Author: alohawild

I rose later after waking for the sunrise and rolling over. I was experiencing (enjoying?) jet lag as my body (and mind) began adjusting to the 3-hour time difference. And I have the unenviable possibility of having reached normality in time to be in New Hampshire and experience the three-hour change in reverse on Sunday-Monday.

I rose, and the coffee was not made despite being set up the day before. I am quite awake in the morning. I drag in the early evening. The winter light is affecting me. I sit under bright lights. Here in Oregon, we have had an unusual set of sunny winter days; my roses are still blooming with the bonus sunlight. It helps too.

Laundry is completed using The Machine on Wednesday (the first load completed on Tuesday), with each load taking a couple of hours and then extending. I manage to get the stuff out when it is ready to be hung. Dress shirts and pants are best pulled while warm and slightly damp to finish drying on hangers and thus avoid wrinkles. The Machine is a so-called Intelligent Appliance, my first, and it sends me updates to my phone and emails. And while I have doubts about the intelligence needed to process laundry, it manages to complete all my clothing, and I put it all away. My closet and dressers are stuffed. It is a good feeling to finish the trip (trips are done when the last bill is paid and the laundry is done and put away).

For those keeping track, I have purchased my air flight for Christmas. Flying to Detroit on 25Dec, arriving in the evening, and returning to Oregon on 6Jan, arriving midday. I am headed to New Hampshire via Logan in Boston late 23Nov (this Sunday!), staying in Merrimack. I will spend the last two days, starting 1Dec, on my own exploring Boston (including JFK Library) and returning to Oregon 3Dec in the evening.

I have too much coffee and am soon a bit shaky. I did have a breakfast of cheese, toast, and lunch meats—sort of a European breakfast. Again, symptoms of jet lag. I find the other half of the fantastic Reuben sandwich I had in Portland, and that brings the hunger and over-coffee’d status under control. Yikes!

I pay bills, and get through the bills and transfers. I write the blog. It is a busy morning.

I watch some more Star Trek: Strange New Worlds and like it. But this one has one sad moment, which reminds me that Susie’s birthday is 11/20/1962. More tears for this day. Many days have tears. Grief does not end, nor is it really mitigated by time. It is.

Susie’s favorite Carmina Burana is performed by the Oregon Symphony in Portland on her birthday. She would have loved it. And here is one of her favorite songs, we used to clap to this: here. And here is the less famous beer song (wait for it…’ beer, beer, beer’): here. We would sing this one, the chorus. Some fun memories for a birthday!

I took a short trip in Air VW the Gray to mail some items for Deborah from the trip and a postcard to Mom Wild.

I am dragging and sad. It is too early for dinner, but I am hungry. So I cook, rushing nothing. I make tacos. I use the low-sodium seasoning pack (I have a jar of salsa I forgot I could use instead) as I scramble a pound of hamber, now defrosted, mostly by running water over it (thanks, Steve, for the non-stick pan). I bake the shells loaded with slightly overpriced, spicy, locally made Mexican-style cheese. Yes, American Midwesterns, we do our own cheese here on the West Coast.

I make enough for three, but leave about 1/2. I love old family-made tacos. I watch the YouTube channel on destroyer-class ship construction from Drachinifel. I manage to stop and put the remaining away in containers (thanks, Gene and Glenda, for those).

I grab my laptop and board the Air VW the Gray and head into heavy Beaverton Traffic to McMenamins Cedar Hills. They are busy for a Wednesday. It is also dark already.

There, I had a dark beer to match the dark sky, then coffee and their surprise dessert (which was surprisingly good and pretty), and arranged with the manager for Theology Pub to have a room on Thursday (tomorrow, at that point). I find it best to be there and have something when asking for a room.

I also discovered my bartender played D&D, but with the crowd we had, we had little time to chat. I brought my laptop and completed the first level of my adventure for next week. I am reworking a 2014 4E adventure for Dungeons & Dragons into a 5E single-sitting adventure. I am happy to see that the 2024 text and even some of the encounters can be easily upgraded to 9th-level 5E without much change. Grammarly finds many typos and makes it easy to rework. I cleared the level and am ready for the next, and even left one encounter almost unchanged.

