Missouri day 1

Sept 15

Going back and forth across time zones makes keeping track of time based on the brightness of the window curtains a haphazard thing. It was Sara's knock on our bedroom door that actually woke us. She wanted to greet us before she went to work. Marvin and Jan had already gone, taking Lilly to her day care in the process. Sara had set out a loaf of "strawberry bread" for us to eat whenever we were ready to get up. After Sara left I sampled some of it (it was delicious) while Razelle was getting ready so we could go out for a substantial breakfast.

We drove to the Custom Complete Automotive garage on Nifong Blvd to get our van's oil changed using the coupon Marvin had given us the night before. The mechanic in charge told us it would take about an hour. Across the street from this garage is a huge commercial center, comprising several contiguous shopping plazas. We walked over to the Pizza Hut to see when it would be open. As we were reading the hours on the door, it swung wide open. We had arrived at the precise moment its business day was scheduled to begin and we were their first customers of the day. Razelle ordered a plain pizza and I had a bowl of do-it-yourself salad. I brought a few fresh mushrooms and slices of onion from the salad bar to the table for Razelle's pizza and she gave me one of its wedges: a truly romantic breakfast.

The van was ready on schedule and when we went to pay for the oil change we learned from the clerk that the owner of this establishment (who wasn't on the premises) is an Israeli. We described all our van's idiosyncrasies to these guys and they asked how much we were paying to rent it. I was expecting them to whistle in shocked astonishment, but they actually thought it was a fair arrangement. That made me feel better than I had all this time about having rented this "bordello on wheels" as Razelle likes to call it (she loves to show off the mirrored ceiling and the mood lights, which either elicits an embarrassed chortle or an envious remark, depending on whether it is an older adult or younger teen she is showing it to).

We drove across the road to visit our first Dollar Tree store beside the Walmart in Grindstone Plaza. I thought Razelle would be impressed by the variety of items that could all be acquired for the incredibly low price of one dollar, but she was impatient to get out of there. I bought some soap and shampoo here to replace what I'd left behind at Deryl's, and a jar of instant Mexican coffee. This same plaza had a nail salon that Jan recommended to Razelle. She got the full pedicure treatment, provided by ladies who had emigrated from Viet Nam. While she was being pampered I was able to surf the net with a Wi-Fi connection coming from the AT&T store next door, and I used this privilege to its full advantage to catch up with email and to plot a course to the next destinations of our itinerary coming up in the southeastern United States.

Our next objective was to get to a post office to see about sending ourselves another parcel. The dolls we had purchased at the yard sale in Wisconsin seemed too fragile to dare pack into our baggage and expect them to make it home safely. We drove to the post office in the historic district of Columbia and were pleased to find free parking in the post office lot, when all around this district there were nothing but parking meters. The clerk behind the counter was very nice. He helped us select and purchase exactly the right size box and he handed us the proper forms and labels we'd need once we had the box packed up. We noticed that so many of the men and (particularly the women) looked GOOD. They were not obese. We wondered what the secret to the healthy appearance of Columbia's citizenry might be when so many Americans all over the rest of the country were losing the battle of the bulge.

We took our box back to Jan and Marvin's. Their neighbors across the street were busily decorating their front porch for Halloween, arranging pumpkins and dried cornstalks and scarecrow figures around the front entrance with the same industriousness as we remember seeing people decorating for Christmas when we were growing up. I paused to watch them, struck by the realization that we had been traveling so long by now that we were about to experience the imminent morphing of summer into autumn.

Inside the house we met Andy for the first time. We immediately felt comfortable being in his presence. He was proud of the fact that he had lost a great deal of his once-excessive weight and he looked good. He had accomplished this by following a low-carb diet. He explained that all the healthy people we have seen in Columbia are connected to the university, and when they are gone between academic sessions, plenty of corpulent Columbians with an obesity problem remain to be found. While Andy cooked for himself, we chatted about good places to eat in Columbia. He highly recommended the Fuddruckers we'd seen next to the nail salon. It sounded good to us.

Jan soon returned with Lilly – our first meeting with her. Lilly was in no mood to meet strangers; she avoided us, didn't speak vocally but rather used sign language to communicate. We didn't know the signs and they were so subtle that we weren't always aware that she was signing. Marvin and Sara also returned shortly, and with everyone finally home it was agreed – we would eat at Fuddruckers. We followed them there in our van, past the synagogue, and we noted to ourselves how near this synagogue was to where we were staying. At Fuddruckers I had a bison burger, served without the bun, as I requested. It was delicious! Salad was freely available and I went back for a second helping. Around the table Marvin asked what kind of produce was grown in Israel. I answered Marvin with a long and exhaustive list of these. Sorry about that, Marvin. Jan asked why we had moved to Israel, and I answered with the quip, "Have you met my mother?" This got a laugh. We had this opportunity to watch Lilly in action. She didn't relate to us at the meal, and that was OK. We didn't force the issue. She and her mother played Pac-man on an arcade machine while the adults conversed.

We returned to Jan and Marvin's; Sara and Andy went back to their studio to deal with the last urgent details for tomorrow's presentation in Marceline, MO. Razelle went to bed early and Jan went off to study, leaving me to work on my blog in the living room where Marvin read quietly or chatted with me briefly, before he also went to bed. I was the last to retire. After turning off all the lights, I finally went to bed, too.

Kentucky through Indiana and Illinois to Missouri

September 14

I woke up again after Razelle. She was already in the kitchen; Matt had prepared pancakes and was serving them hot when I joined Razelle at the table. Over breakfast we talked about what Louisville had to offer in the way of worthwhile destinations while we are here. The area near the riverfront has several museums in what is called "Museum Row." I recalled that Muhammad Ali was from Louisville and I was curious about the museum devoted to him, but this didn't interest Razelle. Matt recommended the Frazier Museum, which I mistakenly thought had something to do with Joe Frazier, another boxer (not so, however; it's a museum dedicated to armor throughout history). There are two other museums there that Matt recommended: the Louisville Science Center and the Kentucky Museum of Art and Craft. All of these are literally within a few steps of each other. Across the street from these is the Louisville Slugger Museum, attached to the company that manufactures baseball bats, and easily located under a huge model of a bat towering above the factory and the museum. Razelle didn't seem particularly keen on visiting any of these, but I hoped that once we were downtown I might entice her into trying one or another of them.

