Baymont Inn & Suites was a Nice Stay Off the Beaten Path Near DuPont and I-69

I needed a break. A break from my job, and also a break from the mundane tasks of doing dishes, cleaning floors, and washing bedsheets. Spring is popping out prettily here, and I really enjoy looking at all the beautiful blossoms coming out everywhere. Magnolias, redbuds, tulips, vinca, etc., are here for our viewing pleasure.

But there's also a bit of craziness that has been going on. The transition from cold to warm earth causes so many changes. Pollen erupts from plants, river water warms up, bugs hatch out. We are biological beings and we feel the tug of earth's forces. Sometimes there are some rough patches along the way, just as there are cracks in the roads and new potholes.

I chopped out old landscaping. I uncovered, then handled baby bunnies while doing so, and put them back in the nest. I shoveled mulch. And then, I just wanted a break, from worrying, caregiving, solving problems and doing chores.

So, I did this thing I do every few years - I booked a hotel room just for myself, to have some quiet "me" time. For me, the site has to have a pool so I can swim a little - it loosens up my sore hip that occurs when I stand at work too much. Bike riding and floor stretching are good for me, but somehow nothing helps like doing strokes in a pool.

So, I looked at prices online for nearby hotels, and chose the Baymont Inn & Suites at 2881 Dupont Road. By looking at websites, I found a price below the posted rate and called the local number for the hotel. Some of these prices really don't work or they require more than a one-night stay, or joining a plan, or meeting some other special conditions. The staff person was kind and helped me find a matching rate I could live with. I also asked for a AARP member discount, and there are many point systems, AAA deals, and other promotions available if you work at it. The site not having a lot of bookings for a Sunday night (the hotel was pretty empty) helped too.

One side of the hotel, the east side, is pretty close to Interstate 69, so I was afraid it might be noisy. But, luckily I was booked on the west side of the hotel, and it was surprisingly quiet. My room looked out onto what I believe is an office park, and there were no office workers there Sunday night. The room was small, clean, and tasteful. The shower was easily ergonomically accessible and the small fridge was cold. The in-room coffee maker worked. The bed was firm yet very comfortable. I was happy.

The person with whom I made the reservation told me the pool had recently been redone, and I was not disappointed. Windows let in natural light, and although small, the pool had lovely blue tile and seemed very clean and clear. I liked it. The water was a little cool but not bad - swimmers who are really trying to get a workout will tell you they don't want lukewarm water. I was by myself, which was fortunate - after hearing lawnmowers running all weekend and kids screaming in the neighborhood, I wouldn't have liked a ton of splashing and noise in the pool.

And then - it was back to my room for a little HBO and Game of Thrones. I like seeing the repeats of previous weeks' episodes before the new show - I always seemed to have missed something. This is really "wind down" time for me. I don't know all the details of all the stories, but after a few years, the main characters are like soap opera friends of mine - Jamie, John Snow, Cersei, Brienne, Arya, Stansa, Daenerys and Tyrion could almost all be drinking buddies of mine.

I enjoyed the GOT episode - I'm tempted to say something more specific but I've been warned by friends so no spoilers here. The hotel was quiet through the night. Breakfast was pretty standard yet perfectly suitable - the usual - cereals, sweets, breads, yogurts, eggs, sausage, a waffle maker, juices - all perfectly fine. I liked the paper flowers and decorations in the dining room, and realized it had just been Cinco de Mayo, so maybe that's why.

What I didn't like - the parking lot and bushes outside were pretty dirty. Trash scattered around, also it looked like people had dumped their car ashtrays with cigarette butts on the ground. No thank you. Perhaps the lot gets a little dirtier because of its proximity to the highway. But the staff were nice, and helpful, the pool clean and relaxing, the bed comfortable, the room quiet, and the brief stay did me a lot of good. It's a 'thumbs up' from me.

Wild Turkeys Simply Thrill Me

I get so excited when I see a flock of wild turkeys. Near Fort Wayne, in rural areas, it's not uncommon to see them in fields or crossing roads. This time of year --the spring, they seem very distracted, as big toms display for the females. Feathers and tails are all puffed out, bald blue heads, red wattles (under the chin) and snoods (over the head) are highly visible. Passing cars seem to barely excite the birds' attention.

During the times of Native Americans, before the push of "white" settlers, Eastern wild turkeys were spread across much of what is now the Midwest United States. They commonly lived in forests, and lost habitat when trees were cleared. Settlers hunted them voraciously, and wild turkeys basically disappeared from areas except for the Ozarks, the Appalachias, and swampland in the South.

