Yellow Roses

Fiddle-Dee-Dee

My garden is in Austin – I’ve been an Austin gardener for years. Why, oh why did I buy this Gardenia jasminoides ‘Veitchii’? I knew it was dumb even before I read ”the infamous gardenia thread”.
So why? Well, for one thing, it was on sale at Red Barn, and cost less than an ugly bouquet at the grocery store. And the plant was already budded, ready to pop. There’s even a chance it’ll live, since a fairly large gardenia shrub grows about 6 blocks from here, blooming on the East side of a brick house. Miss Scarlet made me do it. On June 30th, seventy years had passed since Gone With the Wind hit the bookstores, and I decided to reread the book. Although the romance seemed the same, there were aspects I hadn’t noticed when I was younger. Had Margaret Mitchell always talked so much about the landscape? The pages are full of pine trees, peach trees, apple trees, magnolias, oaks, cedars and dogwoods. People gather on porches, rock on verandas, sit in arbors and stroll in rose gardens. Mockingbirds & jays make noise, while Scarlet passes over lawns made of clover and Bermuda grass, and remarks upon daffodils and jonquils, yellow jessamine, Cherokee roses and violets, blackberry brambles, crab apple trees, honeysuckle, sweet shrubs, hills of sweet potatoes, rows of peas & beans, fields of cotton, palmettos, wistaria, crepe myrtles, bald cypress, live oaks covered in moss, ivy, smilax, moss, and grapevines, coleus, geranium, oleander, hydrangea, elephant ear, rubber plants, nasturtiums, hollyhocks, crimson, yellow & white roses, ferns and gladioli. The young women wear fragrant Cape jessamine & pink tea roses in their hair or pinned at the bodice. Most of these plants summoned some sort of mental image, but ‘Cape Jessamine’ was unfamiliar. This turned out to be another name for Gardenia, loved for scented wrist corsages. So when that sale plant beckoned, to own my own fragrant Cape Jessamine was irresistible.

Gunks Routes: P-38 (5.10b)

(Photo: Past the low crux overhang and into the awkward corner of P-38 (5.10b).)


Gail and I recently got out for a little weekday fun in the Gunks.



We saw little reason to stray too far from the Uberfall. There were lots of people around, to be sure, but nothing approaching the weekend crowds.



The spring weather was delightful and my only big goal for the day was to hit at least one 5.10 from my list. After spending a few pleasant hours in the Frog's Head area we decided it was time. We headed over to P-38 (5.10b). Gail had followed it before but it was years ago. I had never tried it so it was to be an onsight attempt for me.



Sitting as it does within spitting distance of the outhouse known as the "Über Pooper," P-38 is for most climbers a familiar sight. The slanting crack that defines the climb is obvious from the road below.



I wanted to do it because of that crack. I expected it would provide good gear. About the climbing, I guess I knew very little. I thought, not unreasonably, that I was in for a crack climb. But it turned out that there isn't any crack climbing on P-38, which is cool because I'm no good at that anyway!



I was hoping that maybe, just this once, I'd onsight one of these 5.10's. I have not had much luck with getting them clean. Over and over again I've had to work the cruxes a bit, or on some occasions I've even had to back off.



The first hard move on P-38 comes right off the deck, as you attempt to surmount a little overhang that is just over your head as you stand below the climb. There is pro here, and I actually placed two pieces as I stepped up and down, several times, working out the opening move. Eventually, after several reconnaissance missions, checking the gear and making plans, I executed my little sequence and made it up over the little roof.



Success! Maybe I was on my way to victory.



I was surprised by the next few moves. I thought the climb would be sustained and awkward. And it is sort of awkward, but after the opening moves it is really pretty easy up to the crux. There are jugs outside the crack and you can actually wedge your leg into the crack as you move up, providing opportunities to place gear, rest and shake out.



Soon enough I arrived at the crux sequence. You'll know it when you arrive there. There is a delicate step left to a little dish for your toe, and then a couple of thin moves up to a tantalizing ledge, so close but yet so far.



