Amtrak: New Orleans to Chicago

 Wednesday, November 27, 2024:  The WWII Museum is the best tourist attraction in New Orleans.  The amount of money, time, and effort, that the city and benefactors has poured into the museum was incredible.  For example, the Boeing Center is a major attraction in the museum because it houses a Mustang fighter, a Dauntless bomber, and many other planes, that are hanging from the ceiling.  There are catwalks placed among the planes so that the tourist could get up close and personal.  I stood in awe and just appreciated being in their presence because these were not reproductions but were the actual planes that fought in the war.

   Just like any other reputable historical attraction, the WWII museum included the uniforms and artifacts of the people who lived in that period of time.  But what made this museum special was the two major shows that it put on.  The first show was a multimedia experience focusing on FDR’s “Four Freedoms.”  There were visuals projected on ten different screens.  It was like other documentaries that I have seen in the past but this one was on steroids.  In pivotal moments, like D-Day, blindingly bright lights flashed throughout the theater.  The movie was well produced in that the sound, visuals, and narrative, all worked together to make the “Four Freedoms” come alive.  The second show was “Beyond All Boundaries” and it was narrated by Tom Hanks.  It was 4D because it included a real guard tower, an anti-aircraft gun, and the nose of a B-1 bomber.  Snow descended from the ceiling, in the form of soap bubbles, when the story turned to the siege of Bastogne.  The seats vibrated at key moments like the bombing of Hiroshima.  It was like nothing that I have ever experienced before.

   The WWII Museum had even more to offer aside from the planes and the movies.  The “USS Tang” experience, for example, allowed the visitor to see what it was like to be on a submarine during the war.  Also, there was an interactive oral history experience that allows guests to have a conversation with a member of the WWII generation.  It uses immersive technology made possible with artificial intelligence.  Finally, “The Liberation Pavilion” was a brand new, huge outdoor theater that included a statue of General Eisenhower.  The whole museum experience was almost overwhelming and I could have easily spent another day there.   

Thursday, November 28, 2024:  For Thanksgiving morning, the only thing on my agenda was to walk around the French Quarter.  The weather was perfect as I enjoyed taking pictures of the iconic buildings and did some people watching.  There were constant reminders of when I took the kids to New Orleans twenty five years ago.  The things that I remember were the puppet show at Jackson Square, the horse and carriage ride to the graveyard, and taking pictures of the kids in front of the colorful houses on Ursuline Street.

   The big event of the day was to get on the train.  I enjoy Amtrak because I love to sit and stare out the window and watch the world go by.  It was fun to watch the sun go down and then rise again the next morning.  Unlike driving on the interstate, the trains literally run through the woods with the trees being at an arms distance.  We pass over the swamps and bayous which end at the base of the tracks.  It is just beautiful.  Also, I enjoy the gentle rocking back and forth while riding the train because it is very relaxing and I sleep like the dead.

   Amtrak is not for everybody.  For example, you have to be an acrobat to get into the upper bunk to go to sleep.  The seats down below are supposed to fold together to make a lower bunk but I haven’t been able to make that work.  The food wasn’t very good on this trip and I expected more for Thanksgiving.  Finally, it is tough to see the underbelly of civilization.  We rode past the trailer parks and the homeless camps that line the outside of the cities.  After seeing the poverty and living conditions of the less fortunate, I was reminded, once again, how privileged I am.

Friday, November 29, 2024:  Amtrak actually arrived in Chicago early so I had the time to do “The Skydeck” on the 103rd floor of the Willis Tower and to go out on “The Ledge.”  There were no lines because they let me in even before the actual 9:00 opening.  It is hard to scare me but even I was afraid to step off of “The Ledge” while looking down but, once you knew that you were safe, it wasn’t so bad.  Visiting “The Skydeck” was great fun and wasn’t even on the agenda but, because I was traveling by myself, I could be flexible in terms of what attractions I attended.

   The anchor event of the day was to take a tour of the Art Institute of Chicago.  Joel was our guide and he was great because he was so enthusiastic.  We started our tour before the crowds arrived so we had an unobstructed view of “A Sunday on LaGrande Jatte” by Seurat, “American Gothic” by Grant Wood, and “Nighthawks” by Edward Hopper.  I love to show off so I told Joel about some facts of the paintings that even he didn’t know.  By now, I have been to many art museums and have a liberal arts education, so I know a little about a lot of topics.  It is fun to surprise others.  Just because I wear a beard, have a ponytail, and look like I work on the docks; I let the others know that I am not just some rube from Kentucky.    

