TRAVEL HERE: FOSSIL RIM WILDLIFE CENTER IN GLEN ROSE

When Mercedes Benz gave Bill a brand new, bright red, loaner sedan while his older hatchback was in the shop, he woke up on a Sunday morning with a desire to put the loaner through it’s paces. After rejecting several other suggestions he decided Fossil Rim Wildlife Center in Glen Rose, Texas was just the ticket.

Visiting Fossil Rim

Glen Rose is a couple of hours from our home in Far North Dallas. We’d made a weekend of the quaint town at least a decade ago, but hadn’t been back since.  Fossil Rim is not the only thing to do while you’re there.  The Brazos River offers great tubing and Big Rocks Park provides a Brazos swimming hole.  The Promise Theater is there with it’s famous show.  Oh – and dinosaur stuff, lots of dinosaur stuff.  Some of the best dinosaur tracks in the world were found right in one of their creeks.    On the trip we discovered how dependent we’d become on Bill’s GPS, since the loaner didn’t have one.  Funny how quickly technology takes over.

The animals at Fossil Rim are marvelous and I recommend heartily that you put this on your “to-do” list.  The center is open pretty much every day of the year, with the exception of a few holidays, so you don’t have to squeeze it into your summer.  In fact, a summer weekend is the most expensive time to go, $22.95 per adult.  It’s a cheaper on weekdays and in the winter.  There are discounts for kids, seniors, etc., but Bill and I didn’t qualify for any.

If we had kids, I’d probably get a family membership and make it a frequent outing.  A family of four could get in free for a whole year for only $168.  For the price of admission (or membership) you can stay as long as you want – as long as you’re gone by the time they close.  I can imagine that with a carload of kids this place could easily entertain you all day.

We made a photo safari out of our time there, but I was jealous of the pickup truck full of giggly kids who were being sniffed and licked by the fauna.  As long as you keep the doors closed and don’t try to feed the animals out of your hand, you can get up close and personal (if you have a pick-up truck or convertible).  Word to the wise though, giraffes will stick their heads in a sun roof and drool on you.  We learned that on our last trip.

The focus at Fossil Rim is on big horned animals, which are very beautiful to look at, but if you want lions,tigers and bears, this is not the place.  They do have rhinos and cheetahs, but they are safely behind fences.    A few feathered friends, some wild horses and a herd of zebra are thrown in for variety.  There are 1,700 acres to enjoy on a 9.5 mile road, but don’t think this is something you can whiz through in a half hour.

Well, maybe you could, but you’d miss the fun.  Whenever we got close to a group of animals, we’d stop and see what happened.  More often than not, we’d find ourselves surrounded by curious faces.  The animals are looking for food – and you can buy a bag of it with your admission – but because of the food, the animals are very interested in the visitors.

Half-way through the park, there’s a gift shop, restrooms and a snack bar.  The snack bar has everything from a quick snack to a quick meal.  Wolfgang Puck wouldn’t recommend it, but it serves a purpose.  The snack bar has a big deck overlooking the park.  It’s great to watch zebras frolic in tall grasses and think, “I’m in TEXAS!“

Now for the sad part.  One of the reasons I’m encouraging you to visit is because they definitely need the business.  When we arrived at the entry gate, I noticed things were not as crisp as they had been on our first visit, but I got so interested in the animals that I forgot to look for other signs of neglect.  Arriving at the half-way complex, the neglect became more obvious.  Everything needed a little maintenance.  I’m not saying it was falling down or anything, it just looked like it needed a little love.  Also, you could tell there used to be a lot more to do when you made your midway stop, but I’m guessing they need a little more in the way of guests and money to support the activities.  If you know anybody who writes grants, I think Fossil Rim could use a little help.

That being said, we really enjoyed our day-trip and I think anyone who cares about animals and/or enjoys watching them would love their visit.  Put it on your calendar.  And if you know that grant writer, see if they have any interest.  Hope you enjoy our photos.

TRASVEL HERE: THE MESQUITE RODEO

Today let’s go to the rodeo – The Mesquite Pro Rodeo.

My Rodeo History

Rodeos are directly related to my first attempt at college at Stephen F. Austin State University down in Nacogdoches, Texas.  It’s not exactly A&M, but there’s a whole lot of Ag students, as well as Forestry majors.  For the uninitiated, that means cowboys.  This was way back when Jerry Jeff Walker was first crooning about Luckenbach, Texas and Waylon Jennings could be seen eating at the Nacogdoches Pizza Inn.

I tell you this so you’ll understand that I’m not just some city slicker who showed up by accident at a rodeo arena.  I’ve got creds.  I beat Eddie Galloway at pool and drank beer on Harold York’s back porch.  Those names wouldn’t mean anything to you unless you were at SFA during the early 70’s, but they were just a couple of the cowboys I knew back in the day.  I’ve got more stories I could tell, but a lady doesn’t tell all she knows.