I am still sad, and it is dark. Deborah and I chat, and I read her my fluff text (the pre-written descriptions that I write for myself and maybe someone else if these ever get published), and that makes me smile, and she likes it I feel better and nap in my chair, and finally rise to get to bed. I sleep, wake, sleep, and jet lag continues.

Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 

I rose at 6:30 before my alarm with forgotten dreams and a deep sleep in my quiet home. The pillows, blankets, and mattress seemed to hug me good morning and then launch me into my day, a full day back in the Pacific Northwest. There is no coffee and no easy breakfast food in the house. I open the windows as the house needs some refreshing. It is cold in my PJs, but I write much of the blog, and I am time-boxed. I have a board game with Richard and James, Tainted Grail, on Tuesday mornings at 9:30 in NE Portland.

I watch the sunrise while I write, and Deborah and I text a few times. I find the time difference jarring this time; it was nice to be running on nearly the same time as Deborah, that is, only an hour different, and then on the same time once we crossed to Georgia last week.

I managed to finish half of the blog. I can feel the usual exhaustion and depression today, at the end of a marvelous but long trip, but the light helps, and it is soooo nice not to be moving from hotel to hotel. Also, the Telos part of the trip was harsh; I learned a lot, but it is hard not to be a bit depressed by the treatment of people here in the USA. But this was brightened by the good people we met at Telos events and by the kind staff at restaurants, hotels, and museums. Their smiles give me hope.

Aside: Mail was delivered sometime. It included books shipped from New Orleans, various bills, catalogs, and many holiday donation requests.

Some carefully wrapped used books from Crescent City Books. They remember me when I am there. I always find something I need shipped home.

I rush and make the Portland slow inbound traffic, somehow again running between 0-35 mph. I am driving Air VW the Gray—I missed it—and the EV is always a joy to drive and generates no tailpipe smoke when idle, which can happen often when traveling between Beaverton and Portland. I had charged it to 100%. I reach Richard’s house and park a block away, where there are no leaves. It is leaf day when you pile your leaves in the street for pickup.

Richard has the game board set back to where we left it a few weeks ago. The board game has a ‘save’ process. I remember much of the storyline, and we were heading west to continue the story. James and Richard, who have likely played a dozen games since, do not remember. I have been a DM for Dungeons & Dragons since the 1980s, and remembering stories is part of my job. We start, and Richard cannot help but harvest resources and experience. James’ character is not combat-centric, mine is a mix, and Richard’s combat-focused, which means James often takes more damage. We have a close call as a monster tracks and attacks us, and it takes a few tries to defeat it. It then resets and will reappear in three turns. We stop it faster with a bit of luck. James’ character is the only healer, and he often helps that way.

(My character has plenty of resources and most of my health back)

We slowly move across the map of this fantasy world, a mix of Arthurian legends, SciFi, and HP Lovecraft-like alien horror. We return to the areas we explored when we first started the game. We actually find new stories now that we have the resources to pay, but in my memory, we were too poor when we first explored these areas, and I am happy to revisit them. We see new places we have not explored. Today’s play was mostly travel and learning that something is interesting on the other side of the map. I liked it, but James’ character got beaten up and had to rest while Richard and I fought more monsters and got more stuff.

I will be back in December to explore these new story-relevant areas, and I look forward to advancing the story. It has been a while since we have had a chapter change. The game has grown on me.

I give each of Richard and James a Jimmy Carter Library pencil. They are delighted. I head out, it’s near 2.

I find street parking near Broadway Grill and have a Mr. Todd’s Wild Ride beer and their Reuben sandwich. I can only eat half of it. It is excellent, and while I miss the food of the American South, this was house-made corned beef and sauerkraut. I asked for extra sourkraunt and it is wonderful. Recommended. The waiter gave me a box when the huge sandwich arrived.

I finish the blog at the Broadway Grill (having to wipe the good stuff off my hands from the sandwich), while the depression presses a bit, and it is hard to finish. I want to just crawl under a blanket and hide from the troubles of this world, take a few more days off, and do nothing. Just be.

