TRAVELING MEMORIES.
Dear Marcia and John: Valentine’s Day - 2010.
I really enjoyed spending the afternoon with you. You are always good company. You are congenial, friendly, upbeat and always interested in the other guy. You both are good listeners. Who wouldn’t enjoy this atmosphere?
Marcia, I read “What Makes a Marriage Last?” in your magazine. It was very interesting to me, as you guessed that it might be. What made it so fascinating is that no two couples repeated exactly the same reasons as to how they met, and how they inter-related with each other, to preserve their marriages.
I also reflected on your vast traveling experience. Besides all the new and interesting experiences, I have found another reason, which is not so obvious, for enjoying my travels. When I see a picture, or description of a place, in the paper, or on TV - that I have visited, it is quite a thrill to tell myself that I have been there, or have seen it. So you get a lot of mileage from your travel experiences. You enjoy them initially, and then reflect on those experiences when ever prompted by later publicity - besides the normal memories.
This thought came to mind while I was watching “60 Minutes” this evening. One of the segments was on Davos, Switzerland - nestled in the rugged Alps. Marie and I were fortunate to have toured parts of Germany, Italy, France, Switzerland and Austria on a Tour in 1993. We spent one night in snowy Davos. The town has only about 10,000 people, and is a about a mile high - a little short of the Lake Tahoe Basin and Yosemite Valley, so you have had a taste of a similar environment. I knew then, that it was a winter - resort town, and it was where the World Economic Conference was held every year. But, I didn’t realize the clout that the meeting had - as a neutral site for various individuals, from various countries, all over the world, to discuss their differences.
Love,
Uncle Ray.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
THE POSITIVE SIDE OF LIFE
THE POSITIVE SIDE OF LIFE.
Ella Appleton submitted the following through our “Suggestion” system. Kelli and I thought it was very good, and we should circulate it to the Residents. It also ties in to last Thursday’s “Mindworks” class, where we discussed being “Positive”.
Living on earth is expensive, but it does include a free trip around the sun every year!
Birthdays are good for you . The more you have, the longer you live.
Happiness comes through doors you didn’t know you left open.
How long a minute is, depends on what side of the bathroom door you are on.
Most of us go to our grave with our music inside of us.
If Walmart is lowering prices every day, how come they are never “free“?
Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.
Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once!
----Author unknown.
RCL
2/20/10.
Ella Appleton submitted the following through our “Suggestion” system. Kelli and I thought it was very good, and we should circulate it to the Residents. It also ties in to last Thursday’s “Mindworks” class, where we discussed being “Positive”.
Living on earth is expensive, but it does include a free trip around the sun every year!
Birthdays are good for you . The more you have, the longer you live.
Happiness comes through doors you didn’t know you left open.
How long a minute is, depends on what side of the bathroom door you are on.
Most of us go to our grave with our music inside of us.
If Walmart is lowering prices every day, how come they are never “free“?
Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.
Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once!
----Author unknown.
RCL
2/20/10.
Monday, February 15, 2010
MOONSHINE
MOONSHINE
I read - with much interest- a book review in the Wall Street Journal this morning. Eddie Dean reviewed Max Watman’s recent book, “Chasing the Dog” - about the bootleggers making “moonshine” (whiskey), during the Great Depression. Eddie’s writing reminded me of a fellow that I met at Gunter Field, Alabama, when we were Privates in the Army air Corps. Our exchange took place in 1941 - months before “Pearl Harbor”.
We lived together in the same Barrack. I can’t remember his name, even though I take pride in my “long term” memory. But, I do remember asking him where he was from? With his strong drawl, I knew that it was below the Mason-Dixon Line. He said , “North Carolina”. Then, I asked him about his work in civilian life? He told me that he was a “Bootlegger”. He told me that there were so many bootleggers with stills in the hills, that they had to wear badges to keep from selling the booze to each other!
Our brain is a very interesting and fascinating organ. When we are of “sound mind”, we don’t appreciate how intricate, and marvelous it really is. And yet, when we lose more than half of the brain cells in our frontal cortex, (as Marie has), and our brain fails simple tests, it is too late to understand our loss.
I hadn’t thought of my fellow airman during the past 69 years, until now. Except for not remembering his name, I remember our conversation as if it were just yesterday. The same thing with the term “bootlegger”. I thought that this archaic “trade” was extinct. But, apparently, it is still alive and well.
Ray L’Amoreaux
February 15, 2010.
I read - with much interest- a book review in the Wall Street Journal this morning. Eddie Dean reviewed Max Watman’s recent book, “Chasing the Dog” - about the bootleggers making “moonshine” (whiskey), during the Great Depression. Eddie’s writing reminded me of a fellow that I met at Gunter Field, Alabama, when we were Privates in the Army air Corps. Our exchange took place in 1941 - months before “Pearl Harbor”.
We lived together in the same Barrack. I can’t remember his name, even though I take pride in my “long term” memory. But, I do remember asking him where he was from? With his strong drawl, I knew that it was below the Mason-Dixon Line. He said , “North Carolina”. Then, I asked him about his work in civilian life? He told me that he was a “Bootlegger”. He told me that there were so many bootleggers with stills in the hills, that they had to wear badges to keep from selling the booze to each other!
