A rose among the thorns

Yale University @yale.edu

The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML awoke this morning with an URGENT need to go to that purveyor of all things Swedish (except there was not a Volvo, Saab, or ABBA department to be found), IKEA, for dishes. Yes, dishes. Don't ask.

This being Connecticutistan, per the Politburo that runs the state, it means that no "big box" retailer can be located conveniently to anyone and that it must involve at least a 45 minute drive (hence increasing the chance you will have to get gas and plough more tax dollars into the coffers for which you will receive ZERO benefit), so it was off to New Haven for us.

New Haven. It sounds so pastoral, so New England, doesn't it? After all, it has the word 'haven' in it. A haven, as defined, is a place of safety or refuge. It even suggests a place of tranquility. Well guess what? The word 'haven' needs to be suing New Haven, CT for defamation of character as it is anything but a tranquil place of refuge or safety. What it is is a place of high crime, significant diversity and poverty issues (talk about income gap), and a craptastic infrastructure (suffice to say, methinks the New Haven Visitors Bureau shall not be asking me to write this year's tourism brochure). It is also a place of roses among thorns. Wait...what?

Rose #1 - The Yale University Campus
After a successful incursion at IKEA, we made our way over to the Yale campus for a bit of a walk around. If you've never been to the storied campus and you've envisioned an old campus in the leafy foothills of New England, snap out of it. The only foothill is an onramp onto the I95, just south of the university. Instead you have a beautiful old campus, punctuated with greenery, and smelling of history, smack in the middle of the sickly ('Get a transplant, STAT!') heart of New Haven. As we walked through a couple of the colleges, the engraved arches, the heavy iron gates and stately wooden doors to the buildings quietly honored the rich history of the university and the learning that continues to this day. It certainly helped that since Mother Nature has yet to go all 'Snow SheHag' on us that the campus was fairly green in places. We talked a bit about the beauty of the campus and its 'rose among thorns' status and that has stuck with me today.

Rose #2 - Shake Shack
Right across the street from the Yale campus is an outlet of Shake Shack, definitely the other rose in the thorn fiesta that is New Haven. We went there for lunch post-IKEA, mostly as a reward to me because I managed to get through the IKEA without loudly complaining. This proves that even though I am entering my 50th year, I am still an arrested adolescent. Lovely. It gave us the chance to try their new Chick'n Shack sandwich, and I can happily give a "Go Eat This!" rating. That's based on just one bite as it was the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML's lunch order. I can't not go to the Shack and not get a burger. That would be a travesty.

So post-Shack / IKEA, I've been thinking about roses among thorns. Our lives are full of them, I know mine is. In Kolkata, India, I saw it in the light in the eyes of the people who had less than nothing and are largely scorned as they smiled at me from their shacks (and I'm being generous in that description) on the outskirts of a huge outdoor marketplace there. In that same city, I saw roses in the form of the sisters of the Missionaries of Charity order as they tenderly cared for the 'thorns' there. The 'thorns?' The forgotten, rejected, 'untouchable' people, not thorns at all. I've seen it in random of acts of kindness all over the world. I've heard it in the laughter of my grandson. That laughter is a powerful reminder that there is joy and goodness in this world.

A complaint-free trek through IKEA.
The sensation of a bit of the grease, yes grease, from a really good burger dribbling down your chin.
The beauty of an inspiring university campus.

Roses among thorns, indeed.

One last thing - why has Yale not erected a statue to its most revered alum, C. Montgomery Burns? Talk about a travesty....

On Mr. Spud, Geysers, and Summer Tourist Season

Me and Mr. Spud

As a part of our faux Parents Weekend, we were determined to get reacquainted with the area in which CAL has been living. This meant road trips to Jackson Hole and Yellowstone National Park.

In the winter, Jackson Hole is a Mecca for skiers. In the summer, it is a Mecca for tourists (more on them later) looking for deals on bad Western art, cheesy Western-themed outerwear, and crappy t-shirts. Once you step away from the throngs and look up at the mountains that surround the town, their beauty reminds you to slow down and take it in. In spite of the fact that much of the view was hampered by haze from the forest fires in neighboring states, it was easy to take in the beauty of the area.

With 'Take it in' as our theme, I did something I rarely do - pulled over to take a photo of something sublime in its ridiculousness. When you blow by an enormous potato on the bed of an old pickup being 'driven' by a couple of smaller potatoes, of course you pull over. Hence, my photo with Mr. Spud at the finest drive-in movie theater in all of Driggs, ID. Awesome!

While Jackson Hole and its environs were beautiful, they paled in comparison to Yellowstone National Park. Words can't describe the stark beauty and awe-inspiring wonder of this place. The earth simply does not fool around here. The hot pots, the falls, and the geysers were each a testament to the beauty of this earth. 

Now, while the Old Faithful geyser was cool, it proved, much like creepy Josh Duggar to be less than faithful. The geyser  was 45 minutes late to its scheduled 'eruption.' The better geyser was the Beehive, just across the way from Old Faithful. It erupted like the angriest bidet on the planet. My favorite geyser, though, was the Spasm Geyser. Not because it's eruption was the most spectacular, but because of its name. Seriously, the Spasm Geyser is the best name ever. To top the Spasm, we took an easy 5.2 mile hike to Fairy Falls. It was worth the chafing I'm dealing with now...

Here's a collection of photos from Yellowstone:

Suffice to say, it was amazing. This earth, this incredible creation, is a gift.

Based on the hordes of tourists at both Jackson Hole and Yellowstone, lots of people are wanting to see this all too. Some observations:

When pretty much every store in Jackson Hole now accepts China Union Pay, you know the Chinese tourism moment is far from over.

When the Eastern European girl working in one of the stores is driven to near tears by yet another Chinese tourist cutting the line, you simply smile, and tell her, "Honey, it's only going to get worse."

Why do Europeans insist on wearing  winter coats as they trudge through a national park on a warm summer's day?

The National Park Service would be wise to ban the scourge that is the selfie stick.

And, finally, lest anyone think the bus tour is dead, it is not. However, based on the average age of their participants, it is not long for this earth. The location of the nearest bathroom should not be the key topic of discussion in a stunning national park.

That said, I'm glad I could share the beauty of this earth with CAL and the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML. It's been great. I like this DIY Parents Weekend thing.