Instead, I finish, talk to Deborah, learn that my bartender is from the New Orleans area, and we share food stories. I learned he moved back here after spending 5 years near the Big Easy to be closer to his aging parents, and that he is happy here now. But he often returns to live-long friends in Louisiana. The depression fades.

I stop by the Broadway Bookstore next door, but they have sold out of the cookbook I looked at last time: The Talisman of Happiness: The Most Iconic Italian Cookbook Ever Written. I did get a postcard. They offered to order it for me, but I demurred as I was traveling again. I did get the 2025 Cook’s Annual in the mail today. Maybe that is enough cookbooks for this month…maybe…

Next, I take the EV back and stop at Safeway to collect just a few things, which soon fill my cart, and I am checked out by Aws, who is excited to see me. We talk about my trips (there is nobody behind me at the check-out, as most people ‘enjoy’ the self-check out. He asked about my head — no hat — and he is saddened that I have lost my hat (again), this time in New Orleans. We laugh as I tell him where I have lost hats all over the world, each one a story, but he has to check, but we get words in between scans and bagging. He smiles and is excited for me for the next trips. I stop by 185th Veggies and get a few fresh items to add to my supplies.

The sun is down, and it is only 4:30, but I am bright and back to normal. The world seems better. I put away the items and start on tacos. Corwin calls; instead of getting a pittance for a trade-in, his friends give him the car and an excellent phone. Corwin feels, he tells me, that the universe no longer hates him. Corwin has given up drinking and has focused on a new business in window washing, gardening, and other ways to make a living. This, along with help from friends, has given him new hope.

I put away the taco makings. I take Corwin to dinner and let him order the best steak at Golden Valley Brewery (don’t ask how much), and I have their curry (not wanting to compare to anything I had down in the American South). I did have a Walnut Old Fashion, and it was good enough (though there were better drinks, but it scored in the middle of one I had in NOLA).

Returning home, I begin to fade, and I wish Corwin well. He needs to contact Allstate to get the correct type of insurance for Uber driving now that he has an excellent car. I may have to help with that for the first time. He is hopeful that with all the gigs he can make it work, and maybe, and this makes him smile, prosper. There is a light in his eyes.

And for those who wonder, the deal is that when he is older and has the resources, he will help someone and remember Susie and me. He can tell our story.

Exhausted and still in the wrong Time Zone, I stayed up and watched more Star Trek: Strange New Worlds and, like the next episode, three, and finished two. Recommended. I am in season one.

I then, with the first load dry but not put away, went to bed, tried to read, and fell asleep immediately. I dreamed many dreams, but did not wake until 6:30 in the middle of a dream math test. The Telos trip ended with math exhibits, and I realized I wasn’t paying attention. The test was difficult for me. My sleepy brain invented a whole new version of logic and proof formats, and I now needed to prove my proficiency on the test. Dondrea, Deborah (who somehow already knew this without being on the trip), and others were doing fine. Apparently, it was a simple test, but I was struggling to complete it and write legibly. I spent an hour of dream time trying to complete it. I woke up before it was over.

Always some guilt when learning things. Often, I dream I never work hard enough, never pay attention, and then there is that whole thing I missed. A familiar dream.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

It has been two weeks since I sat at my desk and wrote this blog. I woke at 4ish and thought I had to get up, pack, check out, and head to the airport. It took a while to remember I was in my bed, in my house, and there was no need to check out. Or to get up too soon.

Returning to last night, Dondrea’s daughter picked us both up at PDX, our airport (named not for someone but for its airport code), here in the Greater Portland Area. They were kind enough to take me home. The house needed airing, but other than the shelves being empty of coffee, it was OK. I did not unpack, but I did get some books I had shipped from New Orleans. One is the first-hand account of the American Civil War from General Hood, a Confederate, and I found and read, before sleeping, a few sections covering the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain. The book was never edited and was published after his death. Hood is remembered as reckless.

I was soon asleep in my bed, and it felt good to be home.

