The story I am about to tell you is absolutely true.  I could not make this up if I tried.  Well, maybe I could make it up – but it would not be a story even remotely believable.  I suppose sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.  And this true story is strange.  Here goes.

A few weeks ago I blogged about our bowling with some senior adult friends of ours who live here in our campground.  I mentioned that Lisa and I have learned the importance of connecting with people on their territory – even if it is something we are not necessarily fond of.  A really nice couple here, Tom and Diane, are big bowlers and to spend time with them Lisa and I bowled with them during “senior day’.  You can read about that experience in that previous post.  Neither of us did particularly well in terms of score – about normal for us.  I scored my average of around 140.  Which brings me to yesterday.

We decided to get a group together and return to the bowling lanes and along with Tom and Diane we were joined by my golf buddy, J.C., and another couple, Glen and Kaye, who were there just to watch.  I mention them so that you know I do have witnesses to what transpired.

I have never been a good bowler.  As I mentioned in that previous story, it is a game that looks easy – but is really not.  The best I have ever bowled is around 160.  Until yesterday.  Don’t think I am about to start bragging – that is not what this is.  This story is so surreal I am certain it had more to do with the stars alignment than my bowling ability.

We bowled three games each during the senior special and it was my first game that was the highlight.  After finding a pair of shoes to fit and locating a ball that felt good enough to use (since I don’t have one of my own and never have) I rolled for the first frame.  It felt pretty good as I released the ball and the result was a “9” with a good chance for a spare.  Got it!  And I was off to a pretty good start – for me.  Frame number two – a “6” and a spare.  At this point I was thinking it would be just another normal round for me with maybe three spares (on a good day) and, who knows,  maybe two strikes.  That would be exceptional.  But here is where it gets weird.

My third ball could not have hit the sweet spot any better and it resulted in a strike.  Wow! Two spares and strike.  I was really on my game.  The fourth frame was much the same.  My ball struck perfect again and I had two strikes in a row.  Now I need to say here that I have never bowled three strikes consecutively and maybe only on a handful of occasions have bowled two.  So this was really something.

Frame five.  People are starting to now notice what is happening and paying more attention.  I roll again – it looks good – like all the rest – could it be? It is – three strikes in a row.  Okay – its is about time to get back to reality.  I am thinking my luck has finally run out.  People are laughing and ‘high-fiving’ and shaking their heads and doubting I’m telling the truth about my bowling game.  What is going on?

Number six.  I try not to think about my string of strikes and am interested in just keeping the ball out of the gutter at this point.  I roll – it looks good – I can’t believe it – it has a chance – STRIKE number four.  I think I may pass out at this point.  This is just not happening.

On to frame number seven and I have two spares and four consecutive strikes.  I try not to think about what I am doing – just do like before and I can’t believe the results are the same – STRIKE.  Five strikes in a row and the crowd behind me is going nuts.  At this point I am speechless – just shake my head and sit down.

Now I am getting near the end.  Will I keep this going any longer or will the karma of the moment fade away as fast as it arrived?  I take up my position with the scratched up red/pink ball that I found on one of the racks.  I eye the target and let it fly.  STRIKE! That is six strikes in a row.  What is happening here?

My string of strikes ends on the ninth frame with another “9” and a spare.  Now I have only the tenth frame remaining and to this point six strikes and three spares.  It is time to end this thing and I bowl two more strikes and a “9” on the tenth frame.  Our friends are cheering and laughing at my score.  254.

254.  I just bowled a 254.  But, even more amazing I was seven pins from a perfect score. SEVEN!  I have never been close to 200.  180 would be a lifetime goal for me.  But never, never in my wildest dreams would I think I could bowl a 254.  My next game was more the norm for me – though actually a score I would be proud of – 168.  But with my last game of the day I got back into my earlier groove and bowled a 200.  What a day!

Diane had my scores printed off and told me I had a 622 series.  I asked if that was good.  By her reaction I suppose it is.  I actually asked the bowling ally if I could purchase that pink ball – but they said no.  The way I was feeling I would have paid a hundred dollars.

After we left the bowling ally – we all had lunch together and then walked over and bought a ‘Powerball’ ticket for the big 400 million dollar give away last night.  J.C asked me to touch his ticket hoping my luck would continue for a few more hours at least.  But, someone in South Carolina won the 400 million so I suppose my good karma has come and gone.  But I bet they didn’t bowl a 622.  So take that!

Maybe here is where I should wax on about some life lesson learned through all this.  I suppose I could say something like – keep trying you never know what may happen as long as you don’t quit.  Or maybe something more spiritual like: the unexpected blessings of God come in various shapes, sizes and scores.  But really I can only conclude one thing about yesterday.  I bowled really good.

And if you are looking for me – I’ll be at the bowling alley.

They were racing pigs at the Los Angeles County Fair this past Saturday.  At least that is what we understood was taking place on the day we had planned to attend with our friends Martha and Marcello .  Martha and Lisa met while she worked in California and although they are young enough to be our children – we hit it off well and visited them this weekend.

Our plan was to meet up with them on Friday and drive to Long Beach for their famous “Lobster-Fest” and then on to the LA County Fair on Saturday.  We got a little sidetracked and this is the story of how we did not see pigs run but actually ran with them.

