Iowa's Hidden Gem

 

So many people we meet who have travelled extensively, admit they have driven through Iowa but never stopped. Usually, the reason is that they think there is nothing worth stopping for. I have to admit, as an Iowa Native I struggle at times to be a good ambassador, for the virtues of visiting my home state.

Last weekend I was reminded of how incredibly diverse Iowa is. As we drove to Maquoketa Caves State Park from north central Iowa to Eastern Iowa, the landscape quickly changed from rolling row crop land for as far as the eye can see to the terraced farms in the river valleys. The fields roll and tumble in all directions, punctuated by dense timber stands the grow along the rivers and creeks and give a beautiful dimension to the horizon. The bright new green of corn and soybeans emerging in the foreground of a line of dark tall Oaks, Shagbarks and Pines native to the area. We hadn’t camped in that part of the state since we started our full-time lifestyle in 2016 and I had forgotten how beautiful, and un-Iowa like the area is.

Farmstead near Dyersville, Iowa

Fifteen years ago or so, we spent several days there and have always wanted to return with kids. The state park has a small but nice campground. The main attraction are the 13 Caves that are situated along 7 challenging miles of trails built to give access to the entrances located at all elevations along the bluffs in the dense timber in the Maquoketa River Valley. It is something definitely worth stopping for when traveling through the state.

Our daughter suggested the trip this past winter and we made reservations in March. We got our sites next to each other and the 6 of us spent 3 ½ perfect days hiking, camping and enjoying the time together. Watching Hunter and Isaac who are now 11 and 9 hike, explore the caves and take in all the wonder of the area was nothing short of what I have dreamed it would be all these years since we first visited there. We set out each morning and returned in the afternoon, exhausted but excited to do more.

Side by side sites for the weekend

Champ, of course trotted along at the kids pace like he was their age, climbing on everything they wanted to. In and out of caves, big and small. Scaling rocks not meant to be climbed, but beckoning them all to the top for a picture. I hiked along at a more leisurely pace, forgoing the off trail climbing. My foot injury last fall resulted in permanent damage so this was a true test of where my limits are these days. I was happy to enjoy and keep up with the help of some ice at the end of the day.

I watched birds from the campsite, delighting in a different variety of birds than I get at the farm. Indigo Buntings, Orioles, Grossbeaks, Cedar Waxwings and Woodpeckers were abundant. The best birding treat I have had in some time was the Ruby Throated Hummingbird nesting in the Pinetree on the edge of my daughter’s site. We watched through binoculars and I got a nice photo with the help of a lot of zoom. I love sharing cool birding experiences, with my non-birding kids. 

Hummingbird sitting on her eggs

We left on Sunday with one grandson who wanted to spend a couple extra days with us and had a nice trip back home. Isaac and I hung out on the couch talking and watching the country side the three hour drive home. It was my first time riding mid-coach for any length of time, and I was amazed at how comfortable and smooth it was. I may have to do it more often when I’m not on driving duty.

Riding home after a long weekend

I write tonight with a renewed sense of pride in my home state. After a tough emotional winter that left me numb and unexcited about most everything. Our weekend in Eastern Iowa was good medicine. It felt good to feel excited about something again.

 

Until Next Time…

The Season Of My Discontent

 

We are in the 11^th hour of our winter season in Texas. We all know that life is full of surprises, but these past five months have been unprecedented in the surprise department. I came to Texas knowing we would see old friends, return to a workcamp job we have done previously and anticipating a mixture of familiarity, a not so pleasant prediction, and the excitement of anticipating what this season would reveal in terms of new people in our lives and experiences. On a scale of 1-10 in unexpected occurrences, the ‘22/’23 season was a 15.

I am leaving Texas a dramatically transformed human being as a result of the experiences of the past months. It has been a life altering season, to say the least.

On our trip south, we talked about the fact that last time we were in this park we were with friends we worked with at our summer gig at Saylorville. That being the case, we spent a lot of time with them getting to know them on a deeper level, met a few others and had a decent season, then COVID happened and we took a 2-year hiatus from winter work camping. This year we came back to a place we hadn’t seen in three years, not knowing anyone in the park very well. The expectation of meeting new people and getting involved in a different way was exhilarating to me as we anticipated the upcoming season.

