On the royal barge, Queen Elizabeth is leading a flotilla on the Thames to celebrate her 60-year reign. Photo by Jeff J. Mitchell/Getty Images
Although I’m back in Nevada for two weeks and trying to ignore the 108 degree temperatures, this has been a Diamond Jubilee-joyous weekend at my house. God Save the Queen. Working through my days, the television channel locked on BBC, it’s been wonderful to watch those “stiff-upper-lipped” Brits go wild.
Here’s a 60-gun salute to Queen Elizabeth. On Sunday afternoon, standing on the royal barge that was leading a 1,000-strong flotilla up the Thames, she never played the diva. At 86-years-of-age, waving to the crowds, enjoying the merriment, she seemed at the top of her game. Did I mention it was rainy and cold?
But, back to 108 degrees. The Extraterrestrial Highway, Nevada State Route 375, is a remote, desolate 98-mile stretch of road in south-central Nevada. According to a Nevada Commission on Tourism spokesperson, there are more U.F.O.’s sighted in this area each year than at any other place on the planet! Please. Does Nevada really need this distinction?
I think this sign is clear – Stay Out! ufocasebook.com
Let’s just put the blame where it belongs: AREA 51.
“Area 51, a top secret military installation for testing unacknowledged, or black, projects, lies in a desert valley northwest of Las Vegas. During the Cold War, CIA and Air Force officials chose this remote location to shield such efforts from foreign spies and US citizens. Although the base has been known by many names–Paradise Ranch, Watertown, and Dreamland, among others–the designation “Area 51” has taken root most deeply in the public imagination. Since 1955, it has grown from a temporary camp into a national test facility supporting nearly 2,000 military and civilian workers and dozens of projects, including aircraft capable of cruising at Mach 3 and stealth airplanes that are virtually invisible to radar. Although secrecy surrounding Area 51 spawned rumors of UFOs and reverse-engineered alien spacecraft, declassified photographs provide a rare glimpse into the true nature of America’s most famous secret base Peter Merlin, “Area 51: Images of Aviation”
Acknowledged as the “most secret place in America,” most of the land surrounding Area 51, along this desolate road, lies within the Nevada Test and Training Range and the Nellis Air Force Base restricted area. My advice? If you drive on State Route 375, look straight ahead. Do not look Left. Do not look Right.
Rachel, Nevada, the lone survivor along State Route #375
The old mining town of Rachel, located about 115 miles northwest of Las Vegas and 27 miles north of Area 51, is the sole outpost along Route 375. Now dubbed the “UFO Capital of the World”, it has a population of 98 people, maybe, 50. No gas station. No amenities. No nothing. Well, there is the Little A’Le’Inn, (pronounced little alien) Restaurant & Bar, owned and run by Pat, Bill and Connie.
That’s why, instead of motoring to Rachel this weekend, I grabbed a front row seat to hear a lecture at the National Atomic Testing Museum. An affiliate of the Smithsonian and founded to preserve an accurate history of the Nevada Test Site, it is located in Las Vegas. In a lecture entitled “Dreamland: The Secrets of Area 51”, aeronautical historian and author Peter Merlin, was going to spill the beans on Area 51. He was also pitching his new book, “Area 51: Images of Aviation.” This all tied nicely into the museum’s newly-launched exhibit, “Area 51: Myth or Reality.” (Apparently in the last few years, boxes of classified documents have been “de”. )
Author Peter W. Merin ( Does anyone think he looks like Indiana Jones?) photo by dreamlandresort.com
Indiana Jones (Does anyone think he looks like Peter W. Merlin?) photo by lamemovies.net
At the intriguing lecture, and who doesn’t love mysteries and secrets and yet-to-be-discovered’s, I was as interested in the lecture-ees as the lecturer. The auditorium was packed, standing room only. Primarily an older crowd. (The youngers were still at the topless pools on The Strip. Remember the 108 degrees?) I suspect they were retired military or former Area 51 employees who are so programmed to secrecy that even in the question-and-answer period, they wouldn’t admit it. Shhhhhhhh. Then there were the UFO fanatics. You gotta love ‘em.
If you are ever in Las Vegas, I strongly urge you to visit the National Atomic Testing Museum. The exhibits are astounding. As more classified documents become available, we will learn more about radioactive America and our nuclear role in the world whether that’s a topic of interest or not. There already are several museums devoted to this topic. To visit one near you, go here.
