Dateline: Bangkok, Thailand-

Up this morning to sample the breakfast buffet at the new hotel. Like Chiang Mai, a mix of Thai and western cuisine. The Thai is definitely better. They must have a number of British guests here as there were baked beans on the buffet which is a London breakfast staple. Pete, my guide, arrived promptly and I once again found myself on a private tour. I don’t know if I paid a premium for this or it’s just the way it worked out. Either way, it’s sort of fun. Pete’s English is pretty good so we ended up having quite the conversation about various things while the driver navigated the craziness of Bangkok traffic.

The first stop was the Grand Palace and the temple of the Emerald Buddha. Good thing we were up and at em early as it was still relatively cool and not overly crowded as we wandered over the 160 acres of temples, ceremonial buildings, and grand residences that make up the ceremonial home of the king. (The king actually lives a couple of miles away is a more modern complex that likely has better air conditioning but this is the one with all the fantastic decoration and architecture.) Most of it dates from the late 1700s (the city was founded then by King Rama I) but much of it was added on to in the mid 19th century by the westernizing kings Rama V and VI (Mongut and Chulalongkorn of The King and I fame) so there’s a number of very European looking sections which have had Thai ceremonial roof architecture added on. It was all gorgeous and very impressive.

Then it was off to several more temples (there are hundreds in Bangkok so I only scratched the surface), the one that sticks with me is the one with the reclining Buddha half the length of a football field entirely covered with gold leaf. This took us up until late morning and we were ahead of schedule so I decided on my Christmas present to myself and Pete took me to a tailor recommended by his tour company. (I’m sure it involves someone’s brother in law and a kick back but I’ve learned not to ask too many questions.) I’ve always wanted a tailor made suit and, while looking through their gorgeous fabrics, it didn’t take them much effort to upsell me to a package that includes two suits, a sportcoat, six shirts, and accessories, all made to measure. It was a bit pricey but still less than what one single tailor made suit would cost at home. I’m going to look very dapper for the next few years when I have to dress up. (Alyn C Duxbury, my father, will be very happy. He’s been wanting me to get some tailored clothes for years.) Tommy would also be pleased. If he were with me, he would have gone hog wild at the tailors and likely emerged with two suits, a half dozen coats, two dozen shirts and a tuxedo. Tommy was very difficult to fit due to his odd body. He was built like a linebacker above the waist and like a midget below the waist. Fitting him in anything was always a challenge. We did have some shirts made for him but it’s so expensive at home that we weren’t adding to the collection very quickly.

Tailor appointment being done, I went off to explore downtown Bangkok a little, ending up at a seven story bazaar/shopping mall where I bought a few things and had a nice lunch of green Thai curry. Then it was time to explore the public transportation system, taking the skytrain (think the Chicago El) back to the river and then transferring to one of the river ferries for a ride back up toward my hotel. I got off the ferry early when it stopped at an interesting looking temple and did a bit of exploring on the opposite side of the river (think Jersey to Manhattan) before hailing a tuktuk – a sort of motorized open air tricycle cab thing unique to Thailand – and headed back to the hotel for some pool time and a lie down. I don’t have the stamina for more than about eight hours on my feet in tropical heat before I need a break.

The tailors popped in to my hotel, just eight hours after measuring me, with the rough cuts of a suit coat, trousers and shirt to make some final adjustments. They’re obviously quite skilled and very efficient. The final products are being shipped directly to the house so I don’t have to haul them around. One thing I’ve learned from this trip, I tend to overpack. Some of that is from growing up in Seattle where every trip can present from frosty to blazing, often in the same week so I always pack for any eventuality. Next time I come back to southeast Asia, I pack less and I’ll buy some new things as I need them.

Ventured out for dinner and drinks at one of the night markets but decided tonight was not the night to stay out too late as I have to be up quite early so Pete can come pick me up and take me off to the floating markets. Again, early is better in terms of both crowds and temperature.