How to begin?  Because we had plans to top our weekend off with a trip with Martha and Marcello to Disneyland – we were interested in finding some cheap tickets to the park for Sunday.  Lisa and I checked on ‘Craigslist’ and found some available but not enough of a discount to bother with.  On Saturday morning as we were preparing to drive to LA, Lisa checked again and found a good deal being offered and we began calling the number.  We did not get a response for a couple of hours but finally a text message informed Lisa that the tickets were still available and they would be willing to sell four of the five they had.  The price was only $75 each which is about half the cost of a one-day hopper pass when purchased at the gate.  Our text dialogue continued and we learned that they were in Long Beach and could meet up with us for an exchange.  The woman texting us said she had won the tickets at a church raffle but would have to send her daughter to make the exchange since she was working.

It all sounded too good to be true and, well – hang on.  We made plans to meet the daughter at a “Jack-In-The-Box” restaurant on the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) in Long Beach.  All of us were excited about this great deal and we made our way to our rendezvous point.  On the way Lisa continued to text the woman and assured her we were “church going” adults who her daughter would be safe with.  The mom sounded relieved.

We arrived at our meeting place and sat down for something to drink and waited for the sixteen year old to arrive.  Not long after sitting down we saw her in the pink top and black shorts her mother said she would be wearing and we waved to her as she crossed the parking lot and entered the place.  She came over to our table and had the four “E-tickets” for Disneyland with her.  She explained that they did not expire until late December and that Disney would scan the bar codes of each for entry to the parks.  We handed over three hundred in cash and told her to be careful with the money as we had promised her mom we would be sure she was safe.

I’m not sure at what point we all began to suspect something was a little sketchy about this transaction.  But I do know the moment the girl stuck the money in her bra I started feeling a little uneasy.  She left and we looked over the tickets which seemed at first glance completely legit and headed to our car and to the LA Fair.  On the way I noticed that the confirmation numbers were all the same.  RED FLAG!  RED FLAG!  But, being the trusting souls that we are – we thought maybe they were bought as a package deal which would explain the same numbers.  My worries grew by the minute despite everyone’s attempt at trying to convince themselves they were real.  Finally, I decided to call Disneyland and ask if each E-ticket should have a different bar code.  “YES!” was the emphatic response of the Disney customer service person I spoke with.  We were deflated, depressed, despondent, down-right dumbfounded and duped.  Our day was ruined knowing we had just lost three hundred dollars.  We did our best to shake the whole thing off – but it just wasn’t working.  Finally I suggested we contact the Long Beach police.  It was then that this story turns.

While I was explaining the scam to the police on the phone Lisa, Marcello, and Martha decided to try to contact the girl using one of their phones since they had a different area code and phone number.  Perhaps the girl would get greedy and try to scam someone else and we could have the police meet us to have her arrested.  Martha and the girl started texting and the girl said she did have five tickets left and we could have all five.  Martha said we were a good distance away but they agreed to meet at a “Burger King” just a little ways from the original contact point we had made earlier.  In the meantime the Long Beach policeman I was speaking with suggested we go to the police department and speak to an officer in person.  Marcello drove as fast as possible to the station while Martha tried to stall the thief at the drop point.  It was all starting to feel a little like we were in an episode of “CSI: Long Beach”.

We finally made it to the police station and spoke to an officer.  After lecturing me about ‘Craigslist’ being the devils playground – he gave me another phone number to call and have them meet us where the girl was waiting.  (I need to say here that we have purchased several items via ‘Craigslist’ in the past including baseball tickets and had never been scammed) We ran back to our car and I called the number and (again) explained our situation.  The officer on the phone decided that we should go to a location across from the “Burger King” and wait there for an officer to arrive.  He said we would have to be present to identify the girl as it could not be done over the phone.  I gave him a description of her and we headed out.

I don’t know at what point adrenaline levels can be dangerous but I think we were all nearing that level as we sped down the PCH.  Martha said her skin felt “clammy” and poor Marcello was perspiring in heart attack levels as he weaved his little Toyota through the Long Beach traffic.  The girl was starting to question where we were as we were now almost fifty minutes past our first contact with her.  We were afraid she would bolt before we got the police there.

Finally we arrived and drove past the Burger King to the designated spot to meet the police. Fortunately the greedy little thief was still there and we watched her pacing around the restaurant nervously.  After what seemed an eternity we noticed two police cars arrive.  One entered to the rear of the Burger King and the other from the front.  Cornered –  with nowhere to go – the little girl we were afraid would have the cash stolen from her was now in custody  Justice was about to be served.

A short time later the dispatcher called me and said the police needed to talk to us and Marcello and I walked across the lot to show them the bogus tickets and give them the full story.  The girl was sitting in the back of the squad car.  What a beautiful sight.  We gave them the tickets and told them the sordid story.  One of the officers told us that it was almost impossible to get money back in these situations and that the girl had told them she was just the middle man in the deal and did not have the money.  No big surprise there – but it still felt good seeing her in the back of that police car.  The officer went on to say we had one of two choices.  Either we could drop the whole thing and let her go or we could have her arrested.  Hmm, what should we do?,  “Arrest her!”

We were told to go back to our car and wait since they would need more information after they spoke to the girl.  Soon we were called back to give our full statements and while we were doing that a stranger approached and excused himself for interrupting.  He told the officers that he had spotted a ratty looking RV parked on a side street and that the person inside seemed to be watching this drama unfold with unusual interest.  As we turned to see who he was talking about – we noticed the man walking up to the police car where the girl was being held.  Not long after that – the man was laying across the hood of the patrol car – spread eagle.  Enter the accomplice in this high drama.  Gotcha!