Saturday, November 30, 2024:  I had some time before my food tour so I took a walk along Michigan Avenue for an hour and a half.  It felt good to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the day with the sun glistening off the traffic and the people crowded on the sidewalks.  It was a totally different scene from the French Quarter but still beautiful in its own way.  Then I met Mickey, our guide for the food tour of Chicago.  He was fun because he was a “short, hairy nerd” and seemed to revel in being weird.  We visited “Giordano’s” for pizza,  “Garrett’s” for popcorn, ate a “Chicago Hot Dog,” and then sampled a brownie at “The Palmer House.”  It was my fourth flawless day in a row and you really do need to appreciate it when everything goes right.

   By the time that our tour was over, I was done with Chicago.  I went to the airport to catch an earlier flight back to Louisville.  The nice thing about solo travel is that I get to set the agenda and if I feel like flying back early then there is no reason not to.  Further, I like to go to bed early and get up early to take my morning coffee at the hotel breakfast room when it opens.  Tracey and I have done a lot of traveling since we retired and I have had to learn the same lessons over and over again.  I have learned to be patient and to go with the flow.  Initially, I wasn’t even supposed to go to the Art Institute or the Willis Tower but I made plans on the fly.  Also, I have learned to be comfortable with doing nothing for awhile.  For example, I left the French Quarter early to sit at the train depot for two hours.  I killed the time by happily reading the newspaper and I was prepared to do the same thing at the airport if I couldn’t get an earlier flight.  It is nice to be older and have acquired more patience and self control.

   In closing, this “backpack vacation” on Amtrak was great because each day was totally different from the one before.  It was like having four mini-vacations bundled into one.  I am so encouraged that I will probably do another Amtrak vacation for Thanksgiving 2025.

        And now it is on to the Philippines.  

WWII and D-Day

   I am on my third reading of Rick Atkinson’s trilogy on WWII.  In fact, I have been independently studying WWII so much this year that I feel like I have been told that I am going to have to pass an exam on the subject in order to get into heaven.  For example, in the last six months I have read the biographies on Guderian, Manstein, and Rundstedt and have been watching “Battlefield,” “The Soviet Storm,” and the 1973 series entitled, “The World at War.”  There are many reasons as to why I would commit so much time to a conflict that ended eighty years ago but, for me, it is as simple as my father would have loved these books and television series.  After all, we watched “The World at War” together when it first was telecast and I remember laying on the floor, my mouth agape, as I learned about the atrocities and the battles.  It made me want to become a history teacher.  And it helped to form a bond between my father and I because he clearly enjoyed explaining the complexities of WWII  to me.

   When asked about what people should do in retirement, an expert on the subject said, “try to remember what brought you joy when you were ten years old and do that.”  That was good advice and, since I have always loved to read and write, and now that I have the time, an awful lot of my day is spent doing these two activities.  It has been eight years since I taught history and what I was afraid of when I quit was that my brain would become ossified from non use.  To aerate my brain, I started reading challenging books and took a lot of mental notes on what separates good writing from great writing.  I paid attention as I noticed that Rick Atkinson took his time in leading up to major events, like OVERLORD, but he filled the pages with interesting information like what it was like to fight on the front lines, medicine, the misery inflicted on civilians, and a typical soldier’s experience with “rest and relaxation” in London.  His narrative is peppered with side stories that include mini biographies of the politicians and generals so that I feel like I have become to know them personally as he has quoted extensively from their diaries.

   Examples of how Atkinson is a master of using direct quotes to drive the narrative home comes from his section on D-Day.  One soldier wrote that machine gun bullets tore through his grounded Higgins boat so that “men were tumbling out just like corn cobs off of a conveyor belt.”  Mortar fragments said to be the size of shovel blades “skimmed the shore, trimming away arms, legs, and heads.”  Steel-jacketed rounds kicked up sand “like wretched living things,” or swarmed overhead in an “insectile whine.”  It wasn’t all valor.  Atkinson reminds us that these soldiers weren’t much older than boys and they found their amusements wherever they could.  When they found a German corpse with a distended stomach they would step on the man to make the dead Nazi fart.  One soldier wrote in his diary, on D-Day +1, “Dear God, please come down here and help us.  Don’t send your son, Jesus, because this is no place for a boy.”  I love these anecdotes because they remind me that the soldiers who fought in WWII were real people who used humor as a coping mechanism.  

  
   There are a lot of reasons as to why I have confined my reading to WWII lately.  Learning about the misery of the American soldiers as they suffered through one barrage after another at Anzio, for example, makes me appreciate what a good life I have in 2024.  Also, WWII has nothing to do with my present life so there aren’t any triggers to bring me back to reality.  D-Day was eighty years ago so I don’t have to worry about Atkinson sneaking in references about social issues or our current political environment.  Finally, there has been no glory in the global conflicts since WWII.  The history of the United States fighting in Asia and the Middle East in the last eighty years is glum and I would rather read the inspirational stories that Atkinson shares in his trilogy on WWII.

