Stuart Davis Map of Travels
Map of Travels
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2005 - Journal 10
What’s next? . . . Continued . . .

My present life’s path is often directed by happenstance. I realize I sometimes let “things” direct me rather
than live consciously (to act-out rather than to re-act) to the chaos of events that envelope us. I accept that the
big things need conscious attention; to be a writer, an engineer, a doctor, etc. These are important life choices,
the grand paths that sweep all of us along to our finale moments, unfortunately, like many, I tend to ignore new
paths for the comfort and familiarity of the old.

As I’ve matured (titter, titter, tell us another) my opinions, feelings and attitudes have softened, albeit slowly.
I’ve begun to seek new paths that hopefully will add Zest, Excitement, Adventure and even Drama (ZEAD) to
my life. As I look and listen attentively, mostly on an intuitive level, I test the waters with small steps. I soon
become excited with the new direction and move off boldly with longer strides. What changes are possible
when we step off in a new direction?

I must say that following the yellow line enabled ZEAD to fill my life.  I’ve found new paths, sometimes filled
with toe-stubbing reminders, and sometimes not. Be mindful that things can’t always be harmonious and joyful,
but if important enough we must push on regardless of an occasional bloody toe.  

*     *     *     *

I returned to Mentor and a cabin in the woods. During my first visit, a week ago, Halle realized I needed
another place to spend my nights to get away from her newly adopted cat. With my cat allergy I couldn’t spend
another night gasping for breath, so she called her friends, Jo Ann and Don Anderson, who live in a lovely
ranch tucked comfortably in the woods of Willoughby Hills, a few miles from Mentor. She asked if their little
cottage was available, explaining my plight. The Andersons graciously said yes and I moved into a storybook
cabin tucked under a canopy of large trees. The cottage, poised at the edge of their property, is almost hidden
from the modern world. A small screened porch, often lit with candles, allows entry into a large comfortable
room with a full bath. This worked well for another reason. Halle was redoing her bedroom floor at the time
and was sleeping in the guest bedroom so my visit complicated things. I did spend my days with the ladies,
reading, talking and eating Halle’s wonderful organic meals and luxuriating on their wide, umbrella covered
deck.

I found the Andersons to be a hospitable and engaging couple. They often greeted me in the driveway for a
chat when I rode in for the evening. Twenty minutes after being introduced I felt I’d known them all my life. I
spent several great evenings with the Andersons. One in particular, at a winery, with their daughter Lindsey
and friends, listening to four conversations flow over and around me, catching a bit of family gossip,
protestations of the state of the state and union, interspersed with laughter and calls for more wine. I learned
that Don Anderson and his brother Ken own and operate a food processing plant called Paisley Farm, bottling
35 different vegetable products (in brine or syrup) derived from fresh, frozen or canned items. Ken handles the
business end while Don’s inventive nature designed the special machines needed to mix, fill, cap, sterilize,
check caps, label, and pack, palletize and ship their products. I had a tour of the plant and was amazed at the
complexity of the bottling process.  It’s hot demanding work and everybody gets to wear one of those funny
white shower caps.  

My stay in northeastern Ohio was made richer by all the new folks I now call friends. There’s one other new
friend to whom I’ll always be grateful for opening my heart and eyes to new things on a new path. There were
no stones this time on my new road, just a gentle nudge.

*    *    *    *

I first met Sandie Sajner (Sage-ner) on Halle and Anne’s rear deck. She dropped by to see the ladies and meet
the man who rides around the country on a yellow motorbike (Halle thinks I’m cool and tells everyone about
her “older” friend). Sandie, a massage therapist with a clinic in Painesville, eight miles east of Mentor, has
ridden pillion on her cousin’s bike for years so she was curious to see what kind of man rides all over the
countryside on a hack. She was fascinated with Sunshine and early on in our conversation seemed interested
in taking a ride. We made a date and in exchange I’d receive a massage. Not a bad trade I’d say. Ah yes, the
beginning of a new path.

That was the just the beginning. Sandie took time from her busy schedule to become my personal tour guide.
We visited “Lawnfield,” home of former President James A. Garfield in Mentor and then rode to Cleveland to
visit the well known Lakeview Cemetery to see Garfield’s monument, a large imposing structure, where he
and his wife Lucretia are interred. A large impressive structure in a most impressive cemetery.

Sandie, I discovered, is a vegetarian. Fortunately she agrees that having one’s desert first, on rare occasions,
has merit. I know life can be short, so desert first had become my battle cry. Hanging with Halle and Sandie, I
began to think seriously about becoming a vegan (no meat, fish, fowl, eggs or milk products). It’s a big step
and something I’d have to seriously consider.

