I didn’t know the summer of 1960 would be the end of my husband’s professional baseball career.  He had pitched four years in the majors, but this particular year, he was with Richmond, Virginia, and at that time Richmond was in the International League, Class AAA, which is one step below the major league.

Ben was blessed with an illustrious athletic ability, and signed a professional contract when he was only seventeen years old with the Boston Red Sox. This was long before the days of the big bonuses.

He played the summer of his senior year with a farm club of the Boston Red Sox, therefore he couldn’t accept any of the many scholarships to some of the best colleges in the South that were offered him.  Once you play professionally, you can’t play any sport for a school.  I don’t think he knew this at that time because he was so young.

We were married when I was nineteen and he was twenty and started our lives in spring camps in Florida.  After spring training, we would head North to find a furnished home or apartment to rent in the town that was the home town or base for the club that he would be playing for that year.

I stayed in the club’s home town alone when the club would travel to the different cities, counting the day’s and waiting for the nights when the game would be broadcast on the local radio station.  Sometimes they would be away two weeks, and in the majors, as long as three weeks.

Our daughter was born in Scranton, Pa.  It was difficult being so far from our real home, which is in North Carolina, but with the help of some very good friends, my Mom and Dad, and Ben, I made it. Most important, God was with us the whole time, during that long, humid, and almost unbearable summer.

We finally managed, with careful planning, and budgeting, to build a house in our home town, and had to sadly close it up in the summer during the baseball season.  The three of us had mixed emotions about leaving, and felt we were too far away on many occasions.  It was an interesting life, but lonely and often times scary, with the responsibility of a small child, and being alone so much.  I think back about  those years and thank God for His loving care for all of us.

When our daughter started school, she and I stayed at home, and Ben traveled south to Florida for spring training which lasted about six weeks.  When school was out, we left our home to go to the ball club’s home city.  It is an understatement  to say we missed our family and friends.  I know the attention that baseball players and their families receive from the dedicated and great ball fans helps ease the pain of being homesick.  Thank goodness for those good people we met during all those years.

Our last year, as I said before, was in Richmond, Va., then a New York Yankee farm club. Since our home in North Carolina was only about a three hour drive, I would drive home when the club traveled to various cities to play, spend a few days, then meet Ben when the club returned from their road trip.

On the last road trip that he would ever make, I was preparing to drive back to meet him the next day. The club had been in Miami for a few days and was ending the road trip in Columbus, Ohio and scheduled to fly back to Richmond the next day.  Ben called me from the Grant Hospital in Columbus and told me not to drive back to Richmond as planned.  He was sick and they thought he had heat prostration.  I knew by the sound of his voice, that it was more serious, but tried to put that out of my mind.  He told me that the rest of the ball club flew back, but the doctors wanted him in the hospital due to his high fever.  All of his luggage went back on the plane with the club, and he only had the clothes he was wearing at the time.  When he called the next day, he said his fever had not gone away, and they didn’t know what was wrong.  I later learned it had been 104 to 106 for several hours of each day and night, accompanied by shaking, painful chills.

A kind, very concerned couple, that was friends of another ball player on the Richmond Club, brought Ben a shaving kit, bedroom shoes and a robe.  I do wish I had had the foresight to have gotten their address at that time.  God knows who they are and I know that is truly all that matters.

Finally, after the third phone call, and no improvement,  I called the ball club’s Doctor in Richmond.  Dr. Haddock, and what a concerned, caring, and understanding man this Doctor was.  I asked about Ben’s condition and if he thought I should fly out to Columbus.  He said if he was me, he would, and if the Doctors there in Columbus didn’t soon diagnose what was wrong,  he was flying out.  It is a mild statement to say I was afraid, I was terrified!

In all those years, I had never flown to a strange city alone.  Ben was always there waiting for us, or better still, with us.  My Mother kept our daughter and Dad drove me to the airport fifty miles away.  I wasn’t thinking clearly, because I packed my toiletries, but only one change of clothes, thinking I’d stay in Ben’s room for a day or two, and then we would fly back together.

I was in a state of shock and total dullness when the steward on the plane, interrupted my drained mind asking if I was going on a vacation.  When I told him of my husband’s illness, he saw the mounting tears and anxiety in my eyes.  He sat and talked with me the whole trip, except when he had to perform his duties.  That flight wasn’t crowded.  I know God sent him to me, because I was so frightened, and he helped me more than he will ever know.  My mind started functioning again.