From 1956 to 1979, over 200 turkeys were trapped in other places and released mostly in southern Indiana forests, in as many as 17 locations. By 1979, officials thought there were enough turkeys to allow hunting in 19 counties, and 48 birds were harvested in a 12-day season.

In the 1980's, over 1700 turkeys were released in Indiana at 112 sites. Up until present day, over 2700 turkeys have been released in 185 sites and the gobblers reside in 89 of Indiana's 92 counties. The population supports an enthusiastic hunting base, although the smart and wary turkeys sometimes prove to be a hard bird to take out. If they take off in flight, turkeys can fly as far as a mile and roost in trees. It's believed there may now be as many as 120,00 wild turkeys in Indiana.

Turkeys eat insects, berries, green leaves, acorns, seeds, and grain. They also swallow gritty material to help grind their food. In late winter, turkey flocks divide into different groups- hens in one group, young toms in another group and old gobblers in another. Adult males only grow the bristled black beard that hangs from the front center of their breasts. The bearded ones select a territory for their harems and defend it from any competitors. In the mornings, the old toms vocalize, calling to and courting as many hens as they can lure away from their neighbors' groups. These courting dances go on from roughly February to May. Male turkeys not only have talons, but also sharp spurs on the backs of their legs near the feet, which they can use in bloody fights against their rivals.

Hens create haphazard, yet well covered nests on the ground, and lay seven to 20 eggs, averaging usually around a dozen. Pinkish-brown chicks hatch to live and feed on the ground, and aren't able to fly until they're about a month old. Family groups eventually congregate into larger flocks that all feed, rest and roost together. Turkeys can run as fast as 25 mph and fly at speeds of nearly 55 mph. Who knew? I'm even more impressed.

I'm a little amazed at the numbers of wild turkeys that are harvested. The IN DNR reported as many as 12,000 have been bagged in a single year. It's incredible considering the birds' keen eyesight and hearing. A shooter has to remain virtually motionless. Numbers collected in Michigan are even higher - as many as 30,000 a year. The record was 42,000 in 2008, according to the Michigan DNR. That's a lot of turkey dinner. But only about one in five hunters actually bring in a turkey - it's that challenging.

It's debated as to whether Benjamin Franklin actually ever proposed to the Continental Congress that the wild turkey be named as the symbolic avian of our country. But Ben continues to seem wise over time - turkeys have come back and flourished, while bald eagles have sadly struggled with habitat loss and human population. Some folk even resent eagles' tendency to scavenge garbage dumps and drop unwanted waste from these in neighborhoods. But both the eagle and the turkey have their place, and just maybe old Ben was really on to something. I wish I had a turkey for a friend. I'm infatuated.

Ben is Back has Lessons for All of Us

Life can be sweetly peaceful in Indiana. Or in an instant, it can become very turbulent. Things can change quickly. We are so complicated, so flawed as human beings. We can be both so good and so bad, all at once.

I like to see the current movies, and I go to the local cinemas to see those I'm really interested in, or those I think would best be seen on a big screen. With that in mind, I saw Bohemian Rhapsody, A Star is Born, Mary Queen of Scots, Vice, and Black KKlansman at the theater. It's been years since I've been to the movies that often, but I think for me this was a particularly good string of films.

Others I will watch by streaming or downloading on my device, or pick up at a Redbox. A few that come to mind are The Favourite, The Wife, and Green Book. One movie had not been on my radar screen - Ben is Back. After a year of good movies, this one seemed to be hiding in the shadows. I got around to choosing it, and I was so glad I did.

I didn't know beforehand what the movie was about, and it's probably good I had no expectations. The story was written and the movie was directed by Peter Hedges, who did a good job combining suspenseful action storytelling with thorough, slow character development. One doesn't always see those two things together in the same movie. In a strange twist, the writer/director's own son is cast as the lead in the movie, reportedly at the insistence of star Julia Roberts (good call fighting for him, woman). Lucas Hedges is a brilliant actor, and I'll never forget him breaking out as the son who lost his father in Manchester by the Sea.

This story is a tale of narcotics addiction, recovery, and relapse. It's about the vicious cycle of the hold chemicals place on our brains. Many of us quickly become powerless to the substances. Our minds, our bodies crave them and the struggle becomes an all out fight for death and life with families destroyed, property stolen, bodies withered and well-being shattered. It is a tale told in every city, every small town, every barrio and every hamlet across the United States today, as we all know.

