Fairhope Pickers

I spent 5 days in Fairhope Alabama with high-school friend Elin Shallcross and her wife Trudy of 30 years (only legally married recently in Iowa). They were gracious hosts, opening their home to me and Tucker, the ShihTzu who shares my life. Their two little girl dogs (Tess and Tucker) put Tuck in his place but by the by the 3rd day, he was able to play with their toys and their little Tucker sat on my lap.
Trudy is quite musically talented, adept at many instruments and she invited me to join her pickers group. There were 20 people attending, playing various instruments: mountain dulcimer, fiddle, guitar, saltry harp, harp, and cello. We all jammed together for the first hour, broke for coffee and snacks, then shared our talents in an open-mic forum. Was such fun and wished my Blueberry Pickers in Maine were playing with us. Trudy also included me in a singing group and to her small Saltry Harp group, as a listener.


Tuck and I explored the town of Gulf Shores, however, dogs were not allowed on those beaches, not even in the State Park along the Gulf. So I plan B'd it and drove out toward Ft. Morgan. Along the way I took a right turn into a housing development, just to check it out. I saw a woman on walking her dog and asked her for directions to the Gulf Shores dog park. I found it and Tuck met another Shih Tzu that he mostly sniffed. A man there gave me directions to the beach where dogs are allowed.


It was beach, spare of people, where I could let him run free if I chose. He loved digging holes in the sand; wasn't too crazy about the surf that ran up to him. We went to this beach on two different days; the last day was sunny and warm so we stayed there for nearly 3 hours. Having left Maine when it was 2 degrees above zero earlier that week, I drew in the warmth and sound of the crashing waves with a feeling of joy and peace. There were giant jellyfish washing onto the beach so I only went in the water up to my hips, but it was lovely and warm. An interesting starfish was lying on the sand and I scooped it up. But a man passing by held it in his hands and said it was still alive. I wanted to bring in home with me, but couldn't bring myself to allow it to die. Its arms were curved and long and it was colored red and white. After I tossed it into the surf and walked past the area later, I saw it enjoying itself in the surf and figured I'd done right by it.


Craving a southern breakfast with real-to-goodness southern grits, my hosts took me to the Biscuit King. Wow, those biscuits were the size of a Frisbee and delicious. One-half of the owners, the husband end, is a long distance marathon runner, in his 60s. He is a serious Christian man who loves to sing hymns while whipping up them biscuits. Ironically, on Friday nights when he has bands performing at his restaurant, he dresses in drag and performs as a woman. I wonder if he wears dresses at home as well.


Besides beach walks and music I mostly ate and the gals knew where to take me. At Big Daddy's I had fried oysters and soft-shell crab. Then on my last night there we went to the Original Oyster House and I hedonistically sucked up 6 raw oysters and a platter of grilled flounder and shrimp scampi. Oh, I almost forgot about the scrumptious Key Lim pie. Whew!


I love southern Alabama and will consider it a potential winter nesting spot for me and Tucker. The only thing that cautions me about living there is that the land abounds with the poisonous Cottonmouth and corral snakes. On the positive consideration, the air smells like flowers, the Camelia and wild honeysuckle were blooming, birds sang in the morning, Mocking birds cooed and tree frogs trilled at night.

Camping at Home Depot and friend and family reunion.

Left Maine at noon March 18th and drove until 10 p.m. I stopped at a Motel 6 outside Waterbury, Conn, being wary of that franchise from past experience. But I was very tired and ready to rest. Walked into the lobby, not bad. Guy said I could have my dog in the room and get the senior discount. A fair price so I said, "Yes." He gave me the card key and I drove around the back to building D, like he said. Put the leash on the dog, packed what I needed and squeezed out of the van into the hallway to my room. Pushed the key into the slot, nothing! Tried it six more times. Nothing! Reloaded the dog and my stuff into the van, drove around front, entered the lobby and the guy gave me five keys he swiped to clear them. Back into the van, drove around back, unloaded my dog and my damned stuff. Slid all five keys into the slot, six times each. Nothing! Reloaded the dog and my crap, drove around front, entered the lobby, three people were smoking cigs in the lobby. Red flags flared! The guy ran down the hall to my room while I loaded up my dog and my shit into the van, and opened the hall and room doors. The foul scent of dog feces hit me in the face and spots of brown covered the rug. But I said to myself, "Self you're so tired, maybe you can handle it." Self was skeptical. The guy left and I picked up the corners of the sheets and mattress cover to check for bedbugs. NONE! Yay! I can do this, I said to Self. Then I pulled down the covers. The sheets were bunched up, speaking of the bodies that had occupied it the same day. I called the guy and said I'm outta here. He apologized and assured a refund.

I drove to several exits south and stopped at an Econolodge and asked to see the room first. Not bad, clean but used over the years. As the clerk and I left the room I told him I was paranoid about bedbugs. He said, "No, we don't have them; unless someone brings them in." That's all I needed to hear and think about. I said, "I'll sleep in my van thank you."

Driving out of that driveway, I spied a giant Home Depot parking lot across the street. There was only one semi-rig in the lot and a nice dark spot away from floodlights. This would do. There was a small group of folks around a campfire in the woods twenty yards away. I wondered if they were homeless and would be there all night. In the van to settle down for the night, I kept my fleece top on in case a cop flashed his lights into my van in the middle of the night. My jeans came off, though, which could have landed me in jail if a cop did show up. Getting onto my bed made from my massage table and four inches of foam, was tricky. There was little room  between it and the ceiling so I had to support my body with my foot against the opposite wall of the van. Didn't know I could still do the split. The temperature was below freezing, as evidenced by the heavily frosted windows next morning, but I was toasty beneath my comforter and down sleeping bag. Shortly after I was settled, I heard a creaking noise, twice  coming from some part of my van, metal on metal. I was puzzled by it but it didn't occur again so I slept a restless sleep due to the parking lot lights. At 6 a.m. the next morning I was surprised how rested I felt.

Two of my hubcaps appeared to have been pried loose and one was broken. I think I narrowly missed having them stolen that night.

I arrived in Penna. the next day around noon and contacted my friend Mariah Rose Dreaminbear, the former Mary Lou Meyers, who played with me on my High School Basketball team 52 years earlier. That's her with her sweet son, Adam. We met at RoyAnn Diner on old route 309. As I entered the lobby, I saw a woman whose face I recognized but couldn't recall her name. "Francine," she said, "I'm Karen Fell." Well, don't you know, she and her two sisters with her are my distant cousins. We all had creamed dried beef on home fries and talked up a storm then went thrift store shopping. Was a grand time.