Returning to Monday’s start, I then rose, quickly packed, showered, dressed, and checked out of my hotel. I wrote yesterday’s blog in a rush, and I must admit I had trouble focusing. I was tired, and the weeks of travel were beginning to wear on me. I can travel, but the Telos trip, the Civil Rights Journey, was composed of harsh realities and a working and learning experience. I grabbed a banana and coffee while the other folks on the trip assembled at the hotel (Pastor Ken was staying with friends and hanging out with his daughter).

Today was a travel day, and everything is about managing the time box of our flights out and balancing the risk/reward from leaving early for the airport. And while the message was that the flight restrictions were magically lifted at Atlanta’s airport, we had no reason to believe there wouldn’t be cancellations, delays, and messy lines. We headed to the Waffle House now that most of us were checked out; Michael R would be there longer, as he had family items to cover. And while the food at the restaurant was better than the hotel’s, and not as great as the brunch at The Court of the Two Sisters, it was still excellent. I had a plain waffle with some ham and a side of too much grits. Their coffee was good there. Kathy and Doug bought breakfast (thanks!).

Awake, fed, and ready to face Monday, we reboarded the rental car, Dondrea refilled it, and then headed to The Carter Center. Today was its first day open in weeks; it was affected by the government shutdown. The staff was happy to see us, and the guards and clerks soon smiled and directed us. They were delighted to be back and to see folks back.

Ken and his daughter joined us at the Carter Center.

The displays brought back so many memories, as I remember Ford and Carter well (my memories of Nixon and the war are much dimmer). I smiled when I saw the sweater President Carter wore while campaigning to have folks use less energy. The relics brought back memories, including the return of the Crown of Hungary, despite still being behind the Iron Curtain. Carter’s story is a mix of impossible successes like the Camp David Accords and terrible failures like the attempted rescue of the hostages in Iran. But mostly, I think, Jimmy Carter was elected as a pause when the American people did not want the establishment anymore, and was, as they are, I believe, with Trump, searching for an alternative. Events overtook the Carter Administration, a revolt in the Democratic Party against establishment candidates, and the perceived weakness of the President led to a landslide victory for Reagan.

Carter went on, as the displays show, and soon began publishing and working for the good of all. It is an incredible story, and the library tells it well. The intermixing of artifacts really helps bring the story forward. The rather plain model of the Carter Oval Office stands in stark contrast to the current version. Unlike the Nixon version, you cannot sit behind the desk for pictures. Dondrea shared that she had sat behind the desk during the Carter Presidency; her father worked there, and she was allowed to visit the office.

I stopped by the gift shop and found a few small items that easily fit in my bags.

We walked the grounds. We said goodbye to Ken and his daughter.

The center has a small cafe and an eating area. We got some drinks and snacks. We chatted for a while as this was the last time we would be together. Doug, Kathy, and Seth were soon whisked away in an Uber to the airport. There, they would reconnect with Ken, who is on the same flight. A family was in some distress, and they helped them get to Portland. A story for someone else to tell, but it was great that our folks were there and could help.

Dondrea, Michael R., and I headed to the A Cappella Books. Yes, another bookstore. There I found a new story on Sherlock Holmes and Watson. I have written my own short story (which, I am told, will someday be published by 2600 Magazine) and was curious. It was 1/3 price and light enough. Michael R. found something, then we said our goodbyes, and Michael R. headed to public transit. Dondrea headed to a recommended bar and grill, Vortex, in a nearby, edgier section. This is the Five Points area where five roads connect.

It was a trip! The recommended chicken roll apitiqzer, sort of a western eggroll with excellent chicken. I had their Skull brand lager. It was good. We walked around the area, and it was OK, but maybe a bit too edgy for us.

We decided that, given all the risks, getting to the airport early would be OK. Dondrea got us to the rental car return without issue (we had been there earlier in the week with Ken). We then took the Sky Train to the terminal, found a place to sit, and waited until we could check in. Time, as often happens when traveling, quickly disappeared, and we headed to the self-check bag area for Delta.

I left my phone on the machine, again, but was able to retrieve it. That was the only trouble we faced. We soon passed security, no lines, without issues. It appears that all the dire warnings had reduced air flight lines, and while I expect Monday is not a heavy travel day, they seemed set for larger crowds that did not come.

