IPhones Used For Everything But a Phone

Music, check. GPS navigation, check. Restaurant finder, check. GPS for geocaching, check. Postcards, check. Baseball game audio, check. All that just by plugging my iPhone into the car power adapter. How did we travel around the country three years ago without our iPhones?
Seriously though, on our drive through the plains states this July, we found our iPhones indispensable, and we rarely used them to make phone calls. We used them continuously while driving for a multitude of other needs, well ‘nice-to-haves’, but they certainly made traveling more efficient.

We got into the car in Topeka and first things first, plugged in both iPhones to the power adapter (real-time GPS drains the battery quickly). Then we entered our destination— in this case a coffee house in Nebraska City. I think I even heard my iPhone mutter, ‘Really, I can find you coffee closer than a 2 ½ hours drive’ Next, audio of choice—in the morning, the iPod, so also plug in the line-in cable. And we set out on our drive north.

Of course, although I use the camera on the iPhone, I still kept my camera close at hand and as I love maps, I kept the AAA state map open on my lap. AAA maps are far superior to any state maps. Honestly I don’t know why all states don’t start with the AAA map for readability and then add their state ads to the reverse side of the map.

As we started thinking about lunch, we’d use google maps on the iPhone to search for a good sandwich spot. Turns out that ‘sandwich’ isn’t a very good search term to find the type of places we were looking for—a place with homemade bread, or hummus and cucumber or a specialty pita pocket with goat cheese. To find those types of places the keywords ‘café’ and ‘bakery’ proved optimal for us. Even though we were in the heart of cattle country we found fabulous vegetarian sandwiches every day for lunch—like the great veggie sandwich at Amanda’s Bakery and Café in Emporia, Kansas—all by using the iPhone.

Mid-day we might take a break for some geocaching. Again, we’d turn to our iPhone and the geocaching app to locate a nearby cache and set us on our way. Then late in the day, being Red Sox fans, it was time for the ballgame. This was the only disappointment in using the iPhone, primarily because AT&T’s data service is outstandingly poor through the northern plain states. We used the audio on MLB when AT&T was able to keep it streaming to our iPhones (rarely). When AT&T failed (most of the time), I provided my own audio version following the play-by-play. I will certainly never be considered for a spot in the WRKO booth for Red Sox games.

Of course somewhere along the way we’d snap a few ridiculous photos with our iPhones and turn them into postcards to send to our kids at camp using Hazel Mail—an easy and fun way to keep them updated on our whereabouts. We felt a special connection to our iPhone as we were uploading one postcard and were directed to ‘wait patiently.’ Sometimes, we had to be really patient. We uploaded a post card in Hot Springs where AT&T’s data service was very slow. We waited while we sat enjoying sandwiches at the Poet’s Loft. We waited while we strolled down the street. And then we continued to wait for the postcard to upload while we put our wallets and phones in lock boxes before our thermal bath. The last words on the iPhone screen as my husband placed it in the lock box were, “continue waiting patiently.” Then the metal lock box was shut, the box was slid into a metal slot in the middle of a bank of lock boxes, inside an office, inside a stone bathhouse in the middle of Hot Springs, Arkansas which rests in a valley surrounded by hills. I wonder how long the phone tried in vain to reach a signal before muttering to itself, ‘where in the world am I?’

Photos of Prairie Grass

“Take pictures of the grass, mom.” That was my daughter’s suggestion upon hearing I was heading to the plains states. So when I arrived at the Tallgrass Prairie National Reserve, I was thrilled with the expanse of grasses and flowers in all directions to photograph.

The Tallgrass Prairie is a great stop if you are within 100 miles of southeastern Kansas. Call ahead and reserve a tour on the blue bus- a 1 ½ hour interpretative drive with plenty of stops for walking and viewing the prairie up close.

