Wonderful Day

It really has been a wonderful day today. I got up at 6:30 AM, checked the weather and found it was going to be a sunny day today in Durant. I looked at the moving map and saw that there were storm clouds just to the north where I was wanting to ride, but they were moving east quite rapidly.

According to my theory of Oklahoma weather, those storms to the north mark the division between the cool, dry Canadian air from the north, and the warm, moist Cuban air from the south. Every day there is a battle between those two air masses to see which one owns Oklahoma for the day. If Cuba wins, it will be hot and muggy with drizzling rain showers on the warm front. If Canada wins, there will be thunder and lightning, with possible hail and high winds up to and including tornados on the cold front.

Canada was just barely winning this morning as the storms moved on by. I knew that even though the sky above was cloudy, chances were good that the clouds would burn off in an hour or two. So I coated my face and arms with 50+ sunscreen and was on the road by 7:30.

There was a light tailwind as I rode north and west. I rode through Cobb, Brown, and got to Nida, 17 miles, by 9:00. My bottle of Mt. Dew was gone at Kenefic, so I stopped at the little gas station there and got another bottle. I was feeling good, with no muscle pain or tiredness at all. 

I continued east on Hwy 22, where the only trouble was those damn gravel trucks kept running me off the road. There is no shoulder there, but usually there is no traffic either. Today for some reason at least a dozen trucks, large semis hauling gravel, came up from behind me, and every time there was a vehicle approaching from the front, leaving no room on the pavement for a bicycle. So I went mountain biking down the steep shoulder slope. Several times. 

In spite of that, I made it to Caddo by 10:30, so I stopped at the Dairy Queen for lunch. I felt really hungry, so I ordered a foot long chili dog with onions. Boy, was that a mistake! There are no public bathrooms from Caddo to Durant, 12 miles, and I feel really lucky to have made it home on time.

I left Caddo at 11:10, and I was still feeling good, even though the sun was getting hot. I now had a head wind, which felt good, even though it slowed me down some.

Halfway to Armstrong I heard music coming from somewhere, and I was baffled until a guy went whizzing past me on a touring bike with narrow tires and saddle bags. He hollered “Hi!” and I hollered back “Hey!” and then he was moving away. I tried to keep up, but he had the best bike for the road, and he was obviously in shape. 

I burned off a little too much energy in that burst of speed, so I pulled over to the side and stopped, just leaning on the handlebars cooling off for a second or two. 

I was surprised as a female voice asked if I was OK. She had pulled up beside me and stopped. She had a bike to match the one who just passed me, and she was about the same age - somewhere in their twenties - I would guess. 

I told her I was just catching my breath, and she offered me water, if I needed any. I pointed to the Mt. Dew bottle on my bike, but thanked her for the offer. She said, “See ya!” and off she went. I didn’t try to catch her, but I kept her visible in the distance, until I saw her pull off behind the guy who passed me earlier. He had stopped for a rest, too.

I geared down as I approached them, and stopped to see where they were going. We introduced ourselves, and I told them I was training for a tour on Saturday, and was nearly finished on the 42 mile loop. They said they were also headed for Durant, but they had left McAlester, OK that morning and were riding cross country. 

They asked if I was from Oklahoma, and I told them I moved here a couple of years ago to be close to my wife’s family after she started showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s. I explained I was originally from California, and they noticed the Yosemite tee shirt I was wearing. They said they were from San Francisco, and I was the only other bicycle rider they had seen in Oklahoma.

I smiled as they said I represented Oklahoma well, and asked how far it was to Durant. I told them we were about 5 miles out, with two long steep hills on the old Armstrong road, or there was another option of crossing the freeway in Armstrong and riding south on Hwy 48, the way I rode out of town this morning.

They thanked me, wished me luck on the tour, and then they were off to the races again. If I am going to live in this country for much longer, maybe I should trade my mountain bike in for a road bike.