Anyway, when I go to a rodeo, I’m not there just to see the pretty horses.  I actually know a few finer points to watch for during those critical eight seconds.  I’m here to tell you that if this particular night was any measure, cowboys just ain’t what they used to be.  There were only four bareback riders and none of them scored above 75.  There were nine steer wrestlers, but only five even managed to get the steer down and two of those earned penalties.  And out of nine bull riders, only one made it all eight seconds.  That’s not the way I remember rodeo, folks.

In spite of a less than stellar contestants, I’m here to tell you that the rodeo is a darned good time.  You can get general admission tickets for $12 each and have yourself a hoot.  I’m here to tell you that anybody that hears me knows I’m Texan, but the announcer made me sound like a Yankee.  Beer is served at the snack bar along with all your favorite junk food choices.  And don’t worry if you don’t have the proper attire, if you feel like going country, you can buy what you need right there at the arena.  If you like to go the full Monty, then for a measly 60 bucks, you can sit in a box and have meal served as you watch the events.

Whether you’re wanting to take your sweetheart out on a date, hang with the guys, party with the girls or even take the whole family out for a treat, you’ll find plenty of folks doing the same thing you are.  And rodeoing is a multicultural event.  Back in the day, the audience was pretty much lily white, but that’s not so anymore.  Not only was the crowd “red and yellow, black and white,” just like that song you used to sing in Sunday School – there was a whole section filled with folks from Australia, of all places.

The rodeo will only be around until August 25th, so if I’ve inspired you to visit you better get your boots on.  Otherwise, put it on your agenda for next summer.  The arena is air conditioned, the beer is cold and a good time is had by all, right down to the tykes that Dash for Cash tied to goats.

TRAVEL HERE: THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS IN FORT WORTH TX

Today the blog is a little bit Travel, a little bit Faith and all about The Dead Sea Scrolls.

I want to start out by saying that the content of this exhibit is amazing and the staff on site is courteous to the point of graciousness.  The reason I want to start there is because visiting the exhibit is time consuming and often frustrating – especially if you see it with someone who is mobility impaired.  That should not keep you from going, but perhaps if you know a few of these things ahead of time, your experience will be a little more pleasant than mine.

The Basics

Wednesday I blogged about the blessing I received by taking my mom to see the scrolls.  Today it’s more about the frustrations.  The adult general admission tickets are $25 during the week and $28 for weekends.  There’s a group discount, a senior discount, a student discount and a child’s discount.  Members of the military get in for free.  I didn’t qualify for any of that.  For me, the price seemed a little steep, especially if they want to reach out to non-Christians and interest them in the history of the Bible.  With memberships to both the Arboretum and the DMA, I get to see most of what I want to for free – or at least reduced rates.  After going to the exhibit I began to understand that most of this probably goes to staffing, because the seminary is not a museum – everybody there had to be brought in for the exhibit.  Still I don’t want anyone to suffer sticker shock.

Southwestern Baptist Seminary is the host of the exhibition.  Even though I grew up Baptist, I’d never been, so I had no idea where it was. I found out it was way out in the boonies.  Don’t think the Stockyards, the cultural district or even downtown.  Think Hulen Mall, which is only an exit or two west of the seminary on I-20.  From my mom’s house, that’s over an hour of driving.

The tickets are timed.  You’re given a thirty minute window for entry.  You may need it.  When I finally got to the campus, I had to find a place to park, but the parking lot is quite removed from the entrance, so then I had to figure out how to get my Mom to the front door.  There is a covered drive where you can let people off, but there’s still the length of the building, a corner and then another stretch of building before you get to the door.  Mom would have been worn out.  I got as close to the front door as I could, parked illegally and helped my mom to the corner of the building.  That was the best I could do.  Then I had to park and make my way to the entrance and even though it was before 10:30 AM, it was hot.  Made me wish I’d waited until later in the year to visit the exhibition.

I thought 10:30 on a Thursday morning would be a slow time for the exhibit.  The campus did look fairly empty.  A church delivered a couple of van loads about the time I was trying to get Mom unloaded, but they were small vans.  When we entered the vast lobby of the J.W. MacGorman Performing Arts Center and Chapel, the number of people milling about seemed insignificant.  However, getting to the exhibit’s entrance was not the end of our logistical nightmare.