I was delighted to learn Kathy who writes http:/www.bakeawaywithme.com/ has nominated my blog to receive The Food Stories Award for Excellence in Storytelling. Since Kathy and I share the belief that serving good and well-prepared food to family, friends, colleagues and even hungry strangers, creates life’s memorable moments, I am especially honored to have been chosen by her. I have been interested and inspired by her participation in Gourmet’s 50 Most Influential Women in Food. Merci beaucoup, Kathy.
Now I get to share this award with 5 fellow bloggers!
1. The nominee should visit the award site (http://foodstoriesblog.com/food-stories-award/) and leave a comment indicating that they have been nominated and by whom. (This step is so important because it’s the only way our judges will know who is being considered for the monthly presentation).
2. The Nominee should thank the person that nominated them by posting & including a link to their blog.
3. Share one random thing about yourself in your blog post.
4. Select at least five other bloggers that you enjoy reading their stories and nominate them for the award.
Food Stories will put together a team of judges to review all nominees and to select a Food Stories Award Winner for each month. More information to come on what fabulous opportunities await for those lucky winners!
MY STORY:
1. Done
2. Thank you Karen! I have been smiling all evening.
3. For more years than I will admit to, I have been a Volunteer Wilderness Ranger, representing the United States Forest Service in Aspen’s Rocky Mountains. The job of a volunteer ranger is to help restore, monitor and manage the wilderness that we Americans are “loving to death.” I hit the trails two or three times a week in my”fashionable” Ranger outfit and Stetson (no gun) to help those seeking the solitude of the wilderness have a good experience. My office is the beautiful outdoors. The best job I’ve ever had. That’s why it feels especially good to be back in Aspen, after an eight-year hiatus due to family health issues. Back on the trail again.
4.Not an easy task. I’d like to nominate and share the good work of the following:
Trailhead of the Storm King Mountain Memorial Trail. Plaques honoring the fallen firefighters.
Each Spring, when I’d return for a few days to Colorado, my first hike was always the Storm King Mountain Memorial Trail. This year, although my stay is more permanent, was no different. The trail, which is located seven miles west of Glenwood Springs, is dedicated to the fourteen wildland firefighters who lost their lives battling the South Canyon fire. It is a journey of grief and gratitude through a charred and aching landscape that is slowly recovering.
On July 2, 1994, lightening sparked a fire near the base of Storm King Mountain. Early efforts to get the fire under control failed and more help and assistance were needed. On July 6, a dry cold front hit the area, causing high winds and increased fire activity. The fire jumped beyond the fireline and twelve firefighters were caught, unable to outrun it. Two other helitack firefighters were also killed as they tried to flee in another direction.
Trailhead Sign-In Box showing decals and stickers representing firefighters from around the USA and the world who have visited this memorial.
Firefighters from around the world hike the trail, honoring their fallen brethen.
According to Go.Colorado, this relatively unknown trail,, “was built by a community literally walking through the grieving process. It began as a footpath made by families of the firefighters and others as they hiked the mountain to pay their respects to those who had died, and to try to understand what had happened. In response to the community’s need, the Bureau of Land Management, the U.S. Forest Service, and volunteers built the trail.
Signage on the Trail tells the story of the South Canyon fire of 1994.
The fire, which started at the base of Storm King Mtn., was threatening to Interstate 70, nearby homes and West Glenwood Springs.
Over 100 volunteers from the Glenwood Springs area built the main trail and water bars in October 1994. In April 1995, 60 cadets from the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs installed wooden and stone steps, hauled mortar to the observation point for stone benches, dug holes for interpretive signs, and developed an area for reflection at the base of the hill where 12 of the firefighters fell.”
The trail shadows the journey of the firefighters. “The main portion of the trail is about one-mile long and leads to an observation point with good views of the memorial sites. Beyond the observation point, a footpath leads to the sites where firefighters died. The footpath, marked only by rock cairns, is not maintained. Its rough condition is intended as a tribute to firefighters and the challenging conditions under which they work.
The barren landscape left by the South Canyon Fire of 1994.
The Storm King Mountain Memorial Trail.
The trip from trailhead to memorial sites and back is about four miles. It climbs 700 vertical feet to the observation point and another 450 feet to the top of the ridge leading to the memorial sites.”
Today we honor all of those young men and women who have given their lives to protect us and our country. It is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation’s service. Therefore, it’s especially appropriate to honor the Storm King 14.
