GIRLS GONE WEST

At the 50th Reunion, when Geri Conaway Burnett politely said “Y’all come see me,” it probably never dawned on her that 9 of us would take her up on it.    But, on Saturday August 28, after 2 years of planning, Winona Jones Dutton, Judy Reiler Cochran, Hallie Schilling Shoemake, Gayle McCaslin Gilbert, Joan Litherland Ford, Kathleen McFarland Williams, Syble Horn, Elayne Stewart and I boarded a plane for parts west.  

 Returning to our Glacier home base, we were able to surprise Geri with a birthday party at the Two Sisters from Montana Café in Babb. The dinner, shared by all the café customers, was topped off with a lemon chiffon birthday cake with huckleberry filling.  A special guest at the party was a former neighbor of Geri’s from Ron’s Army days when they were stationed in Germany.

  What a wonderful time we had.  The scenery was breath taking, the people we met were wonderful and so very friendly, the food unbelievable, the friendship priceless and the fun indescribable.  Our trips would not be complete with out a Wal-Mart stop and we managed to find one in Missoula, Mt. and thereby were able to aid the local economy.  Missing for the first time on our trips was our customary police involvement.  No accidents, incidents or speeding tickets!  Yippee!!!!!!

We (Syble Horn, Hallie Schilling Shoemake, Gayle McCaslin, Winona Jones Dutton, Barbara McCauley Polk, Kathleen McFarland Williams, Joan Litherland Ford, Patti Bobo Dozier, Judy Reiler Cochran and myself) always celebrate Janet Isbell Buell's birthday with a picnic at Festival Hill in Round Top. This year we had some very special guests. Geri Conaway was in Texas to visit with her parents and spent several days with Claudia Houdek Lakey in Austin. Together, they persuaded Kay Gibson Cannon to join them for the trip to Round Top.

Not to be outdone by the Austin contingency, we invited Helen Hasty Statham of Navasota and Judy Walker Walling from Friendswood.

Left to right: Kay Gibson Cannon, Judy Walker Walling, Claudia Houdek Lakey, Janet Isbell Buell, Elayne Stewart, Syble Horne, Suzanne Hill Fitch, Helen Hasty Statham, Hallie Schilling Shoemake, Jerri Conway Burnett, Gayle McCaslin, and Kathleen McFrland Williams. Barbara McCauley Polk not pictured.

What a wonderful time we had. The day absolutely flew by. We enjoyed gorgeous weather, good food, lots laughs and hugs, a tear or two and a whole afternoon of catching up and asking "What ever happened to?"

Our visit was too brief but we will make up for lost time when we spend a week at Ron & Geri's mountain cabin in Montana next year.

On April 26th... much to the delight of American Express, Visa and Master Card... Syble Horn, Elayne Stewart, Winona Jones Dutton, Judy Reiler Cochran, Hallie Schilling Shoemaker, Joan Litherland Ford and myself all piled into a rented Suburban and took off on one of our most ambitious adventures yet.

With Winona once again our capable driver, Elayne our trusty navigator and Syble, as expert car packer, we made it all the way to the Louisiana border without stopping to eat. Continuing on we had dinner in Meridian, Mississippi, and a night in Hattiesburg. Our first major stop was Chattanooga, Tennessee. We loved Chattanooga and were quite the tourists as we visited Rock City, Ruby Falls, Lookout Mountain, Incline Railroad, downtown, the beautiful river-front where we had a calliope serenade from 2 paddlewheelers, and lunch at the Chattanooga Choo-Choo. After exhausting ourselves in Chattanooga, we piled back in the car and headed to the Smoky Mountains through some of the most beautiful country we had ever seen.