Our brain is a very interesting and fascinating organ. When we are of “sound mind”, we don’t appreciate how intricate, and marvelous it really is. And yet, when we lose more than half of the brain cells in our frontal cortex, (as Marie has), and our brain fails simple tests, it is too late to understand our loss.
I hadn’t thought of my fellow airman during the past 69 years, until now. Except for not remembering his name, I remember our conversation as if it were just yesterday. The same thing with the term “bootlegger”. I thought that this archaic “trade” was extinct. But, apparently, it is still alive and well.
Ray L’Amoreaux
February 15, 2010.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
THIS IS A TEST!
THIS IS A TEST!
I had an interesting experience at dinner tonight! A lady came up to me, and thanked me for my Valentine. She went on to say that I was very thoughtful. But, I didn’t send her one! How would you respond? - or would you? Note:- She is of sound mind.
Without thinking, I responded “You’re welcome!” This is the response, drummed into me when I was young. Then, I remembered that I hadn’t sent her one. Another thing that I remember being taught, is “Let sleeping dogs lie”. This is the way I left it .
I am interested in how you would have handled it? In the big picture, this is small stuff. But, I am curious. Thanks for your ideas.
RCL - 2/13/10.
!
I had an interesting experience at dinner tonight! A lady came up to me, and thanked me for my Valentine. She went on to say that I was very thoughtful. But, I didn’t send her one! How would you respond? - or would you? Note:- She is of sound mind.
Without thinking, I responded “You’re welcome!” This is the response, drummed into me when I was young. Then, I remembered that I hadn’t sent her one. Another thing that I remember being taught, is “Let sleeping dogs lie”. This is the way I left it .
I am interested in how you would have handled it? In the big picture, this is small stuff. But, I am curious. Thanks for your ideas.
RCL - 2/13/10.
!
Friday, February 12, 2010
KISS AND TELL
Dear Elizabeth: Fairfield, California
February 9, 2010
I enjoyed reading your article in today’s Wall Street Journal ( “Happy Couples Kiss and Tell”.) You write very interestingly, and very well. Your headline in the Journal, caught my eye, because Marie and I have been married for 65 years. (She is 86 and I am 91). I received my pilot wings on the morning of December 23, 1944 and we were married that afternoon, in Douglas, Arizona. Prior to this, we hadn’t seen each other for five months. We were both far from home. Only one family member was there, and that was Marie’s Mother. That was a great foundation to start our life together.
People have asked us many times, especially on our Anniversaries: “ To what have you attributed your long life together?” I usually answer, as did your Dad, “I have no idea!” This seems like a strange response, when our culture is supposed to have a formula for everything. I don’t recall a time when even a separation was mentioned. Perhaps she entertained the thought, but I have no memory of it.
For me, the 65 years have flown by, and here we are. I wasn’t conscious of “working at it” - to protect, and preserve, our wedding vows. I am sure a lot of our congeniality was pure -dumb luck. Too, we are both spiritual. I was raised as a Catholic. Marie was raised in the Methodist faith. She converted to Catholicism about ten years after we were married. I am sure that this framework made a stronger bond between us. Also, we have five daughters. When they were growing up , we were too busy to argue and fight. I think we took our parental duties seriously. Disrupting their lives would be unthinkable. Too, we are both stubborn. I am sure that this attribute provided some of the glue. While my parents were married only 46 years, before my Dad died at 63, they were really a great example of “love” for me. I never remember either of them saying a hurtful thing to each other. While Marie’s Dad died at 57, (she was only 14!), I think that her relationship with her parents was similar to mine.
I am reading “Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff”. by Richard Carlson. At my old age, I figure that it still isn’t too late to get life right. This “treasure” should be required reading for the “bride’ and “groom” in all pre-nuptial plans. Dr. Carlson says it all, when he writes “Love is it’s own reward” and “Don’t sweat the Small Stuff!”
It seems kind of trite to say that it was a “give and take” game plan. But, the major decisions seemed to work out that way.
The first time was when we were snowed in at Gallup, New Mexico in 1944 - just after I was separated from the Air Corps. We were headed back to Michigan from California. (Marie was a native). My parents lived in Ypsilanti, and I wanted to enter the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. My “bride” was cold, and crying. She wanted to return to California. I promised that the weather would improve, and she agreed to continue.
A year and a half later, Southeastern Michigan had a snow storm. She said, “Ray, you are going to have to choose between Michigan, or me. I’m going back to California!” While I wanted to continue on at the U of M., I agreed to return with her.
The next time we had a large impasse, was in 1957 - some ten years later. I was interviewed for an industrial engineering job in Hawaii, and was offered it. I was excited and wanted to accept it. But, Marie wasn’t as excited as I was. She said that she didn’t want to move our three young daughters. I was discouraged. I explained to her that it would be a great new experience. If I didn’t accept the job, I would be “what ifing” for the rest of my life. She finally agreed to go.