After our long drive, our first destination was a restroom.  There was no information desk or greeter, so I collared a security guard and asked for directions.  We had to trek half the width of the lobby, down a ramp to the facilities, and then back up to the entry.  I found the guard again and asked about a wheelchair, because Mother was wilting.  They were able to provide one, but it seemed like they had to go over the river and through the woods to fetch it.  Meanwhile, I discovered that even though I’d already purchased my tickets online, I had to stand in line with everyone else to actually gain admittance.  Before you join a group to enter the exhibit, a security guard checks your handbag.  I’m hoping that as the exhibit continues they figure out a way to streamline this whole process.  I think the first step would be to allow access through the door closest to the parking lot which has the handicap ramp, but they didn’t ask for my advise.

The J.W. MacGorman Performing Arts Center and Chapel was not designed as an exhibition space.  The Dead Sea Scrolls tour begins upstairs.  Groups cluster around a guide in the lobby who introduces the exhibit and takes the group up.  With the wheelchair, I had to wander back down by the bathrooms, take an elevator and miss whatever the introductory schpiel is.

The exhibition space upstairs is tight.  Even with timed tickets too many people are trying to see the same thing in the same space.  It felt very close and I knew if my claustrophobic husband had come with us he’d have been downstairs and out the building in about five minutes.  Trying to maneuver the wheelchair also complicated things.  There’s really not even enough space for people to be courteous.  We had to hang at the edge of the group and see the display cases after the group had moved to the next case.  However, that being said, it was well worth the effort.

At the beginning you stand among giant photos of the  area where the scrolls were discovered.  Then you enter rooms full of artifacts demonstrating slices of life in the time before the scrolls.  The stage is set with Alexander the Great and then the Romans are introduced.  The guides are well informed and really try to help you understand what you are viewing and what it has to do with the scrolls.  They’ll show you some facsimile copies of the Isaiah scroll – the most intact found at Qumran, but don’t dismay the real articles are downstairs.  Not the Isaiah scroll mind you, but plenty of scroll material from the caves.

Before long you go back downstairs – another tricky feat with the wheelchair.  We had to have a guard escort us to the elevator and back out to the exhibit.  We’d probably still be in the building if he hadn’t been with us, because you have to wander around in an area which was not designed for the public.  The auditorium where they present the next phase of the experience was huge.  Our group, which had been much too large upstairs, was dwarfed in the giant auditorium with it’s three large screens.  The movie shown there really helps you understand how the scrolls were found and why they are significant.

However, you don’t exit the auditorium the way you came in.  Everybody else had to climb up the stairs to the stage and exit through a side door.  The stairs don’t have a railing.  I saw a couple of folks crawl up or sit down and scoot up.  Mom used a wheelchair lift.   Then you wait in a faux Qumran cave.  I thought it was a little touristy, but my mom liked it.  Finally, we made it through to the holy of holies – the scrolls.

I shared a little bit with you Wednesday about being in the presence of the scrolls.  It’s very easy to get distracted by all the inconveniences and forget why you came, but think about what you’re looking at in the scroll rooms and you’ll get over the distractions.  After the scrolls, the exhibit features examples of the Bible from scrolls to the format you have on your bookshelf – even a modern day hand-copied and illustrated folio.

There’s more to the exhibit, a faux archaeology dig, but it was almost two by the time we left the exhibit.  Between the exterior heat and our starvation, we were ready to go.  We’d left Dallas at nine, making this a five hour endeavor – and we weren’t back home yet.  As I mentioned, Hulen Mall is not far away and they have an Abuelo’s.  I tossed out my diet and dove into some of their avocado enchiladas, but I stopped short of a margarita.

So see the scrolls, but wear comfortable shoes, schedule lots of time and bring plenty of patience.  You’ll be glad you did.

TRAVEL HERE: A LAMENT FOR SAFETY PINS AND RUBBER BANDS

Have you tried to find a safety pin lately?  You know, that thing that will hold some buttons on without sewing.  If you’re not careful, they show a little bit when you fix a hem with them, but they’re great in a bind.  I’ve never been much of a seamstress, but I can work miracles with a safety pin.

Safety Pins

And they used to be so easy to accumulate.  The dry cleaners used safety pins to attach your laundry tags, so you got one free with every item you dry cleaned.  A never-ending source of one of life’s necessities.

Now the dry cleaners have some gadget that shoots little plastic doohickeys in to hold the tags in place.  I’m not a fan of the doohickeys.  If you get out of the house with one still attached, you can’t just unpin them.  You can try to jerk them off, but sometimes the fabric is too delicate.  If the label is in the collar of something, it could drive you to distraction.  All that hassle and not a single safety pin.

Here’s the worst part.  If asked a few years ago, I would have told you that I had enough safety pins to last a lifetime, even if I never took another item to the dry cleaners.  However, a recent search revealed that I only had a dozen or so safety pins left.  I may actually have to go out and buy some.

