TRAVEL ADVISORY, PART III

I spent the winter months humming the Eagles’ “Hotel California,” my theme song for the wonderful long weekend I anticipated spending in sunny San Diego in April.  Well, I guess you could say that I had to change my tune, as I made it only halfway there, our travel itinerary foreshortened by an invitation to a wedding that same weekend . . . in Kansas City.   So it goes.  I had passed through KC around 30 years ago, though I had no specific memories outside of attending a Royals game.  I thus wondered if this was a fair trade . . . not that I had any negotiating power as (as usual) I was traveling on my wife’s frequent flyer miles. . . .

Anyway, I “agreed” to go to KC . . . but only if our visit would include a pilgrimage to the grave of Charlie “Bird” Parker, arguably the greatest jazzman of them all.  A native of Kansas City, he is buried in a cemetery in the vicinity of Independence, MO—apparently because he proclaimed before his untimely death that he did not want to be buried in KC itself, where the jazz community did not really embrace his innovative bebop style until after his death.

As it turns out, Kansas City overall was a fine place to visit.  We had great barbecue at Jack Stack’s, we visited the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, we had a decent pint of Guinness at O’Dowd’s Little Dublin Irish Ale House and Pub—even the wedding was fun!

But our weekend there ended up being centered around jazz in general and Charlie Parker in particular, thanks in large part to the remarkable restoration of the historic neighborhood of 18th and Vine . . . as in the classic blues song “Goin’ to Kansas City”: Standin’ on the corner, 18th and Vine . . .  That is now the location of a very pleasing museum dedicated to the history of jazz in KC—we spent a happy hour or so there.  (The building that houses the Jazz Museum also houses the Negro Baseball League Museum, but we didn’t have time to tour that . . . unfortunately, as we understand that there is some fascinating historical crossover between jazz history and baseball history right in that once-segregated neighborhood.  We actually got a short version of that history from the janitor at the Jazz Museum, who shared with us some engaging stories about growing up in that neighborhood in the 1950s.)

As the couple of photos below suggest, the area around 18th and Vine has been nicely rehabbed:

But for us, Charlie Parker was the centerpiece of our jazz tour.  We were in awe of the sculpture of his head—the lips pursed as if he were blowing on a saxophone mouthpiece—that stands about a block away from the Jazz Museum: 

Our feeling after visiting his grave was another story altogether.  The graveyard itself was basically unmaintained—the grass had not been cut and there was not a single standing headstone: every stone was of the sort that lies flat . . . and thus most were buried in the overgrown grass.  We found it sad—depressing, scandalous even—that the final resting place of arguably the most important figure in American music should be not just so nondescript but also so decrepit.  We paid our respects to “Bird” (who is buried next to his mother) and left with heavy hearts.

TRAVEL ADVISORY, PART II

Looking back over the past few months of bloglessness, I see two other noteworthy travel junkets on my calendar.  The first was during Spring Break in mid-March.  My wife and I talked about—and even weighed and measured—some truly exotic options for a getaway.  But we ended up in . . . Lubbock, Texas.  Huh?!

Okay, it’s where my wife’s folks live, and we were overdue for a visit.  The timing was right—so why not?  As usual—no, I’m not being facetious!—we had a great visit with the in-laws.  And we had a great time altogether deep in the heart of west Texas.  Inevitably, the visit included some fine food—none finer than at Picante’s, the “authentic Mexican” restaurant owned and cheffed by brother-in-law Jaime. . . .  Also, I bought a dandy pair of cowboy boots!

But the added feature to this visit included a side trip that I had somehow never thought to make on my previous visits to Lubbock—a pilgrimage to the grave of legendary rock ’n’ roller Buddy Holly.  He was born and reared (as the locals would say) in Lubbock and, as the photos below document, is fondly remembered there via a small but wonderful museum and a larger-than-lifesize statue at the West Texas Music Wall of Fame.  

His gravesite is what it is: he is buried next to his father (note the spelling of the family name) in an ordinary public cemetery.  I was pleased with how I caught myself casting a shadow literally—not figuratively!—over his grave, where my mother-in-law and I each left a guitar pick on the gravestone as a gesture of admiration for an iconic musician whose catalog of hits is part of the soundtrack of life.

Stay tuned (as it were) for the other travel junket I alluded to at the top of this post.

TRAVEL ADVISORY, PART I

I guess one reason that I became a lapsed blogger is that I became a more seasoned traveler: blogging and traveling should have been more compatible, but when my day job (!) was thrown into the mix, something had to give . . .

But since I have more travels looming on the horizon, maybe this is a good time to get caught up on some of where I've been.  And what better way to do so than via photographs.

I actually have to go back through my calendar to reconstruct those travels--the earliest being last October when my wife and I headed out to our old stompin' grounds at the University of Notre Dame for the annual gridiron showdown between ND and USC.  It was a lousy game . . . but we had great seats, in the press box--a true "room with a view."  Notre Dame lost the game, but before they managed to finalize their short end of the score I managed to make my way up one more flight of steps to the loftiest seats of the stadium--the House that Rockne Built--and snap a pic or two . . .

A month later, the view was considerably different as I accompanied my wife to a conference in St. Pete's Beach, FL.  That's my kind of conference--one where I have no responsibility except to show up for some good meals.  At one point, after I had run my morning 5k and was cooling down on the beach, I asked myself, "Is this what retirement feels like?"  If so . . . well, bring it on! 

One of the unexpected highlights of my spending time in St. Pete's was a visit to the Salvador Dali museum, where I spent a very engaging few hours. . . .  But I spent even more hours on the beach counting sand pipers, including the really big one in this photo:

CORPSE FLOWER AT FRANKLIN PARK ZOO

Obviously, I have not posted an entry on this blog since last September. What happened? Who knows? I guess I got busy, got distracted, got tired . . .

Well, I'm going to post just this brief note today, not so much to jumpstart this dormant blog but rather to see if there are any wrinkles involved with writing and posting from an iPad. If this works without too many complications, then I just might start blogging regularly again.

For today . . . well, this morning my eldest daughter and I took a quick field trip to Franklin Park Zoo to take a look--and a sniff--at the blooming corpse flower on display there. A native of the island of Sumatra (where our coffee bean of choice also hails from!), it blooms just once every seven years--it opened up at 9:00 last night . . . and at 8:00 this morning the Zoo opened its gates for anyone wishing to have a few moments with this botanical phenomenon. There were already more than a hundred people in the line ahead of us when we arrived around 8:10 and a couple of hundred behind us by the time we left at 8:50. We had been warned that the plant might emit a strong odor reminiscent of rotting flesh--I suppose there was an unpleasant whiff, but nothing as noxious as I anticipated. I might not want to start every morning this way, but we enjoyed being up and out with the crowd . . .

Oh, by the way, the Zoo has named the plant Morticia after a character in the Addams family . . .

PS: I have discovered that photos cannot be uploaded from iPad.  That's a pain in the . . . neck.  I had to upload this one by editing the post on my computer . . .