Our home for the next 5 days was a spectacular 3-story log cabin, high on a mountain, overlooking the little town of Gatlinburg. Hats off to Joan for finding it on the Internet for us. We spent our days exploring the National Park, shopping in Pigeon Forge and cruising the scenic areas around Gatlinburg. Nighttime found us either back at the cabin, in the hot tub, or playing one of our all-night card games. One of our side trips was to Asheville, North Carolina for a day-long visit to the Biltmoore Estate. Our trip to Asheville was an adventure as we took a short cut that Triple-A assured us would save about 15 miles. However, we ended up on an unpaved mountain road that twisted and turned and took us so deep into the woods we were wondering if we would ever see daylight again. We actually crossed the Appalachian Trail, and I'm sure startled any hikers in the area. We did get to see bear and had to stop the car to wait for several wild turkeys to finish strutting right down the middle of the road. On top of everything else, our shortcut added an hour and 20 minutes to the trip. We chose to return a different way.

After Gatlinburg, it was back in the car again & off to Kentucky where we took in the Daniel Boone National Forest and had a wonderful picnic in the rain at Cumberland Falls. Dropping back down to Tennessee, our next major stop was Nashville. We toured the Country Music Hall of Fame, Ryman Auditorium, Opryland Hotel and had terrific 4th-row seats for the Grand Ole Opry. Then it was time to head to Memphis.

On the way, we called classmate David Dean and had a good long conversation. David, who lives in Memphis, has recently retired from FedEx and hopes to make it to our 50th reunion, if he can juggle the schedule for knee replacement surgery.

Memphis stops included a visit to the Peabody Hotel to see the famous Peabody Ducks make their daily march to the fountain; a stroll down Beale Street and lunch at B.B. King's and a quick look at Graceland. From there it was time to go home, since we were so tired of climbing in and out of the car... plus the car was so full of packages that we looked like the Beverly Hillbillies moving to California. After spending the night in Texarkana and our final late-night card game, we arrived back in Houston about 3 P.M.

We had such a terrific time... Lots of love and laughs, beautiful weather, awesome scenery, delicious food, friendship bonds that grew deeper and stronger, great shopping and true Southern Hospitality at every stop we made.

Lastly, as no trip of ours could be complete without police involvement, we would like to say a special thanks to Officer C.J. Ball of the Cocke County Sheriff's Department who helped us out (and managed to keep a straight face) while taking down the details of our involvement in a very minor accident on the way home from one of our many trips to WalMart and the unnamed Texas Highway Patrolman who let Winona talk her way out of a speeding ticket.

We are already looking forward to and planning for next year's trip to California. However, this time I think we will fly.

I wanted to tell you about our summer vacation. After spending 4 days together in Las Vegas, in 2005, Judy Reiler Cochran, Joan Litherland Ford, Syble Horn, Elayne Stewart, Hallie Schilling Shoemaker, Patti Bobo Dozier, Winona Jones Dutton and myself decided to push our luck and see if 8 women could get along for a week. (I would love to tell you about our trip to Las Vegas, but what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas).

So on May 5th of this year, seven of us (Patti had to miss the trip, due to unfortunate timing of hip surgery) loaded up in a Suburban and took off for Branson, Missouri. With Winona at the wheel, and Elayne as our trusty navigator, we back seat riders spent our time laughing and singing "On the Road Again" and all the old songs from our dear Austin H.S. days. We made it to Hot Springs, Arkansas the first night, where we did what we do best---eat and shop.

The second day, after a brief stop to see the Winona Wildlife Preserve (no kidding) and a short visit with Judy's daughter, we made it to Branson. Joan took quite a lot of kidding about our lodge, as she picked it out over the Internet, but it was fabulous. The weather was unseasonably cold and rainy, ruining Syble, Elayne and Joan's plans for golf. One night we had a storm that turned our little backyard creek into a raging river, but we managed to find plenty to do: eating, shopping, going to shows and stalking our nextdoor neighbor, Charro. After making the nightly shows, it was back to our lodge for late night cards, dominoes and popcorn.

Our favorite shows were The Platters, where we sang along all the old songs, and a luncheon cruise on the Branson Belle Riverboat. We spent one day in Eureka Springs (see below), cruising the shops and on to the Passion Play that evening. On our late night trip back, we were stopped by a police officer, who after shining his flashlight inside the car decided he had nabbed the notorious "Granny Gang." After many laughs, he let us off with a warning not to cause too much more trouble.