We decided to share a weekend and play tourist, visiting Niagara-on-the-Lake and Niagara Falls. Niagara-on-
the-Lake is a stunning little town, where the Niagara River flows into Lake Ontario. What better way to get
the feel of a place than to ride a one horse power, horse drawn carriage through the colorful flower lined
streets. Then wander the parks and quaint village to window shop. In the afternoon we rode to Niagara Falls
for more excitement. First was the Whirlpool Aero Car, a fly-on-a-wire tram (literally a hanging basket) that
soared above the Niagara River for a close-up view of the frothing white water whirlpools. We rode to the
observation deck of the Skylon Tower, standing 775 feet above the falls, offering a spectacular 360 degree
view of the city and surrounding countryside. We even donned plastic raincoats and braved the crowds to
stand on the open deck (very wet deck) of one of the several Maid of the Mist cruise boats as it bounced and
shuddered through the rough, frothy water of Canada’s overpowering Horseshoe Falls. We did all the touristy
things and it was pure ZEAD.

Hungry and exhausted from walking the city’s steep, long hills, we agreed, in near desperation, to take our
meal in what looked to be (in outward appearance) a fancy, expensive dining experience. We’ve all heard of
Wolfgang Puck, the celebrity chef and restaurateur. Well Niagara Falls is blessed with one of Mr. Puck’s
restaurants. It was pricey but the meal was memorable. Without exaggeration, on a scale of one to ten, Puck’s
staff rang the big bell with a ten.  Sandie explained to the accommodating server that she was a vegetarian and
would like to have an all vegetable entrée. I asked for the same. When our plates arrived we were served six
different vegetables, cooked to perfection and beautifully arranged. To quote my friend Johnny Badkin, “the
meal was scrumptious.”

Sandie was scheduled to attend a five day annual conference of the North American Vegetarian Society held
at the Conference Center on the Pitt-Johnstown campus of the University of Pittsburg at Johnstown, along with
her cousin Eddy Nemeth. The five day conference was devoted to lectures, classes and workshops dealing
with health, nutrition, environment, animal rights, exercise and lifestyle. The campus cafeteria would serve
total vegetarian and vegan meals. Sandie asked if I wanted to attend. I was interested so I called the society
and signed on. Cousin Eddy rode ahead on his Kawasaki touring bike, meeting us at the conference.  

It was an eye opening experience. The speakers were passionate, dramatic, humorous and committed. One
man in particular, Howard Lyman, Executive director of Voice for a Viable Future and author of Mad Cowboy:
Plain Truth From The Cattle Rancher Who Won’t Eat Meat spoke about his ethical and moral problems with
the cruel treatment of animals and birds locked in crowded cages (for eggs or to be fattened for slaughter).
The methods used to slaughter animals are horrendous and one only has to see Lyman’s documentary, an in-
your-face look at the meat industry to feel a deep revulsion for of the conditions of our feed lots and slaughter
houses. Little wonder I have any taste left at all for meat, eggs and even dairy.

Lyman appeared on Oprah to discuss Mad Cow disease and elicited a strong reaction from Oprah when she
said she’d never eat meat again. That little statement landed Oprah and Lyman in hot, legal waters with the
Texas cattle industry. To the surprise of many and certainly to Oprah and Lyman, they won, but as Lyman
pointed out with a jury made up of folks who had close ties to the cattle industry, directly or indirectly, it was a
bit of a miracle that they won at all. It seemed the jury decided it was clearly a First Amendment case. Oprah
never told her audience not to eat meat; she merely expressed an opinion that she’d never eat meat again.

Sandie and I played hooky one afternoon and rode into Johnstown to ride the Inclined Plane, reputed to be the
world’s steepest and one of the oldest. The view of the city from the cliff top (501 feet high) was pretty
impressive One can imagine how the river overflowing its normal course, filled with crushing debris, overtook  
the city tearing through and over buildings and homes, causing such chaos and death. The ride down the cliff
face was over quickly putting us back into the center of the city.    

The conference ended Sunday noon after another wonderful meal (if one did not attend the conference but paid
to have 14 outstanding vegetarian meals, it would be worth every penny). Cousin Ed declined to join us on our
visit to Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater, the world famous home built over a waterfall in Mill Run,
Pennsylvania.

We left the University parking lot and wiggled our way to Route 219 South through the town of Somerset and
then picked up Route 653 West to Route 381 South at Normalville. Not many miles later, just past the village
of Mill Run, a large sign pointed the way to the house. The roads were kind to Sunshine’s suspension and the
countryside a pleasure to ride through. Speeds never exceeded 45, a comfortable speed that allowed us to
enjoy the passing scene, and as a bonus, saved fuel.