Just a taste of the prairie life we saw:


Prairie Coneflower


Banded Lizard








Dickcissel on False Indigo

Yarrow







The soil here has limestone just below the surface, so with the shallow topsoil this area wasn’t suited to farming. Consequently, grazing continued here and the Nature Conservancy has been able to purchase this land. Through careful management the Nature Conservancy is restoring the land to how it may have appeared before ranchers settled the area. That includes the introduction of Buffalo, which is planned in the coming year.

And if you’re looking for a fabulous homemade sandwich on your way to or from the Prairie, stop in Amanda’s Bakery and Café in Emporia Kansas.

Tollbooth dollar bill changer

Having underestimated our driving time from Hot Springs, Arkansas to Catoosa, Oklahoma to see the big blue whale on Route 66, we were racing the sun to get to the whale before dusk. Actually, there is no true dusk here on the plains, just sunset. In any case, a quick dinner was in order so we decided to try a Sonic drive-in as we’d being seeing Sonics in every town we drove through. With temperatures near 100-degrees, we were feeling like we knew what a Sonic was all about as we drove to the far side to park in the shade. But then we looked like neophytes when the condiment attendant came up to the car and we went to take her entire tray from her thinking it was our dinner. Some dinner that would have been—a 100 mini packets of ketchup, mustard and mayo! So from bath attendants in Hot Springs to condiment attendants at a Sonic somewhere near Oklahoma, we were feeling very well attended on our trip along the girth of the country.

That is, until we got to the tollbooths in Oklahoma. We are no strangers to toll booths, being from back east, but one particular tollbooth was like none we had ever encountered. Sure we understand that PikePass holders should receive preferential treatment, get the fast lanes without any encumbrance even if that means that toll payers are sent to a single lane off to the right of the highway. And certainly many toll plazas have an exact change lane, coin only. But this was the first plaza we’d ever seen that not only required exact change, but also had no attendant to make change. Instead there was a dollar bill changer at the toll booth!

With the sun sinking close to the horizon, we attempted to quickly feed a worn bill into the changer machine. No luck; not accepted. I doubled checked for quarters in my purse. Having just put in $3 worth of quarters into parking meters in Hot Springs, I was down to only 3 quarters. One option: drop in the 3 we had and drive on through. Like good citizens wanting to avoid a huge rental car fine, we continued scouring for quarters, the sun sinking lower like a second hand ticking onward. Being in a rush never helps a search. Fortunately no one came up behind us as we frenetically continued searching for one more quarter. Finally a fourth quarter materialized at the bottom of our day bag and we were on our way.

We pulled up the big blue whale just as the soon tipped the horizon—enough light to appreciate what water playground this must have been in its heyday. The whale sports a gaping walk-in mouth, two slides out either side, lots of room for running through and even an upper observatory. To be a kid here when the water was clear would have been a treat on a hot summer day like today. Admiring the ingenuity of the whale playground creator at sunset was a great treat today.

Laughing in a Thermal Water Bathhouse

I started laughing uncontrollably while bathing in a porcelain tub filled with thermal mineral waters of the hot springs; the whirlpool bubbles, meant to be relaxing, only increased my laughter. Enjoyable? Quite. What was particularly humorous was that while I bathed in the ladies bath, my husband, who dislikes whirlpools and doesn’t really have a hankering for spas, had taken his loofa mitt and headed off to the men’s traditional bath. Plus here we were on a 100-degree day in Hot Springs Arkansas, sitting in HOT water!

My laughter bubbled forth with even more gusto, as I sat in the vapor cabinet. Literally a metal cabinet with just my neck sticking out, hot steam encasing my entire body. Rivulets of sweat poured down my back and arms. I was even hotter now than I had been walking along the promenade above bathhouse row in the noonday sun.

Between each bathing element (tub bath, sitz bath, vapor cabinet, hot packs and needle shower), my bathing attendant BJ would tell me to “stand with your back to me, arms up,” and I was swathed in a full-length sheet wrapped around me like a toga. At $30 including the loofa mitt for an hour traditional thermal bathing experience, the Buckstaff Experience is a good value. Hey, and if you can’t picture your husband at a spa, bring him along too and you’ll get in a healthy dose of laughter.