After living four and a half years on Kauai, we returned to the mainland on vacation. I was offered a job, and made the mistake of telling Marie about it. Immediately, she said “Take it!”. So, I did, even though I’d rather have stayed on Kauai. She and the girls remained in California, while I went back to Hawaii, gave my “Notice”, put the house up for sale and packed all of our belongings for shipment back to California.
Marie owes me one!
Today, we are separated - but not by choice. Marie is in a nearby Health Center, diagnosed with Alzheimer dementia. I look forward to visiting her daily, and she seems glad to see me. Recently, I have reflected back on my marriage vow. “------for better or worse”. At the time I uttered them, I really didn’t analyze the full impact of what I was saying. I was only 26, and didn’t grasp their significance. And the “------till death do us part” was unthinkable. Now, we are patiently coping with this phase.
Well, Elizabeth, I just thought you would like to know about a few bumps in the road of our long marriage.
Good luck in your interesting -writing career.
Aloha,
Ray L’Amoreaux.
February 9, 2010
I enjoyed reading your article in today’s Wall Street Journal ( “Happy Couples Kiss and Tell”.) You write very interestingly, and very well. Your headline in the Journal, caught my eye, because Marie and I have been married for 65 years. (She is 86 and I am 91). I received my pilot wings on the morning of December 23, 1944 and we were married that afternoon, in Douglas, Arizona. Prior to this, we hadn’t seen each other for five months. We were both far from home. Only one family member was there, and that was Marie’s Mother. That was a great foundation to start our life together.
People have asked us many times, especially on our Anniversaries: “ To what have you attributed your long life together?” I usually answer, as did your Dad, “I have no idea!” This seems like a strange response, when our culture is supposed to have a formula for everything. I don’t recall a time when even a separation was mentioned. Perhaps she entertained the thought, but I have no memory of it.
For me, the 65 years have flown by, and here we are. I wasn’t conscious of “working at it” - to protect, and preserve, our wedding vows. I am sure a lot of our congeniality was pure -dumb luck. Too, we are both spiritual. I was raised as a Catholic. Marie was raised in the Methodist faith. She converted to Catholicism about ten years after we were married. I am sure that this framework made a stronger bond between us. Also, we have five daughters. When they were growing up , we were too busy to argue and fight. I think we took our parental duties seriously. Disrupting their lives would be unthinkable. Too, we are both stubborn. I am sure that this attribute provided some of the glue. While my parents were married only 46 years, before my Dad died at 63, they were really a great example of “love” for me. I never remember either of them saying a hurtful thing to each other. While Marie’s Dad died at 57, (she was only 14!), I think that her relationship with her parents was similar to mine.
I am reading “Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff”. by Richard Carlson. At my old age, I figure that it still isn’t too late to get life right. This “treasure” should be required reading for the “bride’ and “groom” in all pre-nuptial plans. Dr. Carlson says it all, when he writes “Love is it’s own reward” and “Don’t sweat the Small Stuff!”
It seems kind of trite to say that it was a “give and take” game plan. But, the major decisions seemed to work out that way.
The first time was when we were snowed in at Gallup, New Mexico in 1944 - just after I was separated from the Air Corps. We were headed back to Michigan from California. (Marie was a native). My parents lived in Ypsilanti, and I wanted to enter the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. My “bride” was cold, and crying. She wanted to return to California. I promised that the weather would improve, and she agreed to continue.
A year and a half later, Southeastern Michigan had a snow storm. She said, “Ray, you are going to have to choose between Michigan, or me. I’m going back to California!” While I wanted to continue on at the U of M., I agreed to return with her.
The next time we had a large impasse, was in 1957 - some ten years later. I was interviewed for an industrial engineering job in Hawaii, and was offered it. I was excited and wanted to accept it. But, Marie wasn’t as excited as I was. She said that she didn’t want to move our three young daughters. I was discouraged. I explained to her that it would be a great new experience. If I didn’t accept the job, I would be “what ifing” for the rest of my life. She finally agreed to go.
After living four and a half years on Kauai, we returned to the mainland on vacation. I was offered a job, and made the mistake of telling Marie about it. Immediately, she said “Take it!”. So, I did, even though I’d rather have stayed on Kauai. She and the girls remained in California, while I went back to Hawaii, gave my “Notice”, put the house up for sale and packed all of our belongings for shipment back to California.
Marie owes me one!
Today, we are separated - but not by choice. Marie is in a nearby Health Center, diagnosed with Alzheimer dementia. I look forward to visiting her daily, and she seems glad to see me. Recently, I have reflected back on my marriage vow. “------for better or worse”. At the time I uttered them, I really didn’t analyze the full impact of what I was saying. I was only 26, and didn’t grasp their significance. And the “------till death do us part” was unthinkable. Now, we are patiently coping with this phase.
Well, Elizabeth, I just thought you would like to know about a few bumps in the road of our long marriage.
Good luck in your interesting -writing career.