Matt took me into what had been his garage but now is his woodworking shop. He has all the requisite equipment in there for cutting and shaping and forming the furniture he so capably crafts. He even has a way to rid the garage of sawdust as he operates this equipment; a very professional setup. At times he even hires an assistant when he gets sizable enough orders.

While we packed up the items we had taken into his house overnight, Matt excused himself and practiced his bassoon for a short while. Beautiful sounds came from his practice room – strains of songs from the opera "Carmen" that he and Kathy would be playing that evening. I recognized these and enjoyed hearing them. I looked around our bedroom one last time before dragging our bags down to the van and stowing them there; then we raised the blinds on all the van's windows and were off, following Matt into the heart of Louisville along a scenic route of Matt's choosing. We passed white-fenced pastures so picture-postcard perfect that they looked just the way one would imagine the home of the Kentucky Derby should look.

I touched my shirt pocket and found my own cell-phone there instead of the "David-phone," as we call the phone we use for incoming and outgoing calls almost exclusively. Razelle didn't have this phone with her either. I called it from my phone but we didn't hear it ringing anywhere in our van. I then had that creeping-scalp realization that it had been left behind at Matt's house somehow. I called Matt's cell-phone from my own and he answered from his vehicle ahead of us. I explained our predicament, and Matt said he'd go back with us to get it. I suggested that he take Razelle back with him, since she wasn't interested in seeing the museums and I would remain downtown to see a museum while I waited for them to return. We found a convenient metered parking spot for the van near Museum Row and Matt and Razelle left me there to my own devices while they drove back to Matt's place to search for the forgotten cell-phone.

I walked past the Frazier History Museum into the Louisville Slugger factory. I had an hour on the parking meter and didn't want to spend it all in one place so I didn't pay to go into the factory's museum in this building. I walked along a wall displaying the signatures of all the professional ball players whose names have been embossed on bats supplied for them by this factory over the decades. I went to the gift shop and bought myself a miniature bat with the Cleveland Indians logo on it as a souvenir. A couple there bought an identical bat so we talked shop about how this years Indians had done. I've hardly had time for or interest in baseball this season, but I knew just enough to sound convincing. I surprised myself by that.

Out on the sidewalk I took a few pictures of the giant bat that rested against and towered well above this building. This truly iconic landmark of Louisville begged to be photographed and I had to wait for others to finish posing before I could take my shots.

I walked past the Louisville Science Center and the Art and Craft Museum to the Muhammad Ali Center. I checked the time and saw that there wasn't enough left on the meter to do this museum justice. I'd seen Will Smith's portrayal of Ali in the eponymous film, so I didn't see the need to go into the museum. Again, I visited the gift shop only and bought a souvenir that appealed to me: a silicone bracelet for Razelle with the slogan "Find Greatness Within."

Matt and Razelle called me from the retrieved cell phone to tell me they had returned, so I headed back to where the van was parked, and took a few more pictures of iconic street art along the way. The phone had slid out of sight under the bed and I missed it when I visually scanned the room this morning. This is my second lapse in as many days: first the soap and shampoo at Deryl's, now the phone at Matt's. I really must be super vigilant from now on! The pattern must stop here and now!

  

  

I thanked Matt profusely. This took time away from his day and I appreciated his effort very, very much. He was quite cheerful about it, though, and we parted after taking a few pictures together.

Matt explained to us how we would need to go to get back across the Ohio River into Indiana. The I-64 bridge had just been closed due to cracks. The engineers didn't want it to collapse like the bridge in Minneapolis had done earlier. Instead, we had to take the I-65 bridge into Indiana, our 20th state. These route numbers are so similar that I had to double-check myself. For quite a while my GPS tried to send me back to the closed bridge. It didn't understand my motives for quite a distance. I had fun ignoring its instructions to "turn back where possible" until it realized I was ignoring it and eventually resigned itself to taking me the way I was already headed.

We stopped for gas at a Pilot Travel Center near Leavenworth, IN, not far from Santa Claus, IN, where many a child sends Christmas wish-list letters. No tuna sandwiches were available at this travel center, so Razelle walked across the lot to the restaurant next door and ordered an omelet wrap to go. She grumbled as we drove that they hadn't provided a fork to eat it with.

I called Sara from this refueling stop to learn that she had a very hectic schedule leading up to the premiere of their movie in Marceline, MO on Friday. I had originally set out from Louisville with the idea of reaching Cairo (pronounced Kay-Ro), Illinois. To spend any quality time at all with them and Lilly we would need to drive straight through to Columbia, MO today and save Cairo, IL for another day. The GPS showed that these distances could be reasonably covered today, so that is what we did. As we drove westward through this part of Indiana, we also bought ourselves an extra hour to get there comfortably when we crossed back into the Central Daylight Time Zone, a setback of sorts in our west-to-east trip around the world, but one that actually worked to our advantage, now.

We entered Illinois, our 21st state, going west along I-64 and encountered serious rainfall, the kind that made us hesitate to step out of our van when we stopped at a McDonald's in Mt Vernon, IL. We stopped here for a bathroom break because we saw backed-up traffic just beyond the exit ramp leading to it; a truck had jackknifed in the inclement weather. Razelle agreed to ask the motel clerk at the Drury Inn at this exit how we might return to the highway beyond the snarl. We felt smug when the advice Razelle had been given took us back onto the interstate and we found no traffic to contend with.

At the next rest area I saw a weather report on a TV monitor that showed no rain on the other side of the Mississippi River. As we approached this now broad river (compared to how it looked in Minnesota) we could see the Gateway Arch in St. Louis from a great distance – quite an impressive sight! We then crossed the bridge and were in Missouri, our 22nd state. We drove past Busch Stadium on an elevated section of road and the rain stopped exactly as had been predicted. Traffic was heavy at this time of day, but it flowed reasonably well, nonetheless. As I-64 terminated into I-70, the sun set upon us and tail-lights and oncoming headlights defined the path I was to follow. I drove all the way to Columbia, MO with these oncoming lights bothering me, due to the older design of this section of interstate. The billboards that walled in the highway high above us in dense array presented even more of a distraction.