Unfortunately, Friday rolled around too soon and we had to pack up and head back to Houston on Saturday afternoon, still loving and speaking to eachother, laughing and planning for our trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, next May.

Sometimes work and fun are happening at the same time. Classmate Ed Bettencourt retired from the plumbing business, and now spends most of his time working...at his waterfront house on Lake Conroe. Lots to keep him busy there, like a large lawn, garden, bulkhead, dock, boat, grandkids, and sitting on community committees. I recently took him away from all that hustle and bustle, so that he could have a little fun in the East Texas woods, advising me on how to plumb a tiny house where I intend to move to in due time.

The Outhouse

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The Secret Place.

I was 62 before I ever heard of Eureka Springs, Arkansas. May have heard the name, but at least I had no idea what the place was....how very unique it was, isolated, high up in the Ozarks, and a real national treasure for history and architecture. How about you.....ever been there? If not, you won't believe it. Here's the deal:

"The City of Eureka Springs was founded and named on July 4, 1879. By late 1879, the estimated population of Eureka Springs reached 10,000 people and in 1881, the town was declared a "City of the First Class," the fourth largest city in Arkansas. Today, our history lives on and the entire downtown area is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. While we're nowhere near the 4th largest in Arkansas, Eureka is still a "First Class City." (Read more about Eureka Springs History.)

One of the first things you come upon, winding up the mountain slope and entering the town:

"In the Spring of 2001, Eureka Springs was named one of 12 DISTINCTIVE DESTINATIONS by the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Eureka considers this a grand honor and continues daily to strive for restoration and preservation throughout."

There are hundreds of houses, built in late 1800's and early 1900's, most preserved just as they were when new. An 1885 hotel is perched above it all. These all hug and align narrow streets, laid out for horse and buggy times, winding through thick woods with lots of colorful maples.

The town is very compact, also old but preserved, interspersed with street-side grottos where the famous springs still flow.

 

Now that we are freer (empty-nesters and less chained to desk and house) and able to direct our own lives, no reason we can't get around and see some of these little wonders the country has to offer. Eureka springs is one I would highly recommend. Such a trip is enhanced if at least one leg of the trip takes you through eastern Oklahoma...where the Ozarks start, just beyond the Texas border.

Plenty of wonderful resorts, rustic and not very expensive, surround Eureka Springs. I like the cabins and the views.

Check it out: http://www.eurekasprings.com/  http://www.eureka-usa.com/

If you wanna talk about it, call or e-mail Larry Keith, larry@keithclan.com

On May 3rd, my daughter, Laura Shannon Keith, was married to a fine fellow, Jeff Phillips, a senior networking consultant with IBM. They spent two weeks in France for the honeymoon, even drifting over the Louir Valley in a baloon. They will be residing in Houston. See their web site for more pictures

That's my boy!

Small world and big deer!
Talking to Ed Bettencourt (below), I learned that his grandfather opened a plumbing business on the northeast corner of Bissonnett and Kirby, back in the 1940's. At the time, when I visited my great-grandmother, it was at her house and plant nursery, at the corner of Bissonnett and Kirby, southeast side, where they owned two acres of land. While in college, my brother's good friend, Charles Krenzler, revealed that his family in the 1940's owned a grocery/icehouse on the southwest corner of, you guessed it, Bissonnett and Kirby. Only further development came with O'Banion's cleaners, built in the early 50's by the grandfather of Charles' school friend, Alan Nash, where Houston Shoe Hospital is now. Histroy has been displaced, by a Gulf station, a paint shop and Eienstein's Bagles.

Ed Bettencourt, in a late-blooming bout of deer hunting fever (first hunting trip, actually) stumbled upon a that traditional "beginner's luck", and bagged a big 'un. Twelve-pointer, Houston County variety, for all those who count such things. Forgive him, ladies.

Yikes!....bikes!