I placed what I thought was a bomber purple Camalot and then made the step left. As I tried to move up I thought about placing more gear but the climbing was pumpy and insecure. I just wanted to move-- the rest stance was in sight-- and so I did, without dealing with any more placements. I moved up once, feeling like I was barely in balance, just holding on. I thought that if I could make one additional move, a high-step to a polished pebble, I would be through the crux.



I was just a move away, but as I tried to get my toe on the pebble I lost the grip and took a fall. It happened suddenly and caught me a little bit off guard. I meant to yell "falling!" But instead in the moment said "take!"



Of course it happened so fast that Gail couldn't take; she just caught me as I took what turned out to be a pretty good whipper. The Camalot held just fine and the fall was totally clean. It is steep there and the gear is a little to the right so there isn't much risk of the rope catching your leg. It is about the best fall you could hope for.



Still I was a little taken aback by how far I fell and as I went back up, onsight already blown, I decided to place more gear before trying the crux again. I ended up getting a higher cam from the rest stance and then, after moving left again, I placed a great red Alien from the delicate position after you step up into the crux sequence. I ended up hanging a couple of times as I placed the additional gear and then, as I got set to try the final crux move again, I took a couple more falls as I rushed it trying to get back to the crux move and then failed at the crux when I tried to repeat the same sequence I used the first time.



Hanging there, I told myself to focus. I had come closer to success on my first try than I had on my subsequent fumbling efforts. I needed to execute my beta to get to the final move, and then try something new. I visualized exactly what I planned to do and then tried to be precise and patient.



And this time it went like butter. I danced up to the final move. Then I switched feet and stepped through up to the polished pebble, and it flowed. It actually felt easy, and I found myself at the rest stance, wishing I'd thought to try the move this way the first time. I came so close to the onsight! One little pebble away from victory.



I seem to find myself saying this every time, but now that I've worked it out I think I can go back and get the redpoint. I remember the whole sequence and I think so long as I'm careful I can climb it without a problem. The only question is whether I will be able to do it while placing the extra gear mid-crux. This gear isn't strictly necessary but I'd like to have it. If I decide to place it the crux will be a little bit harder.



Once the crux is over, P-38 eases off considerably. There is an easy traverse left and then a few 5.8 moves over a bulge to the finish. Some describe this section of the pitch as run out, but I did not find it to be so. I placed a couple of Tricams along the traverse and a nut in a flake right below the sloper holds that take you over the final bulge.



Once up on the finishing ledge, I was surprised to find the traditional belay tree long gone. There is no tree, just a rotting stump, which is obviously not a suitable anchor. I arranged a belay with gear placed between the huge boulders on the ledge, but you could also go to the top and belay from a living tree. The walk-off down the Uberfall is very close if you choose to go all the way to the top. If you belay on the ledge as I did you can use the Radcliffe descent which is right there behind the climb. This was my first time down Radcliffe and it is a little more exposed at a couple of spots than the Uberfall descent.



P-38 is a really good little climb. I will go back to send it. It has two stiff cruxes, one at the opening move and then a harder, more technical crux above. It has some unusual moves for the Gunks, good gear, and it could hardly be more accessible. I am bummed out that I didn't figure it out the first time, but I shall return!

A Horse is a Horse...or Not

Nathan has decided if you can't beat them, join them, and now goes out with me on the weekends to Sixteen Hands. Today I grabbed my real camera and grabbed some shots and we discussed how different the horses are from each other. I didn't know how distinct the "horsenalities" of horses were until I spent time here. They are all unique and all bring their own flavor to the sanctuary. As someone who had a lot of kids, I love this about the sanctuary.



For example, Willow is a deep thinker. She watches what is going on and seems pretty mellow, but she is as strong willed as they come when pressed by something she does not like.



Dakota is Mr Personality, winning over the visitors with his stunning looks and friendliness. I call him Mr Hollywood because I have to fight to get a shot of anyone else when he is around. He is ALL about the camera and will circle around with me to be sure I am taking pictures of only him.



Cherokee is our wise and gentle soul. He is pure, unadulterated love. If I am feeling down for any reason, five seconds with Cherokee is my favorite cure.