The writer did a good job with the dialogue in this film. The old 12-step recovery program, even if flawed, is one of the tried-and-true systems still working after all these years (it was started by a doctor and a businessman in Akron, OH in 1935). Lay people get to see it work on the television comedy show Mom and reality shows such as Intervention. In Ben is Back, the Serenity Prayer is used at a recovery meeting, as is the phrase "it works if you work it," meaning in part, just keep coming back.

The movie keeps one's attention - the lies told by addicts, to themselves and to others. When is Ben telling the truth and when is he not? And the enabling and lying of one's loved ones - the bargaining, the begging, excuses, rationalization. It plays out so well in this story. Julia gives a stellar performance here - perhaps her best work since Erin Brocovitch. I guess I find a little fault here in that even with her first-rate performance in this tale, I find I never really forget I'm looking at the familiar and famous JR - she doesn't totally disappear into the character. Maybe that's just my flaw, my bad.

Peter Hedges brings a reality and a special humor to this story that does seem to be a reflection of real life. For example, even as a fellow addict is trying to beat the crap out of Ben, he still takes a moment to look at Ben's mom and defer nicely: "I'm sorry, Mrs. B." She looks at him and says, "Spencer?" He says, "I go by Spider now." She says, "You look terrible!", not hiding her disgust.

The blended family is so real - the mom wonders if the breakup of her first marriage caused her son to spiral into addiction. She flagellates herself - what was it that she did wrong? But the son bluntly says it wasn't about that, he didn't need a dad - or at least, not that dad. The second husband has paid for multiple rehab sessions and had taken out a second mortgage on the house to pay for the last one. There is a mention of white and wealthy privilege - poor folks die more because rehab and health care is so expensive. There is discussion about the pharmaceutical industry and doctors, and all the political and social issues that play into the current crisis.

But somehow, nothing is as powerful as a great story, and a great storyline, well told. I haven't even mentioned Ponce the dog yet - also an important character. I won't spoil the story for you - you just need to see it for yourself. Peace be with you. Take it a day at a time.

Indy's USS Indianapolis Memorial Reminds Citizens of the Heroic Sacrifices of our Service Men and Women

Along the gentle waterway in the White River State Park, downtown Indianapolis, are walkways, sights and places to play. Modestly set along the path is an unobtrusive monument that could easily be overlooked if a person wasn't paying attention. Located on the east bank of the central canal, north end of the beautiful three-mile long Canal Walk, this ship-shaped memorial was designed by Joseph Fischer and installed in 1995.

Gray and black granite provide the palette for an etched account of the ship's story, and the names of its 1200 sailors are listed on its opposite side. After this giant navy cruiser was sunk in 1945 during WWII, only 317 crew members survived. I haven't shown it in my photographs above - rather, I've chosen to highlight the views around it - the very modern playground and a view down the canal.

This heavy cruiser was launched in 1931, served as the flagship of the scouting force, and often served as President Roosevelt's personal ship in WWII. She distinguished herself in many battles, including Aleutian Islands, Gilbert Islands, Marshall Islands, the capture of Guam and Saipan, the capture of Tinian Island, and the capture of Iwo Jima in 1945.

At Okinawa, a suicide Kamakaze plane stuck the ship and caused 38 U.S. casualties. But she is best known for being chosen to stealthily transport the world's first atomic bomb to Tinian in 1945. Afterwards, while motoring from Guam to Leyte, she was struck by two torpedoes launched by a Japanese submarine.

Many books and movies have been written about this dramatic, tragic story. The ship went down in minutes, as she had sailed unprotected without escort and was thus very vulnerable to the sub's attack. Many men were killed immediately by the torpedo strikes and their resulting explosions and fires. It is thought about 900 men went into the water alive, along with a few life boats and PFD's (vests) worn by the men.

The story gets more gruesome and tragic to tell. The waters were shark-infested, and blood in the water probably made their vicious attacks more imminent. Shark strikes went on for five days, until the first rescues finally happened. Even without the horror of the sharks, a majority of the men probably would have died, of thirst, dehydration, starvation, injury and exposure. It was literally hell on earth, at sea.

Heroic rescues began to occur after a bomber crew on routine anti-sub patrol accidentally spotted men in the water. A seaplane was dispatched to assist and a destroyer, under its own authority, diverted its mission at the time to go rescue men in the water. Between first the seaplane, which ditched itself in the water to help, and then the destroyer ship that came, and risked its own safety by shining its searchlights in the sky to beacon other rescue vessels, 317 lives were saved.

