Jeannie’s mother, Evva, is still in town – she spends the summers here and her winters in California , not far from Palm Springs . I was chatting with her yesterday afternoon, when two bikers arrived at the hotel. One of them had worked behind the bar for Evva when he was in college, forty years ago. Far from expecting to find his former boss at the bar drinking beer with a Limey, he admitted that he had expected to find she had passed on – but at 85 or thereabouts she’s certainly alive and kicking. The visit prompted Evva to dig out some old newspaper cuttings from the 1960s and `70s, including this advertisement for her in-house entertainment
The two motor-bikers had barely taken off when a car with Oregon plates drew up, and suddenly I was hearing a strong Birmingham accent. This couple were travelling the Oregon Trail , west to east – and showed me the guidebook they were using. That kind of floored me, because when I travelled the trail, back `91, it ran along the Platte river, along with the Pony Express route and the UP railroad. But the book was thick, well packaged and authoritative looking. What do I know? We were joined later by three bikers from Omaha and Lincoln – lawyers on a trip towards the Black Hills and the Devil’s Tower up in Wyoming . I think a writer could hang out at Jeannie’s, never go anywhere, and gather all kinds of material. Over breakfast this morning she had out her old flintlock rifle and a cap-and-ball pistol for the visiting Brummies. I’ll investigate those in time for tomorrow’s posting, I hope.
Well, I am now ensconced in the Sandoz Center looking through the archived collection, and have just found Mari’s death certificate. 3.05 pm on 10 March 1966 .
Tonight I will hear again Yvonne’s talk at the public library, and with luck collar her for an hour or so in the Olde Main bar. Tomorrow, most likely, I’ll head to Gordon and a visit with Caroline.
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