Instead of a story, I’m going to go off on a bit of a rant here about the various ‘outrages’ making the rounds about Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg. I keep reading posts about how people are going to delete their accounts due to privacy concerns etc. I started to use email nearly 40 years ago. I used BBs services through dial up before AOL became a thing. The world wide web didn’t exist until after I finished residency and I was an early adopter of Mosaic and later Netscape. One thing I figured out right at the beginning was anything you turn into electrons and send out into the interweb ether leaves your control the minute you press send. It’s always been that way and, with the ease of data transfer and copying in the digital world, there’s no way to call anything back. Facebook is a tool and, like all tools, it can be used for good or ill. I like to think I use it for good: for connection, for entertainment, for information. I don’t belive half the stuff I see posted and, if I get taken in by something (which doesn’t happen often), I immediately delete it. I’ve been here since 2006, back in the days when you had to have a .edu email address to join. If you scroll back, you’ll see quite a record of my life. The good, the bad. I try to think before I post. An attorney once told me never write anything in an email or online that you wouldn’t want to have read out in a court of law. I think that’s a good rule to follow.

I’m getting used to being alone again. That leads to a lot of time for introspection. When I do something like travel, I’m a normal human. I want to sit at dinner and share my impressions of the things I’ve seen and experienced but I no longer have that person in my life. Between Steve and Tommy, I was partnered for nearly thirty years. I did some traveling in the interregnum but a lot of that was with friends and not solo. The last time I did major international travel by myself, I was 22 years old and a completely different person. I journaled about that trip through Europe (and I still have my notebook where I kept my travel diary) but no one has ever read it. Facebook allows others to share my thoughts and experiences and respond and gives me the ability to feel that there’s someone on the other side of the dinner table with whom I can share. I guess I’m here for the duration.

And so, to bed…

Dateline: Chiang Mai and Bangkok Thailand-

I still haven’t completely adjusted to the time differential. I lose all steam around 9 PM and am wide awake just after 5:30 AM. As my current time is either 11 hours earlier or 13 hours later than my usual, I can’t explain it and we’ll see if it continues. It makes enjoying nightlife a bit of a drag, but it’s good for quiet time and a walk with no one on the streets before breakfast and excess traffic.

It was my last morning in Chiang Mai. As I didn’t have to be ready for my airport shuttle until 10 am, I had some hours to spare, so I went for a last walk through the old city and stopped again at a couple of temples. It was early so there weren’t many people around other than me and a few itinerant monks keen on whatever business they have at that hour. One of the temples was next to what appeared to be a boys high school and they were having some sort of tattoo assembly in the courtyard complete with brass band and a lot of marching in color coded shirts and headbands. I could not figure out quite what the occasion was but I think it had something to do with New Years as there was a large 2019 being paraded around with the band. I amuse myself sometimes listening to public address announcements in languages I do not understand and then try to make the sounds into English words. The gentleman on the bullhorn to the kids (principal? drill instructor?) kept repeating something to them that sounded a lot like roll the cinnamon bun down purple snowman but as they all took it very seriously, I might have gotten it wrong. I have started to puzzle out some of the Thai alphabet and have picked up a couple of words, but any real success would require intensive study.

Quick trip to the airport and then hanging around the departure lounge for a bit where I finished up an MNM column before boarding the 350 mile flight to Bangkok. It was only just over an hour of air time but the process with delays, security, baggage check etc. took a while. I was met by my Bangkok tour guide, a nice young Thai man with very good English who introduced himself as Pete. I assume that’s an Anglicization of a much longer Thai name. The drive in from the airport to town was a bit of an adventure. On first impression, Bangkok is a city with the population of greater New York, the geography and zoning laws of Houston, the traffic of Atlanta, and the climate of Charleston in July. There were a couple of near misses as the crazed freeway traffic wove in and out of multiple lanes and the shoulders, and then everything shut down so a motorcade carrying a member of the royal family could pass. I fastened my seat belt and hung on.

Things got a bit better after checking into the hotel. It’s a small hotel right on the river (and my balcony has a lovely view of the water and the water taxis) near the center of the old city, about a mile from the royal palace (tour tomorrow). I’m two doors down from the palace King Mongut built for his 17th child in the late 19th century. It’s Italianate so it’s after his westernization program was well in force. If there are another 16 palaces further up river, I haven’t found them yet. I had a nice walk around the neighborhood before dark. I’m close to the Khoasan Road which seems to be market central for dazed and confused millennials from around the world to gather together to buy street food, inexpensive clothing, and made in China tchotchkes. I assume they’ve ended up in Bangkok in search of ancient Asian wisdom and higher truths but I think they’re going to find viral illness and a bad hangover.