We landed in Columbus.  No one to meet me, no one to get my luggage.  I managed, and found a cab.  The driver asked, “Where to lady.”

“Grant Hospital” I replied.  He was very indifferent to any problem I was having.  His only concern seemed to be his own welfare, and the fare I would pay.  God was working in his mysterious ways to toughen me up a bit for what was ahead.

I walked in the hospital with my suitcase and asked the receptionist what room Ben was in.  I noticed the hospital was very old, and thought to myself that I had never seen an uglier, gloomier, or more depressing place.  I understand they have a new and modern Grant Hospital now.

When I finally found the room, Ben was sitting up in bed holding a telegram I had sent telling him when I would arrive.  When he saw me, he started crying.  I embraced his feverish body and tried to comfort him with the little strength I had left.  I was used to sickness in my family, but not my six foot four, strong Ben.  I would see more of the emotional upsets in the following days.  I learned much later that the disease had affected his central nervous system.  My husband was too young and strong to be afflicted like this.

Planning to stay in the room with him, I noticed a chair and thought I could sleep there just for a couple of nights, just until we both could fly back home.  The Doctor’s wouldn’t allow me to do this until they did more tests.  I stayed all that day, and saw the fever come back, with the horrifying chills.  His body would shake with pain, and there was nothing I could do for him, except be there.  I don’t think I have ever known such total helplessness in my entire life.

I was told to leave.  Wearily I picked up my suitcase, and even though I didn’t think I had packed much, it seemed to weigh a ton.  I remembered someone had said there was a hotel a few blocks away.  I noticed, as I walked with a slouching zombie-like shuffle through the dark and threatening parking lot to the hotel, it wasn’t the best section of town to be alone in.

The bellboy looked sneeringly at me in a way that petrified me when we were going up in the elevator.  The tiny room was disgustingly shabby, stifling hot, and impossible to lock the dilapidated door.  I was completely exhausted, too afraid to go out for food,  and too afraid to go to sleep.  I put a chair in front of the door, and flopped down on the bed.  It was so unbearably humid and sultry, I felt I might faint.  I could hardly breathe, even with the windows open.  There was no breeze.

I have always believed in God, and prayed as we all do, but at times almost automatically.  This time, my prayers were different.  I was talking to God, my Heavenly Father, as a child would to his earthly father aloud.  The tears streamed down my face, and for awhile all I could say was, “Please, please God, I’m begging!”  Hear me please!  I’m tired and so afraid and Ben is in a critical condition.  Help him please God-guide the doctors and help them find what terrible disease he has.  I’m so alone and weary, my body aches and I’m frightened in this ugly suffocating room. Please hear my cry.  Please dear God, let me know you are with me.

At that very moment, a cool breeze quietly filled that decrepit room, and cooled it in a way no air-conditioning could have.  My tears vanished and I felt God’s presence surrounding me.  Soothing peace and total confidence flowed through my entire being.  Knowing God was sharing my room, I said a simple, “Thank You” as I drifted off to sleep.

The room was still amazingly cool when I awoke the next morning unafraid, and knowing God would be with me on this trip.  I had the courage to ask for a better room, and after explaining to the desk clerk of our ordeal, was given a spacious, airy room on the top floor.  It wasn’t “plush,” but looked exquisite in comparison to the one beside the elevator shaft.  That is where I spent the next fourteen nights.

I later learned the hotel was mainly for older people, retired people, and I guess when I walked in that night, they may have thought I was a lady of the evening, which would explain the appalling room I was given.

After many tests, a spinal tap showed that Ben had viral meningitis and encephalitis.  He was put in isolation, so I could no longer visit in his room, but I had a chair outside his door, and could talk to him from the hall.

Day by day, he slowly improved, but the weight loss was so rapid that when he could finally leave the hospital, I wasn’t sure he was strong enough to make the trip.

We flew to Richmond because we had to get our clothes that were still at the house we had rented there, then we would drive to our home in North Carolina.  On our flight, a Priest sat across the aisle from us, and when I saw him make the sign of the cross over his heart, I glanced at Ben, but was smiling when I held his hand.  I said another simple, silent, “Thank You God.”