Dallas is one half of what I call the Dynamic Duo. He is energy, fun and joy all rolled up into one. Just watching him race down the track makes me smile. He is not really afraid of people so he can be quite pushy at times. He is smart as a whip and curious about everything!



Nova is a classy lady. She is above most of the foolishness that the guys engage in, but can hold her own against them if she needs to. I always imagine after she kicks the guys with all her might, scaring the living daylights out of them, that she walks away disgusted that she had to break a sweat in order to do it.



Most of the horses here have unique "issues", being rescued from abusive or neglectful situations. So they have baggage, just as most of us humans do. They are also able to still show us who they are, when they get to the point where they feel safe and trust us. Again, like most humans. It's a really interesting thing to be a part of that process and I am grateful each day I spend time there and learn more about it.



Living the life in FL!

Windswept Tree

Armchair birding

Female Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius), eating berries from an Eastern Red Cedar (Juniperus virginiana).



As seen from our living room sofa.



Please excuse the dirty window glass. I don't wash the windows, so that the birds won't fly into them. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

I didn't actually know that Sapsuckers ate berries, until I saw this one doing it.

Love Bike!

We stopped by DBC City Bikes (formerly the Dutch Bicycle Company) in Somerville, Mass. to see if they had some bike parts we were after. In the showroom, among many other things we saw this:

Yes, you guessed it: "Love Bike"! Clearly I had to photograph and share such a masterpiece on this magical day created for us by the greeting card industry.

This is the entire bike in its glory.

I imagine the handles next to the seats (love seats?) are for steering. The lovers are meant to share a bell. Magnificent! The Love Bike is for sale, but Dan (owner of DBC City Bikes) cautions that one should view it "as a sculpture," because as a bicycle it is not very efficient. Efficiet schmefficient! Just imagining this beauty rolling along Mass. Ave., taking the lane and being honked at by bewildered drivers, brings a smile to my face.

We saw more fun things at DBC City Bikes, but they can't possibly follow in the footsteps of the Love Bike, so I will report on them later.

I Got the Elbow Blues

(Photo: Elbows.)



Just a week ago last Thursday, I was feeling like I'd settled into a reasonably good place from which to start the season.



There were a bunch of new problems on the "Highball Wall" at Brooklyn Boulders. I love seeing the new problems. I know we are just talking about the gym, and that it isn't a big deal. But I always get a little bit excited when I see a wall full of new routes. Judging from the ridiculous crowds that always surround the new problems, I'm not the only one who feels this way. True to past trends, the newly set wall was utterly mobbed last Thursday.



I jumped in, despite the crowds.



After speeding through many of the easier climbs I was feeling pretty good. I made quick work of a couple of the V5's and then with a little bit of concentrated effort I sent a V6. This was by no means a great accomplishment. Anyone can do it. But for me it was not a trivial thing. All winter long I've been trying to get myself into a new mindset in which I think of every V5 as a climb I will send (as opposed to a project for some other day) and every V6 as a climb I can do with some work (as opposed to a climb reserved for someone better than me).



As I finished the V6 and dropped to the floor I heard an onlooker say "that was awesome." It took a second for it to sink in that this person was talking about me! I wasn't accustomed to hearing such exclamations about me. And it's true, it was a little bit awesome. I'd never scoped out a V6 and put it all together so quickly before. A year or two ago I might have been that same onlooker, thinking the same thing, in effect saying "that looks so hard, it is surely out of my league."



But now with the new mindset I was approaching just about any climb as if I might be able to do it.



And maybe this approach was working.



Or maybe this was just an easy V6.



Afterwards I sat down and watched a very strong climber tackle a V9+. This problem involved a series of long reaches between awful slopers. He'd been working the route for a while and shortly after my victory on the V6 he finally sent the V9+. He was ecstatic about it, and with good reason. The climb looked terribly terribly hard, much too difficult for even my new hard-charging persona to consider attempting.



I listened as he talked to another super-strong climber.



"I must have been here for six hours yesterday," he said. "My tendons feel like they could explode at any moment."



