It has been pointed out to me by a close relative (my daughter, Valerie, to be exact), that in my last post I didn't include some important places to eat and gather. To be honest, I didn't consider two of them because they are not what I would call unique places where people go to sit and jabber for an hour or more with friends.
Alma does have a Subway sandwich shop and a Pizza Hut. They are just like the same stores found in cities across this country. I don't want to demean them, it's just that they are what they are: chain stores that sell formula food that's reasonably good. Generally, people go there to eat and then they leave. Of course, my other daughter, Eva, wants me to tell the world that my 16 year old grand-daughter, Enchantra, makes sandwiches at the Subway when she's not in school. She's a great kid, but then as her grandfather, I tend to be a little prejudiced. When I eat at Subway and she makes my sandwich, she professionally pretends she doesn't know me, which is difficult in a town where everybody knows everybody else.
There is another fast food place on Highway 183 in Alma called the Dairy Barn. It's an old eatery building that was closed for a long time, but about four months ago it re-opened with new owners and its current name. They serve soft ice cream, shakes and malts in addition to hamburgers, fries and broasted chicken. Again, it's a good place to eat, but its limited seating doesn't lend itself to groups of people sitting and talking about their day.
There is one more place to gather and talk, but it had been my intention to save it for an in depth post as a single subject. It's called Joe Camera, but trust me, it's one heck of a lot more than a camera shop. Located in downtown Alma right next door to the Subway sandwich shop, Joe Camera is owned and operated by a young husband and wife who have combined their talents to offer a camera shop, coffee shop and bicycle repair shop. Don't laugh. It's a heck of a place to get a Starbuck's (In fact, I think it's better) type of coffee, sit with some friends and catch up on the news of the day or simply lie about your last fishing adventure on the lake.
What kind of coffee do you like? Ethiopian? Jamaican? Colombian? Hawaiian? Make your choice from a bewildering selection of large hermetically sealed jars with beans from around the world. It is ground for you on the spot. New mama Dusti will put it together for you while she tells all about her brand new baby boy. A computer with a large monitor runs an endless loop slide show about the new one so that all who enter can admire Alma's newest citizen.
On top of the tall display case for the coffee is an array of old cameras. They range from the oldest Kodak Brownies to the first Polaroids to older cameras hard to describe. There is even an old Argus C4, which was my first 35mm camera, purchased in 1954. On the shelves below are 35 mm film supplies, photo paper for computer printers, and a few other items that are nice to find locally in Alma. In this era of digital cameras, finding the right film for my three 35mm cameras is getting harder and harder, but they have it here
Toward the back of the store, out of sight, is a one hour photo processing machine. The store also has a professional film lab operated by Dusti's husband, Joe, who is seldom seen because he is either processing film, taking portraits, or at home taking care of the baby. Oh, yes, and he also sells and repairs bicycles at the rear of the store.
Overall, its an outstanding merging of the skills of two young people. They have a website at www.joecamera.biz that shows off what they do.
Why, then do my daughter and I have our morning coffee at Bugbee's up the road? Simply because Joe Camera isn't open yet when we finish our daily three mile walk by the lake. We are early birds who hit the trail literally at dawn's early light. It's great to be a morning person.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Alma Social Life and Other Assorted Adventures
Alma, Nebraska, is a quiet town of 1232 mostly hard working, God loving souls who never forget that there are times to put the hard work behind for a little while and gather with their friends.
One of the places they gather is the local coffee shop/restaurant called "Bugbee's", which is the last name of the owner. After our morning walks, my daughter, Eva, and I normally adjourn to Bugbee's for coffee and to simply jabber. We are still catching up on 25 years of seeing each other only occasionally, even though we talked on the phone long distance once a week.
Bugbee's is a throwback to the past. It is an old fashioned (but delightful) hash house reminiscent of the workplace in the old "Alice" series on TV. Does it have an equivalent to Flo? Yep, sure does. Every morning a regular contingent of Alma citizens can be seen at the same tables enjoying coffee or breakfast with the same friends and relatives. Bugbee's opens at 5:30 each morning except Sunday to take advantage of its location: It sits at the corner junction of U.S. highways 183 and 136 and by 6:00 AM as many as six or seven eighteen wheeled semis can be seen in the parking lot while their drivers have breakfast. Hwy 183 is a major north/south highway and is central Nebraska's primary route from I-80 south into Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas, so there is a lot of traffic. It's a great corner for a restaurant.
Is the food good? You betcha. Don't expect anything fancy, but if you would like a geat hamburger, lots of french fries and a coke for $4.95 total, come on by. Breakfast is equally inexpensive, and the women who wait the tables are pros at what they do. It closes at 9:00 PM, but is not the only eatery around.