An employee of the baseball club met us when we landed in Richmond.  He turned the car radio to the ball game, and we heard the sportscaster announce that we had landed.  I couldn’t believe the loud roar of applause and cheers that we heard.  It was touching that all those people had been concerned, and were now sharing the over-whelming relief we felt from our agonizing painful journey.

When the friendly and caring young man let us off, he said with a soft, understanding, kindness in his voice, “you both look like you’ve been through ”Hell.”

“You can believe that,” I answered with a grin, “but God was walking with us all the way.”

Once we arrived in Aguas Calientes we had to board a shuttle to get to Machu Picchu.  Included in the train ticket was full access and a four hour English guide, plus tea in the Sanctuary Lodge up there.  After a full day we came back to Aguas Calientes and had dinner – it is a really cute village and our hotel was basically a tree house on the side of a mountain with incredible views.  The next day instead of going back to Machu Picchu we hiked along the train and trails into the jungle to a nature preserve and waterfalls called Jardines de Mandor.  It was really beautiful and orchids grow like weeds there, plus bananas and all kinds of interesting flora and fauna.  The finaly day was shopping/haggling for local art and goods and then the long journey home via the train (again fabulous with 4 course dinner), flight from Cusco the following a.m. and finally the following evening the long flight back from Lima.  Here are the final highlights – Click to view slideshow.

On To Cusco!

Once at the airport we found our way and boarded the flight to Cusco – there was a school group going along presumably to Machu Picchu and several girls had never flown – they screamed upon take-off and every time the plane dipped.  As we neared Cusco, you could see the huge Andes and the pilot came on – with my limited Spanish I still caught “Cusco.. wind..  Arequipa..”  wait, where?  we were being diverted to Arequipa to refuel and wait for the weather in Cusco to improve.  Arequipa really didn’t look like much other than the volcano they have, “El Misty”.

Once we finally made it to Cusco, three hours late, we searched for the hotel driver who was supposed to pick us up & take us to the hotel “incluido en el precio”  Tons of folks with signs but of course as we were 3 hours late no such luck.  I searched for someone to call our hotel and found a tour sales girl who said she would call for us.  She (perhaps) made a call and then tried to sell us every tour package she had.  Finally I said we would just get in a cab and she goes “but you give me money for making the call”.  I laughed and walked off – Welcome to Cusco and Tourist Trap Central!  I approached a fellow outside with an ID and he said the taxi would be 25 soles, or $8.  We would later find out from out hotel it should cost no more than 10 soles, but we were just glad to get to our hotel, the Tierra Viva near the center of town & Plaza de Armas.  This was an old house from the 1500′s that Francico Pizarro lived in after conquering Cusco, and boy did I have crazy dreams there!  maybe it was the coca leaf tea I drank.

Cusco is in a bowl on a high plateau at 11,000 feet.  Even with the Dymox meds it felt as if someone was sitting on your chest, and even a few steps were tough and laborious.  That said, we hiked even higher to a place called Saqsy Waman (sounds like Sexy Woman) which was interesting.  Shopping in the markets was fun at first, but after awhile I got tired of haggling with the vendors.  We got small alpacas made from alpaca fur, & I got a sweater.  David also got his Mom some textiles and a pottery set.  Even without haggling it was pretty cheap, the 100% alpaca sweater was $22.  I felt sorry for dogs there as they roam homeless and hungry.  Even snapping a pic of a baby lamb in the street, some women were hounding me saying “money for picture!”  That gets real old real fast.  Here are the highlights of Cusco – Click to view slideshow.

Tuesday a.m. we were finally headed for Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu-http://juantana.wordpress.com/2011/10/18/aguas-calientes-and-machu-picchu/

Two Days in Lima – We arrived late Thursday night so basically had all day Friday and Saturday to discover Lima.  The Radisson Miraflores is a very modern nice hotel, and we were allowed two drinks free each day, so we went onto the rooftop terrace and had two pisco sours – Bienvenidos a Perú!  The first day we walked from our hotel down to the ocean.  They have a really nice green space and parkway you can walk on along the cliffs and also a nice shopping mall called Larco Mar.  We checked there with Perurail on our train tickets and then had lunch overlooking the Pacific – I discovered a tasty Peruvian beer, Cusqueña, while David tried the Pilsen.  Ceviche was tasty but too much to eat, and their take on Mexican food is pretty bland.