The other climber gave him a concerned look. "Do you use ice?" he asked. "I ice my arms after every hard session."



I wondered if this made sense. I'd read conflicting advice about using ice. In any event I empathized with these super-climbers with the sore tendons, because I was growing more than a little bit worried about my own.



Over the last few months I'd gradually noticed that my elbows seemed to be sore a lot. There would be some pain on the inside (medial) edge of both elbows when I warmed up, and then the soreness would go away while I climbed, only to return later at random times. Sometimes the elbows would throb while I lay in bed at night, or while I sat at my desk at work. It was more of an occasional annoyance than an impediment to climbing. I was concerned, but not enough to do much of anything about it.



Until recently, that is. As the outdoor climbing season approached and the problem seemed to be getting worse, I looked to the Internet for answers. I soon found a nice piece by Dr. Julian Saunders, the sports doctor who writes for Rock & Ice Magazine. In the article he describes my recent symptoms pretty much exactly and says they suggest a condition called tendonosis, a degeneration of the tendon cell at the elbow.



Dr. Saunders prescribes some exercises with a barbell to strengthen the tendons. It seemed like a reasonable approach to me so I ordered a set of barbells. I hoped that if I followed Dr. Saunders' program the problem would gradually disappear over time. The best part of the doctor's advice, from my perspective, was that he said nothing at all about taking a break from climbing. The last thing I wanted to do was to stop climbing. The season was just about to begin. I was already planning to go to the Gunks with Gail on March 10, when it was supposed to be 50 degrees in New Paltz.



While I was at it I decided to order a massage tool called The Stick. I came across a testimonial to its effectiveness for sore elbows and decided it might also help.



But I didn't get a chance to start either of these new therapies. Before my packages arrived I realized I had a new, more severe elbow problem.



I went back to Brooklyn Boulders on Sunday, just a few days after my little V6 triumph. As I warmed up I gradually realized my right elbow was sore in a new way. I really felt it when I pulled on holds and the pain wasn't going away as I warmed up. There was something wrong. Eventually I abandoned the session and went home.



Where did this new injury come from? I have no idea.



Once I was aware of the pain, I noticed I was feeling it all the time. It hurt to yank open the refrigerator, or to squeeze a water bottle. I detected noticeable swelling on my arm near the elbow right where the pain was. This was bad, worse than just tendonosis. I feared I must have torn something, somehow.



So I went to the doctor. I got a referral from my GP and luckily could get an appointment to see a specialist within the week. I met with him yesterday. He seems like a good guy, young and smart; understanding of the climbing mindset. I told him the whole story and he agreed with Dr. Saunders' diagnosis. He took an x-ray (which looked fine) and did his own examination. He made me an appointment to have an MRI done so we could get a better sense of the damage. He strongly suggested I stop climbing, at least for a few weeks while we sort out how bad the immediate trauma to my elbow is and start some physical therapy.



I am really bummed out.



And the MRI this morning didn't help matters. Have you ever had an MRI? This was my first. I imagine the procedure would be bad enough if you could lie on your back. Even in that relatively comfortable position, the experience of sliding into that narrow tube and remaining perfectly still as the machine screams like an invading alien army for half an hour would be enough to induce existential terror. Add to this nightmarish scenario a position on your stomach with the bad arm outstretched, the other one pinned to your side, both arms falling asleep... and you get the picture. Not fun.



I still hope to have a climbing season. Maybe in a few weeks I can get back to it, taking it easy. I haven't been climbing outside since November and I am as desperate as a man can be to get out there. But I want to be smart and give myself the best chance to heal. I have a climbing trip planned to Squamish in June and I really want to be able to go. I must take care of myself until then.



I will keep you posted.



Getting old is a drag.

Summer Storm Cloud

Yesterday while harvesting some cucumbers from our plot in the community garden this really cool cloud drifted by overhead. I thought for sure it was going to drop at least a little bit of rain on us, but it passed us by without getting us wet. Clouds are awesome and I love how they always have the potential of making you stare at the sky in disbelief at what your eyes are seeing.

