East is East and West is West

My daughter was confused because in my blog I kept referring to her home as being in the eastern part of Illinois, when in fact, Port Byron is in western Illinois. My mistake had her doubting what she knew to be true. See, that’s how fake news works.

I had no malicious intent in my false reporting. Honestly, my brain tends to switch such things around. Nevertheless, my daughter needed clarification. Did she live in eastern or western Illinois?

See that blue strip in the map above? That’s the Mississippi River where it separates Illinois from Iowa—proof that my daughter resides in the western, not the eastern part of the state.

In other news, my grandson is doing well following his recent abdominal surgery. And that’s all that really matters.

Peace, people!

Mississippi River by Morning

After two full days on the road, navigating crazy interstate traffic I am safely home, and can honestly say, “There’s no place like Doright Manor!”

Yes, I’ll miss my grandkids and my daughter, but I was really glad to be reunited with my husband and my shower, my cats, and my own bed, not necessarily in that order. It is good to be home.

The last thing I did before leaving Port Byron, Illinois, early Sunday morning was to drive down the Main Street of the small town to take a picture or two of the mighty Mississippi River that divides Illinois from Iowa.

Across the river one can see a portion of Le Claire, Iowa, reflected perfectly in the still water.

And here the mist partially obscures the bridge connecting the two states.

Moody, right? I just couldn’t leave without trying to capture the Mississippi in the morning.

Peace, people.

Musical Oasis 

After driving over 1100 miles I reached our daughter’s home in Rapids City, IL, a small town situated on the banks of the mighty Mississippi. I always think I’ll come up with a better adjective for this father of American rivers, but nothing suits it quite as well.

I guess we could say HUGE, but thanks to the current presidential elections the H word is so overworked. And it fails the alliteration test, so there’s that.

Last night I stayed at a dump of an inn in Nashville, Tennessee. I might’ve slept for three hours. But earlier in the evening I did get to go visit with my cousin, singer/songwriter Effron White who hosted a songwriter’s round at the Millennium Maxwell House. It was the first time in a decade that we were able to hang out.

The evening’s company and entertainment more than made up for a poor night’s rest. In fact, since I couldn’t sleep I just played all the songs back in my head. 


Effron and me and some groovy catsup.
I’m not even going to try and tag these guys. They were a talented bunch.

More photos from the evening. I was blown away by the level of talent in the room.


 Check out one of Effron’s songs as performed by Phil Lancaster. I just love the French introduction! 

Peace, people!