I decided to stay in this evening and watch bad television as I want some energy to go out in the evening the next two nights which coincide with the weekend. I’m going to see if I can find a theatrical entertainment of some sort one night.

To me, Bangkok will always be tied up with musical theater. Its most famous appearance is, of course, in the supporting cast of The King and I (a show which the Thai people hate as they feel it disrespects King Mongut and the film is banned and the theater piece may not be performed). As I’ve started to learn a bit more about Thai culture and the way in which national identity, the royal family, and the religious aspects of Buddhism are all intertwined, I sort of see their point. I was in a production of The King and I in Birmingham a dozen or so years ago. One performance led to one of my more famous stage moments. I was playing Sir Edward Ramsay, Mrs. Anna’s old boyfriend and leader of the British diplomatic delegation. The dinner to entertain Edward and the visiting British more or less drives the second act. Anyway, Leah Luker, who was playing Mrs. Anna, and I completed our scene and did our little waltz. We were supposed to be interrupted by the king (Brent Jones) so the play could go on but when we got to the cue, no king… Waltz around the stage again…no king… another circuit of the stage looking daggers into the wings and ad libbing lines about the weather in London and isn’t it hot in Bangkok. King finally appears (I’ll let him explain why he was late) and much to our relief Leah and I are able to continue on. We were running out of 19th century colonial gossip. Fun fact – the Chulalongkorn from that production, Jordan Fisher, has gone on to a major career. He’ll be playing Mark in Rent Live! later this year.

The other appearance is in the musical, Chess, with the song Once Night in Bangkok which became a huge hit in the 1980s. The concept album came out in the summer of 1985. I had just finished my first year of medical school at WSU in Pullman as part of the WAMI program and had gotten back to Seattle, found an apartment, and had the summer off from school. I was working for a company called Envirosphere which did environmental engineering consulting and was beginning to put my toes into the Seattle musical theater world. The first show I became involved with was a production of Brigadoon put on by Evergreen Theater Conservatory up on Capitol Hill. I was the ASM props person. All of us theater kids were enraptured by the score to Chess and we were all singing it backstage. I have great memories of a bunch of guys in kilts and highland regalia singing One Night in Bangkok at the top of their lungs. That production was important as it was my first step into the Seattle theater world after college and it led ultimately to a lot of enduring friendships.

Chess, as a show, may have a great score, but it’s not a great piece of theater. I’ve only seen it staged once, a production in the round at Sacramento Music Circus in the early 90s. They did as good a job as they could do with the material but for all of the interesting ideas of using chess as a metaphor for the cold war and the never ending battle of the sexes, it just doesn’t quite work. It’s a property that I would like to try directing, having some familiarity with the world of the early 80s but I don’t know that it would be easy to sell to current audiences.

Dateline: Chiang Mai and Mae Taeng, Thailand-

Woke up this morning and headed to breakfast where cultures again complimented each other on my plate. Some sort of chicken curry noodles with French toast. Who said breakfast can’t be ecumenical? And it’s a free buffet with my hotel. Hampton Inn needs to take a lesson or two in terms of quality and taste. No time for exploring before the shuttle van arrived to carry me off to a day with the elephants.

Being a good UU ecotourist type, I had elected a day with the elephants at a sanctuary for those who have become injured or aged or abused and where they are allowed to live out their natural lives. No riding or mahouts with goads, but plenty of opportunity to watch them at play and to feed them (bananas are a favorite) and wander among the herd families dodging elephant dung and random water buffalo.

The van contained me, a young couple from Finland, a Vietnamese couple from Orange County, an older Australian couple and a couple of Brits from close to the other Birmingham and we had an hour and a half drive out of town to get acquainted. One of the things I like about international travel is getting thrown together with odd assortments of people and learning about them. It gets even more interesting when none of you has a common language, but even then, the human family usually makes itself understood. It’s something that we miss out on a lot in the USA and our culture is the poorer for us not having to deal with multiple sociologic and linguistic differences on a daily basis. The van, fortunately air conditioned, chugged along the highway out of town, then turned down another narrow mountain highway, which apparently was paved by the same contractors responsibly for the roads of Walker and Marshall counties.