Can We Have It All? The Mirage of the Perfect Bicycle

This post has been long in the making, its birth finally inspired by the plight of a fellow velo-bloggerist - whose story I will use as a case study here. Taking care to keep her identity hidden, I shall refer to my fellow velo-bloggerist as "Dee".



[image: "Dee" rides cargo trike]

Case Study: Dee and Her Search for "The Bike"

Dee lives in the suburbs. She rides an enormous cargo trike, in which she carts around two children, groceries, drycleaning, sleds, and whatever else the day might bring. Being young, fit and vivacious, Dee hungers for a personal bike - one she could ride on her own with joyful abandon. Her husband agrees that she must have such a bike, and a reasonable budget has been allocated. All seems rosy ...until Dee tries to decide what bike to get. Let's see, what are her criteria? She wears mainly dressy clothing, she plans to ride the bike in all seasons, and she always carries a bag when she is out and about. An upright sitting position, internal gear hub, enclosed hub brakes, a chaincase, and a good basket set-up would be ideal.

["Dee" completes triathalon]



But wait. Dee also dreams of going on longer, zippier rides on this bike, in hilly areas. Perhaps try touring some time. She wants to keep up with her husband when he is on his carbon fiber road bike. She wants speed when she feels like it. And did I mention she has completed a triathalon? All this brings a different bike to mind: derailleur gearing, handlebars that allow for a variety of hand positions, lighter weight.

If you know about bikes, you can already see the problem here. The two "ideals" for the different styles of riding she plans to do, are in conflict with one another. The heavy loop frame, North Road handlebars and the internal gear hub that will protect Dee's ivory silk trousers as she pedals elegantly to her meeting in town, will not get her up hills alongside her husband's roadbike. Likewise, the sporty geometry and derailleur gearing that will allow her to glide uphill on those long rides, will not be kind to her dressy outfits once she is back to her town life. Not to mention that derailleur gearing is a pain to maintain in the winter season, and the caliper brakes that come with sporty bikes do not work as well in poor weather as enclosed hub brakes. As Dee shops around, goes on various test rides, and continues to weigh her criteria, she realises that she cannot have both sets of features on the same bike. What is she to do?

["Dee" wears elegant duds]



Here is a list of what, in my view, are the options available to a person in Dee's position:

A. Recognise that you need two bicycles rather than one: you need a city bike and a sporty bike. Adjust your budget, your manufacturer(s) of choice, or your purchasing timeline accordingly.

B. Determine what kind of cycling you will be doing most: city or sporty? Based on this, buy a bicycle that is ideal for that type of cycling, recognising that whenever you will be doing the other type, you will be riding a less than ideal bike and it may be difficult.

C. Try to find a bicycle that you see as the best possible combination of some city features and some sporty features.

Based on anecdotal evidence, my impression is that many people in Dee's position are naturally drawn towards Option C. Option A seems financially prohibitive. Option B seems scary, because it involves accepting that you will not be able to do some of the things you want to do on the one bike you're getting. Option C appears to make sense: It seems like a sensible idea to get a bicycle that lets you do some of this and some of that.

However, I think that Option C is often a mistake, and that those who choose it may ultimately be unhappy. A bicycle that has some city features and some sporty features is not "the best of both worlds" as we wishfully think, but rather, a compromise. Let's say Dee finds a bicycle with upright geometry and derailleur gearing. A comfortable bicycle that can handle hills, right? Well, yes, that sounds reasonable. But what about riding it in the city wearing those flowing silk trousers? And what about caring for that derailleur in the winter? During times like these, Dee will be wishing she'd gotten a "real" city bike. And what about those long rides, when her hands will begin to go numb because of the North Roads' limited hand positions? Well, during times like those she'll be wishing that she'd gotten a "real" sporty bike.



Essentially, "kind of good for both" means ideal for neither. That is my main caveat against buying "compromise bikes", especially if you plan to spend a great deal of money on the bicycle and rest all of your hopes and dreams on it.