Those who died:
Prineville Hotshots: Kathi Beck, Tamera Bickett, Scott Blecha, Levi Brinkley, Douglas Dunbar, Terri Hagen, Bonnie Holtby, Rob Johnson, Jon Kelso. Missoula Smokejumper: Don Mackey McCall Smokejumpers: Roger Roth, Jim Thrash. Helitack: Robert Browning, Jr., Richard Tyler.
A friend once commented to me, during a discussion of homes, square footage and rising construction costs, “I just admire and respect what people do with small spaces.”
That friend is definitely going to ratchet up her respect and admiration for me. Last week I finally came to terms with 940 square feet.
The Gant, a condominium complex in Aspen, where I own a tiny condo. Summer. (photo: condorentals.com)
The Gant, a condominium complex in Aspen. where I own a tiny condo. Winter (photo: orbitz.com)
Here’s the back story. For the past twelve months I have had to face the reality of my future lifestyle. Moving from our Colorado home of 20 years to the Las Vegas area in 2004 was definitely a good idea. I intended to oversee the recovery of my husband, Michael, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I needed and would have the support of my kids who lived nearby. Granted, at that time, reality was not yet my sidekick. Fast forward to 2012. While life in a warmer climate at a friendlier altitude has been kinder, it, of course, was not a cure-all for Michael. Yet the professional care he would eventually require and currently needs has been available and is excellent.
Anthem Country Club, Henderson, Nevada
Anthem Country Club, Henderson, Nevada
I have often written about the small gated-community where I live and the wonderful friends I have met. Anthem Country Club was a lucky discovery and I am grateful. For a woman who’s totally country, Las Vegas has been a hoot-and-holler love affair. Having never lived in a large city before, this has been one heck of an introduction to life-in-the-fast lane. There’s the rub. Living in Las Vegas is fast lane and I’m not. My life in Nevada has primarily revolved around an increasingly debilitating illness and one that now requires professional caregivers. This past year I’ve been forced by everyone to look forward. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a plan. At my age, that’s scary.
A welcoming flower arrangement from The Gant Staff
According to Thomas Exter, writing in American Demographic, more and more, middle-aged adults are finding themselves living alone. The most dramatic growth in single-person households will occur among those aged 45 to 64. Boom! Boom! Single households are expected to increase by a whopping 42 percent, a number that is staggering and unprecedented.
Here’s what I began to realize. Baby Boomers, be damned. I am a single, sixties-something woman and, in a flash, will become a seventies-something woman. Las Vegas and I cannot live together forever. To navigate around this large, sprawling city of 3 million people, I average 2-3 hours every day in my car. Notorious for bad drivers, with insurance rates to take your breath away, getting behind the wheel in Vegas is a gamble. NIght driving? Forget it. I no longer want to be my car’s best friend and my unwillingness to drive in Vegas at night has always been lifestyle limiting.
My condo kitchen is small and compact – HELP!!!
There are more closets, but, not many. Probably need to cut the clothing budget.
In addition, may I remind you about Nevada summers? For the past seven years, I’ve tolerated summertime with good cheer and a “It’s not so bad”. I lie. One-hundred degrees and higher. For months and months. This is no lie: I have no more sweat to donate to the cause.
Finally, what last Winter’s hiatus on California’s Central Coast, as the guest of a good friend, highlighted, was the fun of companionship. Never eating a meal alone. The daily repartée. Sharing chores and responsibilities. Unfortunately, this only exacerbated the loneliness of the past few years.
My Colorado Backyard
My Colorado Sideyard
Author J. Kerby Anderson, in his book “Signs of Warning, Signs of Hope, Seven Coming Crisis That Will Change Your Life,” discusses the baby boom generation’s crisis of loneliness. The reasons are simple, he says, demographics and social isolation.“In previous centuries where extended families dominated the social landscape” he writes, “a sizable proportion of adults living alone was unthinkable. And even in this century, adults living alone have usually been found near the beginning (singles) and end (widows) of adult life. But these periods of living alone are now longer due to lifestyle choices on the front end and advances in modern medicine on the back end.”
My first night in Colorado – dinner with good friends.
Hosts Donna and Bernie Grauer, welcoming me home
These facts have kept my mind preoccupied and whirling the past year as I’ve explored my options. Moving to the same California community as my daughter and her family? Although I’d be welcome, my son-in-law turns pale, paler and palest, at the thought. And I agree. Last December, I thought I had put together a blueprint for moving forward that would make me happy, secure, and content. Unfortunately, a few weeks ago, that plan fell apart and I found myself back at “Go.” Then, on April 22, the headlines:
“It reached 99 degrees Sunday in Las Vegas, a record high for April, according to the National Weather Service.”