We arrived at the Elephant Nature Park (https://www.elephantnaturepark.org/) in one piece, molars only slightly loosened. Feeding time and bunches of bananas quickly disappeared into inquisitive trunks. Then a walk through the grounds to meet the elephants, the water buffalo and a couple of zillion dogs and cats (they rescue those as well. I declined to adopt one on my way out the door.). After lunch, over to the river to watch them gambol about at bathtime. In the usual tropical temperatures of northern Thailand, it would have been a sticky and uncomfortable day but I lucked out with the weather and it was in the 70s, cool with high overcast and a light breeze making it all a very pleasant experience.

We repeated the trip back along the river road (dodging a couple of water buffalo drawn carts that had traffic slowed to a crawl) and into town. Time for a quick dip in the pool, then one more walk through the old city to take in the sights, sounds and smells of Chiang Mai street life. I get to sleep in a bit tomorrow as I don’t have to leave for the airport until 10 for my flight to Bangkok.

Elephants aren’t reminding me of any particular stories. Neither Steve nor Tommy would have been particularly keen on a day at an elephant rescue park. Tommy liked his nature at a distance from an air conditioned vehicle. Steve would have spent the day complaining about the weather, teasing the elephants, trying to violate the safety rules, and wondering why the guides kept getting mad at him. (‘I didn’t know any better’ was one of his favorite phrases after some particularly egregious misbehavior).

Dateline: Chiang Mai and Doi Pui Thailand-

My body still hasn’t quite figured out what time it is. I fell asleep exhausted last night around midnight local time and then boom wide awake at 4:30 AM. I’m seeing what two Singha beers with dinner and a double dose of melatonin do tonight after I finish writing this up. As it’s the tropics, there was no lingering dawn or anything, just sudden light around 6:30 AM so there wan’t much point in doing anything until then. Temperate climes are much more conducive to early morning site seeing. I arrived in Rome once around 2 am and the sky started to lighten around 4:30. I went out of the train station, where I had tried unsuccessfully to catnap on a marble floor and walked down to the forum. At that hour, there was no one else around and I had the forum and the Colosseum to myself as the birds woke up and shouted their greetings to the new day. It was magical.

Anyway, I had some breakfast – a blend of cultures with curried fried pork, dragon fruit and a croissant with orange marmalade, and then started to get my bearings. My hotel is right on the edge of the old city. The old city was surrounded, in ages past by a wall (pieces of which remain) and a large moat. Most of the moat has been filled in for modern transportation needs but there is still a central canal in the middle of the wide road. I’m on the west side of the old city on the ring road. It’s heavily trafficked but my room is towards the back and quite peaceful. I poked up and down some of the side streets for an hour until it was time to meet my tour guide.

I ended up having a private tour as it seems to be off season and the tourist crowd is light. Nini, my English speaking guide (whose English, while not fabulous, is far better than my Thai) loaded me up in the van and we headed up the mountain road outside of town to Doi Pui and Doi Suthep National Park. The highway was, at first quite good, if windy, then we got to the point where we had to leave the van for the open air truck and ended up bouncing along a little snake of a highway very reminiscent of the Hana Road on Maui. It felt like it had last been paved in the reign of Rama IV but we eventually made it in one piece to a Hmong village inside the National Park. The Hmong are a Laotian hill tribal people (I took care of a lot of them during my time in Sacramento – it was one of the places a lot of them settled when they were allowed to emigrate to the US in the 70s and 80s for assisting during the Vietnam conflict) whose community predates the National Park so they are still allowed to live there and sell their handcrafts to the tourists. I must confess I bought a pillow sham.

Then off to the Wat Phra That Doi Suthep temple on the top of the mountain, reachable by three hundred some stairs. I took the cable car. Gorgeous design, architecture and gilding everywhere you look. I was taught some of the intricacies of religious observance in the temples and Nini introduced me to a nice young monk who chatted a bit about how he came to choose Buddhist monastic life. After all that, back down the mountain and into the city itself for more temples. (There were four and they’ve all started to run together but they were all lovely) and some time in the market where I declined to eat either the insect larva or some sort of unidentifiable fish that looked like it had been sitting out for a week.