We finally reached the exits leading to Columbia, MO. Our GPS led us to our destination, the address I had for Sara and Andy. They were out, and instead we were greeted by Andy's parents Marvin and Jan. I was confused at first. I didn't realize that Andy and Sara and Lilly actually lived as boarders in Andy's parents' basement. Marvin and Jan graciously invited us in – we were expected – and they showed us the guestroom where we would be sleeping (we had assumed that we'd be sleeping in our van, so this was a wonderfully pleasant and welcome development). We brought in a portion of our baggage since we were going to be here a few days, then we got acquainted with Marvin and Jan. As we described our illustrious van I mentioned to Marvin that the time had come for its obligatory oil change; we had driven 5000 miles since Hayward, CA. Marvin produced a coupon for an oil change from a booklet full of all kinds of coupons they receive every month. I couldn't get over how serendipitous this was. The hour was late and everyone had a full day ahead of them tomorrow. We concluded the chat and went to our bedrooms. This home was warm and welcoming. Razelle and I felt very good about where we were and slept securely here in Missouri.

Ohio to Kentucky

September 13

I woke up late this morning in the van to find that Razelle had already been up a while and had gone into the house. I must have truly been exhausted to wake up later than Razelle. That has almost never happened on this trip. I found Razelle sitting with Deryl at the dining-room table, discussing the political and socio-economic matters that she has such a passion for. I was afraid this would happen. But, to my pleasant surprise, their discussion was being conducted in a friendly manner. That also was a rarity. We have found as we cross this country that discussions on these topics tend to degenerate into arguments rather quickly, but that was not the case here between Deryl and Razelle. I saw that my services as a "moderator" were not needed so I gathered up the soap and shampoo and my towel and took shower.

After I was dressed in the brand new clothes we had bought in Toledo and was feeling truly renewed myself, we piled into Deryl's Aztec and went to the same Waffle House for breakfast that Deryl had taken me to during my previous visit in 2009, when I had passed this way after Ruth Weiss's funeral. We went through the historic center of Troy, OH to get there. The civic institutions in this part of Troy look so stately, erected here in a bygone era. Troy has a picturesque "time-capsule" look about it, but the fifty- to one-hundred year old wood-frame homes we passed also had a look of fragility to me, were a tornado to pass through here. Pictures of tornado-devastated Xenia, OH from the 1970s went through my head. I couldn't help but remark to Razelle about this.

At the Waffle House I had grits, a glass of milk and renewable cups of coffee. We've gotten used to renewable drinks by now – a perk that US consumers almost take for granted, but for us "Israelis" this is always a wondrous thing. Deryl's Aztec is an unusual vehicle. Razelle sat in the back seat and studied its features and was duly impressed by them. She compared them to our van's features and as we were returning to Deryl's place she said, "Next time we go on a cross-country trip here we should get ourselves an Aztec instead." Wow, the seeds of the "next trip" are already germinating in Razelle's mind. Very good, Razelle! 

Back at Deryl's we deliberated about what might be worth seeing in the Dayton area while we could. Aviation-related museums did not appeal to Razelle; she had left aviation-related things behind when she retired from her job at the Air-Force School. So we just hung out at Deryl's a while until Carol was due to get off work. We then followed Deryl in our van to their new place in Centerville, OH (part of Dayton) to meet Carol there.

Unlike Troy, this part of Dayton looked like the rest of America. The whole aspect was brighter. The construction was newer, but Deryl pointed out to Razelle that newer did not necessarily mean sturdier or longer-lasting. Razelle absorbed a lot of knowledge and wisdom from her exposure to Deryl. I've always appreciated this about him. That's why Deryl and I were best friends in high school and why we have remained so very close all these years.

While we waited for Carol, Deryl fished a can of Vernor's Ginger Ale out of the refrigerator. I haven't tasted this brand of ginger ale in more years than I can count. It was such a nostalgic treat! I've got to get me some of this while we travel, if I can find it. Carol arrived and we piled into her car and went to a restaurant she had always meant to try out, called the Chop House. I had a large lettuce salad with blue-cheese dressing and was satisfied by the portion size.

Back again at Deryl and Carol's new house we said our goodbyes. It was a relaxing visit with good friends. I'm glad I could get Razelle together with Carol and Deryl in their home environment. It truly helps to understand who they are when they are in their own comfortable surroundings. Razelle came away from this meeting of friends with a good impression. I look forward to more meetings, perhaps in our own home environment some day.

We got gas near Deryl and Carol's then entered the Interstate highway and drove through Cincinnati, across the Ohio River and into Kentucky, our 19th state. The sun set on us on our way to Louisville, our next destination, and cast Kentucky in a pink and purple glow for a time. We reached Matt and Kathy's home in the dark. They live on a long residential street in a part of Louisville that has a very nice rural suburban feel to it. Arranging this visit with my musician friends took a bit of keyboard virtuosity of my own. I used the Internet to find his mother's phone number and called her. She was delighted to hear from me. It was she who provided the contact number I used to call Matt. He was, likewise, delighted to host us when we got to Louisville. Our timing worked out perfectly and Matt accompanied us into his home when he heard us arrive.

Kathy treated us to her own home-made ice cream (peanut butter-mocha) while Matt and I reminisced about old times and Kathy listened intently. Matt and I were boy scouts together in the same Jewish boy scout troop. We were supposed to walk the Appalachian Trail together, along with my brothers and Bill, but Matt wasn't able to join us. Kathy was excited when she realized it was I who Matt had talked about when the topic of the Appalachian Trail had came up in their past. This made our visit even more significant for her. Razelle was excited to learn that their TV was tuned to CNN. She sat in front of their TV absorbed in what was being broadcast. She sorely missed CNN. It wasn't usually viewable at the motels we'd stayed in.

We were surrounded by Matt's handiwork. Matt is an accomplished carpenter, as well as a professional (and accomplished) bassoonist with the Louisville Symphony Orchestra (which is currently in financial limbo). The cabinets and chairs in his kitchen as well as a number of other items of furniture throughout the house were a testament to Matt's talents and love of this craft. Kathy excused herself and left us to practice her flute. She is a professional flautist with the same orchestra. She and Matt will be accompanying a professional operatic performance of Carmen tomorrow. They try to keep their hand in while they wait for LSO funding to get straighten out.