Fallingwater is a remarkable home tucked into the deep woods of the Laurel Highlands in southwestern
Pennsylvania, beautifully sited on a small waterfall. The house is still considered the best all-time work of
American architecture by a poll of members of the American Institute or Architects. Designed in 1935 for the
Edgar J. Kaufmann family and built in 1936, the home has been under the care of the Western Pennsylvania
Conservancy since 1963. Sandie and I spent almost two hours on the property exploring every room except
the kitchen that can only be viewed from a doorway. It was a satisfying experience for me. Wright was a hero
of mine in my youth. Just out of my teens I worked as an architectural draftsman in NYC. Years later I had the
opportunity to take Wright’s photograph, on his visit he made to speak to members the New Jersey’s Builder’
s Association at their headquarters. It was a grand moment for an unseasoned staff photographer now working
for Jersey newspaper, to be in the presence of an icon. With little modesty I can say that of all the pictures
taken that evening, one portrait stands out as pure Wright and is one of my all time favorites. I was filled with
passion that evening and it showed.

Our next stop was Nemacolin Woodlands Resort and Spa in Farmington. It’s a humongous resort community
offering a really plush hotel, resembling a European Chateau,  a rustic lodge and numerous townhouses plus
golf, horseback riding, a spa for men and women, shooting, rock wall climbing and fly fishing. Oh, the list goes
on and on. There are ten restaurants, each serving different fare. The place is so large, it covers hundreds of
acres. Owner Joe Hardy installed a jitney for the convenience of his guests to go from activity to activity.
Sandie and I took advantage of the free ride to experience the place for ourselves. Deep pockets are
necessary if one is to spend leisure time at Nemacolin. The resort is certainly not Motel 6.

Back on Route 40 (directing us to Ohio) I read that the road is America’s first highway (from the booklet, The
National Road, Main Street of America by Norris F. Schneider) Thomas Jefferson in 1784 suggested to
George Washington that he look for a route (a new path) from Virginia to the western territory to
accommodate settlers already living in western Pennsylvania, who needed access to eastern markets for their
surplus crops. Concerned that the settlers might form commercial ties with the Spanish or even Great Britain,
Washington wrote in his diary that the nation “open a wide door and make a smooth way for the Produce of
that Country to pass to our Markets before the trade may get into another channel.” That door in time
became the National road that had its beginning in Cumberland, Maryland, eventually reaching Vandalia,
Illinois, just short of St. Louis, a distance of 600 miles.

We passed through Uniontown, birthplace and home of General George C. Marshall, Army Chief of Staff
during WW II, responsible for the mobilizing and training of troops. After the war, in 1947, he was named
Secretary of State by Truman and initiated the so-called Marshall Plan by which the U.S. provided economic
assistance to strengthen anti-communist elements in war-torn Western Europe. One can’t drive through
Uniontown without seeing a gigantic photograph of Marshall stretched long and wide on the side of a building.

We crossed the state line with many twist and turn along Route 534 passing Mike Tyson’s former estate, now
chained, locked and overgrown with tall weeds. So sad to realize all this was taken away from the former
champ. He reached high and fell so far. Most sad.

At few miles later we stopped on the outskirts of Thompson caught up in a long line of traffic, waiting for a
parade to end. We weren’t stopped more than fifteen minutes when the parade ended and we rode slowly
through large crowds milling about on the sidewalks and spilling into the streets. An interesting aside to this
story was meeting a man at a rest stop in Indiana a few days later. He stopped to look at Sunshine and said he
seen me driving through Thompson right after the parade. He wanted a close-up view of the hack and what do
you know, he got his chance. It really is a small world.

So what am I to make of all this. Sandie’s gone back to her passion, helping others feel better and I’m back on
the road after a great week. I’ve become a vegetarian, no actually a vegan, giving up dairy and eggs as well. I
feel much better. I have more energy and have to put a few more notches in my belt. I don’t need to nap
anymore. That was a big surprise. For meals I’ve found that most restaurants offer fruit and vegetables,
sometimes soup that isn’t chicken broth based or cooked with meat. The choices may be limited but it works.
Sandie pointed out a new path, a path that leads me to more energy, and better health. Sandie gave me a book
that lists state by state and town by town places that offer vegetarian and vegan fare. It’s been a grand help.  

I expect to be taller, better looking and a real hot junior geezer in time, so may I warn the ladies; there’s a
yellow motorbike heading you’re way.


This of course doesn’t mean I won’t consider desert first . . . once in awhile.
FOLLOW THE YELLOW LINE
Motorcycle Touring with Stuart Davis and His Side Car
www.followtheyellowline.com