Armistice Day 11:11:11

    Armistice Day celebrates the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day, of the eleventh month of 1918, when the Germans declared a cease fire in a railroad car in Compiegne, France.  For most people, Armistice Day doesn’t have that much meaning because they have no connection to it, but my grandfather was in World War I.  Donald Cheyne Strachan joined the 106th Infantry (L) as a 1st Lieutenant and then transferred to the American Expeditionary Force in May, 1918.  He had previously served in the National Guard Mexican Border service and later was in World War II as a member of the Judge Advocate in North Africa.  He received an honorable discharge as a major in October, 1942.

   No one seems to know much about the American battles in WWI so I have written a short primer on the topic.  In “Operation Michael,” Hindenburg was the commanding German general and in 1918 he planned one last great offensive to take over Paris.  The Second Battle of the Marne shattered the trench deadlock that had gripped the opposing armies for three years.  The offensive was stopped at the key battle of Reims.  The objective had been to capture the railroad junction, separate the Allies, and send the British packing.  It was a desperate thing to do but the Germans were starving and needed to end the war quickly.  The offensive failed. 

   The first battle for the American Expeditionary Force was at Saint Mihiel, which we won, but it was anti-climatic because the Germans claimed that they were already retreating from the place.  Our first clear victory was when we stopped the German advance at Chateau-Thierry, which was a main railroad line on the Marne River that led to Paris.  Our final participation in “Operation Michael” was to push against the German line at Belleau Wood, where the Germans had sidled to after Chateau-Thierry.  The Americans were replacing the French, who were beaten and running away while yelling, “Retreat!”  A member of our Marine Corps famously yelled back, “Retreat Hell!  We just got here!”  It was the first battle where the odds were even and the Americans beat the Germans fair and square.

   After Belleau Wood, our attention was turned further east to the Meuse-Argonne Offensive.  The Americans crossed the Meuse River to get to Sedan, severing the German rail links that supplied the rest of their front.  Situated in the Argonne Forest, this battle was a stalemate at first, but the Americans eventually forced the Germans to retreat.  A little known battle was at Montfaucon, or Falcon Mountain.  Its importance was being the “Little Gibraltar” of the Argonne Forest, lying northwest of Verdun and Metz, and as part of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive.  The Americans eventually took this fortress at the southern edge of the western front but only with great effort and loss of life.

   I think that no one knows about World War I because there were no epic battles like Normandy or Guadalcanal.  Also, after Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, we as a society have become anti-war and don’t want to celebrate our victories.  My grandfather lost his youth in World War I and his health in World War II and I think that he, like all veterans, would like to be remembered on this one day of the year.

Rhone

    My friends ask me why I continue to take these trips with U. of L.  They know that flying to another continent is expensive and that traveling is an ordeal.  My reply is that “it is nice to get away for awhile so that we appreciate what a good life that we have and it helps to break up the year.”  These river cruises are perfect for us because we are treated like royalty and half of the fun is to live like kings and queens, if only for a little while.  The Rhône was great because on every day on the cruise there was a new historical town to discover.  We saw the Roman amphitheater in Arles, the Palace of the Popes in Avignon, the Viviers cathedral that was built by the Romans, the Lyon cathedral which is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and the historical hospital in Beaune.  We came back to the ship in the afternoon so we had time to take in the sun on the upper deck of the ship.  It was the perfect trip for Tracey and me.

   We spent a week on Uniworld’s “S.S. Catherine.”  The ship was small enough for Tracey to memorize its floor plans so she had complete freedom and independence,  That means a lot to a blind woman.  On the other hand, the Palace of the Popes in Avignon was challenging.  There were many flights of stairs and they were of uneven height, the edges were worn down so they bowed in the middle, some steps were narrow while others were wide, some were steep while others were shallow, some had handrails and others did not.  Also, some of these old towns have been around forever and have been reconstructed many times so the surface of the streets alternated between cobblestone, asphalt, tile, and brick.  Tracey can navigate the tile easily but her cane became useless on the other surfaces.  A half day tour was about all that we were up for because of the ordeal of walking.