Aloha,
Ray L’Amoreaux.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Classic Article
CLASSIC ARTICLE
(My daughter Mary forwarded me an e-mail, from her sister-in-law Pat, about a father and his driving.)
What a great story, written by Michael Gartner. I wish that I could write as well. I think that his trick is to use a lot of quotes. It makes the writing more friendly. I could relate to some of his tale. Life was much simpler back in the !920’s and 30’s. I had some difficulty reading it, with my “blurred” eyes. I can’t explain my emotion, except for the tender memories it recalled for me.
My Dad drove, but we didn’t own a car - until 1930. (My Dad was 40 and I was 11). My Dad bought a four door - 1928 Chrysler (second hand). This was at the beginning of the Great Depression, and not too many people owned cars. He bought the car only because we were moving from Hillsdale, Michigan to Olmsted Falls, Ohio. My Dad was transferred from Hillsdale to Cleveland, by the New York Central Railroad. They were consolidating their office operations. I never thought to ask him who taught him to drive, and in what make of car. All cars had manual transmissions back then. (Some girlfriends had bruised knees from their boyfriends constantly shifting gears!)
I remember standing on the floor, between the back and front seats, (no seat-belt law back then), when my Dad was teaching my Mother to drive. The setting was the race track at the fair grounds, in Hillsdale. I was startled, when she came around the turn, leading to the finish line in front of the grandstand, and ploughed into the white- wooden - infield fence. I am surprised that my Dad didn’t flunk her.
I rode with her driving, only once. That was enough! In Olmsted Falls we had a long driveway next to the house, leading from the street to a separate garage at the rear of the house. I don’t think that my Dad taught her how to back up. She offered to drive me to school one day. I foolishly accepted. It was one wild ride! She backed out of the driveway, slowly weaving along. She backed across the street, running in front of our house. I didn’t understand why she didn’t use the brake to stop, after she had backed across the street. The next thing that I knew, she hit a concrete stanchion supporting a large link-chain fence bordering the City Park. Well, I guess that is one way to stop a car. It sure saves on brake wear! The experience bothered me more than it did her. She put the shifting handle in first gear and we were off. She never got out of the car to see if there was any damage to the car or the “fence”. That wasn’t bad enough. We crossed (bounced) over the main line railroad tracks in downtown Olmsted Falls. Then, she started heading for the cars parked parallel in front of the stores, barely missing them. There must not have been any police around. It was a small town. About this time, I started praying the “Our Father”. When she let me out at school, I never was so glad to leave a car, as I was then. Fortunately, she didn’t offer to pick me up after school.
In 1932, we moved from Olmsted Falls to Berea - about five miles closer to Cleveland. My Dad was good hearted and trusting. Sometimes, if I needed the car, he would let me use it to drive to school. The only catch was that I had to drive him to and from the depot, for his commute on the NYC “Plug” from Berea into the Cleveland Terminal. “Sticking accelerators” on Toyotas are not a new problem. I experienced the very same problem on that Chrysler! I drove the car home one noon for lunch. I was racing a friend in a 25 MPH zone. The accelerator stuck. And I was probably going 40. I didn’t panic, but I didn’t know what to do. I was fast approaching cars in front of me. The only thing that I could think of was to take to the sidewalk. The car jumped the curb, and fortunately, I didn’t hit a tree. As I was rolling down the sidewalk (luckily, no one was walking there.) My friend was with me, riding in the front seat. I hollered to him to pull up the accelerator, which he did. As soon, as the car slowed down, I drove it back onto the street. While I learned a great lesson, it very well could have been my last one! I often wonder, when actuaries figure out life expectancies at birth, if they crank in miscues by stupid youth such as me?
A year later, my Dad bought his first new car. It was a shiny-black Chevrolet two-door. I was with my Mom and Dad when they bought it in Berea.( I used to be able to recall the name of the dealer, but no longer.). As I remember, the car cost $630. My Mother wanted him to get a four door (I had three siblings). Dad said, “Bessie, that means two more doors to rattle”. In reality, he was frugal! A four door cost $100 more!
Ray L’Amoreaux
February 5, 2010.
(My daughter Mary forwarded me an e-mail, from her sister-in-law Pat, about a father and his driving.)
What a great story, written by Michael Gartner. I wish that I could write as well. I think that his trick is to use a lot of quotes. It makes the writing more friendly. I could relate to some of his tale. Life was much simpler back in the !920’s and 30’s. I had some difficulty reading it, with my “blurred” eyes. I can’t explain my emotion, except for the tender memories it recalled for me.
My Dad drove, but we didn’t own a car - until 1930. (My Dad was 40 and I was 11). My Dad bought a four door - 1928 Chrysler (second hand). This was at the beginning of the Great Depression, and not too many people owned cars. He bought the car only because we were moving from Hillsdale, Michigan to Olmsted Falls, Ohio. My Dad was transferred from Hillsdale to Cleveland, by the New York Central Railroad. They were consolidating their office operations. I never thought to ask him who taught him to drive, and in what make of car. All cars had manual transmissions back then. (Some girlfriends had bruised knees from their boyfriends constantly shifting gears!)