I arrived back at the house at exactly 1:00 PM, and came alive again as I turned up the cold water in the shower. I got to Featherstone to see Carolyn and Darlene just after 2:00 and found that Carolyn was more alert than I had seen her in many weeks. The swelling on her neck disappeared in two days after her lemon juice treatment, and she was feeding herself at lunch and talking and laughing when I came in the room.

They were serving root beer floats out front, so I wheeled her out to the lobby and got a couple for us. I thought I would have to feed her, but she took the cup out of my hand, grabbed the plastic spoon, and ate the ice cream and spooned in the root beer without spilling a drop.

After we threw the empty cups in the trash, we just sat and held hands, and I tried to make sense out of the broken, random words she was using. Then she pulled my hand hard enough to roll the wheelchair up close and leaned over and clearly said, “I - - - -love - - - you!” I looked her in the eye and said, “I love you, too!” I don’t know who started crying first, but we both lost it there for awhile. 

I became obvious that she was having one of her cognitive awareness breakthroughs, and she suddenly knew where she was and what was wrong. All I could do was promise to always be there and never leave her.

She got it under control enough to feed herself dinner at 5:00, and then Darlene and I got her ready for bed, kissed her goodnight, and promised to be back in the morning, as usual.

When I had gotten home and put supper in the oven, I got a call from my brother John, saying he was in Durant, and after he found a room, needed directions to my house. After a bunch of missed turns, wrong way turns, and turns up a one way street, he found the house and we had a good long talk, catching up on a year’s worth of family and friends.

Tomorrow we are having breakfast together at the Choctaw Casino, so I better close this story for now. I need a good night’s sleep and I think I got one coming.

It’s truly been a wonderful day!

Feeling Blue

I’m feeling kind of low tonight. I feel as if I missed something important and let my wife down.

I got to Featherstone in time to help feed Carolyn lunch. She ate all the spinach, a little of the beef, one bite of potato, and all the little mandarin orange slices. Also, she drank a lot of tea, a tall glass full, and then another half.

I had spent the morning trying to fix the plumbing on the washing machine at the house. There is a block somewhere way under the house, and whoever put the pipes in forgot to put any cleanouts or vents in the system. The first trap was clean as a whistle, so I put in a couple of sweep ells to move the drain over behind the washer. It has been directly above the 220 volt dryer plug, so when it leaks water, the dryer trips. The dryer receptacle is upside down, too, so that the cord acts like a funnel to guide the water into the outlet.

Pretty obvious that there was no inspection when these hookups were added to the house.

Anyway, when I arrived, another resident was feeding Carolyn, as she is not able to feed herself most days now. I thanked her and took over. Once again there was only one staff person in the lunchroom on this weekend day. There are two other ladies that usually sit at the same table as Carolyn, and one of them was complaining that I wouldn’t feed her like I was feeding Carolyn.

I explained that I could only feed one person at a time, and Carolyn is my wife. The other lady was constantly trying to get up out of her wheelchair, so I helped her sit back down a few times. One man came in with a pair of scissors asking the staff person to trim his toenails. She convinced him to wait until after lunch was over. Another man wanted her to get him his medications, and she got right on that. 

She also found time to see that Carolyn got another glass of tea, after she exhausted the first one. I’m not sure where the rest of the staff was, maybe they were helping individual residents eat in their rooms, but they didn’t show up until the lunch was over. Then they arrived to clean up the tables.

But I’m not here to criticize others - it’s me that I’m disappointed in today.

Carolyn was restless to the point of agitated all afternoon. I laid her down for a nap because she looked tired, but she did not sleep at all. She lie there with eyes wide open, talking in undecipherable sounds, and trying to get back up.

At about two o’clock I decided to change her, because I saw the pad in her wheelchair showed a wet spot. I changed her to a new pull up, dry pants, and laid her down again. I cleaned her up with a couple of wet wipes, but I didn’t really check too closely. I should have.

At dinner time I took her in and fed her again. She didn’t eat much of the food on the plate, so I took her back to the room and let her have some Ensure with a straw. 