After being asked to return to our car and wait so they could question these two further, we notice them wave for us to return after just a couple of minutes.  One of the officers approached and said our money had been recovered and that the two thieves admitted it was ours.  Victory!  We had been scammed for three hundred dollars and three hours later had our money back and two thieves put away – we had scammed the scammers.  I apologized to the officers for putting them through this but they told us they were glad to finally catch these two as they had been scamming people for some time.  Wow! Not a bad day.

We were so happy we hugged and high-fived each other for ten minutes while the officers finished up some paper work.  We followed one of the officers to a nearby station for him to photocopy the currency as evidence and hand it over to us.  Marcello and I waited in the police station while Lisa and Martha waited in the car.  Here we are at the Long Beach police station – again.  What a way to spend a day.

But there would be more drama to come.

The officer finally handed over our money and after thanking them for their work – we walked to our car.  On the way I counted the money and realized that sixty dollars was missing.  We returned to the station door and knocked to get the officer’s attention.  He returned and I told him we were short sixty.  “You’re kidding?”, he said and paused and then told us he must have left some of the bills in the copier.  I joked that we had been scammed by a couple of petty thieves and now by the Long Beach police – all in one day.  Fortunately – the officer had a good sense of humor and retrieved the missing sixty bucks – and we were finally on our way.

What a day!  Marcello and Martha are two of the sweetest people we have met in our travels and I doubt they will ever forget the day these two Kentucky rednecks came to town. I will be blogging more about those two and our visit with them this past weekend. The highlight of which was our day running with the ‘pigs’ in Long Beach.

But before anyone gets the wrong idea – the Long Beach police did an amazing job and I would never disrespectfully refer to them as “pigs”.  In this drama playing the part of the pigs were two idiot petty thieves who thought they could pull one over on these Kentucky rednecks.  In this pig race – the ‘hillbillys’ won.

Buyer Beware!

We have made friends here in Kingman with Tom and Diane from Redding California.  They are really terrific people who have been here in Kingman this summer caring for Diane’s father who had been under hospice care.  (We learned this past week that he passed away)

Tom and Diane are big bowlers who compete in bowling leagues here in Kingman a couple of times per week.  One thing that Lisa and I have learned in our travels is that it sometimes becomes necessary to participate with others in their hobbies or interests just to make a connection.  Recently we decided to join them for a morning of “Senior Bowling” at the local bowling alley.  “Senior bowling” is on Friday mornings and those over fifty can bowl three games with free shoes for five bucks.  What a deal!  So we met Tom and Diane at the “Cerbat Lanes” for our leisurely morning of senior citizen bowling.

The first order of business was finding shoes to fit.  Lisa wears a size ‘2’ or something like that and most of her shoes light up.  I, on the other hand, need something in a ‘EEEE’ width and should come with built-in flares or “Wide Load” signs attached.  We both had little confidence that we would find proper fitting shoes and were fully prepared to play in our sock feet – which is what we do most of the time when we bowl.  Surprisingly we both found shoes that fit reasonably well.  Mine only made my feet bleed a couple drops – which is an indication I did OK.  Lisa’s never went flying down the lane and actually looked nicer than most of the “Powerpuff Girls’ shoes she is forced to wear.

Bowling is one of those things that is deceptively difficult and Tom and Diane really make it look easy.  Tom’s hands are the size of pie plates and he had no problem spinning the ball at just the right angle and location to get strike after strike.  He had a way of laying his ball down without it making a sound.  Diane was smooth and controlled as her ball seemed to always find the straight path to really good scores.  Lisa and I are a different story entirely.

Lisa uses the lightest ball she can find.  I have had basketballs that were heavier.  Her ball is so light it hardly has enough momentum to tip over the pins and I swear on one of her throws the pin bumped her ball into the gutter without moving.  It just sat there sort of making fun of her.  I don’t think she noticed.

As for me – I have never learned how to lay the ball down on the lane without it sounding like the scoreboard just fell from the ceiling.  When I bowl it seems like  everything stops for a split second and people look in my direction to see what horrible event caused such a sonic boom.  Once my ball is making its way down the lane – it is anybody’s guess what will happen.  I have learned to spin the ball and look like I know what I am doing.  Unfortunately the spin I use also causes my wrist to practically torque itself in two and I am certain I am not doing it correctly.  By the third game I am needing to bowl with my left hand.

Our scores were about average for us – both really bad – but we enjoyed spending time with our new friends.  We could both tell they were glad we had gotten involved with something they love so much.  So all in all it was a good day.

The next day I noticed Lisa limping and she said her right hip was hurting.  Apparently the movement of bending down to bowl put extra strain on her right side and two nights later it was so bad she could hardly sleep.  As for me I began to feel a little pain in my right shoulder almost immediately after we finished bowling and by the next morning was convinced I had a torn rotator cuff or dislocated shoulder.  We limped and moaned and groaned for two days after our outing.  How bad a shape could one be in when they can’t hardly get of bed after bowling?

As soon as we get healed up we may try to bowl again.  But I’m not sure if the medical bills including surgery and physical therapy will be worth the five dollar senior bowling deal.  I’m just glad Tom and Diane are not into kick boxing.

Ouch!

Steve

Everybody has a story.  Whenever I have taken the time to talk to people – to show interest in their lives – I am amazed at how willing they are to tell me their story.  Traveling has provided Lisa and I an opportunity to meet some fascinating people who have lived really amazing lives in places all over the world.  Often we are surprised to learn the fascinating stories people can tell about themselves.  Most of the time – we pass by people with no knowledge of where they came from or the incredible hardships most have endured.  But everyone has a story.