I remember standing on the floor, between the back and front seats, (no seat-belt law back then), when my Dad was teaching my Mother to drive. The setting was the race track at the fair grounds, in Hillsdale. I was startled, when she came around the turn, leading to the finish line in front of the grandstand, and ploughed into the white- wooden - infield fence. I am surprised that my Dad didn’t flunk her.
I rode with her driving, only once. That was enough! In Olmsted Falls we had a long driveway next to the house, leading from the street to a separate garage at the rear of the house. I don’t think that my Dad taught her how to back up. She offered to drive me to school one day. I foolishly accepted. It was one wild ride! She backed out of the driveway, slowly weaving along. She backed across the street, running in front of our house. I didn’t understand why she didn’t use the brake to stop, after she had backed across the street. The next thing that I knew, she hit a concrete stanchion supporting a large link-chain fence bordering the City Park. Well, I guess that is one way to stop a car. It sure saves on brake wear! The experience bothered me more than it did her. She put the shifting handle in first gear and we were off. She never got out of the car to see if there was any damage to the car or the “fence”. That wasn’t bad enough. We crossed (bounced) over the main line railroad tracks in downtown Olmsted Falls. Then, she started heading for the cars parked parallel in front of the stores, barely missing them. There must not have been any police around. It was a small town. About this time, I started praying the “Our Father”. When she let me out at school, I never was so glad to leave a car, as I was then. Fortunately, she didn’t offer to pick me up after school.
In 1932, we moved from Olmsted Falls to Berea - about five miles closer to Cleveland. My Dad was good hearted and trusting. Sometimes, if I needed the car, he would let me use it to drive to school. The only catch was that I had to drive him to and from the depot, for his commute on the NYC “Plug” from Berea into the Cleveland Terminal. “Sticking accelerators” on Toyotas are not a new problem. I experienced the very same problem on that Chrysler! I drove the car home one noon for lunch. I was racing a friend in a 25 MPH zone. The accelerator stuck. And I was probably going 40. I didn’t panic, but I didn’t know what to do. I was fast approaching cars in front of me. The only thing that I could think of was to take to the sidewalk. The car jumped the curb, and fortunately, I didn’t hit a tree. As I was rolling down the sidewalk (luckily, no one was walking there.) My friend was with me, riding in the front seat. I hollered to him to pull up the accelerator, which he did. As soon, as the car slowed down, I drove it back onto the street. While I learned a great lesson, it very well could have been my last one! I often wonder, when actuaries figure out life expectancies at birth, if they crank in miscues by stupid youth such as me?
A year later, my Dad bought his first new car. It was a shiny-black Chevrolet two-door. I was with my Mom and Dad when they bought it in Berea.( I used to be able to recall the name of the dealer, but no longer.). As I remember, the car cost $630. My Mother wanted him to get a four door (I had three siblings). Dad said, “Bessie, that means two more doors to rattle”. In reality, he was frugal! A four door cost $100 more!
Ray L’Amoreaux
February 5, 2010.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
NAPA VALLEY
NAPA VALLEY
Today is Wednesday, January 27th. We are headed to the Napa Valley on our weekly “Outing” from Quail creek. Tony pulls out at 10:08. Also on the trip is Kelli, and six residents. I was just there with Anne last Saturday, I have been in that Valley many, many times and I never tire of the scenic beauty. It is better weather today - and the highways aren’t too crowded. The potential tourists are snowbound, I guess.
The Paradise Valley area is a quiet, peaceful and safe place to walk, jog or walk your dog. The Arco gas station is posting gas at $2.86 a gallon - Shell is listed at $3.00, down a bit from the last time that I checked. . The Spot price for crude oil is about $75 a barrel.
After all of our rain the past few weeks, we have reached a seasonal normal (after three seasons of drought!) The hills are really green. Ireland’s”40 shades of green” do not have anything on these hills and valleys! It is a beautiful day. Traffic in both directions on I-80 is moderate. We are passing the Mini U Storage on our right, where I still have some bins stored, after our move from Vallejo to Fairfield, almost two years ago! Can you appreciate how much one can collect, and save, during our 46 years living in Vallejo? I have to get on the ball, and start sorting that stuff, and eliminate my $59 monthly charge!
It’s interesting what a few miles can make. As we ride through Jamison Canyon,(Highway 12), we are socked in .The fog is not only hugging the hills, but it is down on the deck, too. The oncoming cars have their lights on. We pass a roadside sign, “Olive Trees for Sale”. The fog doesn’t slow down the grazing cattle who are having breakfast along the nearby pastures. Standing water along the side of the highway - evidence of recent rains and saturated earth. It’s 45 degrees now. Hard to visualize that in six months the temp along here will be 100 degrees!
There are young vineyards around here everywhere. It is strange when you see the homes right in the middle of the fields of grapes. What happened to the rule of supply and demand? It seems like the more new vineyards I see, the higher the price of the final crushing’s. I guess the economists call it “inelastic demand.” Or, in other words, increased sales of wine with corresponding higher wine prices.