Champ and I at a park luncheon

We arrived and immediately connected with our close friends John and Cathy. I’ve written in past posts about the experience of losing John to Pancreatic Cancer and being present to help Cathy deliver end of life care to him and witnessing the very intimate experience of releasing the love of her life to the great beyond. That was the expected part of the winter, but the impact it had on my personhood is indescribable, so I’ll leave it there.

We quickly connected with a motorcycle group here in the park and forged lasting friendships with two of the couples. When you travel, you meet people and have fun. Then there are those you meet and connect with and know that the friendship will endure. We found that with our new friends, Ben and Jackie and Scott and Penne having bonded over motorcycles and cats.  We had our last happy hour tonight. What a joy it has been to add these incredible couples to our lives.

Ben and Jackie

Honky Tonkin' with Scott and Penne

A Nice turn out for a Wednesday ride to the Island

I joined the quilt bee this year and met a number of very talented women and learned a great deal from the classes I took. I am putting my newly learned quilting skills to work on my own projects and am looking forward to being involved next year.

I went to several birding club meetings and connected with other bird nerds. My schedule didn’t work as well for their activities and I quickly realized I was entering the territory of getting too many things on my plate.

We came to Texas with my beloved cat Buster who I’ve had since he was a young orphan kitten and who Champ has always said I treated like a baby and had an uncommon bond with. Yes, he was bonded to me like a child. I had no earthly idea I would watch him pass this winter. Just a month after I watched my dear friend John pass, I watched my sweet Buster cross over. I’ve had pets my entire life and grieved over all of them, but this one took my breath away and I cried for days. In the midst of all that loss, I took in another orphan kitty, Penny, who is growing and thriving and in her own way filling the void that Buster left in my heart. I have a thing for Tabby’s and as much joy as she brings to me, there is a little male Tabby cat in her future, I’m sure of that. I’ll find myself holding some sweet, lovey, purring bundle of stiped joy one day, and she will have a new roommate. It will be my gift to her. She is independent but doesn’t like being alone so I put it in the ‘she will thank me later’ file, when the time comes.

Napping in her basket after a good romp

I certainly didn’t expect our oldest son, daughter in law and two of their kids to be sitting on our patio after work one February afternoon, but that is what happened and our hearts were full that fun, whirlwind weekend that they surprised us and we trotted all over the RGV having a blast and basking in the giddiness of having some of the kids around.

Then, the grandaddy of them all. We bought our Itasca six years ago, with the intention of keeping it till we came off the road someday, but the stars aligned and one night when we were talking with Cathy, the plan came together for Champ and I to sell our Itasca and buy their motorhome. It is a nice upgrade for us, and Cathy will still have it in her life on some level, be able to see it, stay in it and watch it carry on the journey of the full time RV life with us. It is so special to us to have it. I remember when we sold all of our possessions, there were certain things that people I knew bought, and it gave me comfort to know that even though it wasn’t in my house any longer it was somewhere I would see it occasionally. I imagine it is the same for Cathy on some level. She didn’t sell it to some stranger, who would do God knows what to it and take it God knows where. It’s with us and she will see it regularly. It’s like having a piece of John with us. We’ve been in it for three weeks now, but things are going ‘to get real’ as they say, when we pull out of the Valley with it next Thursday and take it back home to Iowa. The Itasca is being looked at and inquiries are regular, it’s just a matter of time before we pass that torch.

As if there hasn’t been enough death shrouding me, I got word that an ex-brother in laws brother passed away. He is six months younger than I and had a massive heart attack. Having known each other since we were in our early twenties and having been close to me and my kids at one time the news has hard to hear.   While I was watching the local paper for his Obituary to post, I saw an old friend from my past who was a positive, important part of my life at one time had also passed. That makes the third person in a year who was my age, including a cousin, who has died. I am staring my own mortality straight in the face. Not just in the mirror, but up in your face, with a finger jammed in your eye kind of ‘in your face’. 

I am in this weird emotional quagmire of middle age, facing mortality kind of mood. I am anxious to get home and hug my friends and family with a passion that should kind of scare them. I’m a therapeutic hugger I’m told, but I feel I may crush some people when I get home. I will hug and cling to people here before I leave, having a hypersensitive perspective on mortality at this particular moment in my life.