We found a coffee place to hang out for a while, where we got coffee and a baked good. We headed to our gates after the usual breaks and boarded. While not full, it was closely packed. A family with kids was in the seat before us, Dondrea sitting next to each other. The kids were seated between seats and were quite full of mischief. I had to wave the kids away and look unhappy to them to leave me alone. At one point, I was pelted with a Spiderman doll.

Dondrea rested while I watched movies and listened to my noise-reducing earbuds. I watched a Chinese film with English subtitles, Full Red River. It was a strange and violent film, and I don’t think I can recommend it. Next, I started the Star Trek series, Strange New Worlds, and watched the first episode. It is sexy, bright, and well done. The plane landed as I got to the breakthrough part of the story in the second episode. Oh my! But I have another plane ride in less than a week. All night flying. I think I will be doing binge-watching on the aircraft.

Faythe, Dondrea’s daughter, met us after we found our luggage. I had to take off my shoes on the plane; my feet swelled and hurt this time. I had to stop and get reassembled once off the plane.

And that takes me full circle. Thanks for reading!

It was nice to rise on a Sunday in Atlanta. We did not have to pack or change hotels today. It has been a week of hotel changes. But not today, but it is an early start, as we have church today.

We managed to make a 9ish exit with Seth and Michael R letting me tie some ties for them. We look good. A short trip, various maps, and we are there and parking.

The folks at Ebenezer Baptist Church, Martin Luther King Jr.’s church, welcome us and are amazed that we have come so far to worship with them. They direct us with smiles, and I fill out paperwork for our small group. The ambassadors, wearing badges, greet us and turn us over to ushers who seat us. We sit about 1/3 of the way in. We are introduced and stand in the welcoming part of the service. I open a hymnal and learn it is given by Rev. Scott, who is associated in my mind with the King family.

We sing and enjoy the service, and we have ideas for improvement at our church. Here is the service recorded and made available on YouTube. The building can hold about 3 or 4 times as many people as our building in Oregon. The sound system, video systems, and music are excellent.

The service was full of joy, and the sermon was more like a reminder of what we already know, but it was a journey to remember what is essential. The sermon was delivered in a style that reminded me of MLK, Andrew Young, and Jesse Jackson. The pauses, the “Turn to your neighbor and tell them ‘That is not true,'” the pointing out of failed promises, the sliding into a political statement about shining sunlight on the Epstein files and related transcripts, and all intermixed with ‘Amen.’

After the service, we walked over to the historical church, now unused, and took pictures. Around the corner is the King Center, which is open, and there are the graves of MLK and his wife in a reflection pool. The eternal flame is still out; it was recently vandalized and has not yet been restored. Freedom Hall also offered another bookstore and merchandise. There, I picked out some small things that fit easily in my luggage. I was chatting with the staff, laughing and telling stories.

(Michael R. playing for us)

I skipped the displays, I am sure they are well done, and sat outside, but security reminded me that you may not sit on the wall of the reflecting pool and pointed out tables to use. There was no sign, but I looked and everyone was using the proper benches and tables, feeling foolish for my faux pas, and I immediately complied.

The soundtrack was a replay of MLK speeches while I sat properly on the bench, and being here at his and his wife’s grave, hearing his words on a perfect fall day here in Atlanta, made my eyes damp. Another powerful reminder, within sight of Ebenezer Baptist Church and around the corner from the home where Martin Luther King Jr. was born, of the movement he led here and across the USA.

But there was trouble. I walked over to the National Park section to find no one working, but everything was fenced off, supposedly unsafe, and under construction. There is no construction work visible. Just another excuse to erase uncomfortable history. I walked to the house where MLK was born; it, too, was fenced and boarded up, with signs and write-ups about the closing and two years of construction planned. All on order of the Secretary of the Interior. I was angry now, and it was a reminder of the worst of politics.

The shop, operated by the Park service, was open and contained many of the same items as the Freedom Center. But I was too unhappy to help fund this travesty with cash. Only this was open in a remodeled house next to the closed house.