   I like to joke around with our tour guides whenever possible.  As part of our excursion to Viviers, for example, MaryAnne invited us into her house.  She said that even though we had a large group, everyone could take a restroom break because she had four bathrooms.  I smirked when I said, “Hopefully their isn’t any carpeting around the toilets.”  That joke landed flat so I tried gain.  As we were leaving I said, “You should check eBay in about two hours if you want to get your stuff back.”  I thought that I was hilarious but she remained stone-faced.  In Tournon, we took a walking tour with Pierre and as we passed the slaughterhouse he pointed out the heads of cows carved into stone and imbedded into the walls.  I said that the heads served as a warning to any passing cows that they should stay away.  Pierre didn’t laugh so I tried to sell the joke.  “You see, there wouldn’t be any loose cows walking around the middle of the city and that makes the joke funny.”  There still wasn’t a laugh so I tired again.  “A cow wouldn’t recognize its face carved out in stone because it is a cow.”  Finally, Pierre smiled, but it was more out of charity than because he liked the joke.      
   There were a lot of moments on this trip that made it special.  For example, it had rained for three solid weeks before we arrived in Arles but now the weather was perfect so parents took advantage of the sun by letting their kids play in the public square.  It was wonderful to hear the happy noises of the kids playing and laughing.  Another example was in Viviers where a woman teared up as she recalled how the guide had helped Tracey feel the altar in the cathedral.  Also, she was inspired by watching me guiding Tracey through the buildings and on the streets.  You just know that she is going to share the story of the blind woman to family and friends when she gets back home.  Of course, the nicest moment was celebrating Tracey’s 60th birthday.  Todor, the manager of the dining room, put up streamers, set out special plates, and blew up two big balloons which expressed a six and a zero.  I don’t think that I have ever seen my wife so happy as they served her a birthday cake with her name on it and popped the cork on a champagne bottle.  It was a wonderful evening, one that we will not forget for the rest of our lives.  

Retreat letters for my children

 It took me a long time to write the senior retreat letters to my children.  Since it has been ten years since my youngest graduated, I thought that it might be a good idea to type up the retreat letters and post them to my bog so that others can enjoy them.  I copied the original, hand written, letters into my journal.

Dear Grant:

I want you to know, now that you are a senior in high school, you are everything that I could hope for in a son.  You SAT scores prove that you are smart, your years as a wrestler show your athleticism and dedication, and you are just an overall nice guy.  But believe me, it was a long and hard road to get you to be the person that you are today.

Your mother and I had been trying to have a baby for over a year and a half when we finally went to a fertility specialist.  After a series of tests and procedures, you were born, and our lives had irrevocably changed for the better.  I remember that when you were a baby you were just a helpless blob who “drooled like a madman.”  You put everything that you could get your hands on into your mouth.  Also, you were constantly sick; you were at the doctor’s office at least once a week for your first year of life.  It is my firm belief that you were worth every bit of love and effort that we put into you.

My happiest memories of you were when you attended Twinbrook Preschool.  You used to scream with excitement and beat on the big picture windows when you saw me coming up the sidewalk to pick you up.  Once I was in the building you would take my hand and guide me to your cubby so that you could show me all of the artwork that you had created that day.  Before we left to go home, your teacher would stop me to tell me about all of the cute things that you had done.  For example, you had a special towel that you used for a cape and you would put it on as soon as you got to preschool.  Just by putting on that cape you were no longer Grant Frazier but became “The Weatherman.”  I still don’t know why you picked that name.  Or do you remember the time when you pretended to marry Colleen and you two walked around, arm in arm, all day?”  I really miss those days.

Now you are all grown up and a senior in high school and I could not be prouder of you.  It reminds me of what God once said of Jesus: “This is my son with whom I am well pleased.”  It also reminds me of what the comedian, Bill Cosby, said of his son when the the boy was killed by a stranger.  Cosby said of his son, “He was my hero.”  I didn’t understand that statement but now that I have a grown son I totally agree with the sentiment.  You are my hero and I am pleased with the young man that you have become.

Strength and Honor,
Love,
Your Father 


Dear Lillian:

I cannot believe that it is already your senior retreat.  Time goes by so fast.  It seems like just yesterday that we took you to Twinbrook for day care.  You refused to wear anything but a pretty dress to school, even when it was freezing in the dead of winter, because you loved to twirl around and watch your dress float up.  Also, to accessorize, you always wore your flat-bottomed black shoes because of the “clip clop” sound that they made.  You were always my beautiful angel; perfect in every way.

Perfect, that is, until someone crossed you.  One time you came crying to me at the end of the day because a little boy had thrown dirt on your pretty dress.  I said, “What do you want me to do?  Go and beat him up?”  You replied with, “No!  I want you to shoot him with your gun.”  (This is funny because the only gun that I ever owned wasn’t real.  It was a replica from the Civil War and I used when I was a re-enactor).  On another occasion, I was on my way to work but you wanted me to play on your Pogo Stick.  When I said that I could do it because I would get all sweaty before work, you called me a “big sissy.”  (It was funny because it was so out of character for you)

I always knew that you were special but it was nice to have my opinion confirmed by others.  For example, I was so proud to watch you win the “Eagle Award” at Holy Trinity.  Also, there was the time that Mr. Collard said “my best little girl is up front” when he made you the line leader.  You have always been a great kid but it was gratifying to hear others say nice things about you.