It’s been a winter filled with lots of seat time on the motorcycle, over 2,000 miles. I had a minor accident but within two weeks the bike was repaired, my body was healed and I got back on the horse to get my comfort back. It’s been a winter of profound loss and new friendships with people that I can’t imagine not knowing. They join us in the small club that full timers form of people they meet, connect with and hold close in their RV family.

As I write, our oldest son is on the road transporting the Itasca back to Iowa through sketchy weather. My kids are attending Tony’s funeral together on Sunday, that I will not be present for, and we will be with Cathy on Wednesday as we gather at the Refuge where they worked in their RV on their former Volunteer Village site the Celebrate John’s life the day before we leave for the summer season.

As the Red Winged Blackbirds flock and start making their way north, so do the snowbirds. My last day in the office was a marathon of checkouts and phone calls. I linger on the Resaca watching the Texas birds that I won’t see again till next winter and day dream of the upcoming summer at home. A wedding and camping trip are already on the calendar along countless sleepovers with grandkids who are anticipating our return.

The magnificent Scissor Tailed Fly Catcher

 I am filled with a strange concoction of angst and excitement as we prepare for our upcoming trek north. It will be our first in the new rig. We will be doing our best to help Penny adapt to travel. She has had a rough start to her young life and is easily upset so we’ll do our best to help her learn to be on the road.

Being in my late 50’s is scaring me right now. But, this too shall pass. I wake up every day thankful for the privilege that has been denied to many close to me. The privilege of aging.

 

Until Next Time…

Surprise!

 The year started off in a dark place for me. The passing of my friend John and the aftermath of emotion, is still rumbling under the surface of my daily routine. 

Then the sun peaked through a little last week when I adopted a new kitten. It's been a rough start for her. She has a post operative infection from her spay procedure and contracted a virus at the clinic that she subsequently passed to Buster. They are both recovering and Penny's true personality is starting to show as she heals and continues to get used to her new surroundings.    

 

Last Friday afternoon, the curtains flew open and the sun shined bright again! We came home in the early afternoon from our shifts working for the park to find our oldest sitting on the patio with his wife and two of their kids!  They had road tripped all the way from Iowa to the Rio Grande Valley to surprise us and spend the weekend. We were both absolutely speechless and of course I started crying like I do anytime an emotion good or bad overwhelms me. 

The weekend was filled with showing them a short list of RGV attractions. The two grandsons don't have passports so a trip to Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge and a walk on the trail took us to the banks of the Rio Grande River. The closest we could get them to Mexico. 

Taking in the DonWes Flea Market

Derek at the Rio Grande

Randy and Amber at the Rio Grande

Champ and Caleb at the Rio Grande

On the trail at Santa Ana

Kids on a suspension bridge taken from the Hawk viewing tower

Champ Rockin' the Sombraro

On the second day we took them over to Boca Chica Beach to check out the Space X facility and beach area. Then it was off to SPI. The boys were experiencing the beach and ocean for the first time. It was too bad that it isn't warm enough this time of year to get in but we walked on the beach and waded a bit. I just stood back took lots of pictures and watched with a smile on my face and a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart. I love watching people experience something for the first time and I was still so happy I felt like I was going to burst. 

Beach time in the winter is always kind of weird. Some people like Derek and I will go out barefoot. Others leave their shoes or boots on. The air is warm but the water is cold this time of year. It's not your typical beach day, but then again sand dunes and cool water beat the hell out of snowdrifts and ice any day! 

We finished Sunday with Fajita's at our place and some pool and hot tub time.  I remember being an Iowa kid in south Texas at my Grandpa's place in McAllen swimming in December. It seems like yesterday even though it was 50 years ago. Watching the grandkids swim that evening brought back many memories of my own winter visits here to see my Grandfather. 

Monday was low key. We revisited one of the beach shops so the boys could buy some more items to take back home to siblings and friends, grabbed some pizza late in the afternoon and before we knew it our 3-day whirlwind was winding down and they were pulling away to make the long road trip back home to Iowa and back to their jobs and routines. 

And... they are off! 

We sat on the patio after they left still marveling at it all. I love a good surprise and this one definitely put itself solidly in first place of surprises. Most of the time the ones that come out of left field are bad things. It was nice to be on the receiving end of the kind of surprise that takes your breath away, but in a good way.  It was also the perfect event to jolt the dark energy that started off the new year back onto a positive hopeful trajectory. We will never forget the joy we both felt finding them lounging on our patio that afternoon and the memories we made over the next three days. 