For the past couple of days I noticed a man sitting in a parking lot here in Kingman that I was interested in talking to.  The bicycle he was sitting on was a homemade contraption that served as both transportation and living quarters.  A sign on the back said he needed part-time work and/or bicycle parts.  I watched as some people stopped to offer some money and he seemed appreciative.

Today I stopped to talk to him and find out about his story.  My first comment was regarding his bicycle and he told me he had made it himself.  He went on to say that he had traveled 1300 miles on the bike from Bellingham, Washington and was on his way to somewhere in New York to see his girlfriend.  He left Bellingham on May 1st and had been in Kingman for a couple of days.  I asked how long it would take him to get to New York and he said six months.  We talked some and I asked if I could get a picture of his unique ride.  He was friendly, well spoken and even smiled for the camera.  I noticed he was reading a little New Testament when I first walked up and after a few minutes I gave him a little money, shook his hand and wished him good luck.  He told me his name was Eric.

I don’t know if he was telling me the truth or not.  He may be scamming people with a different story each time someone asks.  It seems a little out of the way to be coming from Washington state to Arizona on one’s way to New York.  But I liked Eric.  I liked his demeanor – the way he smiled – the way he sat back on his bicycle like there was no concern in the world.  And I’m glad I stopped and talked to him.  He may not have a home and he may be six months away from his final destination.

But he has a story.

Steve

“We will be home in mid-August.”  At least that was what we told everyone since it was  the original plan when Lisa and I traveled west here to Kingman AZ.  Not a week after being on the job the hospital asked her to extend two more months.  So – it was thought we would leave here on October 24th.  Nope.  Lisa agreed yesterday to give them until November 6th.  With our son’s wedding coming up in late November – that will be all we can do here for now.

There is a distinct possibility that Lisa will be asked back here after Christmas.  Will we return?  Who knows?

So we will at least be able to enjoy what everyone here says is the best time to be in Arizona – October and November.  But we have learned to not get ahead of ourselves in hoping for cooler weather.  Something tells us that we may have record high fall temperatures here since we are hanging around until then.  These poor people had to deal with one hundred year record highs in June when we arrived.  Now we are cursing them with possible record temperatures through October. 

But, please don’t let anyone know here in Arizona that it is the McFarland’s that caused this.  Just a few miles from here in Oatman they stage daily (fake) shoot-outs.  If they find out we are the cause of all this strange weather – they may stage one with us as the main players.  But this time with real bullets. 

See you in November! (we think)

Steve and Lisa

“It’s a long road before us – and its a hard road indeed.  But darling I swear I’ll get us there – wherever the trail may lead.”  Tim McGraw

It began with the statement: “And then we drove away” and trippinwithsteveandlisa.com was born.  Now I am writing our 100th blog describing our travels and experiences over the last year.  And what a year it has been. I retired, we began traveling with Lisa’s job with stops in Hanover Pa., Loma Linda, Ca. and Kingman, Az. and along the way became grandparents.  Yes – this has definitely been an eventful year.  From Gettysburg to the Grand Canyon our travels have given us a lifetime of experiences that we have attempted to chronicle with this blog site.  We are honored that people have faithfully read about our adventures and, we hope, have enjoyed the journey along with us.

I’m not sure what I expected when we began blogging on June 30, 2012.  I do remember we were still at the “Altland House” in Abbottstown Pa. waiting for our RV to be readied when I typed out that first blog.  It is hard to believe I have managed to hammer out 99 more since then.  Reaching 100 is more a testament to the encouragement I have received from faithful readers than my writing endurance.  Writing is not always an easy thing.  I often struggled to find things to write about and sat for hours trying to create a single post only to delete the entire thing and begin again.  Other times the writing came quickly as the stories and experiences generated in our travels poured out on the pages with ease.  The “Tarantula Story” (7/13/13) was written less than an hour after it happened while other stories idled in my mind for weeks.

Our kids have teased us about the name, “trippin with steve and lisa”. To them it sounds like a couple of hippies in Colorado – living “high” – high on some mountaintop.  I don’t know why that name was chosen – but trust us – we are not “high” on anything.  It is hard enough to keep up with our lives now without the aid of the wacky weed.  We are high on life – man!

To date over 7,000 hits have been recorded on this little blog site and though that is small compared to some – I am overwhelmed by people who stop by and catch up with our lives.  Some have commented that they live their lives vicariously through ours and dream of being able to travel in their future.  I hope we have inspired people to live out their dreams.  It has also been interesting hearing from people who do not know us personally – but happened upon our blog and visit regularly. Traveling with Lisa’s job has been something we have dreamed of doing for years and God has granted us a wonderful opportunity to live out that dream.  Because of that we feel compelled to share our experiences with others.

Writing has helped me in many ways.  It has been good to have a record of the events in our lives and I hope my children and grandchildren will someday enjoy reading these stories.  Furthermore as I get older I find it harder and harder to remember certain events in my life and this has allowed me to go back and relive moments I would have otherwise forgotten.  It’s tough getting old.  But mainly this blog has forced me to keep writing – something I have a passion for and although may never be paid for anything I  write, I want to improve as a writer and storyteller.  And who knows? – there may be writing opportunities for me somewhere down the road.