Chiang Mai sits in the Ping river valley hemmed in by steep mountains (the climb up to Doi Suthep was something over three thousand feet in less than ten miles). The old city, as I said, is surrounded by a wall/canal system and the rest of the city sprawls out from there. The old city reminds me very much of the working towns in Mexico. The same sort of small shops sitting cheek by jowl with business offices, small hotels, residences and the occasional centuries old cultural site. Outside of the historic area, the city appears prosperous. It seems to be the Birmingham of Thailand as every time I turned around , there was another hospital or medical facility.

After many hours of touring, I returned to the hotel, took a dip in the pool (which was much too cold) and booked a massage appointment with their spa services to get the last of the kinks of the long flight out. I don’t usually do massage but when in Rome… Then off to dinner and a look at the night bazaar (more small shops selling cheap whatevers) before coming in to crash.

The night bazaar reminded me of the International Market in Honolulu and of shopping in Mazatlan. Steve and I spent a lot of vacations in both Hawaii and Mexico (he loved the beach – Tommy did not as his skin would burn and peel after about five minutes of sun exposure) so poking through market stalls always reminds me of him. On one cruise we did, we got smart and made friends with the bar and entertainment staff and hung out with them in port. The bartenders were mainly young Brits and we all went shopping together at the department store in downtown Mazatlan before ending up at Senor Frogs for too many margaritas. I bought a couple of shirts that day that I still have and which I wear occasionally, twenty some years later. A lot of the oldest things in my wardrobe are resort wear. I guess you don’t wear them often enough to wear them out and it’s not like beach wear goes out of style. Perhaps I’ll add to the collection when I get to Phuket and have some linen schmattas that I’ll look at fondly and remember this trip when I am in my eighties.

Tomorrow is all about elephants. After all, they’ve got elephants and if you ain’t got elephants, you can never ever carry it off…

Dateline: Chiang Mai, Thailand-

The second half of today’s travelogue. I have arrived in Thailand in one piece, arriving after a journey of some 27 hours involving three airplanes, four airports, and more time zones than I care to contemplate. It’s currently just after midnight, local time, but my body thinks it’s time for lunch. I assume my body and brain will eventually come to an accommodation with each other, but, in the meantime, I’m exploring the fabulous world of late night Thai television as I’m too loopy to go out exploring in the small hours of the morning. I’m going to wait for my tour guide to show up at 8 AM. A full day of temples and other historic sites according to my itinerary.

There have been questions as to why, in the middle of the holiday season, I decided to up and travel half the globe away. It’s no secret. Much of Christmas, especially the last seven years or so after Tommy and I took over the children’s Christmas pageant at church, was, for me, bound up in our identity as a couple. There was the pageant, our annual post Christmas open house bash, my family Christmas, his family Christmas, the opera Christmas concert, the Messiah etc etc. When he died this past year, one of my first decisions was to make sure I got away from all the usual patterns for this holiday season. Thailand was on the bucket list, it’s warm, it’s non-Christian. I figured it was as good a place as any to spend two weeks hiding from the usual spate of activities. Will I go back to any of them after this year? I haven’t figured that out yet. New life, new traditions to be forged.

I can’t say much about Chiang Mai yet. I’ve only seen the airport and a highway at night getting to the hotel. I’m sure I’ll have lots more to say about it tomorrow. The last leg of the flight, Seoul to Chiang Mai was as uneventful as the rest of the trip. I may be bitching about 27 hours, but think about what such a trip would have required even 100 years ago. More like 27 days each way…

For storytime, I’m going to go back to the Messiah. I still have a hard time believing I’m actually in the ASO chorus and get to sing all of these masterworks with a world class orchestra. Usually, we just do the Christmas portion (part 1) with the Hallelujah chorus tacked on the end. This year, we did significant portions of the whole thing. This was my first crack at parts 2 and 3 and some of those choruses are rough and I left it to the guys that seem to have been singing the Messiah since they were in diapers to do some of the heavy lifting. I moved my mouth convincingly on some of those runs… It didn’t help that I was on the border between the tenors and the basses and had a tenor singing in one ear and a bass in the other. Note to self. Bury self deep in bass section next year… Anyway, during the dress rehearsal process, I was reflecting back on the first time I heard the Messiah. I was 8 or 9 and the choir at our church (University Congregational in Seattle) did it as a special program. I can’t remember a whole lot more about the music program there in my childhood (other than the organist and some of his family drowning in a tragic boating accident) but that Messiah stayed with me. The chorus that stuck with me at a young age wasn’t The Hallelujah Chorus (which I thought was sort of silly, especially the standing up part), but rather For Unto Us A Child Is Born. To this day, that music, especially as it ascends into the chords that make up Wonderful Counselor et al. stirs something deep in my limbic system. Maybe it’s that message of how each new birth rekindles the possibility of hope and each child has the potential to save us from something eventually.

