased, adorns the entire space.

As for the curious campground culture… We actually, had a nice, pull-through site, but noted that the roads could use come loving care. The RV rocked as we navigated through ruts, potholes and craters. The campground catered more to residents with permanent sites, who spent much of their time simply riding around, all day, drinking beer on golf carts and ATVs. I’m easily amused, but I found this peculiar parade to be laugh-out-loud humorous.

Now preparing to go “Downy Oshun” for my husband’s family reunion in Ocean City.

There will be tales to tell. Stay tuned…

Due to the catastrophic flooding in Southeastern Kentucky, we had to alter out original plans, and took a more northern route across the Bluegrass State. Although route 64 remains high and dry, a great deal of it is under construction. It can be unnerving to pilot the RV down long stretches of one lane highway that is lined with both traffic cones and concrete barrier walls. It is particularly harrowing when the truck in front of you keeps brushing against the orange barrels.

We were in the homestretch, preparing to exit the construction zone, when the 18-wheeler who had been brushing the barriers, decided to sideswipe one of those bright, orange cylinders, throwing it directly into our path. Yep, all that orange came flying at us, like a kid projectile vomiting circus peanuts. There was no time to react, to brake, to safely swerve. I simply had to plow into it. That is when Bertha met the barrel. Of course the mangled mess was dragging beneath the undercarriage, and we had to pull off onto a narrow shoulder. We were at the end of miles and miles of roadwork. Both lanes had just opened up. Naturally the vehicles behind us were flying down the hill like roller coaster cars at Disney’s Expedition Everest. Did that stop my lunatic husband venturing out onto the highway to wrench the gnarled glob of orange plastic from under Bertha? Of course not. I’m not sure how I kept from wetting my pants as I watched him (successfully, thank God) dislodge the wreckage, but I definitely needed a defibrillator to restart my heart afterwards.

Although Northeastern Kentucky did not experience the utter devastation that was felt further south in Knott County, there was still evidence of the recent, relentless drenching. Even the lakes are spilling over their banks. Roads and sidewalks are swallowed up and waterfront trails are washed away.

You can take a walking tour of historic Morehead, which includes a railroad museum and moonlight school. The moonlight schools addressed a need to teach literacy to individuals who could not attend school during daylight hours due to the long working hours required in the labor-intensive jobs that defined the impoverished area.

And now, time for some Zen moments in the pollinator’s paradise of the Daniel Boone National Forest, before we hit the road again.

Here we come, Braxton County, WV….

Stay tuned.