Before we went to bed Razelle asked me if I had seen the soap and shampoo. That's when I realized I must have left them at Deryl's this morning. I hate when that happens. There are so many ways to forget things when traveling around the world. At least this was something we could replace easily. But it’s the principle of the thing. I had had a momentary mental lapse and now these were gone. It was not the first time this had happened because of me and with trepidation I anticipated that this would not be the last. It ended what had been an excellent day of visiting valued friends on a sour note. I shrugged it off this time as a minor thing, though, as Razelle and I slept soundly in a bed in Matt and Kathy's home.

Ohio day 3

September 12

This morning we were pensive about packing up and hitting the road. We've traveled so long and have come so far to reach a place that I had once called "home," and we were with people who had once been part of my daily existence in that home. On one level the idea of following an itinerary just because it had been proposed seemed frivolous. What did we have to prove and to whom? What more did we need to add to this trip that we hadn't already done? What was to prevent us from just staying put with my mother and sister for a while and then drifting off to New Jersey to return the van by the appointed date? We had already cut out parts of the itinerary; we left out Canada entirely – no Vancouver and no Toronto on this trip. Yet, on another level, the places on the itinerary still unvisited were not actually what was important, it was the people in those places that mattered. The itinerary of the Western US emphasized places; the itinerary of the Eastern US emphasized people. We could cut out New Orleans if it became necessary because we had no one waiting for us there, but we couldn't cut out our Florida destinations, or any of the destinations between Florida and Connecticut, without disappointing someone, or perhaps missing the only opportunity we might ever have to meet a relative or important friend. So we packed with the resolve of seeing the itinerary fulfilled. New adventures awaited us....

Before we left Toledo we had a few essential things to do. First of all, we could not possibly leave town without visiting my father's grave. Second of all, we could not leave town without one more visit with my mother, no matter how difficult this might turn out to be. And last of all, I had a T-shirt to exchange at the Kohl's department store near my mother, and also near where Miriam works.

Miriam had to get to work this morning at an early hour so she left before we had finished packing up our purchases and stowing all our round-the-worldly possessions in the van. Ivan stuck around a little longer and we left at the same time he did. We drove the van to Mom's nursing home and parked in the lot.

Mom was more alert than she had been during our previous visit two days before. When we called to her she opened her eyes widely and greeted us with a smile. Her eyes didn't stay open very long, but she was still attentive with them closed. Miriam had explained how to better communicate with Mom, which meant leaning in close to her to decipher her utterances. It helped…a little. While Razelle sat on the next bed I related to Mom once again the basic details of our trip and listed the countries we had visited. She raised her eyebrows to show she was impressed, but what she said was not clear. She asked where Razelle was because she couldn't see her. Razelle went to her bedside and spoke to her while she gently stroked Mom's face and neck. A blissful expression came over Mom's countenance. She loved the way it felt. Tactile stimulation was something she sorely missed.

Just then, a woman orderly came in and moved us away as she drew the curtains to change Mom's clothes and bedding. Razelle explained the dramatic effect that we'd witnessed when she stroked Mom's face and suggested it be done by the staff also. The orderly promised to pass this suggestion along to the nurses. We were not convinced she would, especially since she couldn't pronounce "tactile stimulation," so, when our visit was over shortly thereafter, we told the head nurse ourselves. As we bid Mom goodbye, with the thought in the back of our minds that this may be the last time we see her, Mom tried to detain us. She said she was lonely. I felt that deeply, but I couldn't tarry any longer here. I didn't want to lose control of my emotions.

We returned to the van and I sat silently for a while before I turned the key.

We then drove a short distance to Miriam's place of work. We told Miriam how our visit with Mom had transpired. Miriam then took us around to meet her co-workers, one of whom knew some Hebrew because he was a Lebanese man who had undergone lifesaving surgery in an Israeli hospital. This was a heartwarming story that has a moral to it. We appreciated hearing it.

We then went to Kohl's and successfully exchanged the T-shirt for one my size. We also checked out the "Bed, Bath and Beyond" store next to it. Razelle found some placemats for our table. She has been on the lookout for these the entire trip.

The graveyard where my father is buried is entirely across town. It was our ultimate stop before we departed from Toledo. I parked the van in the cemetery entrance. I took the snowball we'd collected from the Medicine Wheel on the spiritual mountaintop in Wyoming out of our van's freezer and walked with Razelle at my side to Dad's grave. His photographic image on his headstone smiled at me as I approached and placed half the snowball at the base of his headstone. The other half will go on Razelle's father's grave when we get to Connecticut.

I sat on the ground by the grave. Spontaneous words of emotion welled up as I spoke. The entire odyssey of our globe-circling journey led to this moment. These would be my last moments before leaving Toledo behind. I took Razelle to see three other graves before we left the cemetery. One belonged to Dina Markowicz, Phil Markowicz's daughter, who died too young; one belonged to Rabbi Fishel Pearlmutter, who counseled my father while he suffered, and one belonged to Ludmila Kagen, who was killed by a speeding car as she pushed her daughter out of its path.

We used our water jug to wash our hands, then I slowly steered the van into traffic and left the cemetery for Troy, OH.

We drove past Wapakaneta, OH, home of Neil Armstrong and the location of a museum devoted to him, situated right beside the highway. Had we not been behind schedule we might have paused here to see what it contained. As we got closer to Troy, we encountered road construction. Barriers on both the inner and outer shoulders of our two lanes of south-bound traffic hemmed us tightly together, but didn't slow us down. Passing trucks in this narrow defile was frightening with the van's loose steering and my knuckles were white from the effort. At one point we narrowed to one lane as we crawled past the wreckage of a vehicle that had collided with the left wall. Once past this obstacle, however, traffic returned to its frightening pace, as if nothing was to be learned from what we'd driven past.

In Troy, OH we stopped for cash at a bank, well after business hours. I simply walked up to the drive-through ATM machine and typed in the numbers. I didn't know what the maximum amount it would dispense might be, so, for the heck of it, I typed in $980. It spit out that entire amount! Will wonders never cease in this country? We will try not to spend it all in one place.

We finally reached Deryl and Carol's place. Deryl came out to greet us and directed us as we parked under his carport. We had room to spare under its roof, and an electrical outlet to plug our cord into. And it was level; perfect conditions for sleeping in it, if necessary. It was nice to be in Deryl and Carol's company. I was tired from all the driving, particularly the last part, so I listened as Razelle did most of the talking, recounting all that we had seen and done during this trip. Carol and Deryl are in the process of moving from this house in Troy to a house in Centerville, OH (considered to be part of Dayton). Deryl would sleep here tonight with us, but Carol had to sleep at the other place. Before she left us, she showed us her prized collection of snowman figures. Now we know what kind of gift Carol will appreciate receiving.