In closing, I would like to paraphrase “The Grapes of Wrath.”  My apologies to John Steinbeck.

When you finish high school and move out of the house, I’ll be there.

When you go to college and need help with starting your career, I’ll be there.
   

I’ll be there when you get married and you need for me to give you away.

I’ll be there when you have children of your own and need a babysitter.  You know that I will
           always be ready to help.

And when you’ve married the man of your dreams and live in the house that you have bought, why I will be there, too.

I love you, Button!
Have a great retreat!
Dad



Dear Virginia:

I cannot believe that it is already your senior retreat.  It seem like just yesterday that I was picking you up from Holy Trinity’s after school care.  You were always running and playing but when you saw me you would yell “Daddy” and then jump up into my arms.  That was the gift that God has given you in that you were always in a good mood and you were always running and playing.  The only time that you stopped moving was when you were sleeping.

Virginia, you are our most emotional child in that you always wore your heart on your sleeve.  Do you remember crying out of happiness when you read your first sentence?  Or when you cried out of frustration when the birds kept flying away when all that you wanted to do was to pat them on the head.  And then there was the time when you cried out of sadness when we read “Of Mice and Men” and George had to shoot Lenny.  You cried out of fear when you saw the first born sons being killed in the mini-series, “Jesus of Nazareth.”  I love how passionate you are.

You have always had a positive mental attitude and a lust for life: eager to please and a ready smile on your face.  Virginia, I am sure that you are going to be happy no matter where life takes you.  My only advise to you, as you finish high school and move on to college, is to open yourself up to Christ.  Let him into your life and he will give you meaning and purpose.

In closing, it is my personal belief that heaven will be a loop of our favorite memories all strung together and played over and over again.  We have had memories that we can share in eternity.  Memories like dancing to “Fly Me to the Moon” in Cancun.  Or when we wrapped you up in a towel after you had taken a bath when you were a baby to make a “Virginia Burrito!”  Memories like playing with our dog, Laika, and then posting silly pictures of you two on Facebook.

Once I had to leave to go out of town and I asked you if you would miss me.  You said, “Of course I’ll miss you!  We are buddies!”  That statement meant the world to me.  You have always been a good daughter, and a good friend, and I am proud of the young woman that you have become.

I love you, Punkin.
Daddy

San Diego Comic Con

 Grant and I decided to go to one last comic con.  We have been doing the cons for almost ten years and have tired of them but, before we declared ourselves done, we decided to go out big.  The San Diego Comic Con is the original con and it draws about 130,000 fans.  Also, the writers strike came on the heels of COVID so this felt like the first time in five years that San Diego had a real con.  And because this was our last con, I spared no expense to attend it.  The tickets alone cost over $2,000 and then I had to pay for the flights, hotels, Ubers, and meals.  It cost a lot of money but the payoff was to see my son in his element where he was happy and truly excited to attend the meetings and tour the exposition.

Thursday: I picked up Grant at 4:30 am and we were at the airport 15 minutes later.  Our flight was supposed to leave at 6:00 but was delayed for six hours because o a maintenance issue and a part had to be flown in from Charlotte.  Of course, we missed our connecting flight and had to wait an additional five hours in the Dallas airport for the next available flight.  After almost 21 hours of travel, we arrived at the hotel at 10:00 pm (1:00 am eastern time), and we had lost a whole day at the comic con as we were originally supposed to land in San Diego at 11:30 am.

Friday:  We were supposed to see a panel on “The Boys” but missed it because I didn’t think that anyone would line up before 9:00for a panel that started at 10:00.  I was wrong and we arrived too late to get in to see the show.  I remained humble for the rest of the con and went where ever Grant wanted to go, when he wanted to go.  We saw Bill Amend who draws the “Fox Trot” cartoon.  He was nervous at first but lightened up as he told the story of how went from earning a degree in physics to becoming a cartoonist.  The second major panel that we saw was about “Like a Dragon” where the star was flown in from Japan and who didn’t speak any English.  He had an interpreter and sat in rapt attention when they played the trailer from his show.  Finally, the star took a selfie in front of the audience, and that reminded us that appearing at a comic con is as important to the star as it is to the audience.