She stopped breathing for a moment, then exploded into a coughing spell I thought was never going to quit. Sometimes her throat just won’t function right and she aspirates what she intended to swallow. A lot of the Ensure came back up, flowing out of her mouth - not vomiting, but just flowing as she coughed. I cleaned it up with napkins, and when the coughing would not stop, I picked her up out of her chair and laid her on the floor on her side.

I scooted the footrest over next to her, and draped her over it, face down, hoping to let gravity assist in clearing her lungs. It worked in just a few seconds, and she stopped coughing and got her breath back. 

When I put her back in her wheelchair, I thought she would be relieved, but she started crying and tugging at her pants. Finally, the light dawned in my head. That signal was a hard one to miss.

I took her back to the bathroom, put her on the toilet, and let her urinate. When she finished, I rinsed her with the bidet, and then I spread her legs and looked at all the bright red skin where it should have been pink. I got tears in my eyes, too.

I spread one of the large overnight diapers on the wheelchair seat, with the back tilted back level, and readied the footrests so I could raise her feet. I lifted her up, turned her around and sat her on the wheelchair. I raised her feet and lowered her back until she was laying down flat.

Luckily for me, the chief Guardian hospice nurse had left a tube of water barrier lotion in the bathroom just for this purpose, so after wiping her down with wet wipes and washcloths, I put on some rubber gloves and coated her bottom with a lot of the lotion.  

I had prepped the diaper before I put it in the chair, so all I had to do was fold it together between her legs and spread it in front, pull up the sides and stick the tapes down. These big diapers are just the ticket!

I put her pajama pants on and took her to her bed, where I laid her down and made her comfortable. When I left her she had closed her eyes and was not making any noise for the first time all day. I hope she sleeps well all night long.

One item that should have made me more suspicious, was her adamant refusal to let the Guardian nurses bathe her Friday. She was unusually eloquent and forceful that she didn’t want anybody messing with her that day. So we all just shrugged our shoulders, talked a while, and then they went on to their next patient. 

From now on, that will be my signal to pay close attention and keep her clean and dry all day. 

In other news, Friday morning I rode from Durant to Caddo, then east to Robinson Road, turned south to the little town of Blue, then came back to Durant on Hwy 70, for a total distance of 32 miles.

I stopped about a mile east of Caddo to pick up a turtle who was slowly and dangerously trying to cross the highway. I moved him across to the side he was headed for and put him in the grass.

South of Robinson Baptist Church I found a small creek with a long, long hill to climb up out of. Good training, I’m sure. But that wasn’t the worst part of the ride.

As I turned west to ride back to Durant, I could see a band of black storm clouds moving toward Durant. I put on some extra speed to try to get there first, but no such luck. I could see the wedge on the front of the black cloud, and I knew for sure I was going to get wet. As I approached town, I got a little sprinkle, but my fears were more toward the lightning and thunder rumbling away in front of me. I was riding under tall power poles on both sides of the road, so I convinced myself that the lightning would probably take the short route to ground by hitting a power pole and not me. Of course, I could die of a heart attack if one got that close.

The rain drove me off the road at Miller’s Short Stop, where I got inside and ordered a Jalapeño Corn Dog with a big Mt. Dew and watched the rain wash the world away for a half hour or so.

The weatherman had forecast “mostly sunny” but he was mightily mistaken that morning. Even though I got inside while the rain was at its worst, I still managed to get soaked riding that last mile back to the house.

My mountain bike has no fenders, and I had to ford two or three inches of “mostly sunny” streaming across every crossroad into town. That hot shower made it all worthwhile.

Not much time left.

I have lots of stories, some sad, some inspiring, some desperately depressing. All in the last week or so. 

Yesterday I rode to Caddo and back for a distance of 24 miles in two hours. That is a good time for a mountain bike. I am able to ride up all the hills on the route using only the high range #3 sprocket on the front. The first time I had to get off and push the bike up those hills. So my training is working well for power and speed. Now I need to lengthen my course each day to increase my endurance. I am still a long way from the 47 mile course I want to tackle on tour day. 