Of the one hundred posts archived here – some stand out more for me than others.  One of my favorite posts was the second one called “GPS or God’s Positioning System” and it told about how our navigational system directed us to the wrong church in Hanover one Sunday in June 2012.  Our plan was to attend the First Baptist Church of Hanover but our GPS directed us to the Nazarene church instead.  We did not realize our mistake until the service was well underway.  But, we loved the little Nazarene church so much – we decided it must have been God’s plan for us to be there – so we continued to attend having never made it to the Baptist church.  Other posts included our stay in Gettysburg which inspired me to write numerous posts about the historic battlefield.  One favorite was, “A New Birth of Freedom” (8/30/12), which described the location of Lincoln’s famous “Gettysburg Address”.  Others detailed my observations of the battlefield and its famous monuments.

While in Pennsylvania Lisa spent a weekend in New York City and her trip resulted in my writing “Lisa and the Big Apple” (10/9/12) and it turned out being one of her favorites.  Another favorite of ours was written after returning home in March 2013 from our four-month stay in Loma Linda.  It was at home I wrote “God’s Perfect Timing” which described our arriving home just hours before our daughter, Heather, went into labor with Conner Jack.

One of the most popular posts of our readers was a self-deprecating description of my experience trying to repair a leak in our RV bathroom.  Many posts involved stories of living in our RV but none funnier perhaps than one titled “Knots on My Noggin” (7/24/12).  The story is about getting my head stuck in the tight spaces of our bathroom and how I manage to bang my head on anything and everything.  Many readers responded that it was their favorite.

My stories are often about people we meet.  I wrote about ‘John’ in Hanover who I met while shooting basketball in his neighborhood near the hospital where Lisa worked.  John was taking care of his wife and mother-in-law both of whom suffered from Alzheimer’s.  He was carrying a heavy cross and I think about John often and hope to visit him again someday.

In October 2012 Lisa’s parents visited us in Gettysburg and during that visit we came upon a little Amish food stand where we met a little eight year old boy and his unforgettable older sister.  They sold “Whoopie Pies” and other homemade items as part of their family income.  In that blog (10/15/12) I described her telling of their newborn sibling who was born premature –  but, (thankfully) slowly gaining weight and strength.  Her words, “Every once counts”, will stick with me forever as will the wisdom of that remarkable middle school aged girl.

On average most of our posts are read by forty to sixty people.  Some have been read by nearly one hundred or more.  Without a doubt the most read blog was “A Painful Day and a Future Glory” (7/26/13) telling the story of my late brother, Gary.  In a twenty-four hour period that post was viewed over five hundred times.  I thought his story was worth the telling although it was one of the most painful for me to write.  I knew it would have powerful impact and hoped it would be read by many.  Knowing it was read by more people than anything else posted on our blog was personally satisfying.

Writing is a vulnerable business.  I put my heart into all I write and have had my share of random and anonymous criticism.  Criticism is not easy to digest – but it has made me a better writer. If something written made people laugh or think or cry or feel something – it will have been worth the struggle.

So Lisa and I will keep writing and telling our little stories for as long as God allows.  Thank you readers for following our blog and “trippin” with us!  We hope you will stick around a while longer.  After Kingman, Arizona we have no way of knowing where we will be next.  But you are invited to join us – wherever the trail may lead.

Blessings!

Steve and Lisa

Lisa and I had planned to be in Kingman, Arizona this week.  Unfortunately, those plans were derailed by Lisa’s breast cancer diagnosis.  We are now waiting for surgery and radiation treatments.  We are hopeful that we will soon be back on the road as we anticipate a full recovery.  But, for now, we wait.  I am reposting an article I wrote August 30, 2013 during our previous assignment in Arizona.  I wrote this with a friend in mind who was also going through breast cancer.  We never dreamed that it would eventually be us going through that storm. 

Arizona has some crazy weather patterns.  Currently we are in what is called “Monsoon Season” when sudden, torrential rain can wash out roads and cause massive flooding.  In the last two weeks we have been alerted almost daily to flash flood warnings and the heavy rains have us avoiding the lower roadways and streets as we navigate Mohave County.

Desert storms bring some of the most breathtaking, if not ominous, cloud formations.  With the wide-open vistas of the flat landscape, it is not unusual to watch rain falling a few miles away on a distant mountain.  Often rain can be seen all around us but never make it to Kingman.  The summer weather has been, for the most part, dry and hot with every daily forecast calling for more of the same.  As the seasons begin to change – we are experiencing these storms more and more frequently.

Yesterday Lisa and I traveled to Bullhead City, Arizona.  Bullhead City sits just across the Colorado River from Laughlin, Nevada – a gambling mecca for many in the area who like to avoid Las Vegas.  Bullhead City offers shopping that Kingman cannot and we go there periodically for that purpose.  On the way home we experienced one of the most severe storms since we have been here in Arizona.

As we got into our truck and began our trek back to Kingman we immediately noticed the strange color of the sky in front of us and dark clouds further on ahead told us we were in for quite a ride.  Behind us to the west the sun was setting in a clear sky but straight ahead in our path the sky was turning orange and dark blue and the clouds seemed to be bubbling with pressure.  This was not good.

Still we drove on.  Lisa and I listened to the radio weather warnings every few minutes.  Kingman was just about sixteen miles ahead and we continued to drive straight into the storm – looking for places to turn off if need be.  Flash flood warnings had us mindful of rushing water from the mountains all around us and though we had not encountered the rain at this point – we were heading straight toward it.  We talked about possibly pulling off the road until it passed – but the severe lightning flashing all around us made us unsure if stopping was a good idea. Sitting still in the desert just does not seem like a smart move and so we drove on – in silence.

Just twelve more miles to Kingman.  The rain began to splatter onto our windshield and almost instantly we were hit with a deluge of water that limited our visibility.  Cars started creeping to a near stop as we navigated around the slow-moving traffic.  We just kept driving into the storm – hoping and praying to make it to the other side.