About half a mile down the road on Hwy 183 is "The Station". Now, if knocking down a few shooters at lunch or dinner while you watch sports on TV is your thing, then The Station is for you. It isn't open for Breakfast, but it has a steady clientel. It tries to be a bit more upscale than Bugbee's and succeeds for the most part. It has a full service bar and a very nice dining room area.
In the same area, and also in Hwy 183, is the "Fisherman's Corner". Remember that Alma sits on the shore of the Harlan County Reservoir, which is nine miles long and a couple of miles wide. It's an extremely popular place for fishing and the Fisherman's Corner takes care of those who want to sit at a local pub and tell lies about the big one that got away. They sell bottled beer over the bar and twelve packs from the cooler. They sell fishing licenses, live bait and other things important to those like me who are addicted to fishing. It's where I buy my night crawlers.
Highway 183 marks the western edge of Alma and seems to be where newer businesses are setting up. A newish Bosselman's Pump and Pantry (A gas station and mini-market chain) is in business next to Bugbee's and a Super 8 motel is under construction on 183 right next to the baseball field and golf course.
Six blocks away, in downtown Alma, there are three primary places to enjoy yourself on an evening:
First there is the bowling alley. It's just six lanes but that's more than adequate for a town this size. My daughter is a member of one of league teams that plays there. It's old, but it is a warm and friendly place and the lanes are in great shape. All the usual snacks and libations you might expect of a bowling alley are available.
Second is the "Dugout". Every town must have a plain old fashioned bar, and this Alma's. Excessive inebriation will get you invited to leave, but otherwise come on in and enjoy the evening. Each Tuesday night is fifty cent taco night and the owner, Rhonda, cooks up a bunch of terrific fillings for the tacos. She's a great cook. Every Wednesday is two dollar hamburger night, and again Rhonda does the cooking honors. There is a pool table in the back of the room- it doesn't seem to be too level, but enjoy yourself anyway.
Third is "Shelly Ann's Steak House", which is directly across the street from the Dugout. In fact, I am told, It used to be owned by the Dugout and was called the "Dug-in". Now, however it is owned by Shelly Ann and is in the business of serving complete dinners with steaks being the specialty. On Wednesday nights, Shelly Ann's is host to a "Texas Hold 'em" poker tournament. It's legal because no money changes hands (they claim) and it's all for fun. Yeah, right.
Now, just for the heck of it, I have included a picture of one of Nebraska's Banded Garden Spiders which I saw in her web beside our morning walking trail. I was carrying my digital camera and was fascinated by the coloration. She is a big spider, measuring about 2 1/2 inches from top leg tip to bottom leg tip. I say "she" because I've learned that the males are much smaller and drabber than the females. These are very common spiders here and are harmless to humans. According to a research source, they have a particular liking for wasps for dinner. Since my daughter is having a problem with wasps nesting in her exterior window frame, I suggested that I could trap the spider in a jar then place her near that wasp infested window where she would then spin her web. My daughter's response , unfortunately, is not suitable for printing.
One of the places they gather is the local coffee shop/restaurant called "Bugbee's", which is the last name of the owner. After our morning walks, my daughter, Eva, and I normally adjourn to Bugbee's for coffee and to simply jabber. We are still catching up on 25 years of seeing each other only occasionally, even though we talked on the phone long distance once a week.
Bugbee's is a throwback to the past. It is an old fashioned (but delightful) hash house reminiscent of the workplace in the old "Alice" series on TV. Does it have an equivalent to Flo? Yep, sure does. Every morning a regular contingent of Alma citizens can be seen at the same tables enjoying coffee or breakfast with the same friends and relatives. Bugbee's opens at 5:30 each morning except Sunday to take advantage of its location: It sits at the corner junction of U.S. highways 183 and 136 and by 6:00 AM as many as six or seven eighteen wheeled semis can be seen in the parking lot while their drivers have breakfast. Hwy 183 is a major north/south highway and is central Nebraska's primary route from I-80 south into Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas, so there is a lot of traffic. It's a great corner for a restaurant.
Is the food good? You betcha. Don't expect anything fancy, but if you would like a geat hamburger, lots of french fries and a coke for $4.95 total, come on by. Breakfast is equally inexpensive, and the women who wait the tables are pros at what they do. It closes at 9:00 PM, but is not the only eatery around.