I’ve been a bit weepy over holiday stuff, which I suppose is understandable, and I’ve had to stay away from the Hallmark channel entirely or I’d be a huge mess. I went to see Scrooge! at Virginia Samford Theatre on Saturday night, just before I left and cried all through the second act. Fortunately, I was sitting by myself in the patrons balcony and didn’t disturb anyone with my sniffles. I’m not sure why it got to me the way it did. I’ve seen dozens of versions of A Christmas Carol over the years. Heck, I even played Scrooge a couple years ago. (A part I would gladly do again). Maybe it was because it took me back to childhood. I saw the film in theaters when it was first released, back before they cut a number of sequences that I don’t think have been seen since (like Scrooge being weighed down by his chain by devils in hell). Maybe it was watching a whole lot of friends perform. Maybe it was missing Tommy. He never got to see my Scrooge due to other commitments (he said he’d catch it next time).

It’s late, or maybe it’s early. One way or another, I need to take my melatonin and get a few hours of sleep before touring in the morning. More later…

And before you know it, the time for the big trip was upon me. I had made the decision shortly after Tommy died to not be in Birmingham for the holidays. There was just too much ‘us’ about that sequence of events for me to cope with. I went to the travel agent, asked about someplace interesting and exotic over Christmas and he suggested a couple of weeks in Thailand and put together the package for me. I think it was a good decision.

Dateline: Incheon, South Korea-

I figured I had to make a brief entry in the travelogue during the all of three hours I’m spending in Korea changing planes. I’m typing this on my phone which is always a challenge. The boarding line for my last flight of three seems to be at a standstill so I might as well make some constructive use of the time.

The weekend was low key until this morning, being mainly devoted to a Messiah performance with the symphony and then running around packing and getting things ready to leave the continent for two weeks. More on that later. Anyway, up at 5:30 this morning and Ubering off to the Birmingham airport. Uneventful hop to Atlanta, uneventful transfer to the huge widebody and then fourteen hours to Seoul.

International air these days is much more comfortable than domestic. My knees were only just short of my chin rather than in my nostrils. I catnapped my way through six films that I didn’t pay much attention to, was served two meals that were fairly tasteless, and tried to distinguish between the dozen identical Korea Air flight attendants who seem to have been grown in some secret cloning lab.

On arrival in Seoul, I found myself stiff in the knees and with swollen feet making it difficult to get my shoes back on. My body once again letting me know that I have attained middle age. Walking down endless concourses past miles of luxury boutiques and duty free shops helped. I did break down and purchase a caramel macchiato. I need the caffeine.

I’m now settled on flight three waiting for it to take off. Next stop Chiang Mai. More later…

Dateline: Birmingham, Alabama-

The temperature on top of our mountain in Sevierville dropped last night, but fortunately, the cabin came with a hot tub which took off the chill. This led to some decent sleep and then, an awakening to a fairly significant snowfall. Valerie Lemmons did her damndest to attract a bear up to the cabin with some baloney and a portable cooler but, alas, her efforts were not successful so we all settled into breakfast.

I was initially unsure if I would be able to make it down the mountain in the snow, but the flakes stopped around noon and the roads were passable so while the rest of the gang headed back to Gatlinburg, I turned the opposite direction and headed back towards Birmingham. I have patients scheduled in the morning and I have a huge dose of that physician ‘thou shalt not stand up a patient appointment unless it is a dire emergency’ in my system. The drive took a bit longer than usual due to rain and fog and slow traffic through Knoxville but was relatively uneventful.