Until Next Time...

 

In Memoriam "The Great John Harrington"

 The bonds of friendship forged between work campers run deep.  It is a different kind of bond than that of lifelong friends, or neighbors who you become good friends with. It is even different than co-workers in my traditional jobs that I have become good friends with. When work campers come together and work and live together for months or weeks at a time, every now and then the bond endures. It is the kind of bond that exists with long absences. Instead of seeing each other every week or so or at family gatherings or parties, we see each other a couple of times a year if we are lucky but the bond allows us to pick right up where we left off at our last encounter, whether that last encounter was two months at a job, or 2 hours at lunch when our paths intersect during our travels. It is something only the full-time work camper can understand, and it is wonderful. 

I write today grieving for a friend who lost her husband and soulmate, I grieve at the loss of a good friend to Champ and I. Today I write to heal and remember my friend John.

John in true form. Enjoy a good craft beer with us in Austin 2017

 

John and Cathy were the first volunteers we met on our first work camping job. We connected immediately and have remained close ever since. 

I remember the first time he said Palliative Care. It was late summer; I was talking to John on the phone. They had been in Texas for a couple of months and he was rattling off a list of upcoming appointments that Cathy had arranged. His new Primary Care Dr., Physical Therapy, Palliative Care, Oncologist. He kept talking but I don't remember what he said because I was still trying to grasp Palliative Care. He was pronounced Cancer free just a few weeks ago. 

The words hit me in the way a large bug, or small rock hits me in the face when I'm riding the motorcycle. It is quick, stinging and fleeting. I pondered his casual way of slipping it into the phone conversation for days. 

When we spoke again a couple of weeks later, I asked him why he was going to see a Palliative Care doctor and he said it was to talk about the future and options for later. Again, very matter of fact and casual, but that is how John approached his entire journey with Pancreatic Cancer. Matter of fact. He faced his disease with a positive attitude and calm demeanor.  It was at that moment I realized my dear friend was going to leave us one day and my friend Cathy was going to know the pain of losing the love of her life and I cried for them both after I hung up the phone. 

That was last fall before we came back to Texas for the winter. It is January and his journey ended on Thursday the 12th. Two days after his 68th Birthday. I spent last week honored to be by Cathy's side at their home all week as we both helped John leave this life as peacefully and painlessly as possible. Hospice nurses stopped in a couple of times during the seven days but the day to day, hour to hour job was up to Cathy. She helped John, and I helped her. It was a journey like no other. One she knew she would take with John but would never be ready for. Pancreatic Cancer is merciless. 

John was larger than life at times. He moved through the world with confidence and skill. John was the kind of friend who introduced a new friend to his old friends and wanted to meet his new friends' friends.

He had the heart of a Conservationist and walked the talk. He and Cathy spent many good retirement years volunteering at Wildlife Refuges around the country, leaving everywhere they worked better than they found it. He gave freely of his time and talents and was eager to share his knowledge. His mark can be seen in nearly a dozen different refuges where he and Cathy worked, served on Friends Boards and Volunteered at events. 

John in his element. Listening for birds on one our birdwalks together

John and Cathy were a dynamic couple together. Their different skill sets and personalities complimented each other. He would say often "All our friends are welcome in our home" He was the epitome of the phrase "Mi Casa es su Casa" That's the kind of couple they were and why so many are grieving this week along with Cathy. They would often be the driving force behind Volunteer gatherings, and day off leisure time spent together. 

John was a knowledgeable birder and was always eager to share his passion with anyone interested. That is where my friendship with him began. He led my first guided group bird walk. Later he and I spent a morning together early in our friendship walking the trails at Balcones Canyonlands NWR searching for the Endangered Golden Cheek Warbler. He wanted me to see it first with him. We found them and I took some memorable photos.

 All the while he was teaching me, pointing out different calls and teaching me not only how to find birds, but what to look for when I did find them. He loved to share this and manifested his passion by leading birding tours at the Refuges. His bird walks were well attended and at Festivals he was a popular guide. One person asked once if The Great John Harrington's group still had space. For me, the name stuck. I called him that until his last day. 