I've just touched the surface of this very dramatic story. I can't give it the justice due here. The simple memorial on the Indy canal bank sits peacefully, waiting to be found by city visitors. I don't seek out war memorials as such and their designs vary greatly around the United States. Yet this one makes me proud to be a citizen of the U.S., and a resident of Indiana. Fort Wayne is a great town, and Indianapolis is a terrific choice for a road trip destination from here. I'm no war history buff and I find these stories difficult to think about. Yet, lest we fail to remember -

Bless you, men of the Indianapolis. I'm glad your ship was named for my capitol city. Thank you, families of those men. You as well have made unbelievable sacrifices. I'm so humbled by your toil, and in a small way, proud to tell a small bit of your harrowing tale as well.

Expresso and Coffee are Trending Hot

Working as a barista has been interesting. It was a steep learning curve for me. I went from knowing very little about coffee, and nothing about expresso, to becoming a coffee shop professional. I never had been a Starbucks shop customer, so I went into the job starting from scratch.

It's satisfying to make and hand off a drink. People are so happy to get their beverage. They're tired, they need to wake up, they need some energy - they're willing to wait in line for their expresso or smoothie.

Some customers are intimidated by the terminology. They're not familiar with the names for the drink sizes: tall, grande, and vente. A tall is really a small. I suppose it's called a tall because smaller drinks are called shorts, but we don't serve shorts. We do have 'shots' of expresso, served in shot-size cups, but no 'shorts.' A grande is a medium, and I suppose someone who worked for Starbucks thought it would be good branding to give these cup sizes Italian names. In general, customers seem to be following along with it all.

A vente is the largest cup. At first I didn't know what that meant - maybe I thought vente was "extra-large" in Italian. After looking it up, however, I discovered vente means twenty: hence, a 20-ounce cup. No big secret.

New customers can struggle with what to order. I'm always happy to answer any questions and give out samples when I have them available. There are flavor syrups and sauces that can be added. The sauces are thicker and included things such as mocha, white mocha, pumpkin spice, caramel, maple pecan, etc. Syrups aren't as thick and include flavors such as vanilla, chestnut praline, caramel, hazelnut, peppermint, and toffeenut. So expresso can be combined with any of these flavors in different amounts and sizes. Steamed milk is added to make hot drinks, and chilled milk and/or ice added to make cold drinks. Simple.

So do you want a hot drink or a cold drink? Brewed coffee or expresso? Dairy or soy? Or would you rather have tea, or a fruit smoothie? Strawberry lemonade? Or please don't say it - a frappuccino.

Although they are really popular, I'm not fond of making these frozen drinks. The stuff that goes in them: three pumps of a reconstituted powered expresso mix, supposedly so as not to use hot expresso in a chilled drink. Three pumps of a sticky syrup, and a big pump of sauce flavor: mocha, caramel or whatever. Add whole milk, a cup of ice, and blend. This is all rather labor intensive. Pour in a cold cup and then top with fresh whipped cream and a drizzle. It's a high calorie drink, and I can see the attraction in warm weather, but they're not much fun to make in winter.

Personally, I would rather have a hot tea - I think there's just too much caffeine in the expresso drinks for me. There are so many good tea flavors - every thing from green tea to fruit teas to black tea. I think there are health benefits from tea that shouldn't be overlooked. Antioxidants, aromatic pleasures, add a little honey and lemon - viola!

I admire the folks who order an Americano - iced or hot. For the caffeine punch, it's more economical (more shots of expresso) and has fewer calories (contains no milk or soy). It's more bang for the buck.

For pure flavor, try a chai tea latte. Lots of spices, like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves give chai a lot of depth. Steamed with milk or soy, it's rich, fragrant, and filling. It's certainly one of the pleasanter things to make because of its rich smell.

Coffee is big business these days, and I plan to write more about my barista job and running the coffee shop. It's great when people make time to get together for a good cup of Joe.

Dreams in October

A quiet morning. I sleep so slightly now, awakening to a dull ache in the right hip, or someone's alarm, or the jarring of bodies plodding around. Today I lingered in the sleep one has when one is young - blissful unconsciousness. The long blurry state before awakening, the pleasant dream pulling me back into sweet slumber, a bit of me following the mind's story moments longer.

Not awakening to worry - a tick list of family members and their precarious states flashing into my head. One by one - the rebooting, the reloading, of the caregiver's brain's computer.