It was a quick weekend away to a cabin paneled in knotty pine with bad taxidermy on the walls and more kitschy bear themed decor than one would find at Beef Dip in Puerto Vallarta but it was what I needed. Forty eight hours of love and laughter from a bunch of old theater friends who all go back nearly twenty years together. I hope we do more such weekends in the future but I’m going to suggest the beach perhaps for the next outing.

The drive seems to have given me a bit of a headache so I’m not going to write long tonight. It’s a route I’m intimately familiar with. From 1999-2016, I made about three trips a year from Birmingham, up through Chattanooga, Knoxville, the tri -Cities and into West Virginia to provide support services for the United Mine Workers Funds Geriatric Care Management program in Southern West Virginia, later expanding into Eastern Kentucky. I think I made somewhere between somewhere between fifty and sixty trips all told, in all weathers. Suffice it to say, I know every exit on the interstate between Birmingham and Beckley by heart and it was interesting to retravel part of that route after an absence of some years. A jumble of memories: time spent with case management nurses – site visits to homes off in the hollers – preparing educational programs and lectures – and above all, spending time with Ellen Peach, my long term partner in crime with the program.

Early on in my tenure with the program, Steve was sick and I had to minimize my time away from home. I would drive up to West Virginia on Sunday afternoon/evening, get some sleep, have meetings all day on Monday until about four or five and then drive back to Birmingham getting in about 2 AM. I was in my 30s then and could do that. There’s no way in hell I could accomplish that now. Once I got together with Tommy and we added the Kentucky site, I set the whole thing up to make sure I did not drive and have meetings on the same day. My aging brain just couldn’t do it and I had no real interest in ending up in the ditch trying to get home. Today’s snow reminded me of a couple of times when I had to go in January in the midst of the WV mountain snows. There was one time when a semi nearly ran me off the road coming down from Beckley and it slid on some ice but I was alert enough to prevent anything to untoward from happening. I’ve slid on the ice before in a car. Once that starts, nothing you can do but hang on. I once did a couple of 360 spins in Seattle after sliding off a hill. Fortunately it was 2 in the morning and there was no one else around and the intersection was large enough for me to pirouette without anything getting in the way.

I’m rambling now. Going to shut up. Travelogue will pick up again this weekend. In the meantime, I have three rehearsals and a performance of the Messiah with the Alabama Symphony Orchestra to get through. And the usual work stuff.

Dateline: Gatlinburg, Tennessee-

I’m actually writing this in the cabin in Sevierville but as the day was spent in Gatlinburg, I thought it best to headline it that way. I woke up this morning to find that this cabin, which had to be approached up narrow mountain lanes in the dark, had a marvelous view of the Smokies. The hazy mountains drop away from the bottom of the cabin (which is actually much more of a luxury vacation home) and we were greeted by a couple of wild turkeys roaming through the yard.

I’m sharing a makeshift bedroom with Melissa Bailey. We’ve shared a lot over the last fifteen years so what’s one more thing? She doesn’t snore and I brought my CPAP so I shouldn’t either. We all managed to get up and pile into a couple of cars after breakfast and head off for a day in Gatlinburg. It’s trying to decide if it wants to snow or not. It’s what I suppose they refer to as wintry mix. A little snow, a little rain, a little sleet. A little not fun driving on mountain roads but we made it in safely and took the tram up to Ober Gatlinburg and watched various people fall on their butts at the ice rink. Then, we headed up to the top of the mountain on the chairlift. This may not have been the best idea in 35 degree weather with varying sorts of precipitation, but there was hot chocolate at the top. Then back down to the lodge and to dry out by the fire.

Back down to the town itself for dinner (pizza) and wandering through the lights of tourist land. There’s something unique about American tourist towns, whether they are in the mountains, at the beach, or on a lake. The collection of candy shops, souvenir stands, mini-golf courses, and museums of dubious veracity are unequaled anywhere in the world. We decided to partake in a moonshine tasting and after thirteen shots of everclear flavored with various dental fluoride preparations, I was done for the evening. Ken Rowe and Dianne Rowe and I headed back to Sevierville a little earlier than the rest of the gang who were left behind to take a trolley tour in the dark. I will say that Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge look lovely with all the Christmas lights, much nicer in the dark than in the light when all the seams behind the papier mache tend to show.