In the afternoon David had pre-paid a tour of Lima in English, but when the van showed up the guide said that it was Spanish-only, so after a few phone calls and threats to reverse charges and post negative feedback we were scheduled for a tour the next a.m. which worked out better as we had a stellar guide who was very sweet.  So instead of doing the tour the hotel called a car service and he took us to Museo Larco with pre-Incan artifacts.  The Sala Erotica was very interesting indeed!

That night we ate at a place called Pardo’s, specialising in pollo a la brasa, which was very tasty.  I hear they are a chain and planning to expand to the U.S.  At this point we also started taking Dymox for the upcoming altitudes of 8,000-11,000 feet in Cusco – the side effects are very strange, one being any carbonated beverage does not taste right – so long Cusqueña cervezas & hello more Pisco Sours!  We found a gay night at a local bar called “Las Noches de la Gorda”..  very strange with videos of fat chicks, and as is the case in all latin countries things didn’t get going to long after we left for the hotel and bed.

The next day was the tour and then we walked to some pre-Incan ruins called Huaca Puclana – very interesting and the entire thing was made out of mud bricks – it never rains in Lima as it’s a desert, our tour guide said the last time was over 20 years ago!  Here are some highlights -Click to view slideshow.

Sunday we were jetting our way to Cusco!http://juantana.wordpress.com/2011/10/16/peru-trip-october-2011-2/

After exactly one night of sleeping in the tent I got on Craigslist and bought a used pop-up camper. It’s really nice and has two king sized beds, indoor/outdoor gas stoves, sink, toilet and indoor/outdoor showers too. The only thing we have not been able to get to work is the hot water heater. It has heat and we run off of a 12 volt DC battery which I keep charged with solar panels. Our goal is to eventually build a log cabin up there in the back corner on a bluff that looks out on a ravine and nice mountain views. There are many steps to get ready for that though – this year we are extending the driveway & clearing the build site, and after that comes well, septic and finally running the utilities – we want them underground which is more expensive too. it’s very relaxing and peaceful up there, and if I get internet connectivity I can even telework from there some. We have seen lots of deer, wild turkeys, & heard coyotes and even seen a mama bear * three cubs! I got a motion camera so I’ll be posting pics of what it captures too.

Here are some pictures of the property -

Back to Collette – http://wp.me/p1uZFy-d

Una Mae

First up is my maternal grandmother, Una Mae Bartholomew (née Dickens) from Louisburg, NC.  The only girl in a family of 5 kids, her mother died during childbirth in 1921.  Una’s younger brother Kirk then had to go live with another family until he was three – they had to find what was called a “wet nurse” as infant formula was non-existent.  Life was hard, but Una Mae always managed to shine with style – eternally stick-thin, she wore fab hats, most of which I still have, kept her hair short and styled it with finger waves.  I love the pictures with old cars in them, and there is also one is her and my aunt on a trip to the Maggie Valley in the NC mountains, which prob took forever as roads were mostly dirt back then – but even bumping along a day’s worth of dirt roads didnt keep them from looking stylish!

On to Collette – http://wp.me/p1uZFy-d

My mother Collette was born in 1928 in Wilson, NC.  She was one of the last of a dying breed – the true magnolia-mouth Southern Belle.  Listening to her speak was like watching honey dripping off a ripe peach, and it wasn’t just the wonderful slow sultry accent, but also the way she turned a phrase. As is the case with all southern women, most of what she said could be taken as the highest compliment, or if you thought long enough, the lowest insult – bless her heart!  She was glam beyond glam for the 1940′s and 50′s, looking like a cross between Barbara Stanwick and Vivien Leigh.  My father was a professional baseball player in the 50′s for the Red Sox and several other teams, and one winter they travelled to Caracas, Venezuela so he could play winter ball there – he ever shook Fidel Castros hand on the way down – nuts!  Alot of the slides are more vibrant than pictures and show her distinctive beachy style (white sunglasses, capri pants) well into the late 50′s.

Back to Una Mae – http://wp.me/p1uZFy-B      On to Rhonda – http://wp.me/p1uZFy-16