Italy September 11 - 14 2009

Lucy Renwick was our travel agent for the trip taken by Lorene and me to Italy. She did an efficient job including ordering wheel chairs at the airports.

My agent and good friend that I have been associated with for years, Barbara Collins, has moved to Montana. Barbara planned each of my trips day by day so that everything went smoothly with hotel reservations, plane flights, tour guides and all the small details that can make a trip a pleasant experience or a disaster. We worked closely together on planning my many trips. Barbara is a good friend and even though she now lives miles away, I hope to keep in contact with her and her husband, Bob, and get advice from her on any future trips I might take.

9-11-09 Friday
We were driven to our overnight by Lorene’s daughter, Dolores. On the way we stopped to eat at the Poodle Dog restaurant in Fife. We had made our reservations at the Motel 8, across the street from the airport. Because our American Airline flight left at 7:30 AM. we had decided to spend the night before in the motel.

9-12-09 Saturday day 1
Our wake up call was for 3:30 AM. At 4:00 AM the motel shuttle bus dropped us off at the airport. After checking our bags and getting our American Airlines boarding pass, we were taken to our departure gate by wheelchair attendants. The wheel chair ride saved me from a long painful walk with my cane and arthritic knee. At the boarding gate we had time to get a sandwich and coffee. Our boarding time was 7:15 AM. We flew to Kennedy airport in New York. Again wheel chairs were provided to take us to our boarding gate for our flight to Rome. The flight over the Atlantic was tiresome. We were worn out from the many hours in the air. When we landed in Rome it was 7:30AM.

09-13-09 Sunday Day 2

Arrive Rome, Sightseeing
The wheel chair attendants were waiting and took us through the baggage claim and customs much easier than if we had done it with out their assistance. After clearing customs, they left us with the large Trafalgar group with tours traveling in many directions. We had to make sure we boarded the right bus. The destination of our bus was an old hotel, the Adonis, in the center of Rome. A Trafalgar agent gathered our group in one area of the lobby. We were given a welcome drink. Then our tour guide, Tony, gave us room numbers, baggage tags, and an introductory talk on what we could expect to see and hear on our tour of Italy and Sicily. He sent us in the right direction to find our rooms. Our room was small and old but kept in good shape. It had a shower, toilet and, like most hotels in Italy and Europe, a bidet. Comparing to our American motels and hotels, the Adonis wouldn’t rate very high.

In the afternoon Tony took us on an optional tour at a reduced rate of 10 euros. We took it but my knee was hurting so I couldn’t keep up. Tony took us to a large plaza and said he would be back to pick Lorene and I up about 9:00 pm.
We walked around the plaza, took pictures, watched a clown perform and had ice cream cones. The plaza was large with two fountains decorated with life sized hand carved marble statues. There were crowds of people of all ages. At one of the fountains a man offered to take our pictures. When Tony returned at 9:00, we were sitting on a bench eating our ice cream cones. We were soon on the bus and back in the hotel.

When we returned to the hotel, I told Tony I would use my cane on Monday when we went to the coliseum because I didn’t want to miss any more of the sights just because I had a sore knee.

9-14-09 Monday day 3
Rome sightseeing and at leisure

The 6:30 AM hotel breakfast was substantial with cold cereal, scrambled eggs, cold cuts, fresh fruit, toast, fruit juice and coffee. When the door to the breakfast room opened, people seemed to come from all directions and all the tables were soon occupied. One woman brought her thermos bottle which the waiter filled. It gave her enough coffee to last the day. We said good morning to some of our fellow travelers.

Our morning tour included the Coliseum, where we walked over the tourist designated paths outside and inside. Clive and Annie, the couple from Australia, helped me from our tour bus to the entrance to the Coliseum. With my right hand I held my cane and Clive took my left hand to steady me. I was much impressed with the size of the Coliseum. It was designed to hold thousands of spectators. The arches were beautiful. Even though the marble facing had been stripped off through the years to be used in newer buildings, the area below the main floor was exposed and showed the many passageways and rooms where the gladiators, Christians, and man eating animals were kept in readiness for their appearance before the blood thirsty spectators seated on the marble seats of the arena.

Next we visited the Basilica. Lorene was a big help. She held my hand as we walked from one place to another and on the many steps we had to climb. We also visited The Sistine Chapel and some fountains. The paintings by Michael Angelo and many other famous painters were beautifully done and well worth the pain in our necks from looking up at the vaulted ceilings where the paintings were done.

I used my cane and walked slowly. Our fellow tourists were sympathetic and an to help. Annie and Clive were especially help full. Tony was a little doubtful at first, but finally decided that as long as I was determined, he could work around the problem of my holding up the group. This was our last day in Rome. In the evening we went on an optional tour which included a dinner and entertainment. It included a lot of walking which I was able to handle with the help of my cane and Lorene holding my hand. The evening was a pleasant success.

Memorial to Martin Maxwell Schnarrs

MEMORIAL TO MARTIN MAXWELL SCHNARRS

It was a tragedy that my grandson, Martin Maxwell Schnarrs , who was in the prime of his young life, at the age 27 years, had his life ended by a job accident. He was working alone repairing an end loader at his job with AAA Bark when the scoop came down on him and crushed him.