"Thanks for keeping me up on Morris Medley. We are so far out of the picture in Oklahoma and find out good and bad things late. I could not get over how well Buddy looked at the reunion and how quick something like this can hit you.Again thanks. P.S. enjoyed the piece on Your trip with Glenn. Have always wanted to go there. We belong to a camper group called Thousand Trails and they have a camp there. Someday when we figure how to pull our Motorcyle and trailer together we will go up there. We have an illusion red Honda goldwing like the illusion blue you saw. They make the goldwings for us old fellows that do not want to wear the dew rags on their head or get our ear pierced. Plus goldwing costs about 8,000 dollars less than a Harley. We took a trip last week into the Ozark mountains of Arkansas . Mountain climbs and curves and trees starting to turn colors. Getting a lot of sun and fun. Usually we ride with couples our age and just have a good time.O I forgot we also wear helmets. As our helmets protect our pointy heads and they have stereo earphones , intercomunications with rider and cb for other bikes. The initial costs is not as much but the aftermarket things you just have to have cost you like wow. Sample a 6 cd changer $1500.00 CB-$1500.00 also there is not one piece of plastic chrome that costs less than $50.00. But anyway lots of fune and keeps be brown. We are enjoying ourselfs and tell our kids to get good jobs as we are spending their inheritance So long Richard"

Gadabout Glenn, at it again.
14 Sep 2002 - Here we are, at our age, settled and all that, and Glenn Vickery starts galaventing all over the country, illustrating an alternative lifestyle that we should strive to match. In the photo at right, he is shown with his daughter, Ronda, enjoying beautiful Teton National Park. Thanks for the pictures, Glenn. Next time, send plane tickets.

Still living up to their name, the Grand Tetons heave upward.

Caught while making chips without a license, sensing the presence of a lawyer, and fearing a stiff suit, the whole herd stampeded.

THE END

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by Larry Keith

It ain't the 60's anymore. Route 66, both the TV show and the highway, are pretty much history. Even so, guys in their 60's can still conjure up a bit of adventure, when they really want to. So it was that ol' Glenn Vickery, widowed for more than a year, and craving to see the wide-open spaces of West Texas, proposed to do a road trip to the Big Bend country. That's a long way to travel. "By yourself?" I asked Glenn. "Sure, why not", he replied. "Well, hell, Glenn, I'll ride along with you", I said, inviting myself.

Mid-May is not ordinarily a good time to visit the vacinity of Presidio, hotest town in the hotest state, but you gotta go when you gotta go, and that's when Glenn had to go. Hurridly packed a lot of short sleave shirts and comfortable shoes. Could have left my snack stuff and refreshments out, as it happened. Glenn don't travel light. He had a 7-11 store in the back of his black Suburban, and about 12 gallons of bottled water.

We pulled out on May 10th (a Saturday), figuring we might catch ol' Bill Hubert and wife, Mary, during their weekend of planting cacti at a new ranch they bought, near Boerne, Texas. By 4PM we were passing Boerne, praising the cellular era, and dialing up the Hubert's number. "Ah!" said Glenn, when Bill answered the call. But, the joy of surprising our classmates in their lair was short-lived. Turns out the Huberts had skidaddled early, and happened to be just exiting Goode Company Bar-b-que, back in Houston already. Oh well. (That's Mary's prize-winning photo of cactus, at left.)

Temperature was in the 90's, that day, even 400 miles east of the hot area. Couldn't make it that far in one day, tho, what with a lot of elder, stretch-our-legs pit-stops, so we plopped in the fancy YO-Ranch Lodge in Kerrville. Good thing, too, considering a freak norther blew in, dropping the mercury into the cold 50's, that night. Kerrville's Wal-Mart is the last-chance, westerm-most store in Texas, where you can buy a sweatshirt. Glenn bought two (they're cheap, in Summer, in Texas). Came in handy for the next couple of days.

The scenery changes drastically, every hundred miles or so, heading west. Coastal plain becomes rolling prairie, prairie becomes hill country, and then it begins to look like Galveston beach, out around Sonora....sand everywhere. The landscape is nevertheless kinda nice...the first few-hundred miles of it. There are patches of mountains (actually just hills, but Texas-sized), to break up the monotony. In some places you see rows of modern, electric-generating windmills. Ain't quite like the thousands of them in some California spots, but you do get the idea somebody's cutting down on oil-burning generators. You see a lot of century plants, but you'll never see one bigger than the 8-footer, right in front of our hotel (below).