Because this house was half empty, due to their imminent move, the best arrangement for us was indeed to sleep in the van. Razelle and I looked forward to this after sleeping apart the past three nights in Toledo. The night air was cool and welcoming. I crawled under the quilt Wendy had given us in Minneapolis (thank you once again Wendy) and we turn out our lights in Troy.

Ohio day 2

September 11

I didn't sleep well. I was intent on adding to my blog so I took my laptop to bed with me and woke up several times during the night to try to compose a few more paragraphs. But I fell asleep each time after having added no more than a line or two. Whatever the thought was I had in my head when I succumbed to slumber, it stayed in my head like a jittering stuck video frame until I woke up again and typed the thought into the file. The light in my room stayed on all night as I tried to write in vain. It's a good thing Razelle had slept in the van. I would have disturbed her sleep along with mine had she been in the room. By morning I was sleep deprived and another day lay ahead of us. I considered pushing back the fatigue with a strong cup of coffee, but there was no instant coffee in the house. We had instant coffee in the van, but I didn't want to go out there and disturb Razelle until she was ready to wake up. I gave up trying to write by dawn and slept until 9:00 AM. My ability to function well after that was perceptibly affected the rest of the day. Ivan rescued me partially when he made some filter coffee for us. The amount he made was less than a cup's worth, but it was strong and it helped prop me up.

Ben was scheduled to come in the morning from Saline, MI, near Ann Arbor, to visit us. I have never come to Toledo without informing Ben I would be here, and he has never failed to visit me each time. The same is true for Deryl, my best friend from high school, but on this trip we chose to go to Deryl instead of having him come to us. Ben arrived alone a bit behind schedule, as his wife couldn't come with him. He remembered meeting Razelle a long time ago when we were newlyweds. He had also met Shalev when I brought him to the States in 2002. We had a wonderful visit with Ben; he and I have a similar temperament and sense of humor; the atmosphere is so comfortable and conversation so easy for me when he comes to visit. Many times I have found myself comparing this level of comfort with Ben to the effort it takes to make small talk with others I only have a casual acquaintance with.  It's a shame we could only fit in an hour with him. Razelle and Miriam and I had tasks to accomplish and appointments to keep so we had no choice but to tear ourselves away and thank Ben for coming. 

We all got into Miriam's car and left the van in her driveway. Along with a few other errands Miriam needed to take care of we were going shopping at Costco. Razelle has not experienced Costco. This is one of those experiences a visitor to the USA must not miss while they are here. Everything in the store comes in huge restaurant-size quantities, in multiple-item packages or at prices that are too tempting to pass up. But you can't shop there without an escort. This escort must be a venerable, card-carrying member of the Costco club. Miriam was our escort. Without her, there would not have been a Costco experience to recount in this blog.

During the last trip I took to the States several months ago in December I bought some jeans at Costco. I really like these jeans, but I have lost a little more weight since that trip and if I were able to get these same jeans in a smaller size Razelle and I would be happy for me to have them. To do this meant buying several different sizes at the cash register with your escort at your side, trying them on in the bathroom stalls and then returning the items that didn't fit with your escort at your side, and then going back for more pairs of what did fit and buying these, too, with your escort at your side. I lost my cool with the staff (I actually didn't have any to begin with because of the sleep deprivation). We didn't have time for these games. But we did it their way and now I have some flattering jeans to wear.

Razelle had hoped to be dropped off at Miriam's before our next stop but Miriam didn't understand this. Razelle was stuck with our plans once we got to B'nai Israel, the synagogue where we had prayed yesterday. Today we were going to hear Philip Markowicz, a long-standing member of our local Jewish community, give a talk about his holocaust experience. Phil read every word of his talk from his typed notes and because he has a European accent, not every word was clear. It also was a long talk, lasting an hour and a half. I heard half of it. I couldn't keep from being overcome by my sleep deprivation and I only hope that my somnolence was not sonorous. What I did hear, however, was the story of survival against all the odds – a harrowing story of inhumane treatment and a miraculously timed anonymous act of human kindness. Phil spoke of how his brother kept him alive when his own strength was hard to find, and of his ultimate rescue at the end of the ordeal. I was struck by how much Phil's story paralleled that of Yehuda and Sinai's story, the boys my father rescued at the end of the same war. I rose to applause Phil at the end of his talk, as did the rest of his audience. He deserved the ovation.

Phil had written a book, entitled "My Three Lives" and this talk covered only one part of it. After his talk he sat in the lobby behind a table and signed copies of his book. I bought one when I saw that he had a chapter about his daughter Dina, who died at 19 and whose death affected me at the time and will always haunt me. I very badly wanted to share this with Phil but couldn't find a way to mention it. He signed my book and told me I would find answers to how he dealt with her death in the chapter he wrote about her.

Phil had been Barry's first employer at his television repair shop. He remembered Barry and asked a few questions about how he's doing today. I think it was Phil who got Barry started on the career he has advanced in ever since. I'm glad Phil lit up the way he did when he remembered Barry. I also thought I recognized Phil's daughter Sylvia in the crowd. I approached her and was delighted when she confirmed this. Sylvia is one day older than I am (I've always remembered this) and my mother took her to Hebrew school in our car pool with the other kids our age way back when. This was the first time I've seen Sylvia in decades, probably not since Dina's funeral.

It was very propitious that this event had occurred during our visit to Toledo on this round-the-world trip. It added a dimension I could never have planned. I will come away from this visit to Toledo with important answers to questions that have lingered all this time about Dina. When I get back to Beer Sheva, I have to read Phil's book.

After the talk, we went out to eat with Miriam and Ivan. Ivan came in his own vehicle to join us at the restaurant that Razelle has developed such an affinity for. Each of us had special demands for exactly how the food should be prepared. The waitress took it all down cheerfully and didn't even flinch when Razelle let fly a comment in jest that made the rest of us flinch. We enjoyed the food and the service and the company around the table.

Then we went shopping again.