All laughter and thoughts left my mind as I lay with thermal water hot packs on my back and limbs, a cool clothe on my forehead. Here I could fall asleep. And my last thought before I drifted into a semi-doze was that perhaps my husband too would get in a short nap before we headed out of Arkansas and on to points west.

Little Rock, Arkansas-- full of nice surprises

We started our totally excellent adventure to see a few more states we haven’t visited by flying to Arkansas via Memphis, home of Elvis, the recently deposed king of dead pop stars. There we noted that the restrooms in the airport were marked as Severe Weather Shelters—our first reminder that we were in tornado alley. A second short flight and we arrived in Little Rock—our first visit to Arkansas.

Little Rock surprised us—we didn’t expect to find so much to do or find the city so appealing. However, the highlight was the Robinwood Bed and Breakfast. We have stayed at many bed and breakfasts and this one was outstanding in every measure! The hosts, Karen and Miriam, are fabulously welcoming while still providing us with ample privacy.

Another surprise—the accents we heard were quite mild and in some cases non-existent —no strong southern drawls here. In addition Little Rock hasn’t been hit hard by the recession. Their housing market was never driven up to unsupportable rates, so there hasn’t been a huge downturn. With beautiful, architecturally mixed neighborhoods minutes from downtown, Little Rock is a very pleasant place to live. Our hosts told us about their neighborhood progressive dinners. It turns out that the governor’s mansion is right in the neighborhood, so the current governor is invited and attends the dinners! Apparently he is well-liked, as was Clinton. Huckabee turns out wasn’t much of a neighbor and few, if any, compliments were made of his administration by our hosts.

From the free parking lots to the proximity of the residential area to the small main street, Little Rock is more like a small town than a capital city. After getting nourishment (we are three meal a day travelers regardless of where we are visiting), we toured the Clinton Presidential Library. Okay, not everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s a really cool building architecturally and perhaps my photo of the replica of the Oval Office can pass as the real thing. The letters to and from the Clinton’s were particularly cool—inspired me to start writing to the White House occupants and who knows, maybe my letters will show up in a future presidential library.

One great way to get to know a city is through geocaches. So we set off in search of our first (and as it turned out, only) geocache in Arkansas. Having arrived from the rain-drenched northeast we were eager to dry out walking in 100 degree sunshine. Apparently, the locals didn’t see the appeal in walking in the heat and we had the route to ourselves.

Once we had replaced rain moisture with sweat moisture, we made our first daily stop for a milkshake and headed to visit the Little Rock Nine National Historic Site. This NHS is across from Central High School where the nine black students attended in 1957 in an effort to initiate desegregation in Little Rock. I was particularly moved by the comments of one of the parents of the black students, sending their children into a hateful environment on a daily basis. One student recalled how her parents had told her to keep her emotions in check and not to take the taunts personally; it wasn’t about her, it was about race. How hard for the parents to take such stand in order to better the education of all of the children who would follow in the footsteps of these brave first few.

Tomorrow on to Hot Springs to continue our tour of this very appealing state.

Ancestry Map

Need to capture your ancestry visually in a small space? Here is an ancestry map that I created as a 5”x7” rectangle which shows the names, dates of immigration and countries of origin for 4 family lines each going back 4 generations. Five, six or more generations can be accommodated depending on the length of surnames.



Key:
Green: Mother’s maternal ancestors
Red: Mother’s paternal ancestors
Black: Father’s maternal ancestors
Blue: Father’s paternal ancestors
Script Font: Country of birth
Regular Font: Family name of ancestor and date of immigration
Font Size: Largest fonts represent parents, fonts decrease in size for prior generations

I then arranged the names and places artistically rather than chronologically. If a last name is taken by a spouse at marriage (common in many English –speaking countries historically) then I didn’t repeat the name. Similarly, for Spanish surnames, to allow for space, I didn’t repeat the paternal surnames. This greatly reduces the number of names that need to be included and allows more names to be readable.