A part of me is wondering if this change from safety pins to plastic doohickeys has killed jobs or created them.  Certainly the manufacture of safety pins must be way down, which would also reduce our demand for steel.  However, making and marketing the plastic doohickey must have created a whole new industry and then even if every dry cleaner in the world had one, they’d need refills.  But then you have to wonder how biodegradable plastic doohickeys are.  Will our landfills one day be filled with plastic doohickeys?  Is there a bird or a rodent we are endangering with this every growing pile of plastic doohickeys?

Rubber Bands

And what about rubber bands?  At my house, rubber bands used to reproduce themselves like rabbits.  I’d be forced to throw away handfuls of the stretchy bits to make room in my junk drawers for other junk.  I just checked and I have exactly five.  Rubber bands used to hold newspapers together, but then who still takes the newspaper – and even if you do, the papers come in a plastic sleeve so they earn income off the ads they put on them.  I can’t remember when I had to take a rubber band off of something.

Besides newspapers, rubber bands held together all the other paper stuff you used to get and though we’re still not exactly paperless, we do think twice before producing the reams of it we used to pass around to one another.

I wonder how long my twelve or so safety pins and five rubber bands will last.  Will I actually have to go to the office supply store and purchase some?  Tell me, have you been faced with this dilemma?

TRAVEL HERE: QUIT IMPROVING MY STUFF!

Most of you know that I spend a whole lot of time helping out my elderly parents.  Often that means I’m hearing them complain about things they can no longer get.

The Things They Can’t Get

Dad hates sore throats, because cough drops just don’t do the job of Tonsaline.  Mom desperately needs some clothes, but she can’t find anything that looks like what she has in her closet – and something that looks like what’s already in her closet is what she wants.  Dad needs a casual jacket.  Not a windbreaker, a hoodie, a sports coat or some denim number.   Mom wants him to have a chino version of a bomber jacket and nothing lined with fake fur or Goretex.  If Mom checks one more store to see if they have any of the spot remover Dryel used to make, I’m going to throw myself in the floor and start screaming.  (Watch for it.  Video at nine.)

I may get tired of my parents harping on what’s not available, but to tell the truth, I’m not fond of all this improvement either.  It makes me crazy when I stand in the household cleaning department carefully inspecting every label, because whatever product I’m looking for doesn’t look like it used to.  When I find it, it will either announce that it’s got the same old quality in new packaging or it has a new scent or it’s now organic or biodegradable or green or something else that I don’t give a rat’s posterior about.

They can’t fool me!  They changed the product so that they could charge more for it.  I was happy with the old stuff.  I really don’t care if they just marked it up.  Make my life easier!  Don’t make me guess that the new blue and green bottle with yellow block letters is the new unreasonable facsimile of what used to come in a green and yellow box with blue letters.  So what if years ago your company bought out the one I’ve been buying canned onion rings from.  I’m looking for that red thing on the label and I really want it to be there.

But every once and a while companies improve themselves right out of my life.  I’ve been using Glade Plugins Scented Gel Refills for ever.  I bought the dispensers years ago and when I moved, they moved right along with me.  Only problem is, they don’t make them anymore!  This is a fairly new set of circumstances.  I always bought up tons of refills and kept them on hand – so they could have been discontinued months ago, but right now it’s really ticking me off.

My usual M.O. is to grumble a little bit and then move on, but for once I decided to actually tell a company what I thought about their decision.  I found Glade online and sent them an email.  They were ever so sorry that they had discontinued my favorite product, but “The Glade team works hard to introduce new scents and collections that offer variety for consumers, but sadly, this means we sometimes have to take some products out of the lineup to make room for others.”

Sadly, my left foot.  Someone noticed how many Glade Plugins Scented Gel Refills they sold and decided that if they discontinued the the refills we’d all be forced to buy new dispensers.  Miss Nice Lady That Responded To My Email has mailed me a coupon for a dispenser and some refills.  Very generous of them.  Like one dispenser is going to solve the problem in my two story, four bedroom home!  I haven’t exactly figured out what I’m going to do about this, but I’m really not fond of the idea of buying a dozen new dispensers.  Of course, the new dispensers cost more than the old ones did, as do the refills.

And how wasteful to throw away all the old dispensers.  Think of all the homemakers in America throwing away all the old Glad Plugin dispensers that aren’t any good any more.  How green is that?

Homemakers of America Unite!!  I’m not sure exactly what we can do about this outrage, but there should be something.  Let other people Occupy Wall Street or sign up for the Tea Party.  I want my Glade Plugins Scented Gel Refills and I want them right now.