This time we went to a Kohl's department store. Razelle and Miriam went in one direction, Ivan and I in another. I had bought the pocket T-shirts I like so much at this enterprise the last time I was in Toledo and I was back for more. I selected several colors, tried one on in the isle and was done. The ladies were surprised I was back so fast with my arm-load of T-shirts. I have a reputation for taking forever when I go shopping, to the point that no one wants to go with me when I do (and that's fine with me). One color I particularly liked did not appeal to Razelle, but I overrode her veto. (Miriam liked the color on me, even if Razelle didn't; Ivan didn't say.) The only complication was that they didn't have my size in that color in this store. Miriam explained that with the coupons she was using to make all these purchases worthwhile, combined with the sale price that only lasted until the store closed that evening, I could still buy the wrong size here and then exchange it for the right size at a different branch of Kohl's after the sale was over without having to pay more there. The clerk called around, found a branch near where Mom is, and I bought the shirt in the wrong size. Amazing how these things work in America! Ya gotta live here to keep track of it all. And coupons, how do we live without these in Israel?

That pretty much sums up this day in Toledo. We returned to Miriam and Ivan's with the glow of shopping in our hearts and good food in our tummies. Razelle headed for the van and I went up stairs. Sleep beckoned me this night and I put off writing the blog until I could catch up on the sleep I'd missed the night before. I turned off the lights and slept deeply.

Ohio day 1

September 10

In the middle of the night last night Razelle woke me to ask for the key to the van. She couldn't breathe because of an allergic reaction to something in the room, perhaps in the carpet. She went out to the van and slept there the rest of the night. I chose to sleep where I was. I went to the door of the house and locked it after I saw that she had gotten settled comfortably in the van. In the morning she called to be let back in. The van was parked on a nice flat spot behind Miriam's house and the night was cool. Razelle slept so soundly out there and I slept so "soundlessly" where I was that we didn't consider this to be such an "unthinkable" arrangement. We are growing to appreciate the van more and more.

We went to Temple B'nai Israel (Conservative) this morning for Shabbat services. My GPS was programmed to take us there, but we followed Miriam and she drove a route that she preferred (which differed from the GPS routing). We arrived during the Torah reading service in time to pray for the sick. This congregation invites those invoking this prayer to come up to the bima (prayer table). This time, Miriam herself was personally present to hear me state her name, as I have done at every congregation we have visited around the world whenever possible. This pleased me very much. She knows I have been praying for her health, but she got to hear it this time. We exchanged smiles across the sanctuary as I turned to walk back to our seats and sit between her and Razelle.

This is the congregation I grew up in, and so much of my personal Jewish history is connected to this specific institution. It's not the same building, and not many of its congregants are familiar to me, but I am still tied to it, emotionally. This Saturday morning there was no bar or bat mitzvah, and their young charismatic cantor, who I'd met during previous visits, has moved to a new position elsewhere. His fresh replacement has not been here long enough to earn the kind of following his predecessor had, so attendance was not very large. I met several among the faithful regulars, however, who I knew from way back when. Judy has relatives in Honolulu; she was pleasantly surprised when we passed greetings from them to her. Several of the mothers of my friends were there to tell me of their children's exploits in the far-flung towns they have scattered to. I met only a couple of my contemporaries: a former member of my scout troop and the grandson of our venerated Rabbi Emeritus. I was made privy to a little gossip about acquaintances who were not there to defend themselves. But, really, there were so few people I could personally relate to during this visit that I was a bit under-whelmed. At the Kiddush I was even "bumped" from the table I'd put my plate on, next to Razelle, by a congregant who had no idea who I was and who had saved that place for someone more important to her. Her loss.

Miriam drove to Mom's nursing home directly from the synagogue with us following her (still dressed in our Sabbath best, of course). After I parked the van I found Mom's room. Miriam and Razelle had gone in ahead of me. Mom did not seem to be in good shape at all. She looked so weak as she lay in her bed with her eyes shut and her mouth open in what appeared to be a pained expression. She spoke without moving her mouth and only Miriam was able to decipher what the sounds meant. She smiled but her smile was not an obvious smile until Miriam told her to close her mouth and smile nicely. Then a beautiful smile graced her face. This reassured us that we were getting somewhere. What Mom said was lucid and on topic, but it petered out before the thought could be completed. She knew who we were and she showed that she valued our company. Miriam soon had to leave us alone with Mom, so we made the best of it without our interpreter – but it was so awkward that we all fell into silence because we didn't know what to say next. Without audible input from us to keep her going, Mom simply began to snore. We tried to wake her up for more conversation but it was not fruitful. We left, feeling bad about the whole visit.

I called Debbie, who I knew from synagogue youth activities and who had gone to a comedy club with Miriam, Ivan and me during my last visit. She and her husband David invited us to visit them at their home a short distance away. They live in a very nice neighborhood that I don't think existed when we were growing up. We sat with them and related the details of our trip. Their son had also traveled to distant lands and had written a blog about his travels. I have to remember to ask her for the URL so I can read his blog. Their children have done a lot of traveling, so they were fascinated with the details of our own trip and how I had put it together. David remarked that he had the impression Israel was a dangerous place to live. Razelle responded by pointing out that where Debbie and David lived seemed to be even more dangerous because they had so little protection from break-ins on their doors and windows and the homes in this neighborhood were so isolated one from the other. That made her feel far more insecure than living in Israel ever has.

We gave them the usual tour of our van to show them its features. Razelle loves to show everyone what she has been enduring all these weeks. We then parted from Debbie and David and drove through Ottawa Hills where I used to go jogging as a university student with Monte and Bill, then past the University of Toledo itself. A relative of Razelle's lives a few blocks from here and was once an administrator of this, my Alma Mater. We weren't sure how to locate him until Judy at the Kiddush gave us the information that I needed to look him up on the Internet. She knew him from working there as a member of the academic staff. We found his home but there was no answer when I rang the bell. I went next door and knocked there. They answered and knew how to get in touch with Razelle's relatives. We called the number we were given and Razelle spoke with them while they themselves were traveling to North Carolina. That was the best Razelle could do. I still can't get over how freely the neighbors gave out the information they did.