I see a large field on the right filled with communication dishes - aimed skyward - at satellites parked overhead. The lowlands of this Southern - Napa Valley area has turned into “wetlands” from all the rainfall of late. The egrets and herons like this environment. I can see some egrets perched above the standing water on their long legs. They are really a majestic bird. We see a lot of waterfowl around here, as we are right on the North - South - Pacific Flyway.
We are on the southern end of Highway 29 headed north up the Napa Valley. It is still foggy. (The grapes must thrive in this condition.). There are solid vineyards for as far as I can see., on both sides of the highway. We pass the Vintage 1870 shopping complex. After passing the Oakville Grocery, the winery crushing/bottling/storage facilities come into view. On my right, we are passing the following Vineyards - relatively close together.
The first winery is Nickel and Nickel, next Sequoia Grove; Cakebread; then St. Supery and Peju Province, prior to reaching Rutherford. Then, Beaulieu; Franciscan; and V. Sattui wineries - between Rutherford and St. Helena - near Zinfandel Lane. The northbound Napa Valley Wine train tracks are running along our right side. V. Sattui is our destination. The sun is out and it turned out to be a very nice day. We arrive at 10:55.
This V. Sattui winery has been family owned and operated since 1885. They sell their award winning wines only directly through the stone winery building, mail order or internet. The winery has no outside distribution. We browsed around inside their large stone -winery building. It included a gift shop; a wine tasting area; many shelves of different types and varieties of bottled wines; along with a gourmet cheese shop and deli.
A couple of our group did some wine tasting ($5 for up to five different regular wines, and $10 for the same sampling of premium wines. I don’t know the distinction between “regular” and “premium”. I am sure that the difference in prices would give me a clue!) I can remember 50 years ago when wine tasting was free! Of course, there weren’t many wineries back then. I can only recall Beringer, Charles Krug, Christian Brothers, and Robert Mondavi labels. I was going to buy a bottle of red wine - knowing it would not be priced as a “Two-Buck Chuck”. I was debating between buying a merlot or a pinot noir. I took out my $5, and asked to taste a Napa Valley Merlot. The taster/tender told me that it wasn’t available for tasting. I thought it was a little strange. I don’t expect to go in a Baskin- Robins and ask to taste a Jamocha Almond Fudge, and get a similar response. So. I put my $5 back in my pocket and walked away. I was telling my tale of woe to Greg, my son-in-law, and he explained why they have such a policy. While I understand that it is a business decision not to offer a taste of any variety - and why - at the same time, they didn’t sell me a bottle of $25 wine either.
We ordered our lunch at the Deli. I had asked the wine/taster/tender what the Deli had good for lunch. He said that he liked their Tai Noodles. I was going to order that but didn’t feel like eating that much. Settled for cream of cauliflower soup instead. They were on the number system for service, to give you an idea how busy they were - even in January. We took our bags of lunches to the picnic tables out on their spacious grounds.(no dining area inside the building). We were all seated, beneath a huge oak tree hovering over us. That dark-old-tree must have been 150 years old! We have had a lot of trees coming down - taking power lines with them - during our rains. I wanted to see if they were in the moment, and paying attention to their surroundings. All I said was, “I wonder if this tree above us is deep rooted.?” I got their attention, but no one moved (including me).
The workers were putting up a huge tent to house a private party on Saturday. The winery had an attractive flowerbed at the entrance. It contained some spectacular, very large purple blooms. I have never seen anything like it before. I ask one of the lady-employees inside what the plant was? She told me that it was a Blue Curled Scotch Kale plant.
We headed back from the V. Sattui Winery at 1:05.We pass the Prager, Sutter Home, Edgewood, Milat, Whitehall, Beaucanon, and Grgich Hills wineries. We pass a one room school. I don’t see many of these anymore. Marie went to a one room school when she lived on a farm in Tulare County. Her Mother taught there. Marie has told me about riding her horse to school.
Next is the Robert Mondavi winery. We pass the Brix restaurant on the right, where Mary took me to lunch, before Christmas. I recommend it! Next, are the Napa Cellar, Cosentino, Domaine Chandon and Laird Wineries. The western hills of the Napa Valley provide a great silhouette. The Wine Train tracks are still on the right side. We are passing a grove of Eucalyptus trees. They are huge and old. I remember them looking old 60 years ago, when I first saw them. I always smile when I see the tall palm trees at a few homes in the Valley. While they may say “California,” they look out of place in Northern California.
The Evans Air porter is going by Northbound in the opposite direction. Marie and I have ridden Evans on round trips to both airports - from Vallejo. Besides excellent Oakland and San Francisco Airports service, they also provide excursions and charters. This is the way to go, if a group is winery hopping and “tasting” at each one. What better a “designated driver” than Evans? We are passing the Factory Outlet complex. I haven’t been there in a long time. The last time was many years ago, when Marie bought a pair of Easy Spirit shoes. She liked the brand, and she couldn’t find them anywhere else. The “Outlet” is a large complex, and like everyplace else, I am sure they are sweating out this recession.
