Crystal Bridges, Chicken Salad, and Frank Lloyd Wright

             ArkDem-Gaz story “Habitat for Humanity” features Frank Lloyd Wright’s Bachman-Wilson House on display along the Tulip Trail at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Arkansas. On our journey home from the American West, we stopped by NW Arkansas and dropped in on Crystal Bridges. We and at least 1000 other people had the same idea that beautiful fall day, including various school groups. Well-planned, nicely organized, and brilliantly accessible, Crystal Bridges is a gem. Of those 1000 guests at the museum, about half were having a quick bite to eat at 11, the Restaurant.  I hear the chicken salad is “to die for.”

One of the things I wanted to see on our visit there was the Frank Lloyd Wright house. Not open to the public until November 11, the grounds and exterior are beautiful. As visitors, we walked up to the serene design of the house’s front elevation and admired the wood design around the windows and were struck by the clean lines, along with the Wright-dubbed ‘car port.’ 

            What I loved better was the back of the house, the portion that is more wood than concrete and brick, the glassed living areas provide an open view of the slope and natural forested woodlands.

            While we did not tour the interior, the Dem-Gaz article includes a description and several photos. FLW’s living areas received the most attention with open areas similar to the so-called open-concept of modern design. The bathrooms and bedrooms, the article mentions, are minuscule, totally unrepresentative of today’s design. Austere seating arrangements are less preferable to me, but I’m sure the design is perfect for the 1950’s and the design of FLW.

            I was so pleased to see the house on site since I’d read the story of its dis-assembly and reassembly and find it fascinating that the FLW House is available to the world by being on display at Crystal Bridges.

            Have you read Loving Frank?

The Difference a Detour Can Make

When Route 66 turned northeastward through Oklahoma City to the Round Barn in Arcadia and on through the Tulsa area toward Springfield and Chicago, these travelers made straight for the state line of Arkansas and the city of Fort Smith. Something about the call of home lured us ahead when we reached New Mexico and the map indicated "just a few more days..."

As has been the pleasure and delight of this trip, we have been spontaneous in making changes, staying ahead of storms, and finding more chances for adventure. Once we felt that we were "home," we decided to turn north out of Fort Smith and head for Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, the phenomenal creation of the Walton family in Bentonville with a stop-over in Fayetteville

  

I've Got That Tray - Razorback Stuff

We had dinner at Doe's in Fayetteville and, I guess, unless the Hogs are playing and everybody is in an upbeat mood, Doe's is like any other Entertainment District diner - loud locals enjoying each other's company over highly publicized, high priced mediocre food. The area is, of course, sold out for the Auburn-Arkansas weekend.

The leaves are somewhat colored by fall temps, but many trees are in the process of losing their leaves with most trees' leaves a rusty brown. The silver toned bare-leafed tree sculpture that welcomes visitors to Crystal Bridges is stunning.

At entrance of Crystal Bridges

William Cullen Bryant and poet commune.

After a marvelous morning at Crystal Bridges admiring terrific art pieces, I find that I still prefer Colonial American and Romantic eras of American art.

An exception for me is the admiration I have for the modern florals in oil on canvas by Georgia O'Keefe.








                                                                                                Crafted from a photo, the sculpture of an old man on a bench stopped us in our tracks with its absolute realism.

Another piece I really loved was the portrait of the family displaced by the Mississippi River Flood of 1927, especially since I had read the book about the Economic and Political Impact of that Flood.



We walked the short distance down the Tulip Trail to see he Frank Lloyd Wright house that had been reassembled on the site; it will open to the public in mid-November. I appreciate Wright's clean lines and how his houses are in tune with the surroundings.  Ever since college art class when I saw the Fallingwater house as an example of the finest in architecture during the 20th century, I've been a fan.  Then, Book Club read Loving Frank.


To culminate the trip, we made one more detour - an overnight at Branson, celebrating the trip, our return travel toward home, enjoying dinner and a show.

Finding and Celebrating Route 66

Interstate Highways accomplished their purpose: make travel easier, safer, and quicker.

Another result: interstate highways across NM, AZ, TX, and OK are without persona, pizazz, and without the stuff the Mother Road once promised and delivered. It’s up to the locals to preserve and celebrate the Route 66 ambiance.

It’s been an adult desire of mine to follow as many miles of Route 66 as I could. We’ve done that throughout the Southwest. No places have been more iconic than Arizona, New Mexico, Texas,and Oklahoma, at least in the roadside advertising, the signs which announce Historic Route 66.