Today I went to the Guardian Hospice Annual Butterfly release party in Sherman, Texas. Last year I took Carolyn and we both enjoyed watching the butterflies flit away as the little envelopes were opened on cue. The meaning was left purposefully vague, I thought, and was inspiring no matter what your religious beliefs.

They could symbolize souls leaving for heaven, or a change in life’s path like metamorphosis, or just a relief from the boundaries we all live with in this life. The language was mostly Christian, but the butterfly release was a wonderful representation of the end of life that is the purpose of the whole hospice concept. 

I don’t know how I would have survived the past couple of years without the help and love shown us by Guardian Hospice. The physical equipment (hospital bed, wheelchair, etc.) was indispensable, but the personal attention and love is the best part. This has proven to be a long, lonely pathway, and the professional counselors, nurses, aides, and therapists are the real core of what hospice is all about.

This year Carolyn could not be there. I had hoped to take her in her wheelchair, but she is too frail now to consider it. Just the bother of taking her to parties in the front lobby wears her out in a few minutes, and she wants to go back to her room.

She has eaten almost no solid food for days. Friday we were delighted when she ate half a strawberry. She is losing weight rapidly, and most of her pants now fall off if I stand her up, even though I bought them with elastic waistbands. Today she drank about half a small Dixie cup of water, with lots of coughing and choking because her throat muscles are no longer synchronized properly by her deteriorating neurological system.

My bicycle training will be on hold for a few days. I know she will be gone soon, and I want to be there if possible. The conflict between wanting her suffering to stop, and fearing the loss when she leaves has me just about crazy. 

Our daughter Darlene has been a huge help to me, but she is feeling the stress, also. She has had to deal with a bipolar disorder, and she tells me she needs to see a psychiatrist soon. I will call around to see what is available in the area. Maybe Guardian Hospice knows of one? I’ll call Monday and check it out.

I have been meaning to go make arrangements at the funeral home, but I can’t quite get off my duff and get it done. I dread the thought of trying to talk and not break down. When I cry I get choked up and no sound comes out. Maybe that’s why I write instead.

Maybe they will have a menu, and I can just point and nod my head.

  

In it for the long haul.

This last week our daughter Darlene has been a life saver. She volunteered to stay with her mother so I could get out and take a break now and then. 

She came and stayed with Carolyn Monday while I started training for a bicycle tour on June 2. The weather hasn’t been cooperating, but it is beginning to look like summer has arrived, finally. 

Monday morning I rode 12.1 miles from my house to Carl Albert Park, then past the Durant High School then on to Armstrong, OK. From there I turned south on Sawmill road. It is the perfect road for bicycle shift training. It is a series of hills just steep enough to take you clear down to #1 gear going up and then shifting up to #24 gear on the downslopes.

The cable stretched to the front shifter so it wouldn’t quite shift into the top gear wheel on the crank, so I had to complete that shift by pulling on the cable where it comes across the transverse bar between my legs. I am going to have to adjust that one before the big tour.

I had no pain or trouble on that run Monday. My legs felt just fine, I had no pain in heart or lungs, although I was breathing hard and sweating like crazy. I actually felt good after I got back to take a hot shower, and change into some dry clothes.

Today I took a longer route, hoping to build up to the tour June 2, which has a 67 mile loop as well as several shorter ones. They have changed the routes since I signed up several weeks ago, and I found out why today. Originally the loops all went north on Hwy. 78 and came back south on Hwy. 48. The new loops dodge all but the first few miles of Hwy. 48, where there is a wide shoulder.

The rest of Hwy. 48 is built on a levee like a railroad, with no shoulder at all, and a 45º slope off both sides into a deep ditch. Also, there is a gravel pit north of Kenefic and there is a steady string of huge semi trucks hauling gravel to construction sites south of Durant. When one of these trucks comes by, the only safe thing to do is veer off the road down the slope toward the ditch. 

Luckily for me, I am riding a mountain bike, so I had the option of cutting down the slope, turning halfway down and stopping on the side slope. The maddening part is if I didn’t have time to get downshifted, I had to push the bike back up to the road, then hold up the back wheel and get shifted down to a lower gear so I could get going again.  