I needed a plan. Fast. That’s when Serendipity called in the form of our long-time Colorado tax accountant, Mark Kavasch. Usually these calls cost me money. This, however, was merely a ‘check-in, taxes were filed, let’s talk about the upcoming year’ call. Mark, ever the professional, discussed the future and then, uncharacteristically, finished his call with these words, “You know, Mary, Michael wouldn’t like this. He wouldn’t like it at all. You need to get back here [Colorado] to your friends and the mountains. You really do.”
My Colorado home may be tiny but the dining room table has plenty of room for family, loved ones and good friends.
Mark’s advice became my permission and my plan. Last Wednesday I made the ten-hour drive to Colorado, returning to a community that has changed dramatically in the past eight years. But so have I. My condominium is tiny but that makes it manageable. I can walk or bike everywhere, safely. Although the mountains seem steeper and the bears are still lurking, the trails are nearby, at my back door. My friends of the past 25 years saved me a place at their tables. Of course there’s sadness and memories that bring some tears. That’s natural and healthy, I’m told. But, at long last, life seems good again.
With apologies for paraphrasing someone wiser than I,“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
For those of you unfamiliar with author Suzanne Collins’ widely popular fictional trilogy, they tell a story of a post-apocalyptic North America. In short, an oppressive government forces teenagers to battle one another to the death in a nationally broadcast ritual known as the Hunger Games (now a film playing at your local theatre). Katniss Everdeen, the protagonist and narrator, describes the arena (battlefield) environment for the Hunger Games as primarily scrub terrain, laden with boulders, scruffy bushes and hidden caves. She mentions that most tributes died from bites from venomous snakes, eating poisonous plants/berries or going insane from thirst.
Rhyolite, an historical townsite located in Nevada’s Silver Trails Territory
The Four-Seasons Hotel, perhaps, in Rhyolite, early-1900s
This past week-end I visited an area that could have been the film’s movie set. Desolate territory. Yes, rhyolite is a mineral. Rhyolite is also a ghost haunt hidden in Nevada’s Amargosa Desert. Having just finished reading these books, visiting Rhyolite was a snapshot into North America gone awry. An eerie Dora-the-Explorer Moment, perhaps, but one worth taking.
The Last Supper by Belgium artist Albert Szukalski, 1984
I’d been in Bishop, California, observing a young lady’s ninth birthday as well as Mother’s Day. The lack of spring snow cover combined with sunny temps permitted celebratory hikes and picnics in the Sierra Nevada Mountains with the ever present family festivities and gifts. Driving home on Sunday, having wound my way through Death Valley, I decided to detour to Rhyolite. Although I was aware of this little-known community, Rhyolite’s Goldwell Open Air Museum has just been selected as a Nevada “Natural Treasure.” Say, what???
Ghost Rider by Albert Szukalski
Lady Desert: The Venus of Nevada by Hugo Heyrman
Rhyolite is located about 120 miles northwest of Las Vegas near the eastern edge of Death Valley. The town sprang to life in early 1905 as one of several mining camps hobbled together after precious ore was discovered in the region. According to government statistics, by 1907 the camp had “electric lights, water mains, telephones, newspapers, a hospital, a school, an opera house, and a stock exchange.” Add to that,“fifty saloons, thirty-five gambling tables, cribs for prostitution, nineteen lodging houses, sixteen restaurants, six barber shops, a public bath, weekly newspaper and stage coach transportation.” At its peak the town’s population varied between 3,500 and 5,000.
Sit Here! by Sofie Siegmann, 2000
Tribute to Prospector Shorty Harris by Fred Bervoets
Easy come. Easy go. The Montgomery Shoshone Mine, the region’s largest producer, closed in 1911. The population took a nosedive, falling below 1,000. By 1920, almost zero. That’s when the town turned into a genuine ghost town, little noticed tourist attraction, and occasional motion picture set. It was a group of well-respected Belgian artists led by Albert Szukaslski who invigorated this beleaguered area. In 1984, the artists began creating large scale, on-site sculptures which still exist today. That the “on-site” was the Mojave desert, making that vast and challenging wasteland integral to their work, is what makes this outdoor museum both spectacular and profound.
Icara by Dre Peters
Saloon Owner Tom Kelly’s Bottle House, made of beer and liquor bottles he collected from local saloons
Rhyolite may not be a destination of choice for the American tourist but artists from all over the world know of and visit this place. The Red Barn Art Center, located nearby, offers artist residency and workspace programs.