TRAVEL THERE: THE DIFFERENCES AIRLINE MARKETING AND OPERATIONS

Have you ever noticed the gap between what’s promised and what you end up with?  On my recent vacation that gap was disturbingly obvious.  Think about how much money airlines spend trying to get you to choose them over the competition.  But as soon as you book a seat, you’re suddenly moved from the marketing department to operations.

The Gap Between What’s Promised and What’s Delivered

“Affordable; Flexible; Accommodating; and Comfortable“… I picked up this phrase on the website of one of the airlines we flew.  Management chose these words to describe their airline and used them over and over again on the site.

• Affordable?  Relatively, yes.
• Comfortable?  More so than the other airline we flew on for this trip.
• Flexible and Accommodating?  Really?

My disappointment began on the night before the flight, checking-in on line.  I wasn’t crazy about paying for every piece of luggage I checked, but it wasn’t the end of the world.  However, I was dismayed for them to call it an “EXCESS BAGGAGE” fee.  What excess?  I was going to be gone for twelve days and would be doing everything from hiking in the snow to beach combing.  There was nothing excess about my baggage.  Obviously the marketing department hadn’t seen what operations was up to.

Along with my boarding passes I received very specific instructions about what to do at the airport.  I guess I don’t need to tell you that those instructions were useless when I got there.  A big thunderstorm rolled in after my computer session and DFW was a madhouse.  I admit, I already had a sour taste in my mouth about the “excess” baggage thing, but I wasn’t as dismayed about the fact that I couldn’t follow their specific instructions, as I was about the fact that there was nothing to indicate what I was to do in lieu of those instructions.

Every single airline employee had their head down helping other passengers (which was a good thing), but there was no one to answer any questions if you hadn’t made your way through the line to them, so we got in line.  Finally, someone showed up who seemed to be there to help with luggage.  We asked her about the instructions I received on the internet and she pointed to a kiosk.  We got out of line to use the kiosk and another employee yelled, “That won’t work.  Your flight is delayed over two hours. ”  Accommodating?  It seems that I was the one who was supposed to be Flexible.

In the airline’s defense, when I finally spent the requisite amount of time in line, the gentleman helping us was flexible and accommodating – but I wasn’t supposed to have to stand in line.  He apologized and smiled, even though we were just one of the many frustrated people he’d already dealt with or had waiting for him in line.  He tried to expedite us by booking us standby on several connecting flights, hoping we’d get lucky, but when we indicated that we didn’t want to spend the day stressing about whether or not we’d make stand-by, he gave us a definite seat on a later flight.  We rented a car during our lay over, had lunch outside the airport and caught a movie.  When you know what to expect, flexibility is easy.

Hello Corporate Decision Makers!  When I play by your rules, you should be nice to me.  You shouldn’t make money off my luggage fees and then insinuate I have excess baggage.  You shouldn’t leave me standing in a crowded airport wondering why I bothered to check in on line and what I should do next.  You shouldn’t send me letters explaining the ways you are going to downgrade the level of service you provide me and then try to convince me it is for my own convenience.  You shouldn’t make me fight with a phone tree before I can talk to a person.  You shouldn’t give me free stuff and then turn around a start charging me for it.

What about you fellow consumers?  How does the operations department tick you off after you’ve fallen for the marketing schpiel?

TRAVEL THERE: ROAD TRIPS WITH MY PARENTS

I’m not a parent, so a lot of people may think I have no right to say anything about what modern parents do to entertain their kids. However, I was a kid, so that gives me some authority.  I’ve got an observation to make about kids and videos in the car.

The Video Babyistter

Can you say captive audience?  When you’re in the car with kids, they’re at your mercy.  You can make them miserable. You can engage them.  Or you can turn them over to a video.

OK – some days you should turn them over to the video monitor.  You’re tired, they’re fussy and it’s not exactly a teachable moment.  However, if you make that video a habit, you and the kids are going to lose out on the opportunity to share some of the best memories you’ll ever have.

Traveling with Ruth and George

All my family did for vacation, before I turned eleven, was jump in the car and head back to Texas from wherever Dad might be assigned at that particular moment.  It was a grueling trip, even after we bought the baby blue Pontiac Catalina with air conditioning.  Of course, we didn’t have video.  It hadn’t even been invented, but Mom did make up surprise bags full of handicrafts and gifts to help entertain us.  I remember one year she included some colorful strips with adhesive on them.  We could have wrapped our paper chains around the car dozens of times.  This was before self-stick adhesives were invented, so my sister and I made ourselves sick licking the glue – but it was fun.