With about eight miles to go I noticed a dim light of color above the mountain straight ahead of us and commented that I could see some clearing.  To the right and left – the storm seemed to be slamming the areas around us – but the direction we were headed revealed this small window of light that lifted our spirits and began to calm our nerves.  With a little more acceleration – we continued on toward that clearing ahead.

With about four miles to go the rain began to let up and the sky continued to lighten.  We realized that the storm was now mostly behind us and we had come safely through to the other side.  The twinkling lights of Kingman could now be seen in the valley between the canyons and we breathed sighs of relief knowing we were safe.  The storm was over and we were home.

There are storms in life and sometimes it is smart to pull off the road and let them pass.  Last night we learned that the best way to deal with danger was to drive straight into it and get to the other side.  Just get to the other side.  Hang on long enough and the storm will pass.  Just keep driving on even though lightning is flashing all around you and the rain is falling so hard you can barely see the road.  Just keep going.

I read yesterday of a teacher back home who is fighting breast cancer.  I hope she just keeps going and gets to the other side of her illness.  On that other side she will find the storm has passed.  I pray she just keeps going – keeps living – and refuses to stop until she finally sees the twinkling lights of home.

Peace!

I’ve been playing golf here in Kingman with my RV neighbor, JC.  We found a course just outside town called “Valle Vista” and we can each play for just fifteen bucks.  He really loves the game – I just tolerate it.  I’ve never been real good at golf – although I am getting better.  Apparently the more you play the better you get.  I had no idea that I actually needed to play to improve.  All the years I have played (and it has been sporadic) I never saw any improvement in my game from about the second time out.  I will hit one really good shot and then botch the next four.  My best score ever is a 91.  Golf has been for me a game of endurance – enduring the heat, enduring bad shot after bad shot, enduring my desire to wrap a club around a tree or my partner who never seems to hit a bad shot.  Just endure it and get back home as soon as possible.  I started measuring my game not on my score but how many balls I lost.  “Hey, Lisa! I played really good today – just lost six.”

Back home I would play (maybe) three times a year (if that) and often with friends from the school system where I worked.  One thing I learned is that teachers have a lot of time to play golf and work on their game in the summer.  I never had that luxury as a twelve month employee.  So most of the people I played golf with were much better than me.  I hate those people!

Here in Kingman I have struggled to find much to do with my spare time other than swim, read, ride my bike and take care of all the domestic chores.  There is no battlefield to walk and study like there was at Gettysburg and a foot in need of surgery has limited my ability to walk like I did in Loma Linda.  Playing golf seemed like a good way to use up chunks of time during the twelve-hour shifts Lisa is at work.  During her seven days off – we always find things to do.

The first order of business was to find some clubs since I did not bring mine from home.  Wal-Mart had a good deal on some cheap clubs and I invested under $200 rather than continuing to drop fifteen bucks per round to rent them.  Now I have two complete sets of cheap Wal-Mart golf clubs.  At least I can use my cheap clubs as an excuse for my poor play.  “If I had a set of $800 clubs I could play that well too.”

JC and I usually play on Mondays and Thursdays and in order to get the fifteen dollar deal we have to play between two and six in the afternoon.  Around 3 o’clock Kingman Arizona starts to warm up.  It is hot here almost all day – no let me rephrase that – it is always hot here.  But in the afternoon it gets lava hot – fry an egg on the concrete hot -melt the bottom of your shoes hot – hell hot!  So here we go for a nice, leisurely game of golf and before I can get my clubs loaded onto the back of the golf cart – my skin is sizzling.  Of course – I forgot my sunscreen (again) and my nose will be burnt for the seventh time.  Sunburned skin does not peel off out here.  It just fries into crispy pork rind-like pieces much like the burnt bacon residue of a hot skillet.  Just scrape it off and hope more skin arrives to replace it.  I’m just hoping my nose survives until October.

We tee off and as usual my first shot is train wreck.  Somewhere in the concrete-hard, brown gravelly area to the right – my ball has landed.  It is lost somewhere behind the cactus where a rattlesnake is probably waiting to attack me or maybe fell into a nice scorpion hole.  Straight ahead is nice, soft, lush, green grass inviting me toward the newly manicured green of my destination and here I go clomping into the briar and cactus field.  I’m also getting hot – if I failed to mention that.  My second shot is from this parking lot like terrain that has not seen rain in years and I grind off a third of my five iron as I whack it toward the first hole.  I actually hit it really good – too good – and it soars and soars – over the green – over other golfers heads playing the next hole – over the out of bounds stakes and into someone’s back yard.  I am as far away from the green now as I was before.  In fact – I would probably be better off starting over.  “Mulligan!”  And so goes my golf game.  I never know where my ball is going.  (At one point during our round I noticed a coyote roaming the course and even he kept a safe distance from my shots.)

Mercifully I manage to land on the green and three putt – put me down for about an ‘eight’.  I think they call that a “snowman” in duffer parlance.  Oh sure – I’m dying here in the desert and they have to call that a “snowman”.  Only seventeen holes to go.

My golf game has actually improved over the course of our playing for the last month or so.  Unfortunately, I have started having some additional aches and pains as a result of all the hacking, duffing, hammering and sometimes actually swinging my clubs.  It would help if I didn’t have to swing the things a hundred and ten times to get through eighteen holes.  At one point I felt this slight twinge in my left side as I teed off and for the next three days could hardly move.  Not sure if I ripped out a kidney or just pulled a muscle.  I think both would feel equally painful.  My left elbow feels like it is broken and my right foot (still needing surgery) throbs with each step, each swing and now has started hurting just pressing the accelerator on the golf cart.  You know you are in trouble when it is too painful to drive the stupid cart.