Saturday: I started a routine of getting up at 4:30 to be in the gym by 5:00.  After lifting weights for an hour, I would sit in the breakfast room and wait for Grant.  We would leave the hotel at about 8:00 to get to the convention center in time to get in line for the 10:00 panel.  Saturday started with the stars of “Ghosts” and then we saw Matt Groenig, the creator of “The Simpson” and “Futurama.”  Up next was a panel on “Batman: The Caped Crusader” where all of the voice actors from the television show made an appearance.  Finally, we saw the artist who created the prosthetics for the many iterations of the “Star Trek” franchise.  This last panel was so good because the artist was so excited about his craft and so happy to show off his work.  I loved his enthusiasm.

Sunday:  Our first panel was about how Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko were the co-creators of Spider-Man, Ironman, and Dr. Strange.  They were as important as Stan Lee but were not so good at self-promotion so he got the lions’ share of the credit.  The next two panels the the voice actors and the musicians from “X-Men ‘97,” the “Star Wars” cartoon series, and “Arcane.”  There was a nice moment when one of the musicians broke down and cried as he talked about composing a song for a scene where a daughter was forced to leave her father.  The musician wept as he recalled how he had his own newborn daughter in his lap as he wrote the score for the scene.  She was perfect in her innocence and goodness, and he cried in the knowledge that this little bundle of joy would some day leave him.  I teared up as he wept while telling his story because I was thinking about how my own two daughters have left me to live in Texas.

Monday:  The convention was over but we had the morning to tour San Diego as I had booked an afternoon flight.  We did the “Hop On Hop Off” trolley and got off at the Hotel Del Coronado and the Japanese Garden.  Finally, we arrived at the airport at 12:30 for our 2:30 flight.  But when our flight was delayed by 45 minutes, we missed our connecting flight in Dallas by five minutes.  The airline put us up at a hotel and after sleeping for less than four hours, we went back to the airport for our 6:30 am flight.  I was so tired that I laid down on a table in the terminal and slept for an hour.  Usually I am all about decorum but I had no more gas in the tank.

This was a hard trip; not as hard as S.E. Asia but very difficult in its own right.  Once again, I had to ask myself, as I was trying to get some sleep while laying on an airport table, why on earth do I do this to myself?  The simple answer is that I do it for Grant because he enjoys these conventions so much.  And I could not have been prouder of him for the way that he carried himself.  He could have pitched a fit when we missed the panel on “The Boys” or cracked under the pressure of the ordeal of flying home, but he didn’t, while I lost my temper twice.  What made the trip worthwhile was to hear Grant describing the comic con to Tracey when we were at lunch yesterday.  He was happy and animated and excited to share our trip with her.  It was our last con together and, even with all of the problems that we encountered, I am still glad that we did it so that we could go out big.

Non Sequitar
1. For our last meal in San Diego we went to “The Old Spaghetti Factory” where an old woman in a wheelchair asked to sit outside.  The hostess tried to explain that the outside tables could only hold four people but, even though she had a party of five that included a wheelchair, the lady insisted.  It is people like that who must drive the staff crazy because they have set themselves up for failure and certainly will complain throughout the meal about being crowded.
2. When informed that we could not get on the plane for our return trip to Louisville, the lady behind us let out a cry and then began to sob uncontrollably.  She did it again when told that there were no more flights out that evening and that we would have to spend the night at a hotel.  A wheelchair was called for her and she collapsed dramatically into it.  Later on, she clung to Grant and me so that we could help her find her way to the bus, hotel, and the airport for the following day.  Clearly, she was not used to traveling by herself.
3. I like to chat up the Uber drivers in the hope that I can learn something from them.  We had drivers from Baghdad, Lebanon, and Mexico.  Harold was a candle and scent salesman while Van tried to convince us that the FBI was in on the plot to assassinate President Trump.  We didn’t try to argue with Van but let him rant for the whole trip to the airport.   
4. I became over-stimulated at the exposition.  It was over-crowded and the noise from the booths and the lights from displays were getting to me so I sat down in the common area just to calm down and read for awhile and Grant went shopping.  You have to pace yourself when you go to the comic conventions.   

High School Theater

    Joshua Chamberlain was going places and he knew it.  In fact, everyone knew it because he exuded a quiet confidence and intelligence.  He had come a long way since the fishing expeditions to Chickasaw Lake.  His mother had sponsored the local Boy Scout troop but by the time the boys had made it to middle school, everyone else had lost interest.  This is what made Josh special.  He continued with the program to become an Eagle Scout and earned a scholarship to the engineering program at the University of Tennessee because of his work in community service.  Josh dreamed of becoming an engineer at Zollicoffer Incorporated because it was the best and he made sure that he was on the right track to achieve his goal as soon as possible.  Tracey Cox, his high school history teacher, said “I never taught anyone who was so sure of what he wanted to be and who possessed the drive to get there in a few short years.”