One town has attemped to save what time and progress have by-passed. The town of Williams in Arizona has done a super job of capturing the spirited essence of old Route 66. Other towns have not been as creative. Private individuals or companies have made valiant attempts to draw tourists such as myself to the former glory of the Mother Road. The Main Street of America meanders through old downtown areas, dotted on either side with neon that invites sleepy drivers to overnight at motels such as Blue Swallow Motel.

In Gallup and Tucumcarie, NM, all has gone to seed, even the Blue Swallow, TeePee Curios and the so-called Welcome Center, all of which appear to be flea-traps and not one was open: hour posted show they close at 1PM.

We passed the Cadillac Ranch and saw about 10 cars pulled to the side of the road, people walking from the site where about 10 wow-painted Cadillacs are buried half-way in the ground. There is no charge to gaze at them.

We over-nighted in Shamrock, TX, which made no map I was holding, but the town has been a stop-over on Route 66. The lobby of our hotel screamed “Route 66.” A photo of the U-Drop Inn is framed and the once famous motel beacons with green neon spires.

We stopped at Clinton, OK, because ROAD TRIP USA promised the World Famous, Best of the Best, Route 66 museums – and a gift shop! It is, indeed, a phenomenal tribute to the Mother Road – Main Street USA. The museum is fun, interactive, colorful, and educational.

As long as there are people who refuse to let their little towns die, as long as there are preservationists who treasure the work of a bygone era, as long as neon flashes brightly, setting the darkness aglow, there will be the glory of Route 66 and those who love it.

Land and Family: The Forever Value of Both

Expansive beauty in a decidedly different vein: The American Southwest. Kathy said, “If you’ve seen this beauty, why would you go in search of beauty elsewhere?” That’s Kathy, my cousin, who has lived in the American Southwest since she was a young girl.

I’ve always been drawn to the palette used by artists: turquoise, orange, yellow, brown, tan. The arridness of the area, however, does not appeal to me.

Tom, my brother, first introduced me to the spectacle of unusual rock formations. It was with him that I first beheld “purple mountain majesty.” He lives in Colorado.

Kathleen Stanton, the same person as Kathy named above, retired from a career in newspaper copy editing and writing, and immersed herself in the land, the people, the culture, and customs.  She and husband Larry Charlie, own sixteen acres in Mora County, NM. Their home is a refurbished 100 year old adobe structure. Each of the other two owners added what appealed to them such as vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, and additional windows. 

At the back of the main property the couple found an abandoned three room adobe that once housed over sixteen family members during another era. Kathy, Larry, local artisans and craftsmen have brought the structure to new life with techniques making it not only attractive but most accommodating. The colors and textures of the walls, the hand-crafted stylized framing, and the beautiful hand-hewn wood of the cabinetry in the kitchen section are to be admired. The three rooms and an entry area make it a wonderful guest house.

Not only did we have opportunity to visit with Kathy and Larry, she and I shared family stories and pictures. To make the time in New Mexico complete, on our way to Mora, we visited with my Aunt Betty who is living in a lovely home for the elderly (she’s 94) in Rio Rancho. When I took her hands in mine and told her, “Aunt Betty, I’m Margaret Jane,” she said in the voice I’ll always remember, “Oh, no you’re not.”  After she comprehended that, indeed, I was sitting in front of her telling her I loved her, we had a nice visit, one that was rewarding on an emotionally profound level.

It was during the summer of 1966 that I last saw my Aunt Betty and her daughter Kathy.  We’ve all changed, but when you look deeply into a family member’s eyes, you see the person you’ve always known.

You Can't Be Prepared For Such Wonder

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At each vantage point, each turn along the rim, the vista before us changed. No one can be prepared for such wonder, even if the History Channel and NG Channel are favorites.

The crowds during this fall season are down in number, as one might expect, but as at no other National Park, there is a reverent hush among those viewing the majesty spread before them.

Some younger folks hike the rim and venture out onto the rock ledges. Good for them. We ventured as far as our 60+ bodies and hearts would allow. We were really nervous for some of the folks who hopped and climbed along the outcroppings.

The sun alternately hid behind threatening rain clouds, but would peek through and light expanses within the canyon. Clouds and mist that had formed at lower elevations drifted upward, and from time to time, the mist shrouded the views.

We walked the “blue trail” and must have snapped hundreds of photos, “Ooooh, look at this!” We’d stroll a little further and another exclamation: “That is astounding – look over there!” Tonight, we’ll put Marvin’s photos on the computer and experience the grandeur, the beauty again.

After an afternoon snack, we took the advice of one of the Park Rangers and drove along the east rim to a lookout tower said to have been inspired by Native American watch towers. We climbed as much of that as we wanted and snapped more photos. 