About half a mile down the road on Hwy 183 is "The Station". Now, if knocking down a few shooters at lunch or dinner while you watch sports on TV is your thing, then The Station is for you. It isn't open for Breakfast, but it has a steady clientel. It tries to be a bit more upscale than Bugbee's and succeeds for the most part. It has a full service bar and a very nice dining room area.
In the same area, and also in Hwy 183, is the "Fisherman's Corner". Remember that Alma sits on the shore of the Harlan County Reservoir, which is nine miles long and a couple of miles wide. It's an extremely popular place for fishing and the Fisherman's Corner takes care of those who want to sit at a local pub and tell lies about the big one that got away. They sell bottled beer over the bar and twelve packs from the cooler. They sell fishing licenses, live bait and other things important to those like me who are addicted to fishing. It's where I buy my night crawlers.
Highway 183 marks the western edge of Alma and seems to be where newer businesses are setting up. A newish Bosselman's Pump and Pantry (A gas station and mini-market chain) is in business next to Bugbee's and a Super 8 motel is under construction on 183 right next to the baseball field and golf course.
Six blocks away, in downtown Alma, there are three primary places to enjoy yourself on an evening:
First there is the bowling alley. It's just six lanes but that's more than adequate for a town this size. My daughter is a member of one of league teams that plays there. It's old, but it is a warm and friendly place and the lanes are in great shape. All the usual snacks and libations you might expect of a bowling alley are available.
Second is the "Dugout". Every town must have a plain old fashioned bar, and this Alma's. Excessive inebriation will get you invited to leave, but otherwise come on in and enjoy the evening. Each Tuesday night is fifty cent taco night and the owner, Rhonda, cooks up a bunch of terrific fillings for the tacos. She's a great cook. Every Wednesday is two dollar hamburger night, and again Rhonda does the cooking honors. There is a pool table in the back of the room- it doesn't seem to be too level, but enjoy yourself anyway.
Third is "Shelly Ann's Steak House", which is directly across the street from the Dugout. In fact, I am told, It used to be owned by the Dugout and was called the "Dug-in". Now, however it is owned by Shelly Ann and is in the business of serving complete dinners with steaks being the specialty. On Wednesday nights, Shelly Ann's is host to a "Texas Hold 'em" poker tournament. It's legal because no money changes hands (they claim) and it's all for fun. Yeah, right.
Now, just for the heck of it, I have included a picture of one of Nebraska's Banded Garden Spiders which I saw in her web beside our morning walking trail. I was carrying my digital camera and was fascinated by the coloration. She is a big spider, measuring about 2 1/2 inches from top leg tip to bottom leg tip. I say "she" because I've learned that the males are much smaller and drabber than the females. These are very common spiders here and are harmless to humans. According to a research source, they have a particular liking for wasps for dinner. Since my daughter is having a problem with wasps nesting in her exterior window frame, I suggested that I could trap the spider in a jar then place her near that wasp infested window where she would then spin her web. My daughter's response , unfortunately, is not suitable for printing.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Don't Bug Me
It's the latter half of September and already signs of the changing seasons surround me in Nebraska.
One of the changes involves the thinning out of the insect population. The midwest has far more flying insects than southern California, as my windshield can attest. Before any given trip to one of the nearby towns, I clean my windshield with the bottle of glass cleaner and the squeegee I keep behind the front seat of the car. When the trip is done and I am back home, the windshield is a bug splattered mess. For a good example of what it is like, I refer you to the opening scenes of "Men In Black".
One of the more interesting insects here is the cicada. Its history is fascinating and its "chirp" or "song" makes it one of the loudest insects in the world. It can be h
eard more than a hundred yards away. On the right is the magicicada, which has a lifespan of over seventeen years. The cicada is over two inches long and about a half inch wide and at first glance looks like the world's largest housefly. It is harmless, however, and the only thing about it that bothers some people is its "chirp" or "song" at night. During summer when dozens might be in any given yard, the noise level can be spooky.
The male cicada has two empty chambers within its body which vibrate to create an extraordinarily loud mating call. It sounds like a cricket on steroids. While the cricket's chirp has a "forward and backward" sound as that insect rubs his legs together in a back and forth motion, the cicada's is a non-stop, continuing, high pitched warble. According to experts, the sound announces to others that this territory is taken and lets the opposite sex know that the male is available for instant mating (Ah, if only our lives were that simple). The female cicada has no "song" - she is totally silent (No comment). Not long after the mating process, life winds down for the cicada, both male and female. The female lays her eggs in the bark of certain trees while the male slowly begins to die. When the female has laid her eggs, she, too, will rapidly deteriorate in health and die. But it took a long time for both of them to reach that point.