   One of the ways that Josh committed his time to community service for the Scouts was by working in the theater at Farragut High School.  He liked to build things so he became a member of the stage crew.  By the time that his junior year, he became so adept at building the sets that Mr. Bragg, who ran the theater program, had tapped Josh to become the chief electrician.  He combined his passion for engineering with his need to volunteer be becoming responsible for hanging the klieg lights, wiring them, and then manning the stage lighting control panel and was the only person allowed to touch the switches and dials.  At a very young of seventeen, Josh was widely recognized as the quiet leader in the theater.  Unlike the actors, who always marched to a different drummer, David was respected because of his ability to construct the sets and doing the grip work of maintaining the lights.  Also, he was well liked because he wasn’t above doing the non-skilled jobs like spending his Saturdays building the sets and painting the flats.   

   Farragut High School had been built in the 1950s when there was no thought or budget for a theater.  The school improvised by making a micro theater out of a converted classroom, a closed off hallway, and an unused storage room.  The end of the long hallway on the third floor was sealed off and it became the backstage, the classroom was the main stage, and there were three rows of seats for an audience that could hold no more than one hundred people.  Everything in the theater was painted black;  walls, flooring, ceiling, even the seats were black.

   On the back wall of the improvised theater room was a large hole in the wall.  It had been cut out at the very top, right next to the ceiling, and a window had been jerry-rigged into it.  On the other side of that window was the converted storage room.  Mr. Bragg had a platform built up about five feet off of the ground so that he could watch the production without disturbing the audience members.  It was also built as a light booth for Josh so that he could watch the stage productions to control the lighting.  A path had been made from the door to the platform and, aside from that, the storage room served as a place to put all the props and costumes.  The cast and crew could see Josh and Mr. Bragg through that little window at any time during a production.
   

When the plays were being produced and the cast needed a place to change into their costumes and apply their make up, the adjacent classrooms were used as dressing rooms.  In theory, there was one dressing room for the boys and a separate one for the girls, but that rule was often ignored.  Literally, the cast could have spent the morning in science class and the evening getting dressed to star in the musical and it all happened in the same room.  The improvised theater was too small and completely inadequate for the job, but for the actors and stage crew, it was magical.

   The reason as to why the students liked the theater so much was that it provided an escape from home and school.  It gave them a cause and a place to hang out with like-minded people.  Josh came into his own in the theater because he felt needed and he really thought of the stage as a second family.  The theater was a safe place; it was like a protective cocoon because you weren’t involved with the stage production then nobody knew that you were a theater kid.  Josh spent every Saturday there and, when the production was getting closer to opening night, he spent every afternoon and many evenings there as well.  Sundays were for church and family.

   Clearly, Josh was never going to get along with the actors because they were all a little strange.  The boys, especially, were weird but there were several girls who were beautiful and Josh probably worked so many hours so that he could spend some time with them.  He made excuses to work on the sets or hang the lights when the actors were rehearsing.  On the weekends, when no one else was in the building, the theater kids had the whole school to themselves.  They felt like Farragut High belonged to them and them alone.  To add to the mystique of the theater, Josh had rigged up a little button to a wooden block and lowered it from outside of the third story window.  When the actors or stage crew wanted to gain access to the building where the theater was located, they pressed the button and a buzzer would go off in the light booth and Josh would run down three flights of stairs to let the actors in.  It was such a simple contraption but it made the theater kids feel like they were in some sort of clandestine secret society.  Josh acted as a security guard and he made sure that whoever wanted in to the building was a member of the cast or crew.  In effect, he was the bouncer who made everyone else feel safe inside of their theater home. 

   Mr. Bragg ran every aspect of the theater.  He was the A.P. English teacher for Farragut High School and he was known and feared for his quick wit and even quicker temper.  He was a small man, short and overweight, but built like a bullet with the same pent up energy.  Always dressed in slacks and a LaCoste alligator shirt; no one had ever seen Mr. Bragg him in jeans or even a tee shirt.  Over worked a full time teacher and running the theater program by himself, Mr. Bragg became bitchy when he was tired.  And he was always tired.  That is why he was never without a Diet Coke in his hand.  The constant flow of caffeine fueled his energy, especially after his classes had been difficult.  To make matters even more complicated, Mr. Bragg was a gay Black man in Knoxville, and he liked to say that he was one of two that existed in East Tennessee.  Really, though, the fact that he was a gay Black man did not factor into his relationship with his students or the cast; his color and his sexuality were beside the point.  What was remarkable about Mr. Bragg was his passion for his work.  He crackled with intelligence and talent oozed from every pore.  Every year he produced a drama in the Fall and a musical in the Spring and sometimes he produced a third play around winter break.  Some of the other teachers at Farragut wanted to act so the third play was produced without the students and sometimes Mr. Bragg would take a role.  When the school year was over, Mr. Bragg moved to New York for two months so that he could act in a summer stock production.  This endeared him to his students even more because it showed his commitment to his craft.  The highlight of his career was when one of his former students became a successful director and flew Mr. Bragg out to Los Angeles so that he could act in his new movie.  He only had one line but got to share some screen time with Harrison Ford.  