I’m just getting older and I feel it each time I play golf.  I know I could benefit from losing about twenty pounds and hitting the fitness center a few times a week.  A few golf lessons would probably not be a bad thing either.  But the fact is – I just don’t feel like it.

My foot, side and elbow hurt too bad.

“Four!”  (Postscript:  It was brought to my attention that this should be spelled, “Fore!”  Seems I can’t even warn other golfers the right way.  Yup! That’s about right.)

There is a change in the air here in Kingman Arizona.  It is actually feeling a little like fall in Kentucky.  At least it has felt that way the last few days.  We have been hit with some consistent rain over the last week or so and with that the temperatures have finally fallen into the mid 80’s during the day and low 70’s at night.  Although not quite sweatshirt weather – the change in seasons has reminded Lisa and I how long we have been have been away from home with still two more months to go here in the Mohave Desert.  Everyone tells us that September and October are absolutely beautiful here with lower temperatures and less concern about the monsoons.  We look forward to that.

We have seen children waiting for buses here as they began school in full last week.  Here, we learned, elementary school begins a week before all the rest (not sure the reason) but now all the kids are in school in full swing.  I noticed one little girl this morning at the bus stop wearing high heel shoes that looked two sizes too big as if they were all she had to wear.  I immediately thought of all the kids back home that are helped with school clothes through various agencies and how blessed they are to have such a caring community.  Kingman is not a wealthy place and by the looks of the homes in the area my guess is that many families are struggling to buy school clothes. There are a number of “thrift stores” and outreach programs here that, I assume, provide families assistance.  In some of the neighborhoods we drive through – it appears some are living in abject poverty. But this is nothing new.  Everywhere we have been – be it in western Kentucky, southeast Pennsylvania, southern California or here in northwest Arizona I have been reminded of Jesus words – “The poor will be with you always.”

There is a large number of native Americans living in Kingman and Lisa has come to know one who works with her at the hospital.  She is a fascinating woman with an incredible story that I will be writing more about in a future post.  It is apparent that many native Americans are still struggling to make a living and alcoholism and drug abuse are abnormally high for that population.  It is sad to see such a proud culture being destroyed by drug abuse.  Lisa and I have learned that the problems we may have thought were only in Kentucky are, in fact, shared by all other communities in America.  I don’t know whether to feel better or worse knowing that.

With the change in the seasons fast approaching – we find ourselves starting a countdown of our final sixty days here in the west.  By the time we arrive home the leaves will have turned colors and turned loose from their branches.  The high school football season will be nearly completed with Halloween just days away.  And life here in Kingman will go one.  Children will be at their bus stops, golf carts and four-wheelers will be driving down the road, flash flood warnings will be a weekly occurrence and here at the KOA campground – site #96 will be home to someone other than the McFarland’s.

And life will go on.

Have a great day!

Steve and Lisa

Being away from home for long stretches of time creates an intense longing for our family and friends.  Lisa and I know our grandson, Conner Jack, has grown and changed so much in the time we have been in Arizona that he may be practically unrecognizable when we finally see him again in late October.  Our life in Kentucky is waiting for us and we are missing those we love back home.

So it was pure joy spending a week here with good friends Wes and Kim Page who flew out to vacation with us during Lisa’s seven days off this past week.  To say we kept them hopping for seven days is an understatement.  From Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon and from Sedona to San Diego – it was an action packed week that we all may need a few days to recover from.

We were like kids at Christmas counting down the days until they arrived last Thursday.  Lisa managed to get rooms at the Trump Tower for our one night stay in Vegas and we enjoyed some good restaurants and the Vegas sights and sounds before heading to Hoover Dam on Friday.  From there we brought them here to Kingman where they were able to stay at our campground and quickly understood what we meant about living in the desert.  They must have brought some of the rain with them from Kentucky as it rained for only the second time since we arrived in late June.  We were fortunate to be able to reserve the campground “lodge”, an apartment sized cabin that provided them all the comforts of home.  Had we been forced to house them in our little RV for the week – they would have gone home after about two days and I am fairly certain we would no longer be friends.

Kingman does not offer many site-seeing venues but we did make reservations to eat at the “Hualapai Lodge” and there we were able to see elk and deer feeding just outside the restaurant window.  Elks are enormous animals that I would hate to encounter with my car or alone in a dark alley.

On Saturday we headed to Williams AZ and to the Grand Canyon.  Williams is a very ‘touristy’ place about fifty miles from the Canyon but we managed to find a nice hotel where we got checked in before traveling on to the canyon. Although the Grand Canyon is just one hundred miles from Kingman – Lisa and I had decided to wait and enjoy our first trip there with Wes and Kim.  We are so glad we waited.

Rain began to fall about the time we arrived at the national park and we got stuck in a railroad depot for about an hour waiting for it to subside before we could finally gaze at the great hole in the ground.  I have to confess I was a little skeptical about how “grand” this experience would be and really thought all the pictures I had seen in my life of the canyon would probably be about it.  The rain subsided enough for us to make a run for the El Tovar Hotel famous for being the place Teddy Roosevelt stayed in 1903.  After stopping to buy a couple of hoodie sweatshirt (matching no less) for Kim and Lisa – we walked across the hotel lawn and slowly approached the canyon.  All four of us arrived at about the same moment and gazed across the vast expanse – in awe of what we were seeing.  We were speechless for a few seconds – stunned at what God and nature had created.  The Grand Canyon is grand indeed.  From there we used the shuttle service to travel along the more famous “south rim” and even managed at one point to hike about a mile down into the canyon.  What an amazing place.  Now I know why so many foreigners travel here to see this.