A perennial favorite was a set of bingo cards with little dark windows that slid over the spaces.  Instead of numbers, the spaces had license tags from different states that you were supposed to spot on passing cars.  My sister and I scoured the road for plates from all the states, but since we were usually on the road between Georgia and Texas, actually having someone see enough different tags to win the game was unusual.  We loved the game though, because it was a springboard into great conversations:

“Look, it’s a truck from Wisk- con-sin.  I only need one more and I will bingo,” I might say, sounding the name of the sate out with phonetics.

“Which state do you need?” one of the parents would ask.

“Eye-dah-ho.” I’d say.  My sister couldn’t read at all, so I was assigned the task of monitoring her card, too.

“That will be a hard one to get.”

“Why?”

Well, it’s on the other side of the country from us and it has a pretty low population.”

“What’s a population?”

Hence would begin a geography lesson, that might detour into sociology, but almost invariably led to history.  My parents loved history and passed the love on to me in these chats along the highway – as well as a deep understanding of my faith, an appreciation for my family and an insight into so many different subjects.  With these chats, they got a leg up on other folks that might have an opinion they wanted to impress upon me.  It was OK if I didn’t agree with my parents, but I’d better be ready to discuss my position with logic and reason.  This was an important skill to develop and it helped me when I wanted high heels, mini-skirts and permission to go out of town for a speech tournament.

Sometimes the discussions would end in a joke, intentionally or not.  I particularly remember a discussion about Napoleon and the mistake he made letting his troops get caught in Russia in the winter.  My dad informed us that Napoleon’s troops ran out of food and “without food you’re nothing.”  Coincidentally, it was just about time to stop for lunch.

Yesterday, was Father’s Day.  Oh, how I love my Daddy.  He’s ninety-one and holding his own, but that’s not to say he’s hale and hearty.  He’s got a pin in his hip, a cracked vertebra that just didn’t heal just right, cantankerous knees and a heart that’s old and tired.  Last year I moved him to an independent living facility.  Thanks to my mom and her loving attentions, it didn’t have to be assisted living.

Recently, I was over at their apartment, about to take Mom on our weekly adventure, and I asked my dad what the facility was having for lunch.  I admonished him to clean his plate because “without food you’re nothing.”  He glanced up at me and for a moment, that old twinkle was in his eye.  If we’d had videos back in my family vacation days, I would have never gotten that twinkle.  Don’t forfeit that twinkle for your kids.  Turn off the video and talk to them.

TRAVEL HERE: DMA EXHIBIT FEATURES DALLAS BEFORE ASSASSINATION AND TV SHOW

All my readers know I love Dallas! No, not the TV show. Not the location of JFK’s assassination. I mean the real place. The one with a world class opera and arboretum. The home of Neiman Marcus and Northpark. My Dallas!

I love my City

My Dallas is the bold and brassy, slightly sassy and ever energetic Dallas captured by George Grosz in 1952.  He’d been hired by a young Mr. Harris of A. Harris & Company to capture the spirit of Dallas for the 65th anniversary of the department store which eventually became a part of what we know as Macy’s.

According to the walls of the Dallas Museum of Art, Mr. Grosz had been a big fan of the Dime Novel West when he was a young boy in Germany, but he’d been through a lot and lived in New York when he took the job to paint Dallas.  One can’t help but wonder what he expected, but he wrote to a friend that he’d sold out in taking the job.

George Grotz Comes to Dallas

Had he thought he was coming to a city that still had mud streets and shoot-outs at high noon?  The walls of the museum didn’t tell me, so I guess Mr. Grosz never explained his disappointment on paper.  His disappointment didn’t keep him from filling the order, taking the commission and buying himself a new home.  One hopes he got over it.

The product of his work is a series of painting which captured a brilliant moment in time.  Dallas had gotten over it’s mud streets and wasn’t yet tarnished with a president’s assassination.  The skyline is in it’s infancy and the streets are chockful of modern people pursuing modern ideas, with money earned from old stand-bys like cotton and cattle.  The watercolor paintings are so full of life they seem to vibrate on the walls of the museum.

George had a job to do and a patron to please, but he didn’t limit his palette to rosy hues of promise.  He saw a segregated society which marginalized the black members of its community and he portrayed it without being preachy.  He saw a brand spanking new city which hadn’t been around long enough to wear down the edges.  He was fascinated by our love of commerce and our lavish use of neon.  You’ve got to see what he painted.

If you live in Dallas and don’t get to the DMA to see Flower or the Prairie, you should be ashamed of yourself.  The exhibition will be on view until August 19th.  Get down there!

In fact, there are a lot of reasons to abandon your TV this summer in Dallas.  The Arboretum has Chihuly which is on view both day and night.  (I went a couple of weeks ago during the day and am looking forward to night visit in late June.)  The Kimball has The Age of Impressionism which is a spectacular show.  It will only be here until June 19.  Don’t miss it.

This must be the artiest summer we’ve ever had.  Have you seen these treasures yet?