   A new production began with Mr. Bragg picking out what play he wanted to do.  He had to clear it with his principal, order the scripts, and then audition the cast.  The dates of the auditions were listed on the glass encased bulletin board that Josh had put up outside of the theater.  When the roles were assigned, the theater kids immediately knew that the list was up and they ran to theater hall to see if they made the cut.  There were both shrieks of happiness and tears of sadness at the sight of either being given a lead role or being assigned to the chorus line.  The early rehearsals were for the principles only but the whole cast would rehearse for the long sessions on the weekends.  Because the Saturday sessions went all day, Mr. Bragg had the actors do some warm up activities to loosen them up.  Everyone would lie on the floor and listen while Mr. Bragg lead them through some meditation exercises.  And yet, these were teenagers after all, and three of the prettiest girls at Farragut High School shared the lead.  They couldn’t help to think that Destiny Ryan was literally on her back and only a few feet away from them.  The girls liked the attention and made sure that heir hair and make up were done for the Saturday long sessions.  The stage crew worked in the early mornings and looked for reasons to hang around so that they might also steal a glimpse of the girls.  Josh had to shoo them away but did it gently because the crew was made up of volunteers and he couldn’t afford to lose them.  Irv McDowell was on the stage crew, although he and Josh didn’t recognize each other from their Camp Van Dorn experience together.  Meanwhile, Destiny looked like an angel to the stage but she was a senior and they knew that nobody in the theater had a chance to date her.  She only dated college boys now.
     After meditating, the actors broke out into groups, one to warm up their singing voices with the musical director in the hallway, another to practice improvisation with the acting coach in a classroom, while the third group, the principle actors, ran through their lines in the theater.  Fr. Jubal Early was present for the Saturday sessions.  He was friends with Mr. Bragg and helped out on the weekends by volunteering to videotape the rehearsals.  The recordings were made available to the cast and crew so that they could make adjustments after watching the tape.  Acting as the producer, Fr. Early organized the fund raising and paid the bills.  It was a thankless job but the priest did it because the theater, and his friend, needed him.  He raised and spent thousands of dollars and made sure that every penny showed up on the stage.  
   Mr. Bragg like to say that “No one sees us do our job; they don’t see the struggle, so they expect a lot from us.”  He would yell and throw tantrums but he got by with it because he productions were so professional.  All of his charges hated him and loved him at the same time; hate because he was so demanding and so loud, love because he made the actors proud of themselves.  There was almost a cult of personality around Mr. Bragg.  His laugh was uproarious and genuine, but he was a tyrant and his dark moods ran deep.  His actors and crew knew when to stay away from him, which was often.  If there were one example as to why the kids admired Mr. Bragg so much was that, on the weekends, after a long day of rehearsing, they would party at someone’s house.  At 10:00 or even 11:00 at night, they drove past Farragut High School and could see the lights on on the third floor.  They knew that Mr. Bragg, after the cast and crew had left, was still there, sewing the costumes or doing one of the other thousands of tiny things that needed to be done before opening night.  The story of the third story light made its rounds among the high school seniors and it only added to the esteem that the company felt for its leader.  A gay Black man in Eastern Tennessee had become a beloved role model for a bunch of white, middle class theater kids.
   Opening night was always the highlight of any production.  Josh had made sure that the lighting complete and the sets were built.  Fr. Early had the programs and tickets printed and there was even enough money left over to pay for the ushers to wear a tuxedo on the first night.  The cast had memorized their lines and thrown away their scripts because they weren’t needed anymore.  Several of the mothers had volunteered a couple of Saturdays to sew the costumes and they looked spectacular.  Now the moment had arrived.  The greatest compliment that Mr. Bragg could give the theater kids was “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a show!”  They had waited for weeks to hear it and, on the last night of dress rehearsal, Mr. Bragg beamed with pride as he said it.  Actors and crew puffed out their chests with pride and dreams of moving to Hollywood to become movie stars began to swirl in our heads. And then, when the production earned a standing ovation after the last act of opening night, Mr. Bragg turned to Josh as they were watching from the window box at the back of the theater, and he said, with tears in his eyes, “this makes it all worth it!”  Josh smiled but the two didn’t say anything for awhile, content to bask in the glow in all that they accomplished.  They knew that they still had six more shows and two matinees and could only hope that the company could keep their energy up for another two weeks