Monday I am supposed to be at work, and I haven't even reached Boston, after that I wanted to make a detour into New York City. First off, I was starving and hadn't brush my teeth after waking up. Somehow, someway, I found myself on the highway heading towards the University of New Hampshire on this hot day. There were plenty of bikers on Highway 16, including many women bikers. There was even one motel which advertised Harley Davidson's son stayed there and gave it a good rating. Just seeing all those bikers enjoying the freedom of the fresh New Hampshire air made me envious and wished I still had a motorcycle. (I fell of my motorcycle once and never rode again, but I was a amateaur rider without a license.)
I was finally able to stop somewhere and call my mom and she was okay. My sister got her rental car flooded, and that seemed like a burden on my back all of sudden. Houston had some of the worst rain in history last week caused by a tropical storm, and many people were killed. At some places, 18 wheelers were underwater on the freeway. In downtown Houston, a woman got trapped in the elavator going down to the basement to move her car or leave and drowned when water engulfed the elavator.
The University of New Hampshire is a mid-size campus. First thing I did was park my car and brushed my teeth in the parking lot. Then I walked around campus and noticed the library, which I entered to e-mail my boss telling him I will be a couple of days late. Hey, the internet is not just for surfing porn. Then I headed over to the student center and got lunch in the cafeteria. A little more walking around in the blazing hot sun, and then off to Boston.
Right outside the university area, a song came on the radio called "I Hate My Freakin ISP." I can't believe someone would right a song about internet providers- maybe they used to use MSN or AOL.
I didn't know when I arrived in Massachussettes because there were no state line signs, but I knew I was in Massachussettes the moment I saw a car with a "Yankees Suck" bumper sticker. The Red Sox has made some historically bad trades with the Yankees including trading Babe Ruth. The roads and highways here are congested and hilly; it was not a nice place to drive especially since I wasn't just passing through, I was here to find Gilly's memorial.
As I drove into into Boston, I passed a cemetery in Winchester. Something kept nagging at my mind to visit this cemetery because Gilly may actually be here instead of Dorchester, a suberb of Boston. When I got lost and came around, my mind said to stop here, but no I didn't listen to that crazy voice- the same one which tells me I can win at blackjack eventually. Eventually, I found Dorchester but it wasn't easy since the Rand McNally atlas is not clear on this suberb.
A gas station attendant with a thick New England accent gave me directions to the Cedar Groove Cemetary a few miles down the road. Man, this cemetary was huge, easily the largest one I've ever visited- a large cemetery doesn't seem to be a nice and quiet resting place with people coming in and out all day. There was a jogger, a bicyclists, a woman walking with a stroller, and even a guy sunbathing here (probably next to someone he knew). Was I at the cemetery or at the park?
I spent hours walking around dehydrated looking for Gilly with no luck. A guy who worked there and was leaving showed me which graves are newer (Gilly died in 1998), but I still could not find him. The office closed early for some reason; otherwise, they could have given me the exact names of those buried here. I suppose I can give them a call and check, but I'm not sure Gilly is even rested in Dorchester.
After coming home and checking the old hard drive and retrieve old e-mail messages from Bob, our former manager at H.E.B., it seems Gilly was laid to rest in Winchester, another suberb of Boston. Looks like I will have to head back to Boston next year determined to find his memorial.
The original mission was to stay until I found the site, but I left instead of spending the night in the Boston area, and I'm glad I did since there was no trace of Gilly in Dorchester. After getting lost, I finally made my way going south in rush hour traffic, it wasn't too bad since downtown was a few miles in the northern direction. Next stop, Rhode Island. Along the highway in Massachussettes, many cars had Rhode Island licenses. I bet many people live in Providence, and commute into Boston. Why such a small area ever turned into a state is beyond me, but it seems Rhode Island is an extention of Massachussettes.
Providence has a large population of Hispanic residents. The city itself didn't seem all that large, but it is the capital of the island. I didn't stop in this dinky state, just drove through taking in the nice scenery.
Eventually, I made it into Conneticut with almost no gasoline left. I stopped at a gas station in a small town, but it was closed, and I didn't think I would make it into the next town, but did. I filled up with the most expensive gasoline in the United States, and stopped by a drug store to get some ice cream. The McDonald's wouldn't sell 2 apple pies for $1 like most everywhere else, so I paid almost $4 for a pint of ice cream- more money out of the gambling fund.
A couple of weeks or so before the trip, CNN News evaluated the gas prices around the country, and Conneticut was either 1st or 2nd highest in the United States, and unfortunately, I had to find out first hand how right they were. A gallon of medium grade was approximately $1.90 and the premium stuff was $2.00, while in a small town in Indiana, it was $1.55. Greenwich, Conneticut is one of the most, if not the most, expensive cities to live in the United States. You know I won't be looking for a job there anytime soon.
Luckily, Hilford Lake State Park was down the highway, and super suprisingly it was only $10 for a primitive camp site- in New York, those creeps wanted $16. The bathroom had showers and sinks, but waterless toilets. I was suprised because this was Conneticut and the cost of living here is pretty high. Such a clean park with a lake for only 10 bucks in Conneticut is like finding a pond in the desert. There were about 10 other camp parties here. I set up the tent in the dark, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and went to bed dreaming of 10 dollars. (Actually, the park attendants were gone for the day, and I hadn't payed yet, but would pay them in the morning. Ten dollars in not all that cheap, just cheaper than other parks I've stopped and questioned. This park is only open seasonally.)