Marty was born on April 12, 1978 in Olympia, Washington. He passed away on June 1, 2005. He is survived by his Mother, Alaine Schumann, Sister, Jenise (Schnarrs) Gogan, Father, Father, Frank Schnarrs.

As Marty grew up from a babe in arms he had an engaging laugh and smile and was a joy to be around. He also showed a strong sense of curiosity and independence. As his grandparents, we loved having him around even though he needed constant watching because he was into everything within reach. He wasn’t destructive, just curious.

When he was old enough, I took him fishing. He liked to fish and got excited when he felt the pull on his line and landed a fish, but he didn’t like to sit quiet in the boat waiting for the fish to bite. He would rather start the motor and steer the boat.

One day we drove to the Black River and put the boat in the water. The fish weren’t biting so I turned the oars over to Marty. He rowed around in the quiet water and was getting pretty good at rowing. I said to him, “This is a good place to practice rowing.” He said, “Grandpa, I’m not practicing. I’m really rowing.”

In school Marty was not the best student, but had an engaging personality and was well liked by his fellow class mates, both boys and girls and by the teachers. When Marty was in middle school, I got a call one day. The voice said, “Is Max there?” I ask, “Who is Max?” After some confusion, I discovered that among his friends, our Marty was known by his middle name Maxwell shortened to Max. His family still calls him Marty but his friends outside the family call him Max. Marty preferred to be called Max But answered to the name Marty when he was with any member of the family. When Marty was born his parents wanted to name him after their fathers. My middle name is Martin and Grandfather’s middle name is Maxwell so they decided to name him using our middle names. His Dad started calling him Max when he was about 10 years old.

He worked for a time at his father’s hot tub store, behind the counter, dealing with customers and trouble shooting hot tub problems. He proved to be very good at it and showed his ability to be good at handling himself as an adult. He was likable and good at his relationship with people. He was able to sell hot tubs by the age of 12 years old.

Max went to work for AAA Bark. He soon showed his ability at adjusting to a new job. Soon his boss had him repairing machinery and was sending him to manage jobs all over the country. I talked to his boss, Chris. He told me that he had complete confidence that Max could handle any job he was sent on. He was a natural leader and well liked by everyone around him.

Max told his mother, Alaine, that he was afraid of high places. For that reason he took jobs where he had to climb to try to overcome his fear. He was also very competitive so the high canvas structures that were to be dismantled were a challenge he couldn’t pass up. With him and his helpers on the roof, they dropped the roof about three feet with him and his helpers riding it down. It was the fast way but dangerous. His mother and all of us worried about him.

Max always had a girl friend. His latest and last was a nice young lady named Katie Caulfield. What ever he said was alright with her. One day on the golf course she was carrying a golf bag which was much two heavy for her. I suggested that she use a hand pulled golf cart but she said, “No. Max told me to carry the bag.”

His untimely death has been a shock to all of us, especially to his sister Jenise and his mother, Alaine, who still has a difficult time, especially on holidays. We all miss Marty.

My Dog

When I first saw this stockily built, fox eared, pumpkin colored dog I was a long way from being impressed. In addition to being funny looking, she wouldn't mind and barked almost constantly. Besides, she dug holes all over the backyard. We needed that mutt like we needed a case of smallpox.

After a few days I took her for a walk because she needed exercise and so did I. Her pulling on the leash made it a bit hard to control the direction we were going. I was ready to give her up as a lost cause. The next day she was anxious to repeat our walk. She stayed close to me as I walked around the house so I wouldn't leave without her. She was a little easier to handle that time. Every day we walked and gradually I began to look forward to our walks.

I decided to try her on my 3 mile run. She loved it every day, when it approached running- time, Pumpkin (Ronnie's name for her) showed her excitement. She was fine on the run, but developed a dislike for school buses and try to attack them. One of the drivers asked me to keep her on a shorter leash so she wouldn't get under the wheels of the bus. I told the bus driver I would try to control her.

When I worked in the yard she stayed close to me. Somehow she was always at my heels. She understood what I was saying and, it seemed, even what I was thinking. She wormed her way into my affection. I began to look forward to our runs and our time together. She became my dog and somehow I belong to her. We understood and loved each other.

Today I thoughtlessly left a door open, where she could run out into the street. Because she hated school buses, she charged the first one she saw and was killed. I picked up her still warm lifeless bleeding body. Because I didn't know what else to do I laid her on the front lawn. Our new neighbor stopped to say he was sorry. I thanked him for his kind concern. Ronnie suggested I bury pumpkin. I dug a hole. As I laid her in her final resting place her eyeball fell out. I quickly covered her up.

It was hard for me to realize she was dead. A short time before she had been a bundle of energy in with a zest for living. Pumpkin had so much uncritical love to give. She demanded attention and love in return. It was a question as to whether I owned her. She owned me. When I dug a hole for her lifeless body it left a hole in my heart that will take time to heal. I loved that dog.