I especially loved the two times they visited us in Iowa at our summer work camping gig at Saylorville Lake. We birded on my home turf and he taught me even more. It was fun to watch him bird in an unfamiliar area and he told me how much he like the area. He even entertained doing a summer with us there working for the lake, but it wasn't meant to be. 

I think about all the people we know because of John and Cathy. I also think about our other friends who we have bonded with through our work camping lifestyle and realize it truly is a family. We love each other like family, kid each other like family and will ultimately grieve for each other like family. 

To quantify someone like John one only needs one word, "Giving". He was a generous and caring husband to Cathy, friend to many and good neighbor to all who lived near him. He thrived on helping others. He was our friend and we will forever miss him. When I have birded without him, I hear his voice reminding me of different things. I will never have his six-foot human form walking through the woods with me ever again, but I will have the sound of his voice and his spirit with me always. He truly was a Great Man and a Great Friend.

I sat at his bedside in his final hours talking to him. When I went into his room during the night to check on him that last night I was saying my final goodbyes to him alone in the room with a hallway light filtering in so I could see to put drop in his eyes and swab his dry mouth. I knew it was coming and soon. That was my last moment alone with him around 2:30 am. Before I went back to bed I uttered the words "Until Next Time" and kissed him on the forehead.  I have said those words so many times to many others but that night the words felt heavy with emotion knowing that "next time" will not be planned and will be in a place that only John can comprehend now. John passed away very peacefully a few hours later in Cathy's arms. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. 

Cathy, Champ and I decided to take his scope and she provided us with his binoculars. We set out from their house after breakfast on Saturday morning. Our maiden voyage to the bird trails without him.  It was a challenge to identify some things without him there to help us, but we found many species and called on his spirit to guide us. We talked about John and quipped about what he may have said as we agonized over a gull that we couldn't figure out. We laughed and remembered him as we birded. Then, at the end of the trail as we were headed back to the car, we were talking about him when a Male Northern Cardinal landed in a short scrubby bare tree just feet away and at eye level. It looked straight at Cathy, and we all stopped and knew it was him. I think he was happy and the three of us healed a small bit more in that moment.

Winter 2020 pre cancer days. Birding on a cold beach and having a great time! 

In the days and months ahead we will grieve, laugh and all learn to accept that he left us too soon. We will support Cathy and our friendship with her will grow even stronger. We will always remember and share the stories about him and he will live on in the hearts of many. I am privileged to be one of those many. 

I will miss you my friend! 

"There is no death, only a change of worlds"   Chief Seattle

John Harrington  1955 - 2023

Until Next Time...

Escaping The Black Hole

We have heard it several times. 

"We're going to stay home this winter, to take care of ...."  With only one exception in our experience, the fellow full-timer who uttered that phrase, never moved their rig again. It can happen without realizing it is going to happen. 

We uttered that same phrase in the fall of 2021. For a number of reasons, we just felt we needed to be present in Iowa. It helped that our daughter and son-in-law very generously offered us housing, so we didn't have to ride out an Iowa winter in the RV. We knew we were in danger of falling into that black hole that develops around people who need to take a break, but we did it, none the less. 

I quit blogging and looking back, I realize it was the perfect time to be sharing my thoughts about what was happening. The reality is we settled into a routine of living in a household with our daughter's busy family and two grade school aged grandsons. We were there for Christmas with all the kids and saw friends we normally wouldn't see in the winter. I took a job serving in one of our favorite restaurants, conveniently located 5 minutes from 'home' and met new friends there that are now in my heart forever. It was a mild winter, by Iowa standards and we had a chance to be present with the family and take a much-needed break from the Full -time lifestyle. My daughter mentioned one night early in the winter, that maybe we should just plan to 'take a break' every five years or so. 

Sledding with the Grandkids

I have to admit, the Black Hole that sucks many from the full-time lifestyle did taunt us.

Winter passed.  We savored every minute of our 18 months in Iowa. But, along about September we were both itching to get away and migrate south.

We arranged to return to Llano Grande, where we were work camping the year Covid happened during the winter of 2019/2020. 