The town of Marathon was our main target, our base of operation. There's an old hotel there, a "historical marker" on it's front proclaiming the thing was built in 1927, by a transplanted Vermonter, name of Gage. If I was still young, that would be an old hotel. Thing that makes it historical, I should offer, is the fact you gotta walk down the hall to get to the bathroom or the telephone, and rooms don't have TV, either. Some people don't mind. Glenn does. That's why a well-fixed lawyer, knowing the rich Houston guy, J.P. Bryan, who owns the hotel and a nearby 600,000 acre ranch, stayed in the newer part...the adobe bungalows, built around a fancy patio, and costing twice as much. I walked to the bathroom. Another cute feature is that the hotel rooms have names, instead of numbers. Glenn stayed in "Los Seis Tetablos", while I was housed, as if you couldn't guess it, in "The Badlands".

If you think of Marathon as a small, isolated, boring and dusty burg, sitting on a bald prairie, you got the picture. A railroad parallels the highway, and hourly trains, long and noisy, don't even slow down for this town. Saw a javelina, feeding in a backyard, just one block from the hotel. But, a surface view of Marathon is very, very misleading. The town has a heartbeat, a life, and is easy to know and enjoy. Lots of artists live there, smart, friendly and accomplished people who just like to be a long way from a Houston and Dallas. There are art galleries, a book store, two equipped gyms and even an Internet cafe (in a converted gas station). The frequent stopover of bikers is an experience too. Every Harley has a goodlooking gal and a lawyer or other professional on it. They like to eat at the Gage Restaurant, where (I gotta admit it) the food is worth the high prices. Won me over when the best thing on the menu, a wonderful grilled chicken and fixins, was the cheapest item listed. You get to chow-down in a picturesque patio (or inside, if you are a weenie). The picture at left shows a big, sweeping tree where scarlet taningers hang out, occasionally coming to drink in the patio birdbath. Told you about the sweatshirts.

Since Genn served in the Texas Legislature, years ago, he knows politicos and party faithful all over the place. Some of them spend time or live in Marathon. Glenn called one of them to say "Hi", and got us invited to a small gathering, out in the surrounding patches of homes, south of town. The guy said to just drive out a small road until we saw two windmills, and that's where the party would be. Got there after dark, shut off the engine, and listened to the western stillness. Sure enough, talk and laughter could be heard, short distance into the neighborhood, and that guided us to the right house and bar-b-que. Several top Democrats were there, an artisan, lobbists and PR folks...some of the smart people I mentioned. Nothing like an evening among such folks under Big Bend sky.

The local weekly (newspaper), plentiful in the hotel lobby, had a front page story that caught my eye. Was about the couple who owned two bookstores, one in Alpine, one in Marathon, who had managed a fete you won't hear about very often. Famed author, Robert Waller, the guy who wrote Bridges of Madison County, biggest-selling novel of all time, had fallen in love with West Texas, and moved out there to enjoy his reclusive nature in peace. He seldom entered a town, but just to replenish his supply of reading material, frequenting the Alpine bookstore I mentioned. On one trip to town, Waller asked the store owner if he'd be interested in publishing his new book, just completed. Got it? That doesn't happen much in the real world. But, the author is an unusual guy, and did not want to go through all that promotional tour bull that New York publishers ask a writer to do.

Curious about this unlikely scenario, Glenn and I strolled down to the local bookstore. Sure enough, in the expected setting, books shelved in an old, high-ceiling storefront, beneath slow-moving fans, sat the lady pictured in the news...alone and reading behind the counter. Had a great conversation, confirming the story I have related. Wasn't a matter of bumpkins stumbling into a cherry publishing deal, you should know. This lady was smart, and had publishing experience. While there, I perused her thousand-page Master's thesis...a wonderful accounting of Big Bend country flora, and useful work for interested eggheads. Glen bought an autographed first-edition of "A Thousand Miles of Dirt Road", and I did, too.