While at first glance it might not seem possible that you can afford Option A, there are most definitely ways to do it. One suggestion, is to buy the dominant bicycle (for the style of riding you will be doing most) new, and the supplementary bicycle (for the style of riding you will be doing less of) vintage. This is the route I went when I bought a new Pashley for the city (retail price: $1200) and a vintage Motobecane for sporty rides (typical C-List price: $150). The extra cost of the Motobecane was marginal, but my needs were pretty much satisfied between those two bikes. A year later, you can save up and upgrade by replacing that second vintage bike with a new bike, if you feel that's necessary.



The main point that I hope to bring across here, is that the idea of that one bike that is perfect for every kind of cycling is a fiction - a dream that's as futile to chase as our own shadow. There is no such thing as the perfect bicycle, only the perfect bicycle of its kind. Versatility is good, but there is a fine line between versatility and compromise. It is up to you to decide where that line lies.

Yellow Lillies

Some photos of the yellow lillies that I grew on my sunroom this spring. These have grown from their bulbs, and bloomed and gone, but the orange ones have barely started to grow. Wonder what the difference was since I bought at the same store, same brand and planted at the same time? Well at least these were pretty.

Frosted Oat Seed from Hay

Geddington - Brigstock via Clay Dick, and back

With Marta, along Clay Dick lane to Brigstock. Firm underfoot because frozen. Sunny, blue sky. About 9 miles, surprisingly.





Through Geddington village to the road towards the Chase. When you get to the end, there's a small fenced-off yard. Turn right along the bridleway, Clay Dick, which takes you all the way to a surfaced road - Dusthill Road, which leads to Brigstock, past Chase Farm, which was very muddy - lots of building work going on. Then Windrush Farm, where the first of two footpaths goes off to the right. Ignore these, but take a footpath to the left, through a field with chickens - the path is clearly marked and there are gates. You turn left round the cricket pavilion, and follow the path out of the cricket field to Bridge Street. The Bridge crosses Harpers Brook. We went along, turned right on High Street, and went to buy sandwiches from the Co-op.

Brigstock in the sun

A fine pair

Red kite

birch bark in winter

Grandpa Vic

When Father's Day comes around, I always think of my grandfather, Rolland Victor 'Vic' Phend. Tuesday (the 19th) will be the 113th anniversary of his birth in 1893 and tomorrow (Monday the 18th) is the 16th anniversary of his death in 1991. Grandpa died the day before his 98th birthday. Since his birthday was always so close to Father's Day, there was usually a family gathering or picnic around that time. Sometimes everyone would be able to attend and at other times it was just a few, regardless, we always had a good time.



Photographs: Vic Phend, probably about 1917 - - With his family, 1942, backrow: Ginny, Billy, Phyllis, Pat. seated: my grandparents, Hazlette and Vic. in front: Shirley - - Grandpa with his WWI picture, taken in the spring of 1990.

Grandpa Vic was not what you would call a 'hugger' or 'kisser' which was good in a way, because he chewed tobacco and always had a big hunk of it in his mouth. I vividly remember the coffee can beside "his" chair and the smell that emanated from it. We tried to avoid it at all costs but occasionally, being rambunctious kids, the can would get bumped and overturned and the contents spilled out. It was not a pleasant site, believe me.

The oldest of the ten children born to Henry and Susie Yarian Phend, Grandpa was born in Harvey, Cook County, Illinois . His parents had moved there shortly after their marriage in the fall of 1892 at Nappanee, Elkhart County, Indiana. Henry was one of the thousands of workers hired to help with the construction of the buildings for the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Sometime after Grandpa was born Henry became sick with "the fever" and they returned to Nappanee.

Grandpa stated many times that his father was quite sick and stayed with his parents at Hepton for a time. Grandpa stayed with his mother at her parents' home in Locke. Hepton was a mile south of Nappanee and Locke was a mile north. He also spoke of "having the run of the town" as a child, along with his younger brother Cecil. His mother had three sisters and two brothers and their families living in Locke and Nappanee. His father had his parents, four brothers, a sister and their families living in Hepton and Nappanee. Grandpa said he really did not like going to his grandparents' house at Hepton (the Phend's) as they were too strict.