Flash forward... and we are back at Llano Grande. We are spending time with good friends in the RGV (Rio Grande Valley to you gringos) 

As I write tonight, I am full of emotions I can't quite process. I have written over the years about our first friends from this lifestyle, John and Cathy. 16 months ago, John was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer and has undergone surgery and treatments associated with an aggressive disease. We chose to come here to be close to them.  In our minds we couldn't be anywhere else. We have grown close to them over the years and feel as close to them as we do people we have known for decades. It is the connection that RV volunteers forge that is only understood by those of us who are in that lifestyle They have travelled to Iowa and met our friends and family. Our Iowa peeps ask about them all the time because they have met them, had dinner with them with us and socialized with them when they have visited Iowa.

Just like last winter, when we stayed in Iowa, tonight I know we are where we are supposed to be this winter. We will work for the park the hours we need to barter for our site. I secured a serving job to keep me busy and give me the extra money that I like. Most of all, we are here to support John and Cathy in any way they need us.  My emotions are all over the place. 

Breakfast ride with the Llano group

We have hooked up with the motorcycle club here and gone on one ride with them. It's a good group and we look forward to riding with them through the winter. I have the State Park right next door with good birding whenever I need to take a break from the world. If that doesn't do the job, Texas is a plethora of wide-open lonely roads. A long motorcycle ride is always good for the soul. Here in the park, we are back in the company of work campers we met and liked from last time. We are far from Iowa but very much in our second home with winter family. 

Simply put, we know we are where we are supposed to be right now. We don't know what lies ahead for our dear friend. For that matter, none of us knows what tomorrow will bring. We wake up each day with hope and a loose plan for our future and greet each day as the blessing that it is. 

Until Next Time....

It's Good To Be Home

It's So Good To Be Home.  I look at this oil painting my daughter and her husband painted together one evening, several years ago. It hangs on the wall in their workout room. It is often a focal point when I am doing my yoga balance work and it is in my line of vision when I am on my back doing floor work. I've seen it in their home for years but this winter, especially today, resonated deep within me. 

When my brother-in-law got the devastating diagnosis of small cell lung cancer last summer the scenario, we have always talked about moved to our foreminds. That is the scenario of what would keep us home in Iowa during the winter. Our daughter was quick to tell us that they had talked as a family and offered to make space for us in their home if we decided to stay. The summer went along, treatments were endured by Steve and other bad news came into our lives. A good friend from our RV life in Colorado also receiving a cancer diagnosis, followed by aggressive treatment. Others in our lives experiencing decline in their senior years. 

Champ sensed my angst and 5 days before our planned departure opened up the dialogue with me about staying here. As we talked it became apparent, the thought of having to stay and made me want to stay. It's hard to explain, but I believe all full timers go through this occasionally. Some push the feelings down, some come off the road for a period of time and in our case, we decided to take a break. 

We talked to Kelsy and JP, they talked with the kids, and it was decided we would stay this winter.

I found a job serving 3 nights a week in a restaurant nearby that I love to dine at. The money is good, and the crew is professional. I'm basking in the opportunity to spend time with the kids through the holiday season. We are present for things that we have missed over the past 6 years. 

Today I have a rare day alone in the house. The kids are in school, Kelsy and Jp went to work, and Champ went up to the farm to do a small project in the motorhome that is easier done when it is vacant, as it is now. 

Steve is responding well to treatments these days; John is in Colorado fighting the good fight and we are close enough we have thought semi seriously about taking a road trip out to see them when he is strong enough. Kelsy and I have a weekend trip planned to Milwaukee next weekend to take in the Van Gogh Immersive Exhibit and we were able to spend Hunter's 10th birthday celebrations with him in person instead of a video call. I have spent more time with my sister the past months than I have in the last several years combined. Many other 'firsts in several years' are on the horizon. 

We are missing some superficial things, like warm weather, the long-anticipated job with the refuge in the Keys and our planned motorcycle riding in the Smokey Mountains this fall.  But those things will be there next winter unless the oceans rise suddenly, and the Keys become the new Atlantis. I jest but the fact is none of us knows what tomorrow, let alone next winter will bring. I am starting to look at options for next winter and where we may plan to go. 

It happened this morning. I was near the end of my yoga practice. Liquid Mind blared from the JBL speaker in the corner of the room, and I was completely immersed in my practice. My mind was, well liquid, so to speak. I opened my eyes and found my line if vision cast directly on the canvas. Home is a fluid state for us, but Iowa represents home, our kids represent home. As I released a long exhale, I felt the most complete sense of calm looking at those words." It's So Good To Be Home" 

Until Next Time...