My route today was north to Kenefic, east to Caddo, then southwest back to Armstrong and Durant. Total distance was 30 miles. That was about ten miles too far. I started fading just before Armstrong. I pulled over under a big shade tree on Main Street and drank the last of my water. Then I rode up the hill to the cutoff to Old Armstrong Road. It is also a series of hills, and my legs had turned to rubber.

I gave up trying to pedal up the hills and just got off and walked, leaning a little too heavily on my bicycle. I was getting pretty wobbly. On the downhills I crawled onto the bike and coasted to the bottom, finally enjoying the wind in my face, as it had been since Caddo ten miles back.

I turned left at North First Street and alternately rode and walked to University Drive, where I decided to turn right and walk up the sidewalk. I was feeling a little faint, and was worried I might actually fall over and hurt myself. I found some concrete steps up into a building on the Southeastern Oklahoma University campus and parked my bike and sat on the steps in the shade for a few minutes.

I had been planning to push the bike to 6th Ave, which is one way with one lane for bicycles and is steeply downhill all the way to my house, but the lady in my Garmin GPS recommended I turn on 4th Ave instead. (The house is on 5th Ave, but it’s one way the wrong way). I found 4th is level for the couple of blocks down to Plum, so I soon was sitting in front of a fan, drinking water and eating about four little Halo oranges for energy.

Even after a hot shower and dry clothes I feel wiped out. A little of that may be due to inadequate sunscreen protection. My arms look pretty red this evening. Gotta get that SPF number pushed up higher, I guess.

The moral of this story is an old cliché - I bit off more than I could chew. I’m going to take a couple of days off to regrow some more leg muscle, and then try to find a shorter training route for the next training run.

I got back to Featherstone to see Carolyn and Darlene about 3:00 PM and found Carolyn in bed. Darlene said she ate about half her lunch and then asked to lie down. She woke up around 4:30 hungry, so Darlene helped me change her - much easier with two people - and we wheeled her into the dining room for dinner. 

We left to see if she could feed herself - some days yes, some days no - and about 5:30 we went to see if she needed any help. Well no, she had eaten most of what she wanted, and had invented a new concoction, sweet tea float. They had ice cream for dessert, and she had poured some of her sweet tea into the bowl and stirred it around and was tipping up the bowl and sipping it. She has not lost her creativity, or her sense of humor. When I asked what she had, she just looked at me and giggled.

It’s been a good day overall. Some look at me quizzically when I tell them how far I rode my bicycle today. I’ve been thinking about it, and I came up with a new rule.

At this age, almost 75, I have two choices. I can sit down in an easy chair, stop moving and wait for the doctor to declare me dead. Or I can get up, move as fast and far as I can, and try to keep ahead of that dang doctor.

   

Liberal, explained.

Hey! this is a lot of fun! When I first moved down here to Oklahoma, I knew I would be a rare Liberal in a redder than red state. They haven’t rode me out of town tarred and feathered on a rail yet. And they let me vote in the last election, too.

I get lots of funny looks when I openly admit to being of the Liberal persuasion, since nobody down here seems to understand what that really means. I don’t have a tail or horns, and if you see me with a pitchfork it’s because I’m helping a farmer with his hay.

I find it more than a little amusing, because over fifty years ago, when the old folks still remembered the Great Depression, Conservatives were despised for causing it, and the people elected the same Liberal president four times, even though he raised taxes and increased the size of the Federal government hugely. I think the old folks understood something that younger generations have forgotten, or more likely, never been taught.

My father-in-law Dan Wright was fond of saying, “I may go to Hell, but it won’t be for voting Republican!” They found out the hard way that capitalists were not in business to make working people rich. Quite the opposite - any good conservative capitalist pays the lowest wages he can to the fewest workers possible and charges the highest prices he can in order to maximize the return on investment.