We returned to Miriam and Ivan's for the evening meal. Miriam served chicken with sweet potato, along with the left over roast beef from the night before, saved just for me. I had a lot of catching up to do with my blog and it was foremost on my mind. I had fallen so far behind that it was weighing on my conscience. While they were talking and watching TV and I was writing and poking my tongue into the pit where my lost tooth had once been I felt the stitches fall out of my gums and onto my tongue. Eureka! This made me a pretty happy camper. I also was conscious of the fact that the swelling in my cheek had gone down perceptibly. These facts combined led me to believe that I had turned a corner with this tooth business. I was finally recovering. I was now optimistic for the first time that the end of my tooth ordeal was finally at hand.

I went to bed feeling good about this. Razelle retired to the van one more night. I walked out there with her and watched her get settled then returned to the house. I still had some more writing to do and I wanted to take advantage of the electricity in the house. Unfortunately, I fell asleep writing and didn't get much of it done. I climbed the stairs in sleepy resignation and went to bed.

Michigan to Ohio

September 9

I woke up in the van this morning ahead of Razelle. The window glass was decorated with raindrop diamonds left over from last night's gentle rain. Dawn was becoming daylight. My cheek was still swollen and tender to the touch, but I noticed that I could taste something around the stitches in the gum where the lost tooth had been. I tried to squeeze my cheek toward the stitches to see if this would help drain the abscess in it. I'm not sure how successful this was, because I didn't detect anything with my tongue, but, the swelling seemed to have been reduced by this. This is the first positive sign of any progress in the saga of the dratted tooth that has given me grief throughout this whole trip. This morning, as I ran my tongue over the stitches in the gap where my tooth had been, I rolled the idea around in my mind – with a quaint sense of gallows humor – of renaming this blog "The Tooth and the Van" instead of the Rod and the Ring, because these two nouns have been more of a running preoccupation (with me, anyway) than our respective "bionic" parts have been.

I must admit by now, however, that the van has finally given us a sense of being our home on wheels. We had a very comfortable good-night's sleep last night in our van, and we willingly chose it over sleeping indoors. This had to do with Razelle's allergy to dogs. Our hosts' large dog is an integral part of their family activities. Sleeping in the van accommodated everyone very nicely. I went into the house to take care of my morning routine and the dog started barking at me – as if we hadn't been "buddies" the evening before. Short memory, I don't know. He woke the house while I tried to let everyone sleep.

Our host went out and got bagels and lox for us. When I lived in Toledo and we occasionally came up to Detroit, we would often stop for bagels in this town. The gesture was special for that reason alone. Razelle joined us about the time the bagels arrived, but her favorite ones, the garlic bagels, had been left behind accidentally at the bakery. Oh well. There were other flavored holes to eat around, slathered with cream cheese and festooned with lox. We did without the garlicky ones very nicely, thank you, and breakfast was wonderful. Our friend in Beer Sheva even joined us all for breakfast via a video call while we were gathered around the table. Isn't technology amazing nowadays?

I learned from my sister that one of my favorite cousins, Lori, had moved to Detroit recently. I sat at the kitchen table while everyone else ate and searched the Internet for a way to contact her and her husband. I found his place of work, called there and, shortly thereafter, he returned my call. Alas, even though these cousins live and work a mere two or three miles away, they were nowhere nearby. They were out of town and I wouldn't be able to pop over and visit them before heading to Toledo. Ya can't win 'em all.

We went for a ride to see the "gem" of this part of Michigan. We were taken to historic Franklin, MI to see its preserved homes and business district and to visit the Franklin Cider Mill, a fixture since 1837. We saw the old mill wheel in action (but now it is turned by an electric motor instead of flowing water). Apples are in season now and vendors were selling them along with honey and other autumn specialties. The cider-making process can be viewed from start to finish, and hot "donuts" and jugs of cider are for sale. Of course our hosts bought cider and donuts. How could they not?

We bid farewell to our friends around mid-day and headed for Toledo. The sky grew ominously dark as we drove and then the heavens opened up and poured rain upon us heavily for the first time in weeks. I'd have to go back through the blog, but I don't think we've used the wipers this intensely since way back in Arizona. At one point I noticed a suspiciously narrow funnel-shaped cloud. I directed Razelle's attention to it, and we stared at it intently. I relaxed a little when I realized it was not swirling, so it wasn't a tornado.

The drive to Toledo takes only an hour roughly and the rain stopped before we crossed the state line to enter Ohio, our 18th state. This is the state of my birth and the state I'd lived in longer than any other. The moment we crossed the state line I had a sense of exhilaration. I had circled the planet (three quarters of it anyway) to get back to my beginnings, and a sense of "journey's end" came over me. Memories flooded in. Even though I was here a little less than a year ago – and often enough during the past several years – this time felt special. Those visits were obligatory business, dealing with my mother's declining circumstances, and I had come solo each time. They were not "fun" visits. This time Razelle and I were arriving here as part of a grand adventure. I was optimistic that we could make this visit into a wonderful reunion with family and friends and the places that formed me as I grew up here. I was also grateful that I hadn't needed to take a short-cut to Toledo at any time during this journey to reach my mother. She has hung on until we could visit her according to the itinerary I'd hoped to follow, and was still following successfully.

The expressway took us right to my old neighborhood. As I got off the exit ramp I saw a man my age holding up a sign stating that he had no job and needed money. I wondered if we'd gone to school together. Here I was, traveling the world, while a conjectured classmate who had lived his life here and had probably fallen on hard times only recently along with so many other residents of this country, was begging by the side of the road. The irony struck me. I never would have dreamed that our respective fates would have been reversed like this. I did not recognize the guy, and perhaps never knew him, but the realization that I was very fortunate was embodied in that moment.

I showed Razelle around my old neighborhood, and drove past the house my mother last lived in and where we all grew up. My horse chestnut tree was gone. I knew to expect this and wasn't disturbed by the void in the lawn where the stately tree I'd planted from seed had once been. I pointed out to Razelle homes of friends and I related all kinds of stories to her from my formative years living here before I had left for Israel to live there for good.

We reached Miriam and Ivan's place and were warmly greeted by Miriam. She showed me her herb garden and the last flowers of the season to still be blooming before autumn weather sets in. Then we went inside. Razelle and Miriam had not seen each other since Maayan's wedding, and Razelle hadn't been to this house since 1993. They went shopping together to catch up on old times and to take advantage of all the coupons Miriam had saved up for the occasion. There were some amazing bargains to be had with these in hand. What better way is there for two women to get reacquainted that to go bargain hunting together? I stayed behind to try to catch up with blog writing and making arrangements to visit people during the brief number of days we were going to be here.

