A Pocket of Resistance: The Adventure Continues, part III

Remo, Remo Williams, as the Hash House Harriers say, “On, On!”

Today was definitely a new phase of my excellent adventure. Martha, Joe, and i rose a bit late. This could be a product of operating on different time zones, but i suspect that the three of us staying up until nearly 2:00 a.m. EST might have had some impact on rising around 7:30 a.m.

But then, we went to work. It is bittersweet and sometimes a conflict among common sense, practicality, emotions, a desire to preserve history, and a concern about destroying things you can never retrieve.

But  my brother, sister, and i persevered with humor, great memories, and a sense of balance we could not achieved tackling this task alone.

i was continually awed at the history, of my family, of the history denoted from as far back as the early 1800’s, of Lebanon, Tennessee, and connections to regions of the country i didn’t even know was connected to my family.

The evening is moving toward dinner with Martha and Todd’s son and his family. Tommy and Abby Duff have three daughters, and the youngest, Allie, is a almost-three delight of smiles.

We will chill for the evening, and tomorrow, we will go at it again. It looks like it will three more full days.

But it’s fun Remo, and no karate is involved…yet.

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A Pocket of Resistance: The Adventure Continues, Part II

i don’t think Remo had to deal with this.

No nap:

The one-year old across the aisle does not like flying and intends for someone in Zimbabwe to listen to her complaints.

The speakers of some unrecognizable foreign tongue are trying to talk to their homeland because they are speaking as loudly as possible. It is much like a very bad version of a Saturday Night Live skit with Steve Martin, Dan Ackroyd, and Gilda Radner speaking in an unrecognizable foreign tongue.

They finally served me my merlot but even it did not help in actually effecting a nap.

Less than an hour to go. Hold on, Remo. Joe, i’m on my way.

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A Pocket of Resistance: The Adventure Continues, Part I

Onward Remo, onward.

The flight left on time. It’s not full. i have mixed emotions about that. Having an empty seat in the middle of the cram seats is a much better way to fly but it also could mean this non-stop between San Diego and Nashville could be in jeopardy. Several years ago, there were three, even four non-stops each way on Southwest, the only airline with such service. Now there is just one. Pretty soon, we’ll have a stop, if not a plane change, in Las Vegas, Phoenix, Houston, St. Louis, or even Midway (Chicago’s second airport).

How some ever, the overcast in San Diego has wrought seatbelts fastened for most of the flight through our current position (i’m guessing, this is somewhere over Arizona). Flight drink service and those wonderful peanuts, itty bitty pretzels, and some other plastic snacks, in addition to my merlot must wait.

i normally look out the window to look at the vastness of the western part of our country, but it is just grey and more grey today.

i think it’s time for an adventurer’s nap, Remo.

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