Before the Great Depression, working people were not allowed to organize into a union and bargain for better wages, working conditions and retirement programs. Companies hired gunmen to patrol the streets and prevent any meetings or organization at all. In the teens and twenties there was an actual war between labor and management, using machine guns, snipers, bombs, and lynchings to keep workers from  organizing. 

After Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected, he worked hard to get legislation passed legalizing union organizing, and requiring companies to bargain in good faith with their employees. He advocated for a living wage, not just a minimum wage. He raised taxes tremendously on people with a lot of money, and increased the inheritance tax, so one person could not keep enough money to support the next ten generations of idle rich descendants. 

Tax and spend Liberals, they say! Absolutely, I say. 

First off, Liberals know that the government does not actually spend money. They print it and circulate it - a basic function of any sovereign government. If the government doesn’t keep enough money in circulation, it becomes scarcer  and more valuable, (austerity), and you get a recession or depression. People who already have a lot of money like this. They get richer just sitting there and watching their money become more valuable.

To get more money in circulation, the government must either print more money, which can cause inflation (too much money becomes less valuable), or raise taxes. People who already have a wad of money hate inflation. Now they are losing money just sitting there.

The other way to get more money in circulation is to tax the people who have a lot of money, and force them to put it back into the economy. Franklin D. Roosevelt made owning gold illegal (you had to sell it to the government at a set rate) and he raised taxes of rich people up to 90% if you made over a million bucks a year. (It might have been half a million bucks - I forget - but none of them went hungry).

Millions of people had jobs again, because companies expanded, hired more workers and increased pay scales and benefits to avoid those high taxes. Conservatives have it exactly backwards! If you want more prosperity for everybody, raise taxes. If you want more prosperity for just the rich people, lower their taxes. Trickle down has been proven so wrong so many times they should rename it tinkle down.

With the prosperity that came with high taxes, we paid for the last war we actually won (WWII) paid for millions of those GIs to go to college free, built many thousands of miles of freeways connecting the country coast to coast, developed the best education system in the world, and sent men to the moon.

Reagan cut those taxes in the 1980s. Now millions of working people can’t survive without government assistance to buy food, our roads are potholed, our bridges are falling down, and our school teachers have classes of forty students, having to buy their own teaching supplies, using books that were out of date ten years ago, and work in leaky drafty buildings that should have been replaced years ago. But, Hey! Look! Our taxes are low!

But enough about other people. Let’s talk about me. Today I had more fun than I’ve had in a long time.

I walked into the office of the manager of Featherstone Assisted Living Home, and asked to talk. When she asked, “What about?” I told her I wanted to go back to the original arrangement we had when I first rented a room for Carolyn back in June 2016. 

She looked a little confused. I wish I had had a camera when she realized what I was asking for.

Finally, after a few seconds she asked,”Are you asking to raise the rent?”

“Yes, I am.” I responded.

“Why?” she queried me.

I need to explain something here. This is the story. We had agreed on one price for the rent, and I paid that price for four months until my savings ran low. I had not been able to sell the ranch yet, or find a way to get out from under my timeshares, which we really enjoyed but now were unable to use, and I had big car payments which was OK until the Alzheimer’s hit.

So I came in then and gave her notice that I could not make the next month’s rent, and we would have to move before the first of the month. The next day she called me in and offered to adjust my rent lower if I could stay. With a lot of relief, I agreed to stay. I have never forgotten her act of Christian kindness to us.

In the ensuing months, I negotiated an end to our WorldMark timeshares through a program that company developed to help people as they age out of the vacationing population. I thought they were very gracious and generous with me. 

Next I sold off the ranch in Nevada with the able help of Tamara Nordmeyer of Cowboy Country Realty in Winnemucca, NV. I made about the amount of money I put into the ranch when I bought the buildings and land many years ago. It is a comfortable nest egg, and it’s growing even on the low interest I get at my credit union savings account.

So I am living easily on the income I have from Social Security, a small VA disability, and the retirement I get from the years working a good union (International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers) job at Sierra Nevada Power. And I have enough stashed away for funerals and burials for Carolyn and I, and a little more for emergencies.