Father's Day Fish Story

It was Father's Day. my family had bought me a beautiful set of waders to use with my new hobby of fishing. To celebrate the day and to give me a chance to try out my new present, we climbed into the car and drove to the Deschutes River in Yelm, where we were considering buying a river lot. The setting was inviting. We were in a wooded area on the banks of the river. We could hear the birds singing and the continuous running water of the stream.

I climbed into my new waders and grabbed my spinning rod. The water was running high, so I was nervous about slipping on the rocky bottom. I looked at my family standing on the bank watching me. I was on the spot. I couldn't back down now. Ahead of me was the swirling water. Once in I felt the current pulling up my legs. The footing was treacherous. I started wondering when I was going to have fun fishing. So far the work of keeping my feet and hoping I didn't drown was taking all my attention.

Somewhere I have read that fish like to hide behind rocks. In the middle of the river was a protruding boulder with the swirling water bubbling around it. A fish had to be lurking in the slack water behind the rock. I cast my lure on the boulder and pulled it into the slack water. I felt the pull of the line. The rod tip dipped. A Fish!! all excited I reeled in line. My feet were slipping. With a super effort, I kept from taking a bath. For the next five minutes I fought to keep from losing the fish and at the same time keep my balance. My family on the bank, as excited as myself, shouted instructions and encouragement.

Finally, the fish tired. I carefully took the hook out of his mouth and held them up for all to see. He was a beautiful 14 inch rainbow trout. This fishing is great. But what's this? My wife, Ronnie, says "That fish is cute, please let him go."

I say "You're crazy! It's my first fish." She says "But it's so cute, look at its eyes."

I look and I am surprised at how expensive express it in brown they are -- like limpid pools of sensitivity. The fish looks at me with his bulging soulful eyes. Then I hear or I think I hear the fish say "Yeah I'm cute."

I say, "Christ. I can't throw you back. You're my first fish." I must be off my rocker. I'm talking to a fish.

Then he says "I'm too cute to eat. Besides, it's Father's Day and I'm a father."

He really got to me, talking like that. I say "What the hell!" and throw him back in the water. My kids must think I'm nuts. Before the talking fish with the expressive eyes flips his tail and swims the way he looks at me with a twinkle in his eyes. He has a smile on his lips. Or is he laughing at me,? Maybe he figures he is outsmarted me. Perhaps he's right, but somehow I feel good about letting him go. I guess the kids are right. I must be some kind of nut. From now on I'll refrain from looking at in a fish's eyes or talking to one.

June 2, 1944, Friday

Dear Ronnie,

I will write very little tonight because I've already written you in awe letter said I will mail through the regular censors. there is anything new anyhow except that I just heard a rumor from the Cook that we will be underway tomorrow. That's not to be depended upon, but I hope he's right.

The engineering officer called a mustard today and passed out a box of conundrums to each of us. He said they were good, watertight sax to put cigarettes and matches in case we have to go over the side. If we weren't in the invasion, he said we could still use them when we get back to Londonderry or Brooklyn.he didn't figure they would go to waste.

Taps have just sounded and I'm about to hit the sack soon as I finish shaving.

All my love,

Clyde

June 1, 1944, Thursday

Dear Ronnie,

We were married just two months ago today, honey, and out of 60 days have spent one week and three days in each other's company. That doesn't seem like very much, does it? When you put it down on paper the days don't seem long, but I still think about how much living we did in that time. Those are the days both of the should remember for a long, long time. I never knew what the meaning of happiness was until then, when for a few days I caught a glimpse of the happiness that could be ours. When we are allowed to share more of our life together. We have only just begun to appreciate all the responsibilities and privileges we have towards one another -- at least I have. You, being a woman, probably had an insight into what was ahead for us but are forced to learn things the hard way -- by experience. To my way of thinking, the responsibilities are a small price to pay for all the fun we shall have together.

I miss having you close to me and making love to you more as time goes by. There is no telling how long it will be before I get to see you again as things stand now. That's why it hurts -- I can't look forward to being back in a certain day. When I do get back we shall have to make up for lost time.

Love,
Clyde

May 30, 1944, Thursday

Dear Ronnie,

I'm starting a new pack of stationary as you can see. A stack doesn't last long when I pull at least a sheet out every day and write in my few lines. I've just come from seeing a good picture, "Desperados." Honey, we really suffer to see a show because the space where the projector is set up is so small. Bodies are crowded so close together that when a person wants to move he disturbs about six others around him trying to do so. When I leave the sweat is running off me and I'm so stiff and forced to go slow for a few minutes until all the kinks straightened out. It's surprising what people will go through to get a little amusement with nothing better is offered.

A few more ships are joining us slowly. We have an aircraft carrier and a couple more battleships and cruisers. Except for that, everything is as usual. I mean the way it was yesterday. Most of the ships are refueling and our turn will probably come tomorrow. this waiting isn't so hot, especially when we don't know what minute we are going to be underway.

They say this will probably be the biggest show the world has ever seen. Ronnie, there is only one consolation for me. If it brings the war and he closer to a finish and brings us together. The sooner I will be happy about it.

We are separated much too long to my way of thinking.

All my love,

Clyde