Similarly I didn’t repeat countries of birth. I included the name of any country in which at least one of my ancestors was born, but I only included each country once, even if 4 great great grandparents and 2 grandparents were born there. To visually identify that multiple families originated in a particular country, I used more than one color in the country’s name. For instance, to show that my mother’s dad and my father’s dad came from Italy, I would write Italy with both blue and red font. I adjusted this technique to show balance in the numbers of ancestors coming from multiple family branches. For instance, if many of my father’s maternal ancestors came from Russia and one of my mother’s paternal ancestors came from Russia, then I might write Russia all in black with just one letter red.

I also included the dates of immigration to our current country of residence. The dates next to the names in the generic ancestry map shown here, correspond to the year that name or branch of the family immigrated; they are not meant to represent the date for that particular individual. In the case of many ancestors having come to your country a long time ago, many of the names would include dates. On the other extreme, if your parents were born abroad and you immigrated to your country then none of the names shown would have dates included. In such a case, I would include the date of immigration in a large font prominently in the center of the map.

Modify and adjust to suit your family’s structure. Country names, immigration dates, surnames can all be adjusted in color, type and size to reflect a multitude of ancestry information. Perhaps you want to include common first names or employment industry or number of siblings. Select the attributes that are most important for your family and then modify the fonts to reflect those attributes.

My daughters suggested increasing the transparency as you travel back in time through the names, so that the great great great grandparents names would be quite faded. Just beware of attempting to capture too much information as having more than 4 or 5 attributes may only serve to overwhelm and confuse whoever is reading your ancestry map.

Weaving Blind

A myriad of blues cascades along the warp on one loom like a mountain stream. Reds and golds glow like a summer sunset on an adjacent loom. Each loom tells a different story, just as each weaver has his or her own story to share. The weavers at these looms aren’t drawn to the vibrant colors and may not even be able to imagine the colors they create as they move their shuttles back and forth through the shed. Each of the weavers in this small room is blind or significantly visually impaired.

Louise sits in front of the cascade of blues, looking at her weaving and seeming to ponder her work. Yet Louise isn’t seeing the loom as most people would. After being oxygen deprived at birth, Louise’s eyesight slowly dimmed until she became totally blind. She still has memory of color, so as her warp is described to her she has some inkling of what the colors convey. But it is her tactile view of the warp that is most expressive. Changing the shed and passing her shuttle across the warp, she senses that she’s caught a thread. She carefully feels the edge with her agile fingers. Watching, I cannot see a mistake. When I tell her so, she asks for my hand and then moves my hand to the offending thread. By touch the minute error is quite evident. Louise carefully undoes the caught thread and continues weaving.

At the loom in front of Louise sits Janette who has been blind since birth. She too carefully passes her shuttle back and forth, creating beautiful straight edges and beating a very consistent fabric. In front of Janette, sits Carmen who has been blind for 5 years and is working at such a frenetic pace she cannot stop for any interruption. Her shuttle flies back and forth, back and forth, pausing only long enough for the briefest of beatings.

Then someone calls out, “I need a leg.” I need a leg? Doesn’t sound like a typical request from a blind weaver. This request has come from Pauline. Pauline is 97 years old—nearly 98 she’ll happily announce, and is legally blind from macular degeneration. Her 97 plus years don’t give her quite the strength and agility to release the warp and bring it forward. The rapidity with which her ‘need a leg’ requests are made, indicate just how quickly she is weaving.
So how do all of these talented blind weavers get the warps on their looms? Frances Curran is the creative director of the New Hartford Artisans Weaving Center. She designs the palettes for the warps for each loom and with the support of many local weaving volunteers the looms are carefully prepared. After the fabric is woven, volunteers finish the pieces, creating beautiful scarves, ponchos and bags, which are sold to help support the center.

As I depart the weaving center, the non-stop, interspersed clink of the heddles fill the room. Knobby hands reach out to feel the texture of the threads in the warp and weft. Even the scent of the fibers is alive in this small room as the weavers beat their threads, each to his or her own drummer.