“I have never in 24 years had somebody ask to raise their rent,” she said. “Why?”

So I explained that I am a certified soft headed Liberal, and also that I had not forgotten the help she gave me when I desperately needed it. I also told her I really like the work she is doing to expand this facility to include 16 memory care units in a new wing in the back of the building, and I want to help. 

Shaking her head in wonderment, I think, she said “Okay”. 

I didn’t say so, but I also really appreciate the extra people she has hired this week for better weekend coverage. Last weekend was a big improvement.

So here’s another bit about Liberals that many people don’t know. If I have lived my life just right, on the day I die I want to spend my last penny and die broke. 

You can’t take it with you.

Texas, by God, Texas

Everything was going well until I crossed the Red River into Texas. Actually, it continued going well until I crossed the county line into Collin County. The speed limit dropped, which is always a bad sign, since the whole idea of a freeway is to get you there faster, not slower.

Not very many miles down the highway we came upon a big sign saying FREEWAY CLOSED AHEAD. The next sign a little farther down said ALL TRAFFIC MUST EXIT AT NEXT RAMP. In just a few seconds hundreds of red brake lights came on, and traffic slowed to a crawl. Many Texan red necks cranked their jacked up four wheel drive pickups over to the right and tore across the grassy median to the frontage road. I found a smooth dirt exit ramp and followed. 

Waste of time! The one lane of exiters on the frontage road soon joined back up with the rest of the traffic at the aforementioned mandatory paved exit ramp, and we just merged right back in single file again. Never once did I see a sign DETOUR or ALTERNATE ROUTE. Just eight or ten miles of bumper to bumper traffic on the one lane frontage road crawling through the stop signs at the crossroads.

I looked across to see the northbound lanes were blocked, also. Both north and south bound lanes were completely shut down, with no detour signs or alternate routes suggested. Going to have to find another route home, but I’ll think about that later.

My GPS told me it was adding 15 minutes to my arrival time at the airport, but it took more than an hour extra. Luckily, I had given myself a two hour buffer, so I wasn’t late picking up our granddaughter Chandler from Arizona.  

I will skip the time lost when I turned off on the George Bush Tollway rather than the Lyndon Johnson Freeway I meant to take. That was my mistake and as a registered soft headed Liberal, I am mightily ashamed of myself for that mistake. I got back on course by immediately exiting the tollway and taking the frontage road to Preston Road south, where I joined up with the LBJ freeway. 

I entered the north entrance to Dallas-Fort Worth Airport and looked for a sign directing me to the American Airlines terminal. I found the sign. It said American Airlines terminals A-B-C-D-E. Well, that was really helpful! I missed the exit on  the first terminal, was not in the right lane for the next one, so I found myself entering Terminal D parking. I went round and round trying to guess at which way to turn as I came to forks in the road, none of which seemed to indicate where the parking was. I finally found a ramp into a parking garage, found a space. and went into Terminal D.

I took note that I was parked on Level 4, Row M. 

I went into the terminal to find the big screen listing the arrivals and departures so I could find out which Terminal and Gate I should go to to meet her when she got off the plane. I must have walked a couple of miles trying to find such a screen. I finally found it (I think there was only one in the whole building) and it was almost all departures. I didn’t take a lot of thinking to see that most of the departures were leaving Terminal D and most of the arrivals were arriving at Terminal C.

Do they really unload on one side and load back up on the other side? Never in my life have I ever seen another airport do that. Most load the plane in the same spot they unloaded it. I don’t understand how it would be beneficial to have to taxi empty planes from one side of the airport to the other side to load the passengers, but I keep forgetting I’m in Texas, by God, Texas.

There is a certain simple logic in having Departures leaving Terminal D, and planes Coming in to terminal C, I guess.

I tried to walk across the airport to Terminal C, but found that this is impossible unless you go through security and go through the skywalk high in the air. The terminals are divided by islands of parking facilities and I did not want to try to get through security with a pocket knife with Carolyn’s name on it in my pocket, and besides, I didn’t have a ticket.