Just before the turn of the century, about 1898, Henry moved his family to Columbia City in Whitley county, Indiana. He became a well-known building contractor and most of his sons worked for him at one time or another. Even as a youngster, Grandpa would carry bricks and clean up the work site. His father often took him out of school because he was needed for a job. Though his formal education did not extend beyond the 8th grade, he was a well read and educated man.

As a young man, one of the things Grandpa did for recreation on a Sunday afternoon was to take a train ride to another town, usually Plymouth or Fort Wayne, spend a few hours there and then return to Columbia City. After one rather long and hard job (the Methodist Church in Columbia City) was completed in 1913, Vic and a buddy, Tim Hively, caught a train out of town that was heading west and didn't come back for quite a while. They went as far as their money would take them and ended up somewhere in South Dakota.

They worked around a small town for a while when a farmer offered them room and board and clothing until the crops were sold the following fall, then he would pay them their wages. So they worked for the farmer until that fall, but the farmer didn't make any money so he couldn't pay them cash. By this time, Tim Hively was homesick. They worked odd jobs until they had enough money to pay his fare back home. Grandpa got a job working a crane dredging along the Mississippi River, so he stayed on a while longer. He never did say how long he was gone. Now, I don't know how much of that is true, because Grandpa had a tendency to exaggerate a bit when telling his tales. His children inherited that trait also. ;-)

However, I recently found the following on Ancestry's newspapers: The Fort Wayne Daily News, Thursday, March 15, 1917 - "Victor Phend left Tuesday for Muscatine, Ia. to accept a position on the Chapman Bros. dredges, the manager, L. L. Chapman, leaving here Monday for the west." His World War I Draft Registration Card gives his occupation as "Craneman on dredge" and his employer is listed as Chapman Bros. So at least the part about his working on a crane dredging the river is true!

Grandpa was very proud of the fact that he had enlisted in the Army at the beginning of World War I instead of waiting to be drafted. I don't know if it really made a difference, but he thought that he had gotten "special treatment" in the Army because he was an enlistee instead of a draftee. While in the Army, Grandpa was assigned to Company C, 309th Engineers and served in France. Although he never saw combat action, he was an expert marksman and as such was assigned to reconnaissance missions and sniper duties. While on a patrol to go after a prisoner, he was gassed. His mask didn't work properly so there was extensive damage to his lungs. He was sent to a French hospital for about two weeks, then returned to his company for regular duty.

At the time of his discharge in June 1919, he wanted to get out of the Army so badly that he told them he wasn't sick. That denial of his illness prevented him from receiving many of the benefits awarded to other victims of World War I gas attacks. He wasn't out two weeks before he was back seeking medical help. Because of the damage to his lungs and asthma-like attacks, the diagnosis was that he probably wouldn't live long. Well, he proved the doctors were wrong, living until the day before his 98th birthday. But he was sick for many years and for a long time had to sleep sitting up in a chair.

Because he could no longer do the heavy construction work he had done before the war, the government sent Grandpa to a typewriter repair school. He got a job with Rozell Typewriter Service in Fort Wayne. He was living in Columbia City at the time and commuted on the train.

On October 15, 1921 Grandpa married my Grandmother, Hazlette Brubaker. They raised a family of five children. Their's was not a perfect marriage; rather stormy at times. They were divorced, got remarried, and divorced again. They lived at various times in Columbia City, Fort Wayne, Troy township in Whitley county, Elkhart, and finally settled in Larwill in Whitley County.

Often were the times when he'd load up the kids in the car and take off for a "Sunday ride". There would not usually be a destination in mind when they left but when cherries or peaches were in season, they knew they were off to Michigan. And never did he go anywhere that he came back the same way! Back roads were the rule. You'd see more that way than you would if you stayed on the main highway!

When I was about 10 years old Grandpa and my aunt, Shirley, took my brothers and me on a trip to the Wisconsin Dells. I don't know if he ever took any of his other grandchildren on a trip, but we sure felt special at the time.