TRAVEL HERE: WOMEN SHOP ON VENUS WHILE MEN SHOP ON MARS

In most families, it’s the wife that’s addicted to shopping, but not in this one. I love to buy things, but that’s a completely different thing than shopping. My husband makes such a production of shopping that sometimes, by the time we actually purchase an item, I’m already thoroughly tired of it.

Shopping for Our First Car

I was still an unsuspecting newlywed when he asked me, “If you could buy any car out there what would it be?”  He quickly made it clear that he wasn’t about to make my childhood dream of a 1966 Jaguar XKE convertible come true.  He wanted my choice to be luxurious, but practical.  “Well, if the Jag is out of the question, I’d say either a Mazda 929 or a 626.”  Thus began a two year pilgrimage.  We visited every car dealership in the Dallas-Ft. Worth Metroplex and whether you believe it or not, he would actually drop into dealerships for test drives when we were on vacation.  In the end, he spent all day one Saturday haggling with some Mazda dealer in the mid-cities.  He’d bought exactly the car I’d described to him two years before.

Building a House

If buying a car took this kind of effort, imagine what I went through when we built our house in California.  I’m not lying when I say it was a six year shopping spree.  Amazingly we visited the Central Coast for a look-see and bought the lot in a week, but it took three years to build the house.  I really can’t blame that on Bill.  The building process on the Central Coast of California is excruciating, but I felt like we spent every waking hour of the three years shopping for building materials and finishes.  It actually got to the point where I was embarrassed to walk into one of the local tile stores.  We went there every week for at least a year before we bought so much as a bag of grout.  He knew all the sales ladies and we spent many afternoons with them, redesigning the kitchen, the bathrooms and the entryway.

But the shopping wasn’t over when we moved in.  There was landscaping to do, window treatments to buy and home theaters to finish out.  And when all that was done, we had a wine celler to fill – one carefully considered bottle of wine at a time.  If I’d ever had any interest in shopping for anything, by the time we sold the house and moved back to Texas, all my desires for retail therapy had been wrung out of me.  (In Bill’s defense, the house was gorgeous and we made enough profit when we sold it to pay for our home in Texas, but that’s another story.)

Now I Need a Camera

After these and other experiences, I do what I can to avoid creating a need to shop, but when we decided to go to Oregon for our vacation, I knew the point and shoot camera we’d used for the last few years just wasn’t going to cut it.  I started making noises so Bill would realize a major purchase was in the offing.  We dropped by several big box stores and then a local camera shop.  After about an hour of education at the camera shop, I thought Bill was sold on the need for a real camera (read that SLR).    Even he admitted the salesman made a good argument for investing in the Nikon D3100, but he was going to check the internet…and go back to the big box stores and then visit another local camera store and…

The next thing I knew he ordered a point and shoot from a website.  OK, I’m not crazy, I completely get there was a gap of several hundred dollars between the camera he bought and the camera we wanted, but if we were just going to have a point and shoot, I didn’t see what was wrong with the one we already had.

The new camera arrived and Bill started his sales pitch.  He worked hard to convince me I was going to love this camera – but as he told me all the wonderful features it offered, I pointed out the old camera already had them.  There were only two reasons I wanted a new camera – an old fashioned viewfinder and more speed, but neither was available in point and shoot.  Bill huddled over his computer for a few days, but before I could discover the verdict of his research, guests for a huge family wedding started arriving and they were arriving with SLR’s.

I may never find out about his research, because after a few days of snapping shots with his nephew’s SLR the point and shoot camera was shipped back to the website store.  As soon as our house guests were on the plane, we were back in the local camera shop buying the Nikon D3100  and a new camera case.  A few days later we returned to get a zoom lens.    Hello Oregon!!

Pride of Ownership

Bill retreated into his computer again.  He haunted websites and watched videos.  Then he printed out the manual.  Now he’s busy turning down the corners of pages, highlighting phrases and attaching sticky notes.  We’ve taken local photo safaris to practice all the stuff he’s learning.  Too bad he doesn’t write a blog, because he’s discovering some amazing things about our camera.

Meanwhile, I put it on auto-focus and use the knob to choose the symbol that most closely matches the kind of picture I want to take.  I’m getting some great pictures.

Here’s the bottom line, I love my new camera.  Mostly, I love having a REAL viewfinder.  Though I don’t use the screen for taking pictures, it does provide great information and reviewing my pictures is a snap.  And speed – there’s none of that waiting for the last picture to go away before you take the next one.  I’ve been a real stick in the mud since photography went digital.  I didn’t even want to take pictures, because it only led to frustration.  I leave for Oregon soon and I’m gonna be one picture-taking fool.