When a cicada larva hatches in a tree, it falls to the earth and burrows six to eight inches into the ground. As it evolves underground, it feeds on roots and other vegetation and otherwise keeps occupied for the next year, thirteen years or seventeen years, depending on what type of cicada it is. When mother nature trips the time switch, the cicada nymph emerges from the ground and climbs up the nearest tree or bush. Soon the adult cicada emerges from the shell of the nymph. The male immediately starts chirping and looking for a mate.
There are three breeds of cicada: The annual, or "dog-day" cicada, the thirteen year cyclic cicada and the seventeen year cyclic cicada.
Seventeen years. Think about it - That's longer than most dogs and cats live.
The cicadas, however, have pretty well disappeared by now. At night I can hear one across the street, but they are few and far between at this time of September.
Erroneously, many people call the cicada a locust, but a locust is another insect altogether and is, in fact, a type of grasshopper. That's a locust on the right. I guess the best way to describe it is to say that when we see a grasshopper here and there, that's exactly what it is - a grasshopper. When the occasional infestational swarm of grasshoppers emerges by the millions and devastates every growing plant the swarm encounters, those bugs are now locusts. That's an over simplification, but it works for me.
I can hear the Alma High School marching band parading around the town right now. When a home game is upcoming, the band lets us all know that it's time to turn out and root for the home team. Currently the Alma Cardinals are 1-2 and hope to even their record this week. I'll let you know how it goes.
One of the changes involves the thinning out of the insect population. The midwest has far more flying insects than southern California, as my windshield can attest. Before any given trip to one of the nearby towns, I clean my windshield with the bottle of glass cleaner and the squeegee I keep behind the front seat of the car. When the trip is done and I am back home, the windshield is a bug splattered mess. For a good example of what it is like, I refer you to the opening scenes of "Men In Black".
One of the more interesting insects here is the cicada. Its history is fascinating and its "chirp" or "song" makes it one of the loudest insects in the world. It can be h
eard more than a hundred yards away. On the right is the magicicada, which has a lifespan of over seventeen years. The cicada is over two inches long and about a half inch wide and at first glance looks like the world's largest housefly. It is harmless, however, and the only thing about it that bothers some people is its "chirp" or "song" at night. During summer when dozens might be in any given yard, the noise level can be spooky.The male cicada has two empty chambers within its body which vibrate to create an extraordinarily loud mating call. It sounds like a cricket on steroids. While the cricket's chirp has a "forward and backward" sound as that insect rubs his legs together in a back and forth motion, the cicada's is a non-stop, continuing, high pitched warble. According to experts, the sound announces to others that this territory is taken and lets the opposite sex know that the male is available for instant mating (Ah, if only our lives were that simple). The female cicada has no "song" - she is totally silent (No comment). Not long after the mating process, life winds down for the cicada, both male and female. The female lays her eggs in the bark of certain trees while the male slowly begins to die. When the female has laid her eggs, she, too, will rapidly deteriorate in health and die. But it took a long time for both of them to reach that point.
When a cicada larva hatches in a tree, it falls to the earth and burrows six to eight inches into the ground. As it evolves underground, it feeds on roots and other vegetation and otherwise keeps occupied for the next year, thirteen years or seventeen years, depending on what type of cicada it is. When mother nature trips the time switch, the cicada nymph emerges from the ground and climbs up the nearest tree or bush. Soon the adult cicada emerges from the shell of the nymph. The male immediately starts chirping and looking for a mate.
There are three breeds of cicada: The annual, or "dog-day" cicada, the thirteen year cyclic cicada and the seventeen year cyclic cicada.
Seventeen years. Think about it - That's longer than most dogs and cats live.
The cicadas, however, have pretty well disappeared by now. At night I can hear one across the street, but they are few and far between at this time of September.
Erroneously, many people call the cicada a locust, but a locust is another insect altogether and is, in fact, a type of grasshopper. That's a locust on the right. I guess the best way to describe it is to say that when we see a grasshopper here and there, that's exactly what it is - a grasshopper. When the occasional infestational swarm of grasshoppers emerges by the millions and devastates every growing plant the swarm encounters, those bugs are now locusts. That's an over simplification, but it works for me.
I can hear the Alma High School marching band parading around the town right now. When a home game is upcoming, the band lets us all know that it's time to turn out and root for the home team. Currently the Alma Cardinals are 1-2 and hope to even their record this week. I'll let you know how it goes.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
What happens in the cornfield, stays in the cornfield
I apologize to the good friends who check this blog to see what I am up to, but the past couple of weeks involved the health of one of my daughters and I gave all my attentions to her. She is fine, but when we first heard the news that a tumor was lurking in her body, we were all quite concerned. Further exams showed that the tumor was benign and it was removed at Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney, Nebraska, on Tuesday, September 4.