For nearly thirty years Grandpa worked for Rozell's, then he opened his own shop in September 1950, with his son Bill. But even before he had enlisted in the Army, Grandpa had been an apprentice at a Columbia City bakery. He learned to make the usual pies, cakes and cookies as well as candy. Many a weekend and evening he would spend making his delicious candies. Most of them were given away or donated to bake sales. Christmas was a time when he was especially busy. We looked forward to those candy making times and just couldn't hardly wait to get a taste of the turtles or cashew glace. A bit of "fame" came his way when the Warsaw Times Union printed a feature story on his candy making exploits in December 1963. At that time he had already been making candy for twenty-five years. My favorites were the turtles, but he also made cashew glace, chocolate fudge, fondant, caramels, candy canes and taffy.

Grandpa worked as a typewriter repairman, traveling to Fort Wayne every day for nearly sixty years, until he was 88 years old. He retired only because he could no longer lift or carry the machines. The candy making stopped a year later when he sold his house in Larwill to my cousin and moved to a small apartment in Columbia City. He still drove his car to visit his children and friends until the car died when he was 95!

Grandpa was also an avid gardener and passed his love of growing flowers and vegetables down to several of his grandchildren, including myself. After his car quit running, I'd go into Columbia City every Sunday and bring Grandpa out to "the farm" where we lived in rural Noble County, about 10 miles north of Columbia City. As we drove out from Columbia City, Grandpa would give me the directions by grunting and pointing in the direction we needed to go, as if I didn't know the way! As we passed the Scott/Kiester cemetery he'd always say "Girlfriend's buried there" and then "she lived there" when we passed by the next farm. Grandpa was engaged to Blanche Kiester when he went into the Army. She died on March 5, 1920 of influenza and pneumonia. I've often wondered how different things would have been if he had married Blanche instead of my grandmother. A moot point, I guess, because I wouldn't be here if he had married Blanche.

In the spring and summer, once we got to the farm, the first thing he would want to do was to go out and see how the flowers were doing and inspect the garden to see if we had missed any weeds. Oftentimes he'd grab the hoe and go to work himself.

Grandpa lived in his apartment until failing health forced him into a nursing home in December 1990, six months before his death. He had an overwhelming sense of curiosity. He loved to tinker and find out how things worked. If something broke you could count on him to fix it, and, like his father, if he did something, you knew it was being done right! He was always willing to help others but seldom asked anything for himself. About the closest he ever came to showing affection was when he'd put an arm around your shoulder or tease you about something silly. Though he never spoke the words, I know he loved us. I miss him, but he is still here, I can feel it sometimes.

Hidden Gem in Paris: Place des Vosges

A hidden gem in Paris because not many tourists go astray in this part of the city except for Victor Hugo fans. This elegant early 17th century public square in the Marais district is quite popular amongst the Parisians.







Click here to see an aerial view of the beautiful square: Place des Vosges



Place des Vosges is a true square in the sense of the word, measuring a perfect 140 metres x 140 metres. It is the oldest planned square (circa 1604) in Paris, previously known as Place Royale, and commissioned by Henri IV. The square was used as the prototype for residential squares in the coming years and centuries in Paris and the rest of Europe.



I just love structure because it promotes clean lines. That is the reason why I love the red brick houses and the vaulted porticoes that frames Place des Voges. They were all built in the same design and colour scheme. It's very easy on the eyes and it evokes the royalty sphere.



Today, Place des Vosges is a place where many locals frequent on a weekend to picnic and sunbathe especially on a warm sunny day. There are many art galleries here as well, a few specialty boutique shops and restaurants including the Café Hugo of the Victor Hugo—author of the ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame’ fame, and his house—Maison Victor Hugo,that is now a museum. He used to live here Place des Vosges.



Let me take you on a quick stroll of the place. Here are my pictures:







A hotel with a secret garden courtyard.

























Dammann will bring you to luxurious and gastronomic heights on their massive collection of tea delights.











Most people on the park are locals!











It was sweltering hot last August when we were here, so we stopped by at Cafe Hugo for some cold bitter lemon drinks.













Tip: Free parking here on Sundays and you can park inside Place des Vosges, on the pavement beside the inner garden square.