Ivan came home from his studio and we got reacquainted and talked about our trip while Shabbat dinner was being prepared. Isaac was due to arrive from Dayton for dinner, but he arrived later on after we had already begun. We had soup, roast beef and potatoes specially prepared by Miriam the way our mother used to make it and cucumber salad. Miriam is very conscientious about what she eats, and follows Ivan's lead in eating healthy choices. Isaac arrived from Dayton and we talked at length about our lives in Israel and about our trip and about the idiosyncrasies of his job in Dayton. These reminded Razelle of parallel stories from my army service, which she insisted I tell.

The hour grew late and bedtime arrived for all of us. Razelle and I climbed the stairs to go to bed. There were two separate beds in the room which we couldn't push together because of the shape of the room. We didn't mind. We called it a day and went to sleep. We had traveled perhaps the shortest distance between destinations in one day, but we had filled this day with experiences that made counting miles entirely insignificant.

Michigan day 1

September 8

We awoke in the Marquette, MI Walmart parking lot ahead of the sun today, with a sense that autumn is not far away. The temperature was in the mid-40s F (below 10° C). Our morning routine at Walmart is familiar to us by now. We got underway without much fanfare. While inside this Walmart, I passed a stand of pink lemonade for a dollar a bottle so I bought four of these to justify being in there; a great price, but a disappointing product, once we tasted it.

We drove back to Ishpeming, MI to see the synagogue, Temple Beth Shalom. There was a time when Jews lived up here in greater numbers than they do now. They contributed to the timber and mining industries by supplying goods and services. The Getz and Cohodas families were and still are important names in the Marquette area, according to background material I had read before we arrived here.


The synagogue is located at the end of a quiet street. It has lovely stained-glass windows. It was too early in the morning to find anyone there, but just standing before an active Jewish house of worship in these remote surroundings was enough to make this stop worthwhile for me.

We drove to Munising, MI and stopped at the Hiawatha National Forest Visitor Information Center. They had some very useful nature guides and literature that I would have loved to have owned were I stilling living in the US (but don't) and some nice souvenirs. One I particularly wanted to buy, if only they had had the right size and color, was a T-shirt with the printed slogan "May the Forest be With You." Tourist season officially ended with the passing of Labor Day. Their inventory was allowed to run out around now because so few visitors are expected until next spring. The ranger informed us that a survey just taken of these trees had produced a fall-color-change index of 10% among them already, this far north. We are looking forward to seeing fall colors in the northeastern US by the time we get there in October. This information brightened our prospects of seeing them.

We took a local road in the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore through dense forest to Miner's Castle on the shore of Lake Superior. Razelle was impressed by the view, particularly by the fact that the far shore of Lake Superior was much too far away to be seen. The "pictured" cliff faces along the shore did not impress her as much.

We considered visiting another worthwhile natural wonder while we were up in the Upper Peninsula, but because it would involve too much walking for Razelle, we dropped Tahquamenon Falls from our itinerary. Instead we headed straight to the Straits of Mackinac to see a man-made wonder: Mackinac Bridge. We paused at a scenic overlook beside the bridge with views of Lake Michigan, the Straits, and Lake Huron in the distance. At this overlook we encountered a couple my age and the man was wearing a "Mud Hens" baseball cap. I told him I had once lived in Toledo, Ohio (home of this baseball team) before even asking if he had come from there himself. He had. It seemed serendipitous to me to have met a fellow Toledoan a day before I expected to reach that important intermediate goal. They were impressed by our account of our round-the-world travels so far. We talked about Toledo nostalgically for a short while, then shook hands and parted.

Before crossing the bridge we took a few moments to visit the Father Marquette National Memorial. A number of informative panels are mounted here along a landscaped walkway; these put his life and achievements into perspective. An open-air roofed structure with a tall stylized cross on top was the centerpiece of this memorial.

As we crossed the Mackinac Bridge into the Lower Peninsula of Michigan, we had a sense of crossing a threshold from the western US we had spent so many, many days touring, to the eastern US that now awaited our own exploration. We hadn't crossed any state lines; we hadn't crossed any time-zones; we had simply exited one geographical mindset to enter another.

Although we may now have crossed a mental threshold, according to our GPS, we still had a long ride ahead of us before we reached our destination in the northern suburbs of Detroit five hours away, give or take. We pushed ourselves to cover the distance. We stopped for coffee and gas in Standish, MI, at a gas station and café that had much to be embarrassed about. I needed a cup of coffee to stay alert. The coffee in the pot on the hotplate was old and stale, but I asked to have it instead of the fresh pot the owner was just getting around to preparing – there's nothing like yucky coffee to keep ones eyes propped open! She didn't believe I was sincere, but I was, so she gave me the coffee for free. It did the trick. I drove on well after sunset all the way to Detroit without fatigue (and without heartburn either). We listened to a live radio broadcast of President Obama addressing Congress about his plan to create jobs for the unemployed. This kept our attention focused on something other than the endless miles of Lower Michigan we had left. After his speech we heard a call-in radio talk show, where listeners commented on how they perceived his speech – so much consternation, so little contemplation in this heartland of America.

The lights of heavy municipal traffic dazzled me. A light drizzle made peering through the windshield even more challenging. I was glad to finally pull up at our hosts home when we did. This day comprised 10 hours of driving; the longest haul we've pulled on this entire trip, I think. Our hosts made sure we found their home. They guided us in with flashlights.

These are the parents of a woman we know in Beer Sheva. When they were visiting her we got to know them and bonded with them. They knew of our travel plans and were eager to host us, were we to be in Detroit. When we realized we would be including Detroit in our itinerary after all, we called them. The invitation was absolutely sincere, and here we were. Their son was also there when we arrived. His fiancé visited with us briefly before she had to leave. They also have a dog (Razelle is allergic to most dogs). The reunion was warm and sincere and their son prepared his special toasted-cheese concoction for us before leaving for his own home.

Then, because we'd had a long and exhausting day, we bid them good night and went to bed in the van (because of the dog this was the best arrangement, and besides, we liked sleeping out there by now. Our van's electric hook up went through a driveway light fixture, but I was able to unscrew the bulb and still benefit from the current that charged my laptop and phone overnight. We slept soundly and securely in the driveway of these, our friends.