After our day at the canyon we returned to Williams for the night and then on to Sedona on Sunday.  In some ways Sedona is equally impressive as the Grand Canyon and many of the locals here in Arizona had told us about its beauty.  Sedona is famous for the brilliant orange and red sandstone formations and although warmer temperature wise than Williams, Sedona offered some of the prettiest vistas of our trip.  We stopped to ask about things to do and were advised to ride the train through the Verde Valley Canyon.  The four-hour ride was around $50 each but well worth our time and money.

We headed back to Kingman for the night and then loaded up and traveled five and a half hours to San Diego on Monday morning.  On our way we drove through our old stomping grounds in Loma Linda, CA and stopped to visit Lisa’s co-workers at the Loma Linda Hospital.  It was fun getting to show Wes and Kim around our little California community where we spent almost four months back in the winter.  The landscape had changed drastically since we left in late March.  The green hills and lawns were gone as the summer heat had scorched everything into a rust color and the temperature was not nearly as “paradise-like” as we remembered it in January and February.

We arrived in San Diego and checked into the Westin Hotel in the “Gaslamp Quarter” district of downtown.  Just a few blocks away from our hotel was “Petco Field” where the San Diego Padres play baseball.  Well – what do you know but the Pittsburgh Pirates were in town for a three game series.  I had no idea they were playing – hmm!  Actually Wes, Kim and Lisa found out about my ulterior motive weeks ago and managed to secure tickets on the internet on the way into San Diego – just hours before the game.  It was wonderful!  The Pirates won 3 -1.  “Is this heaven? – No! It’s San Diego.”

San Diego may have the nicest weather on the planet.  It was comfortably warm during the day and sweatshirt cool in the evenings.  One lady we spoke to said it tends to stay around 75 degrees year round.  We decided to spend a second night in San Diego and went to Balboa Park on Tuesday where all the museums and the famous San Diego Zoo are located.  I commented that the city planners knew what they were doing in designing this area and placing all the museums in a central locale.  This is an enormous area and shuttle services allow visitors to move from one museum to the other.  We visited the Automobile Toy Train Museums (I know – but I love toy trains – what can I say?). After supper we walked along the pier and got pictures near the famous WWII aircraft carrier “Midway”.  I did not know that the ship was not only used in WWII but during Operation Desert Storm in 1991. I have to admit that it was tempting to take a sharp right turn and walk a few blocks to see the Pirates play again – but I resisted the urge.  (By the way – they won 8 – 1).  Our second night in San Diego was at the “US Grant” Hotel – an incredibly ornate older hotel that first opened in 1910.

We decided at the last-minute to travel on to Los Angeles on Wednesday where Lisa and Kim wanted to shop at the “wholesale” district ( I will say more about that in a moment).  On our way we stopped off at Huntington Beach and put our feet in the cold, cold Pacific Ocean.  The ocean side of California has such a different feel than the inland side where we stayed in Loma Linda.  Traffic is crazy along the I-5 and two-lane Pacific Coast Highway.  But the views of the ocean were magnificent.  Huntington Beach was massive and it took several minutes to walk from the parking lot to the water’s edge.  We stayed just long enough for a few pictures and to get our feet nice and frozen in the sea water before heading on into Los Angeles.

Finally we arrived at the “wholesale district” in LA.  I had been here once before with Lisa when we were here in the winter but the place is still almost beyond words to describe.  Wes commented that it reminded him of the marketplaces in Haiti.  Shop after shop after shop were lined along several city blocks that sold everything imaginable.  Areas were sectioned off according to the items being sold.  There is a large floral area, large fabric and textile area, a fashion district and even a toy district.  We managed to cover only a tenth of the entire area – if that.  Wes and I became the pack mules for Kim and Lisa’s purchases and stood for a few hours just waiting for them to finally leave one store only to have them go into the next one.  I considered telling Lisa someone had called from our campground in Kingman saying our RV was on fire and that we needed to leave right away.  Wes had a look on his face of – ‘You mean I flew all the way from Kentucky for this?’

Finally it was back on the road and back to Kingman.  What a trip!  Lisa had to return to work on Thursday and after lunch I drove Wes and Kim back to Las Vegas to catch their flight to Louisville.  It was hard seeing them leave and turning the truck around and heading back to Kingman.  We have two more months before we are able to turn for home ourselves and we look forward to that.

In the eight days total that we spent with Wes and Kim there were many memorable moments.  Moments of belly laughter and moments of honest conversation and moments of just sharing a view of something or a good meal.  We had seen so many things – wonderful things – and yet it was during a blessing over our lunch on our final day together that it hit me.  I offered to pray over our meal and the first words out of my mouth – completely unplanned were, “God, thank you for our friends!”  I think my voice broke a little at the profound simplicity of that statement.  I think I saw Kim wipe her eyes at the same time.  Lisa and I love our friends – perhaps more now than ever before.  Our traveling and being away from home for long periods of time allow us to appreciate those important people more and more each day.  We miss them but as strange as it may sound – we are glad God has given us a chance to miss them.  When you are far from home – knowing people are waiting for you there – make the long days and weeks seem easier to endure.

“God, thank you for our friends!”

Love, Steve and Lisa