I’ve been trying to think of a story to tell all day but nothing much is coming to mind. Maybe something will spark tomorrow. In the meantime, we’re all back, keeping each other company with old movies on the TV.

Dateline: Sevierville Tennessee-

I haven’t posted anything long form for a while because there hasn’t been a lot to write. Once I returned from Seattle, things went back pretty much to same old same old. Work was work. I spent some time with friends. I pretended to do some chores around the house. The usual. There wasn’t anything terribly exciting about any of it and, as I have said before, it was very much sleepwalking through someone else’s life.

Things are picking up this weekend. A bunch of long time theater friends decided a few months ago to get a cabin in the Smokies for a weekend of camaraderie this weekend. Why this weekend? Several of them are involved in teaching theater and this is the weekend between the State Trumbauer competition (the Alabama State high school theater event) and the Christmas craziness. As I happened to be either at the right place at the right time or the wrong place at the wrong time sitting around Kimberly Kirklin and Stephen Mangina‘s pool when the idea came to fruition, I was included in the invitation so, as I had a half day today, I drove up into the Tennessee mountains to a lovely Air B and B cabin with seven friends from Birmingham theater circles.

I swear my GPS was having fun with me after I turned off the interstate at Knoxville heading for Sevierville and Pigeon Forge. Many winding roads through hollers and over razorback ridges including one that could be, at best, described as a cart track, but I did finally make it as did the rest of the gang. Good dinner tonight in Pigeon Forge followed by many cocktails and raucous conversation at the cabin following. We have plans to be tacky tourists in Gatlinburg tomorrow.

I’m considering this weekend to be a palate cleanser for the big trip which starts a week from Sunday. While travel is on the brain, I also put down a deposit for a Rhine/Danube river cruise this next July. Should anyone want to be a travel companion, the cabin has a second bed… drop me a line.

The last time I was in Pigeon Forge was pushing 30 years ago. Steve and I drove through on one of our trips to various county courthouses in Appalachia doing research for his family tree. He was determined to track down all the Spivey descendants of Zadock Spivey who settled in Eastern Kentucky in the late 1700s. He found quite a few of them over time. He had documents and oral histories and all sorts of other ephemera on his Scots-Irish Highland ancestry which I helped him run down and I was the one who typed up all the family trees. After his death, I donated it all to the Kentucky State Historical Society in case any of his distant cousins ever becomes interested and wants to continue the work.

I don’t remember a lot about that last trip to Pigeon Forge other than being rather mystified at the number of mini golf and go kart places that could survive on a single highway. We did stop at Dollywood, but we did not go in as we had an appointment with a county clerk somewhere that afternoon. Steve stuffed his shirt to look like breasts and told a number of startled tourists that he was Dolly and he looked that way after losing most of her hair to chemotherapy. I don’t think anyone believed him. I managed to get him away before security arrived. Steve would be 70 if he had lived. Sometimes I try to imagine a 70 year old Steve. It doesn’t quite work.

I should be writing my column on The Crimes of Grindelwald, but I’m just not feeling it. Maybe tomorrow.

Dateline: Birmingham, Alabama-

Just a quick update to let everyone know I have safely returned from the Pacific Northwest. As it’s about a ten hour journey, there hasn’t been time for anything else today besides travel. I don’t mind distance travel. Wedge me in a window seat and leave me alone for hours and I’m good. This round trip gave me the time to read Erik Larsson’s In the Garden of Beasts about the early days of Hitler’s rise to power from the perspective of the then American ambassador to Germany and his somewhat free spirited daughter. I enjoyed it, but it’s not as good as his Devil in the White City from some years ago. I also watched a bunch of films on the in flight entertainment system so I suppose that means I have to write some new columns. The one that had personal meaning was Lady Bird about high schoolers in Sacramento in the early 2000s. Sacramento is very much a character in the film and it was fun recognizing so many of the locations such as the McKinley Park rose garden which was about five blocks from my and Steve’s house.

I’ve decided to do as little as possible the rest of the weekend. I haven’t had veg time for a while. I do have a dinner appointment with friends tomorrow but other than that I shall lounge around in my Harry Potter sleep pants and an old t-shirt watching Netflix, playing Xbox and eating unbalanced meals. Then three more weeks of work before the big vacation. I probably won’t write a lot during that time, but you never know. The oddest things set me off…