Tony is moving at the speed limit, and a VW Beetle is passing us - driven by an older driver. He probably bought it new (the pale-blue paint job looks like the original) 40 years ago! I always notice these Volkswagen “Bugs”, because three of our daughters (Mary, Beth and Sue) each, owned one.
I am looking at a field of interesting cattle, grazing in a lush-green pasture. They have dark hides, with white “belts” around their mid-sections. I have never seen this breed before, and I have looked at a lot of cows. I was curious, so I “Googled” the Wikipedia website and found my answer. They are either Belted Galloways or Dutch Belted cows. This white marking is also on bulls, heifers and calves. This website is amazing. Unpaid individuals provide all the input to the site. Normally, “you get what you pay for”. So, I am amazed at a free source of information. One might question the authenticity of the information, but everything that I have checked sounds reasonable to me. That’s good enough.
Driving through Jamison canyon the nice weather has left us. We are back in the soup again. At least the drivers are thoughtful, and have turned on their headlights. A freight train is chugging westward, in the opposite direction, at a low speed. Only a few cars, and it has gone from view. Back on I-80 East, and the sun is out. We are passing Ray’s RV lot in Cordelia. The recession, and the high price of gas, and low gas mileage, account for the sizeable inventory of motor homes and trailers. Traffic is heavier, in both directions, with the lapse of a few hours.
We arrive back at Quail Creek at 1:50, after a beautiful day spent in the Napa Valley. Hard to think of a better place. We should be so lucky!
Ray L’Amoreaux
February 2, 2010.
Today is Wednesday, January 27th. We are headed to the Napa Valley on our weekly “Outing” from Quail creek. Tony pulls out at 10:08. Also on the trip is Kelli, and six residents. I was just there with Anne last Saturday, I have been in that Valley many, many times and I never tire of the scenic beauty. It is better weather today - and the highways aren’t too crowded. The potential tourists are snowbound, I guess.
The Paradise Valley area is a quiet, peaceful and safe place to walk, jog or walk your dog. The Arco gas station is posting gas at $2.86 a gallon - Shell is listed at $3.00, down a bit from the last time that I checked. . The Spot price for crude oil is about $75 a barrel.
After all of our rain the past few weeks, we have reached a seasonal normal (after three seasons of drought!) The hills are really green. Ireland’s”40 shades of green” do not have anything on these hills and valleys! It is a beautiful day. Traffic in both directions on I-80 is moderate. We are passing the Mini U Storage on our right, where I still have some bins stored, after our move from Vallejo to Fairfield, almost two years ago! Can you appreciate how much one can collect, and save, during our 46 years living in Vallejo? I have to get on the ball, and start sorting that stuff, and eliminate my $59 monthly charge!
It’s interesting what a few miles can make. As we ride through Jamison Canyon,(Highway 12), we are socked in .The fog is not only hugging the hills, but it is down on the deck, too. The oncoming cars have their lights on. We pass a roadside sign, “Olive Trees for Sale”. The fog doesn’t slow down the grazing cattle who are having breakfast along the nearby pastures. Standing water along the side of the highway - evidence of recent rains and saturated earth. It’s 45 degrees now. Hard to visualize that in six months the temp along here will be 100 degrees!
There are young vineyards around here everywhere. It is strange when you see the homes right in the middle of the fields of grapes. What happened to the rule of supply and demand? It seems like the more new vineyards I see, the higher the price of the final crushing’s. I guess the economists call it “inelastic demand.” Or, in other words, increased sales of wine with corresponding higher wine prices.
I see a large field on the right filled with communication dishes - aimed skyward - at satellites parked overhead. The lowlands of this Southern - Napa Valley area has turned into “wetlands” from all the rainfall of late. The egrets and herons like this environment. I can see some egrets perched above the standing water on their long legs. They are really a majestic bird. We see a lot of waterfowl around here, as we are right on the North - South - Pacific Flyway.
We are on the southern end of Highway 29 headed north up the Napa Valley. It is still foggy. (The grapes must thrive in this condition.). There are solid vineyards for as far as I can see., on both sides of the highway. We pass the Vintage 1870 shopping complex. After passing the Oakville Grocery, the winery crushing/bottling/storage facilities come into view. On my right, we are passing the following Vineyards - relatively close together.
The first winery is Nickel and Nickel, next Sequoia Grove; Cakebread; then St. Supery and Peju Province, prior to reaching Rutherford. Then, Beaulieu; Franciscan; and V. Sattui wineries - between Rutherford and St. Helena - near Zinfandel Lane. The northbound Napa Valley Wine train tracks are running along our right side. V. Sattui is our destination. The sun is out and it turned out to be a very nice day. We arrive at 10:55.
This V. Sattui winery has been family owned and operated since 1885. They sell their award winning wines only directly through the stone winery building, mail order or internet. The winery has no outside distribution. We browsed around inside their large stone -winery building. It included a gift shop; a wine tasting area; many shelves of different types and varieties of bottled wines; along with a gourmet cheese shop and deli.