Rhyolite, early 1900s
Business as Usual, Downtown Rhyolite, early 1900s
Ghost town. Open air sculpture museum. Artist colony.
Sometimes when you shout, “Enough,” no one hears you. I turned the other cheek, two, maybe, three times, counted to ten, took deep breaths and meditated, all before last Friday evening. That’s when it happened.
Repeat after Me: Computers do NOT like liquids of any kind.
After finishing some work on my laptop computer, I grabbed my coffee cup to carry it to the kitchen. You know the end of this story, don’t you? The cup wobbled in my grasp, tilted and cold coffee spilled on my laptop. I grabbed some paper towels, wiped it dry (I thought) and then turned it upside down, shaking the hell out of it. I did not turn it off. My laptop immediately started behaving erratically and, after finally shutting it down, would not restart.
“Uh-oh.” (That’s not what I really said.)
The next morning (No, I did not sleep well.) I was at the Genius Bar at my local Apple Store. I explained my dilemma to three of the employees as I worked my way to the “right” fix-it specialist. The conversations went like this:
Me: “My computer doesn’t work and I need someone to look at it.”
Employee: “No problem. We’ll have someone take a look and get that fixed for you.”
Me: “I spilled coffee on it.”
Employee: Pain. Grimace. Frown. “Oh, that’s not good.”
Three times. Same conversation. I became more alarmed.
By noon I was sitting on a stool at the Genius Bar counter facing Jay, my specialist. There were seven other customers, all on stools with computer problems of their own, working with their specialists. Jay looked kind. I explained the problem.
“My first two words to you,” he said, “Sippy Cup.”
Everyone at the Genius Bar laughed. It’s an intimate area, conversations are not private, and everyone is curious to know your computer dilemma.
“I’m going to take it in the back and have a look,” he told me, “but I think it’s toast.”
In ten minutes he was back. “Yes, I was right. Look at this.”
Jay pointed to pictures on his iPhone which showed my laptop’s innards with puddles of coffee and moisture still present. “It must have been good coffee,” he joked. “Your computer smells good.”
Ha. Ha.
How his iPhone x-rayed my laptop, I will never know, but his evidence was damaging to my case. The good news, my hard drive was salvageable.
“You have two options,” he continued. “Fix this laptop. The cost for that is $1275 or buy a new laptop.”
It got very quiet at the Genius Bar as everyone waited for my decision. I had already turned a pale white. Would I go ballistic? Would I cry? What was going to happen?Ballistic’s not my style. Although I am a crier, this was not a crying opportunity. I raised my hands and said, very sarcastically, “Well, since money’s no object…..” and did a face plant on the counter.”
Jay laughed, “She’s going to buy a new computer.”
Now these antics of mine always embarrass my kids, and I feel their pain. On the contrary, at the Genius Bar, everyone breathed a sign of relief, was amused, and got back to their rather minor, compared to mine, problems.
Jay handed me off to David to sell me a computer? Since my coffee-stained MacBook Pro was only 2 1/2 years old, the question was whether to just buy another MacBook Pro or go with the newer MacBook Air. I always lean towards newer, bigger, better, but I had loved my MacBook Pro.
What to do? It became a group decision. On Saturday, there were more than 35 employees on the floor, many whom had given me computer lessons. Troy, Jon, Alphonso, Mariano, and Jay huddled, ask questions and weighed in with advice. The overwhelming consensus? MacBook Air.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. I am sitting in my office writing this Post on my new 13” MacBook Air. The turnaround time from caputz computer to replacement, albeit expensive, was less than 24-hours. I’ve already re-worked my May/June budget, dipped into my stormy day pot, and filed this under Lessons Learned.
As I was leaving the Apple store, needing just one more shot to my stupidity, Jay cautioned, “Mary, I want you to understand that your new computer is not going to smell as aromatic as your old one.”
Free Advice: If you spill liquid on your computer, immediately turn it off. Just as immediately, wipe it off. Then turn it over. Probably, shaking violently is not a good idea but try to get all the liquid to drip out. Once this is done, blast it with a computer air duster. DO NOT use a hair dryer. Then, pray.
More Free Advice: If you drop your cell phone in water (like, for instance, the toilet), immediately turn it off. Take the battery out. Plunge the phone into rice. Keep it immerged in the rice for two or three days. Then, Pray.