Watching my daughter, Eva Marie, go through this was interesting. Please remember that she moved to Nebraska 25 years ago while I remained in California, so there are a few things about her personality that eluded me. She does not like hospitals. She doesn't fear them, she is simply sick and tired of them. Eva has had to deal with a chronic illness (Crohn's disease) most of her adult life, and she has spent more time in hospitals in California, Missouri and Nebraska than any person should have to experience.
She told me of an ordeal when a medical tech was trying to insert an IV needle into the back of her hand and he kept missing the vein. If you've never experienced that kind of pain, try laying your palm flat on a table and then jamming a paring knife into the top of your hand. It hurts like hell. She said that the third time he missed the vein and shoved the needle into painful flesh, she "wanted to grab a scalpel and disembowel the little %$#*&@$*". And she said it with a little smirk on her face that said worlds about how she truly would have enjoyed doing what she was thinking. She knows how to be mean.
She came through this hospital stay, though, with flying colors, largely thanks to how well the hospital is run. Good Samaritan proudly states that it is part of the "Catholic Health Initiative", and all I can say is that I was impressed how things were run. From the moment she entered the hospital on Sept. 4th, every employee went out of his or her way to be kind, courteous and informative. The doctors, nurses, nurses aides, and others took all the time it took to make sure all my daughter's questions were answered.
There is a baby grand piano in the main lobby downstairs and during the daylight hours, somebody is playing soothing "elevator" music. My other daughter, Valerie, and I had dinner in the cafe in the basement. Wow. I may have eaten the best slices of brisket of beef that I have ever tasted. The food was terrific. And, no, I am not part of the hospital's PR team. I just appreciate the effort that Good Samaritan hospital puts into its operation.
My daughter is now home and taking things easy while she heals.
I've got to comment on the fact that the route we took from Alma to Kearney took us through the little town of Funk, Nebraska, population 126. Funk?? Right by the highway is a sign proudly proclaiming that this is the home of "Funk Lagoon". The sign includes a painting of a largemouth bass jumping above the water. Hmmmm. All wise guy thoughts aside over its name, I guess I'll have to go fishing there to try it out.
Tomorrow (I promise), I'll post about some interesting critters.
Charlie
Watching my daughter, Eva Marie, go through this was interesting. Please remember that she moved to Nebraska 25 years ago while I remained in California, so there are a few things about her personality that eluded me. She does not like hospitals. She doesn't fear them, she is simply sick and tired of them. Eva has had to deal with a chronic illness (Crohn's disease) most of her adult life, and she has spent more time in hospitals in California, Missouri and Nebraska than any person should have to experience.
She told me of an ordeal when a medical tech was trying to insert an IV needle into the back of her hand and he kept missing the vein. If you've never experienced that kind of pain, try laying your palm flat on a table and then jamming a paring knife into the top of your hand. It hurts like hell. She said that the third time he missed the vein and shoved the needle into painful flesh, she "wanted to grab a scalpel and disembowel the little %$#*&@$*". And she said it with a little smirk on her face that said worlds about how she truly would have enjoyed doing what she was thinking. She knows how to be mean.
She came through this hospital stay, though, with flying colors, largely thanks to how well the hospital is run. Good Samaritan proudly states that it is part of the "Catholic Health Initiative", and all I can say is that I was impressed how things were run. From the moment she entered the hospital on Sept. 4th, every employee went out of his or her way to be kind, courteous and informative. The doctors, nurses, nurses aides, and others took all the time it took to make sure all my daughter's questions were answered.
There is a baby grand piano in the main lobby downstairs and during the daylight hours, somebody is playing soothing "elevator" music. My other daughter, Valerie, and I had dinner in the cafe in the basement. Wow. I may have eaten the best slices of brisket of beef that I have ever tasted. The food was terrific. And, no, I am not part of the hospital's PR team. I just appreciate the effort that Good Samaritan hospital puts into its operation.
My daughter is now home and taking things easy while she heals.
I've got to comment on the fact that the route we took from Alma to Kearney took us through the little town of Funk, Nebraska, population 126. Funk?? Right by the highway is a sign proudly proclaiming that this is the home of "Funk Lagoon". The sign includes a painting of a largemouth bass jumping above the water. Hmmmm. All wise guy thoughts aside over its name, I guess I'll have to go fishing there to try it out.
Tomorrow (I promise), I'll post about some interesting critters.
Charlie
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