It amounted to the majority of a day at Grand Canyon before we set our sights for Flagstaff and Gallup, NM along I-40 E, the land of Route 66.

Thus far, we’ve traveled about 5200 miles on this remarkable journey. Marvin has driven all but about 100 miles of it and has been as wonderful as anyone can be when dealing with a  directionally challenged navigator. 

Our GPS is great in most circumstances, and we’ve learned to go ahead and put in the destination point and let “bossy bertha” lead us by the nose.

We each have commented that we are grateful to be able to share this experience with the other.

Bright Lights

Much can change in 10 years and much can remain the same. Take the Vegas Strip. It has changed and yet it has remained the same. The What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas slogan suggests people can do anything they want and "no one will tell." You know that's not true, reference Southaven's Greg Davis. Anyone with a cell phone and a Facebook account negates privacy. Las Vegas is still big and bright,and over-the-top wheeling and dealing. Huge hotels, sky-high LED signage, and plenty of patrons.

We enjoyed a lovely hotel room and a great Italian dinner at a little bistro near St. Rose Parkway. We split my all time favorite Italian dessert: tiramisu.  Oh, yum!

Hoover Dam was an easy drive on Saturday moring from Henderson, NV(The roads have vastly improved since Tom, Lois, Rich and I took the Dam tour.), We arrived in no time at all. Because we have a covered truck bed, we had to go through an extra inspection for security. They found our Sequoia cones! (no problem)

We took the Power Plant Tour with Joe, our guide doing a super job! The dam is an amazing engineering feat, so you can well imagine that Marvin loved it and took many pictures and listened intently while on the tour.

The sun broke through and promised a great day. Our drive over the especially tall dam bridge took us onto 93 S to Kingman and Good Ole' I-40 East, heading for Williams, AZ, our overnight stop before the Grand Canyon.

Wouldn't you know, Williams, AZ is on Historic Route 66. This is another part of the trip that I've been anticipating, though I did not know Williams would also be a Route 66 experience. The city has taken the Historic Route and old buildings have become diners, western shops, steak houses, stores selling Native American pottery, and over-priced souvenir and gift shops.

Had a great evening and we look forward to a super tomorrow.

The Great American Road Trip Detour

BREAKING NEWS:  Flash Flood, Mud Slides, Rock Slides- video shots show cars and trucks avalanched by mud cascading off desert mountain walls.

As we left Sequoia NP, the sprinkles had begun and we observed off to the south a huge, dark cloud, heard rumbles of thunder, and saw jagged cloud to cloud lightning. A good, slow, soaking, steady rain would be good for this dry, parched area, we thought.

Thing is, when the rain comes so hard and fast, it makes mudpies that slide right off the side of the mountains, creating larger and larger mudpies, dragging rocks and boulders with the mud.

We did not know that circumstance as we were making the hairpin switchbacks coming down from Sequoia. It had not affected the area where we were touring and neither of us anticipated any trouble. 

Neither did we know that our sleep-cheap motel was in “downtown” Visalia (an entirely different story to be related, maybe, later). We drove, instead, on down Hwy 99 S to Delano, CA, where the hostess told us they’d had a deluge.

The following morning, we set our GPS for Henderson, NV, located strategically between Vegas and Hoover Dam. About two minutes out of Barksdale, CA, we saw evidence of what happens in this kind of desert environment. Rock and mud slides had closed 58 E. Flashing signs were being placed in the median by state Highway Guys.

Quick like a flash of evening lightning, Marvin cut the median and wheeled around into the return to sender direction. He drove 25 feet and pulled onto the median, parked, and approached the State Highway worker for information.

The short of it is this: there’s a long way to Vegas.

The worker explained how to detour around the incident, though the route would be “a long and winding road” to Isabella Lake on Hwy 178 N, over to 395 S, on the other side of a Sierra Nevada mountain range.

We pulled across and whipped on over to the Cheyenne exit, we and about a hundred other vehicles; the 18-wheelers had already pulled off the road and were preparing for a long overnight because 58 E would not be open for another day.

I met a family traveling to Vegas and chatted with them while Marvin topped off the gas tank at a local station. 

Off we went on another High Sierra desert adventure filled with natural sage grass, tumbleweed, and cactus tree landscapes. Also growing with irrigation were lemon, orange, and even some almond trees.

The opportunity to see this western countryside has provided us with greater appreciation for the bounty produced in America. We’ve also been awestruck by the different kinds of beauty stretching as far as the eye can see.