I decided the simplest thing to do would be to go back and get in the car and drive across to Terminal C parking. So I drove around the circle drives until I was thoroughly disoriented, found a sign to Terminal C parking and dove into the entrance road. Which, like all the others, circles around to the other side to enter. There was a bunch of construction there which forced me to merge with some busses, but when I got past the orange cones and barrels I saw a sign with a P on it and tore up the ramp to find some parking. I entered the parking lot and it was almost empty. 

It looked like I might have been in the employees lot or something, but I didn’t see any signs telling me I couldn’t park there, so I pulled right in. I got out and tried to find a sign telling which Level and Row I was on, but there wasn’t any. Who cares? I can see Terminal C one level below, so I went down the stairs and into the terminal.

The Arrivals board in Terminal D said an airplane was coming in from PHX at 3:30 at Gate C-15. I went over to look at a short list of arrivals there at the baggage area, and nothing was coming in from Phoenix.

But there was a nice lady sitting behind a desk that said baggage assistant, or something close. I told her I was there to pick up my granddaughter flying in from PHX and didn’t know which Gate she was coming in on. She checked her screen and told me that C-15 was the correct place, and she should be arriving in a few minutes. I would have been about ten minutes late, but Chandler had called me to say the plane was running an hour late.

I sat down and waited for about 15 minutes, and my cell phone rang in my pocket. I answered and it was Chandler telling me she was waiting by the baggage claim. I asked her which one, and she told me C-4. I told her to hang on, I would walk down to see her at C-4. Evidently the employees at DFW are just as confused as the rest of us.

To make a long story short would be to miss half of the story. We found each other, got her luggage, and walked over to the parking garage. but the car wasn’t there. We circled the front spaces where I know I parked it, clicking on the horn button on my key fob, with no sound happening at all.

After trying another level or so at that garage, we walked over to the Terminal sidewalk and went in an adjacent garage, hoping I had forgotten which parking facility I had parked in. After walking several miles (it felt like) with no luck. a cab driver pulled up and asked if we had trouble. I told him I had lost my car. He told us to get in and he would help. I was ready for help! 

He drove us past every row and level in this garage, with no luck at all. So he drove over to the next garage and we did the same thing with no luck. How can this be? He drove outside that garage, and I told him I had driven in after going past a construction area. He circled around until he got on the same road, dodged the busses just like I did, nearly missed the hard turn right into the garage, but he drove us right to the car. 

I had parked in some private parking for the Hyatt Regency Hotel. He had me sign a form acknowledging his help. He explained that the airport paid him to do this. I already had a twenty rolled up in my hand, so I gave it to him anyway. I felt I got off pretty cheap. I did say I was a registered soft headed Liberal, didn’t I?

He told me he would lead me out to the exit, since the one from that level was blocked by construction. He slowly led me through the valet parking lanes at the hotel entrance and out the other side onto the highway, pulled to the side and waved me by. 

I accelerated into the highway to the toll plaza, paid with my credit card, then headed north looking for I-635. I saw the sign on the left of the overhead signs, and as I merged to the left, I swear the ramp to I-635 went off to the right. I tell you, the skies are bluer in Texas now! I told Chandler if she heard any language she didn’t know, it would be best not to repeat any of it. She said she thought she knew them all. I was afraid I might shock her, but she was laughing at me.

I was soon on Tollway 121, so I peeled off to the frontage road and continued beside the tollway until I saw the sign for I-35E to Denton. I made up my mind to take it, since I know the way from Denton to Durant by heart now. 

The rest of the trip home was uneventful.

I believe if Texas wants to secede from the US again, we oughta let ‘em. It would be a big improvement to the country. 

On second thought, I’ve got another granddaughter living near Austin. Isn’t that in Texas?

After all that hassle, the day ended beautifully. When Chandler walked into Carolyn’s room her face lit up with a big smile and she held out her arms for a hug. It’s amazing how fast a smile will fix everything wrong with the world!