A couple of our group did some wine tasting ($5 for up to five different regular wines, and $10 for the same sampling of premium wines. I don’t know the distinction between “regular” and “premium”. I am sure that the difference in prices would give me a clue!) I can remember 50 years ago when wine tasting was free! Of course, there weren’t many wineries back then. I can only recall Beringer, Charles Krug, Christian Brothers, and Robert Mondavi labels. I was going to buy a bottle of red wine - knowing it would not be priced as a “Two-Buck Chuck”. I was debating between buying a merlot or a pinot noir. I took out my $5, and asked to taste a Napa Valley Merlot. The taster/tender told me that it wasn’t available for tasting. I thought it was a little strange. I don’t expect to go in a Baskin- Robins and ask to taste a Jamocha Almond Fudge, and get a similar response. So. I put my $5 back in my pocket and walked away. I was telling my tale of woe to Greg, my son-in-law, and he explained why they have such a policy. While I understand that it is a business decision not to offer a taste of any variety - and why - at the same time, they didn’t sell me a bottle of $25 wine either.
We ordered our lunch at the Deli. I had asked the wine/taster/tender what the Deli had good for lunch. He said that he liked their Tai Noodles. I was going to order that but didn’t feel like eating that much. Settled for cream of cauliflower soup instead. They were on the number system for service, to give you an idea how busy they were - even in January. We took our bags of lunches to the picnic tables out on their spacious grounds.(no dining area inside the building). We were all seated, beneath a huge oak tree hovering over us. That dark-old-tree must have been 150 years old! We have had a lot of trees coming down - taking power lines with them - during our rains. I wanted to see if they were in the moment, and paying attention to their surroundings. All I said was, “I wonder if this tree above us is deep rooted.?” I got their attention, but no one moved (including me).
The workers were putting up a huge tent to house a private party on Saturday. The winery had an attractive flowerbed at the entrance. It contained some spectacular, very large purple blooms. I have never seen anything like it before. I ask one of the lady-employees inside what the plant was? She told me that it was a Blue Curled Scotch Kale plant.
We headed back from the V. Sattui Winery at 1:05.We pass the Prager, Sutter Home, Edgewood, Milat, Whitehall, Beaucanon, and Grgich Hills wineries. We pass a one room school. I don’t see many of these anymore. Marie went to a one room school when she lived on a farm in Tulare County. Her Mother taught there. Marie has told me about riding her horse to school.
Next is the Robert Mondavi winery. We pass the Brix restaurant on the right, where Mary took me to lunch, before Christmas. I recommend it! Next, are the Napa Cellar, Cosentino, Domaine Chandon and Laird Wineries. The western hills of the Napa Valley provide a great silhouette. The Wine Train tracks are still on the right side. We are passing a grove of Eucalyptus trees. They are huge and old. I remember them looking old 60 years ago, when I first saw them. I always smile when I see the tall palm trees at a few homes in the Valley. While they may say “California,” they look out of place in Northern California.
The Evans Air porter is going by Northbound in the opposite direction. Marie and I have ridden Evans on round trips to both airports - from Vallejo. Besides excellent Oakland and San Francisco Airports service, they also provide excursions and charters. This is the way to go, if a group is winery hopping and “tasting” at each one. What better a “designated driver” than Evans? We are passing the Factory Outlet complex. I haven’t been there in a long time. The last time was many years ago, when Marie bought a pair of Easy Spirit shoes. She liked the brand, and she couldn’t find them anywhere else. The “Outlet” is a large complex, and like everyplace else, I am sure they are sweating out this recession.
Tony is moving at the speed limit, and a VW Beetle is passing us - driven by an older driver. He probably bought it new (the pale-blue paint job looks like the original) 40 years ago! I always notice these Volkswagen “Bugs”, because three of our daughters (Mary, Beth and Sue) each, owned one.
I am looking at a field of interesting cattle, grazing in a lush-green pasture. They have dark hides, with white “belts” around their mid-sections. I have never seen this breed before, and I have looked at a lot of cows. I was curious, so I “Googled” the Wikipedia website and found my answer. They are either Belted Galloways or Dutch Belted cows. This white marking is also on bulls, heifers and calves. This website is amazing. Unpaid individuals provide all the input to the site. Normally, “you get what you pay for”. So, I am amazed at a free source of information. One might question the authenticity of the information, but everything that I have checked sounds reasonable to me. That’s good enough.
Driving through Jamison canyon the nice weather has left us. We are back in the soup again. At least the drivers are thoughtful, and have turned on their headlights. A freight train is chugging westward, in the opposite direction, at a low speed. Only a few cars, and it has gone from view. Back on I-80 East, and the sun is out. We are passing Ray’s RV lot in Cordelia. The recession, and the high price of gas, and low gas mileage, account for the sizeable inventory of motor homes and trailers. Traffic is heavier, in both directions, with the lapse of a few hours.
We arrive back at Quail Creek at 1:50, after a beautiful day spent in the Napa Valley. Hard to think of a better place. We should be so lucky!
Ray L’Amoreaux
February 2, 2010.
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