Russ & Erin's Roadtrip: Russ Page

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Sunday, September 16, 2012

Atlanta, Georgia

Cat, June and Erin in front of Shear Love, where Carla (Cat's oldest daughter) works

Erin and I have been here in Atlanta a week now. Lordy, how time flies. Cat's hubby, Dr. Dave (formerly, Dr. Detroit), just happened to be in Iceland this week, so Cat -- who is recovering from foot surgery -- has welcomed the company. (David's been working with the Decode project, and helped isolate the gene for RLS, or Restless Leg Syndrome -- not too shabby.) Erin and I were here two days and then I drove to Charlotte to pick June up and bring her back to Atlanta, so we could all have some quality hang-time together. June is recuperating from a recent surgery herself and her spirits are remarkably high. All in all, it's been fantastic to see my two Southern Sisters.

Cat, June and Erin

Cat, Carla and June

Cat has been very involved with Unity in Atlanta

Even though we're down south here, we can already start to feel the first inklings of Autumn. It's been cool in the mornings and whenever the wind blows hard, leaves are beginning to fall off the trees. I feel myself starting to prepare mentally for this, our last leg of the trip. Our tentative itinerary is as follows: dropping June off in Charlotte, the Outer Banks in North Carolina, the Smoky Mountains and Skyline Drive in Virginia, a brief visit to D.C., a brief visit to see my step-dad, Ed, in Baltimore, Cape May, N.J., the Jersey coast, visiting friends in New York City, up to Vermont and Maine for the Fall colors (with numerous stops throughout the region) and then the 3,200 mile ride home, stopping in Niagara Falls, Chicago and Boulder, Colorado on the way. . . . Makes me tired just to write that.

But for now I'm just chilling with my sisters. So a few images of the city and the road to wrap this post up:

Amicalola Falls

Jesus, I Trust In You

"Buy Her A Diamond, Get A Free Hunting Rifle" -- we're not in Oregon anymore

Some serious Southern Bar-B-Q at Col. Poole's Pig Hill of Fame (Liberals, check your politics at the door)

Col. Poole's mascot

Promenade II building in downtown Atlanta

Art Deco architectural detail on Plaza Theater on Ponce De Leon Avenue

The ladies at Amicalola State Park Lodge

The beginning of the Appalachian Trail -- we'll be at the end in Maine in about another month.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Back in Chi-Town

Hog butcher for the world,
Tool maker, stacker of wheat,
Player with railroads and the nation's freight handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of big shoulders.

-Carl Sandburg, from "Chicago," 1916

Sailboats braving the choppy Lake Michigan waters on a cloudy day

I got to do one of the activities I miss the most in Chicago. No, it's not visiting Mama Pulaski's House of Brats & Ill Repute. It's riding my bike along the lakefront. For those not familiar with Chicago . . . well, first, it's on a lake. A very big, big lake. It's called Lake Michigan and it's the second largest of the five Great Lakes and the only one that is completely in the U.S. (the other four have partial Canadian shores). The word "Michigan" is believed to come from the Ojibwa word mishigami, meaning "great water" and the Great Lakes combined are the largest mass of fresh water on the planet, comprising a little less than a quarter of the earth's fresh water. Along Chicago's Lake Michigan shoreline is the 18-mile long Lakefront Trail, which runs from 71st Street on the Southside up to Hollywood on the Northside, through some of Chicago's best lakefront parks, beaches and attractions: Lincoln Park, Oak Street Beach, Navy Pier, the Chicago River and Grant Park (where Obama first spoke after being elected President). In my previous incarnation as Urban Russ, I used to love biking along this path on the weekends, often leaving my apartment early in the morning and not returning until late in the afternoon or evening, especially if I was meeting friends for brunch, volleyball or some other such shenanigans. Today, Steve and I only got in about 22 miles (11 miles from Montrose Harbor to Grant Park and then back) and it was mostly overcast, but I was in absolute heaven.

All smiles on Navy Pier

Me on Montrose pier . . .

. . . + my bro' . . .

= Good Times.

The (free!) Chicago Jazz Festival was going on in Grant Park, so Steve and I took in some great music. God, I miss the Chicago music scene. I went through several distinct phases of music preference: the Blues Phase in my teens and early twenties, the Jazz Phase in my twenties, the Reggae and African Phase in my thirties and into my early forties. Back in the day, I had a friend who worked at The Bulls jazz club on north Lincoln and I don't think I've ever enjoyed music as much as when that tiny basement joint was packed full and rocking out.