I met the group who had finished and acquired various merchandise. I waved them off from the National Park as it was all closed. We instead returned to the rental minivan, and Dondrea headed north to the Civil War Battlefield, Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park. We found Come-n-Get It on the way. They served chicken-fried chicken with sawmill gravy, fried okra, and other southern specialties. It was perfect and everyone was full and happy.

We traveled about another 15 minutes and discovered, as warned, that the visitor center access road was blocked by county construction. We then parked in overflow and walked to the center. I paid the $5 parking fee using a QR code while we walked. It went better when I used the correct credit card (not AMEX) and applied the correct security code! I kept using the code from my bank card and not my Visa.

The mark is marvelous, and the museum and rangers were friendly and knowledgeable. One of the cannons on this display is shown in a photo from later battles, when it was captured. They can make out the serial number in one of the photos. The show is a 30+ minute film of high quality that reminds me of Ken Burns and other documentaries.

We enjoyed walking through some of the park, then drove around the area, seeing many mansion-like homes, more sights, and some of the marked locations from the battles. I will have to be back.

We returned to the hotel, and we agreed to meet at Waffle House at 7:30ish. I started to pack and talked to Deborah for a while. I wrote postcards I got at the battlefield park’s shop. It was the first place I saw a Confederate flag for sale; yes, in a Federal shop.

We tried out the waffle joint, but it was only open for to-go orders. Instead, across the street was Laughing Taco, which I saw in my searches and was curious about. The food was marvelous, with a Day of the Dead theme for the place. You had to order on machines; there is no waiter, they deliver the food (or to-go bags), and we found a table and enjoyed too much food (again). It was only a few blocks away, and we were soon back at the hotel.

I talked to Deborah as she fell asleep. I packed and started the blog. At 11, I set my alarm and went to sleep. I woke from dreams, barely remembered now, of traveling and trying to find my way home. No nightmares.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

The morning started with all of us sleeping in and enjoying the easy day. The National Naval Civil War Museum did not open until 10AM, and there was no reason to rush. I wrote the blog all morning, repacked a few items, and, cheating, wore the clothes I had in my carry-on so I never had to open my suitcase. I had the industrial breakfast, but the usual oatmeal container had a taped note, “Grits.” And they were the slow-cooked, perfect kind. The bacon, while still a thin corporate version, seemed better than usual and had a better crunch. I thanked the staff and handled the basic hotel stuff. I get the rooms, and they pay for them at check-out with their credit cards.

I published the blog, then we loaded, and somehow the bags that fit yesterday refused to fit today in the back area of our black mini-van. We reorganized, and it fit better, but it is still tight. While we waited for others to get ready, I posted the rest of the blog but forgot to send the email. I fixed that while I waited.

We finally had everyone and thought we were 30 minutes from the planned start, but we were soon off and crossed Columbus, Georgia, to the museum on the Chattahoochee River. The city is at the brink of the falls and the limit of the navigable river. Brandon shook my hand as I was a member. He is the museum director and is taking a turn at running the ticket booth and gift shop today. Once our group got assembled and with tickets, we explored the gift store (He showed some of the real Confederate money, Brandon gave an introduction, and then went over to the main attraction, the over 100-foot wreck of the CSS Jackson that was salvaged in the 1960s and now resides in this independent non-profit museum organization (this is not public owned or funded museum). The stern (rear) of the CSS Chattahoochee was recovered when the CSS Jackson was salvaged and is also included in the displays, along with its engines. The view of the CSS Jackson remains takes your breath away. Though burned to the waterline, the original lines are reconstructed by a metal framework over wreckage, and it gives you a feeling for this, the last of the ironclads.

The ship never made it into service and was burned when Columbus was taken by the Union forces, likely with other ships like the CSS Chattahoochee found next to the CSS Jackson. They are restoring some of the armor found in the wreck and reconstructing the burned stern, an ongoing project at the museum. The armor recovered from the wreck is included in reconstructions of other ships and in construction examples, giving it realism.