So confess – who’s the shopping freak in your family – you or them – and what are you shopping for right now?

TRAVEL HERE: NEIMAN MARCUS FORTNIGHTS

So you think Black Friday is a shopping experience?  To me, it’s just a feeding frenzy.  If Sam Walton has been successful at anything, it has been getting us to focus on price.  I sort of liked the world better before Walmart.

The World Before Walmart

In those days price was certainly a factor, but it wasn’t the only factor.  Designer names were guideposts, not a decoration plastered across the seat of a pair of sweat pants.  Developing your own style was more important than being in style.  In other words, going shopping was about more than consuming.

Wonderful, Wonderful Fortnight

A perfect example of this was Neiman Marcus Fortnight.  During a two week period in the fall, Neiman’s would transform their Dallas stores into reasonable facsimiles of some exciting destination.  The straw ornaments above are from Bavaria and were purchased in 1983 during  the German Fortnight.  D Magazine gives you the details of Fortnight, but I want to convey the experience.

For a middle-class kid living in Dallas in the Sixties, Fortnight was a window to the wider world.  On a special evening, Mom would dress us up in the our best.  The minute Dad got home from work he’d load us in the car and take us to Neiman’s flagship store in downtown Dallas – but it didn’t seem like a store at all.  In fact, once I entered Neiman’s, I felt as if I’d stepped off a plane into a faraway place.

Granted, back in those days I’d never been on a plane, but I thought what was happening to me then must be just like arriving at a long awaited destination.  See, Mom didn’t just dress us up and make us go shopping with her for the evening, she carefully primed us for the experience.  All year we played a guessing game about what country Neiman’s might focus on for Fortnight.  If the evening news mentioned a place we’d never heard of, we discussed why or why not it might be a good country for Neiman’s.  As we studied our history and geography lessons, Mom would ask, “If this country were featured in a Neiman Marcus Fortnight, what products do you think would be stocked in the gourmet food department?”

In additon, Mother took us shopping at Neiman’s all year long, so we’d know the latest in fashion and appreciate quality.  Then we’d go to Titche’s and buy our wardrobes with Mom’s employee discount.  But a splashy ad in the Dallas Morning News Neiman’s would announce our Fortnight destination and I’d be giddy for weeks until our annual Fortnight visit was scheduled.

During Fortnight, we’d wander through the retail wonderland all agog.  The ultimate treat was dinner at one of the NM cafes tricked out like the featured locale and serving their traditional fare.  Along with many items from the featured country for sale, each floor of Neiman’s hosted special exhibits and demonstrations.  We’d watch traditionally garbed dancers perform exotic dances.  We’d see animals, artisans and actresses.   Our family added very little to Neiman Marcus’s bottom line during this annual pilgrimage, but Fortnight was such a retail success, in spite of folks like us, that many stores attempted copy cat experiences.  Yes, shopping was fun back in those days.

During the years I was busy going to school and living the disco scene, Neiman’s sort of fell off my radar.  Then I became an official consumer with a credit rating.  A Neiman Marcus charge card provided a plastic invitation to another world.  Among the most important privileges offered was postal delivery of the famous Neiman Marcus Christmas Catalog with its legendary His and Hers gifts of opulence.  Trust me, nothing on the internet can replace that catalog.  The recipient of a gift, in the store’s  traditional shiny red Christmas box with the gold Neiman Marcus logo, expected no additional wrapping paper and bows.  Adulthood arrived when I received my own Neiman Marcus credit card.

I have to confess I did not inherit my parent’s frugality.  I found it impossible to merely visit Fortnight and buy nothing but dinner.  I went to the store as often as I could during those special two weeks to buy myself and others as many little treats as I thought I could get away with.  Being at Fortnight was one of those particularly Dallas experiences, like visiting the Great State Fair of Texas or seeing the Christmas decorations on Beverly Drive.

Now Neiman Marcus has stores all over the world and they belong to some big corporation – not Mr. Nieman and Mr. Marcus.  Most middle class kids in Dallas have flown somewhere before they reach their sixth birthday.  Someone took Fortnight out of the Neiman Marcus budget, but I miss it.

I still have my Neiman Marcus credit card and it gets plenty of use.  Neiman’s is my luxury store of choice.  Having lunch at Neiman’s is one of my favorite indulgences.  I will always love giving gifts wrapped in nothing but a Neiman’s logo.  Nowadays I shop at Neiman’s and buy my wardrobe at the Allen Outlet Mall, because even though Mom retired with her discount intact, department store shopping isn’t as much fun as it used to be.  Drat that Mr. Walton.

Note: This is by far the most popular post on my primary blog. I left it there for that reason, but since it is also part of the ancient history of my blog, I put it here, too.