Today, though, the old sleep. The sun can not march brightly through the the sky today. Sol veiled in heavy clouds, time is suspended so - it could be any time on the clock with the muted outdoor light, a limbo making the moment stand still. I'm a superhero moving around in a time freeze. I savor this.

When I had very young children, my sleep was yanked away from me. I rose, night after night, to care for them. It was wonderful, precious, to feed them, talk to them, sing them to sleep, lullaby and rock them.

I'm so grateful I could do that.

Now there are no young children. Just sore muscles, a too-full mind, a snoring, uncomfortable bed partner. The gifts of old age and a long life. Grateful I am also for all of these.

But last night - a quiet house. Everyone was away. I find those hidden corners of my mind that usually elude me. Sweet old memories - me on my childhood bicycle, peddling freely. The big old oak tree platform and swing my father built. Lying in green grass and clover fields - looking for the four-leaves as the big purple heads attracted bumblebees. Chasing, or just watching, butterflies. Trying to catch frogs in a pond full of duck weed. Free moments.

Yet, if I stayed in this period of rest, my body would soften, my heart atrophy, my health decline. So I must push myself tomorrow. Stress it, take on the earthly organisms' flight or fright, or fight. My redefinition.

Let me have this moment today, dear universe. I bargain with you, no shame intended, in the age-old way people bargained with God. I won't take you there - you've done it. You know what I mean.

So grateful, so happy, so blessed. It's not my line, but this is now, this is the eternal life. And it is sweet.

The Secrets, the Shame, of Sexual Assault

This is a very different turn for me: the theme of, the tone, and what I enjoy writing about in this blog. But with the contemporary state of politics in our country, the headlines, current events, and our collective mood, I have to add this to the conversation.

I thought things had changed a lot since the time I grew up in the heady '60's and '70's in the Midwestern United States. I think most of us young girls weren't told much about sex, and how we could be objectified, abused, molested, and/or be taken advantage of quite quickly when we stepped out into the world. Most men and boys were good, but it takes only one bad apple to do a lot of damage.

A girl learned quickly if she was experimenting with alcohol, her chances of suffering an attempted sexual assault went up drastically. She was almost "fair pickings." Illegal drug use was widespread, and a common trick was for an older guy to tempt young girls with trying marijuana or some harder drug, then take advantage of a girl while her defenses were down and she was under the influence. This worked well on another level - the girl was less likely to report what happened to a parent or other adult because it made her seem to them like a 'bad girl' for trying drugs. So she probably said nothing in shame.

Often the mistreatment could be much more blatant. Lower on the scale could be when women were 'cat-called', or whistled at, in public. I think often this is more than a show of sexual attraction on the part of a male - it's a power thing over women. A way of dehumanizing, marginalizing, disrespecting. Or the abuse is actually physical. Groping, pinching bottoms in crowds, bars, public places. A thrill, a way of 'getting away with' something. An act to remember and brag about later.

Then there's the taking surreptitious photos or videos of women. Looking through windows, following them. Peeping Toms. Why aren't there Peeping Tinas? So many women have stories. I remember in college there was a common practice at parties of young men making punch bowls full of Everclear alcohol and Koolaid or juice, for the explicit purpose of getting young women intoxicated. Men would look out for each other, and if a guy led a drunk girl up to a secluded bedroom, said guy's friends would stay out of the way and keep the coast clear for him to proceed with an assault.

Then there are stories of Bill Cosby, of all admired and respected people, allegedly drugging dozens of women in order to more easily assault them. Domestic violence exists at incredible levels. In 2017, the CDC reported that more than half of all female homicide victims were killed in connection to intimate partner violence. Black and indigenous women face the highest rates of homicide of all women in the U.S. Hispanic women who are killed, were the most likely to be murdered as the result of partner violence. It's this that accounts for 61 percent of female Hispanic homicides in this country.

How many of us have stories from our own lives, about the women around us? We all know somebody. Someone who was assaulted on a date, accosted by a family member, a trusted family friend or authority figure. A woman close to me, who is now in the military, was severely beaten by a boyfriend who, out of his normal character, took some cocaine and went into a drug-fueled rage. She barely escaped with her life. She's a brave survivor, but she's never been the same.

I write all this to say: if a women comes forward with a story, give her a moment. Don't assume she has an ulterior motive. The decks are stacked against her. There's no joy, no payoff, in sharing this painful information. Listen to her. Give her the floor. Hear her, and allow her to talk. It's the least we can do.