The destroyed navy yard, also burned by the Union (as was the whole town), has recently been explored by archaeologists, and nails were recovered, including those likely from the construction of the CSS Jackson. They are sold in the gift shop; I got one.

I was happy to see two wrecks, but discovered as we explored the remains of the CSS Alabama (a gun recently salvaged from the famous wreck), lost cargo from the wrecked CSS Georgia when it tried to run the blockage, bits of the CSS Virginia (yes, the former USS Merrimack), the flag of captured ships (on both sides), and the flag from the CSS Arkansas (the wreck is likely buried under a levy and unreachable).

The descriptions were focused not on slavery as much as on battles and the effort by the Union Navy to end trade for the Confederates and support the land campaigns. There were a few notes here and there on slavery. The timelines and relics impressed me. I have not seen such a collection of meaningful items placed in context, sometimes in non-navy actions. The brutality of the American Civil War was apparent.

Columbus was burned like Selma, and the two were burned within a few days of each other by the same Union army.

I would recommend the place; at $12 a ticket, it’s not too expensive. We also looked at the gun collection, and we did NOT pay the $300 to fire the big cannon available for special occasions.

We left, headed to a restaurant, and discovered an old-town section of Columbus that surprised Dondrea and me. Our research has shown only the basics you often find in an army base town; Fort Benning was connected with Columbus. Indeed, a surprisingly lovely downtown.

Dondrea found us a parking spot. She managed to parallel park the minivan, and we applauded. We walked to Black Cow, only a few blocks away. We sat outside with different iced tea varieties and some water. It was hot in the sun, and we enjoyed the warm, excellent weather.

My food was meatloaf that was spicy and good with fried okra on the side. Excellent! Portions were large and nobody was disappointed, but Dondrea tried the pineapple and did not think baked cheese fit it (sort of a mac & cheese, but with pineapple in place of the pasta). Chicken and waffles, poboys, chicken, and burgers are all good.

Dondrea drove again, and after 90 minutes, we hit our next stop. The trip to the Atlanta Airport was a bit stressful as we dropped off Pastor Ken to get his car. We went to the address supplied, and all we found were locked fences and car repair facilities. We then headed to the terminal, found the rental center area, looped around until we spotted a tiny sign, and dropped Ken off. Sadly, Ken found no car available for him and took an Uber to his friend’s house; he is staying with them for this part of the trip.

Dondrea drove us through heavy traffic to the hotel in Atlanta’s Buckhead area. Within an hour, we were at the hotel, checked in, with me having to sign every bill and fill out every section. I never complain about being more detailed when it comes to money.

We headed to our room and, within an hour, were headed to Eclipse di Luna in the minivan. It is a tapas place and we have a light meal, with me getting glasses of excellent Spanish wine. We had lots of little plates that we shared. It was all excellent, and there was music playing just behind us.

The host was surprised that we showed up with six without a reservation, but instead of turning us away, they added a few chairs to a table against the band (not the best place for talking), and it worked. The place was swinging, loud, and happy. Perfect for us.

I scanned a QR code and got the bill to pay. I could somehow split the twenty-plus-something items, but instead headed out, printed a copy, and asked folks to figure out their bill and reimburse me later. I paid the whole thing and got miles for it.

We returned and learned from the traffic inbound (we were outbound) that not just our Eclipse di Luna was swinging, but other places had lines of cars to get in. We had inadvertently discovered the hot new scene in Atlanta. Wow! Miami Circle is it!

Back at the room, I started the blog and talked to Deborah for a while. We put on the video as we are missing each other. It was also the first night when I was rushed, and we could just talk. Donovan, Deborah’s son, suggested a song for our trip: “Union Dixie.” I shared it with the group.

We are headed to church tomorrow, and many were sharing about ironing on a group text. We are excited to attend services at Ebenezer Baptist Church. With some of the blog done, ironing done, and unpacked, I crawled into bed after a shower and soon slept. Dreams were many, many about traveling to find something, and one nightmare that forced me awake at 2:30. I cannot remember it even when I woke and went back to sleep and slept until 5ish, rolled over, and rose before my 6:30 alarm.

Thanks for reading.