Big Bend Park, itself, is not just another patch of west Texas. You go through a lot of lizard and roadrunner-occupied scrub to get there, but the place raises itself far above the surrounding desert, and offers some breath-taking and rugged mountain vistas. Main stopping (and camping and shopping) spot is like "inside" a circle of the Chisos mountains. Hiking trails fan out from this point, long ones (like up to 13 miles) for the young and vigorous, short ones for me and Glenn. One edge of the circle shows a steep gap in the mountains, a window, facing south and overlooking Mexico. It is high enough in elevation to be perceptibly cooler than Marathon, and the air is clear enough to see the milkey way, most nights. Lots of weddings are held at this spot, so I suppose the youngsters think of it as romatic.

A bunch at the hotel was present for just such a wedding, daughter of a WWII and Korean war fighter pilot who provided lots of great stories for night-gathering of public in the hotel patio. It's that kind of place...interesting characters popping up all the time. Good looking single gals come there, too, and mostly the interesting kind. One was an ex-Cowboy cheerleader, and from early enough in that program to be in my age bracket (though a bit old for Glenn, I think). Being into cutting horse breeding, I judged her a bit high-rent for serious pursuit. A pair of similar chikitas charmed Glenn by out-flirting even him, but nothing came of it. Lawyers need a staff and months to make their case. I think he was fixated on a mid-20's gal, a photographer who was living in Marathon, pictorially documenting the sights of interest. She was certainly one of them.

Not many people look for it, but just west of Big Bend, the National Park, there's a new State Park, a lot of which was donated or sold cheap by rich ranchers who wanted their piece of heaven (if something that hot can be called heaven) preserved and shared. Going west, you pass the famous beer-drinking goat's digs, the town of Terlingua, and the nowhere town of Lajitas, where some misguided rich fellows think they're gonna create a new Palm Springs (Has a golf course, where half the water sprayed evaporates before it hits the grass, and where other's who need river water register their complaints.)

Proceeding on, road and Rio Grande flow through a deep canyon, providing acustics that's hard to believe. Stopping to survey this wonder, we could hear people talking, as though they were real close by. Turned out the talkers were a group of Harley-riding lawyers, about 2 miles up the river. (Pictured is me, keeping a sharp eye out for illegal wet-foots, who might cross the river from Mexico...those pretty cliffs you see.) Exiting the west of the canyon, there is a very long stretch of flat bottom land, extensive farming along the Rio Grande, where the river is little more than ankle deep. That's the last of pretty, however. Beyond it is Presidio, where the temperature is high as I told you, and gas prices even higher.

Head north from Presidio and you start getting into antelope country, as the Davis mountains come into view in the distance. Dry as it has been for the past few years, the antelope tend to be where cattle are....where water is provided. Biggest bunches of them will be close to towns. I think it is the water situation that also makes other wildlife hang around where people abide. Fort Davis, or what's left of it, is in the foothills of the Davis Mountains, about 20 miles or so from the McDonald Observatory. All that territory is worth seeing, and the air worth breathing. Prettiest drive is a loop of highway 166, which runs through big ranch foothills. We stopped along the way, and enjoyed just ambling aside the road. Couldn't hear a car, airconditioner or anything man-made....nothing but hawks, cows in the distance and the wind. Such is rare, these days, and everybody should experience such a thing, just to know it is still possible to hear life as our ancestors enjoyed joyed it. Mystic.

Glenn took the picture below, while I was excited over my first sighting of a brown-crested flycatcher (no kidding) at Lake Amistad, just outside Del Rio, Texas. The picture is shown here, to illustrate the effects of a 7-year drought that those west Texas folks have endured. Ordinarily, the lake shore would be just about where I am standing. You can see a boat launching ramp, in the mid-background, which has been extended at least 1/2 mile, just to reach the present lake level. The bridge, far background, is supposed to be only about 15 feet above water-level...but now is 50' or more. Were it not so tragic, it would be comical, seeing million-dollar lake-side resorts, sitting out on a rocky prairie, with water barely visible in the distance. Enjoy the rain while you can.

THE END

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