By consolidating my usual travel gear and packing out all non-essentials, I was able to get everything into a backpack. Good thing too as it was small enough to fit within the “personal item” bin checker, enabling me to avoid Spirit Airline’s exorbitant carry-on baggage fee. So my trip out to Cleveland cost me $70. Well, $70 and a seat with about as much cushioning as two pieces of unfinished wood hammered together at a right angle. I’m not sure I slept on the 4 hour, 21 minute red-eye flight. I know my head kept bobbling in my I refused to pay $20 to pick my seat beforehand this was randomly assigned the middle seat of 5E and I had moments of delirium …
I was debating between two “memes” to post here. I’ve frankly relied a little too heavily on those things of late and so I’m going to try and NOT use them for a while. As a result, I might as well post BOTH of the options here because, well, it’s a last hurrah of sorts:
I find myself constantly playing the chorus of a John Lennon tune. And I recommend you give the song a listen – it is applicable in so many instances… and maybe serves as an unofficial theme song for not only me, but for many, many people.
I’m so tired… I haven’t slept a wink.
I’m so tired… my mind is on the blink.
Feeling the effects of travel and sleepless sleep on a plane, I thought I should indulge in a heartier breakfast to try and jumpstart the day. An internet search lead me to one of the top 15 breakfasts in Cleveland (at least according to FourSquare).
Charlie’s Dog House was a local greasy spoon diner. And I do mean local. When I got there, there were a few regulars at the counter and service was… casual. I never got a menu and I suppose I could’ve just ordered anything off the top of my head. But somehow I felt like if I did the other patrons would snuff out their cigarette into my meal as a warning to infidels, interlopers, carpetbaggers, or just general newbies. The waitress was fine, albeit she kinda ignored me for the majority of the meal, tending to other matters of diner import. I did see a specials board so went with the chorizo breakfast burrito they had listed.
The food was pretty tasty all things being equal but I think maybe I should’ve gone for one of their home made waffles. Still, it was a filling experience, both from a gastrointestinal and local flavor perspective.
It was 8:30 when I left a $10 bill for the food and service and the Cleveland Marathon Expo didn’t start until 10 AM. I had a list of “Roadside America” attractions to hit and had pre-planned the most efficient order on googlemaps prior to departing. I never did find the WWII Dog monument over on Park Drive but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I drove back and forth according to the directions and walked a bit around the park but never saw it. So here’s what it would’ve looked like according to RA.com:
Feeling ever more despondent at my inability to focus, concentrate, or even find a giant statue of a dog, I made the trek to the bombed Thinker statue. This copy of a Rodin sculpture was vandalized in 1970, presumably by Vietnam War protestors albeit the perpetrator or perpetrators were never caught. Today, they most likely have escaped to the Los Angeles Underground (or maybe the Cleveland underground) and one assumes they survive as protestors of fortune. If you have a problem and no one else can help… well, you know – same old jazz.
It being late May and a Saturday, two separate wedding parties were trying to get photos done outside the art museum. I wandered past as while that’s all well and good for them, I was determined to find the damn statue. And I think I did. I did. I did find the bombed out Thinker!
From there I drove out to the Lake View Cemetery. I’ve said this before but given my in-my-estimation-perfectly-understandable discomfort with all things death and dying, it’s very strange that I keep finding myself taking a walk amongst the tombstones.
Lake View, much like Disney’s Haunted Mansion, is filled with happy haunts… and there’s room for a few more. Any volunteers?
I was intrigued because there was a crypt with a welcome mat… and indeed that crypt was for the family Hanna. Remember what I said about my issues with death and dying? Yeah, this wasn’t creepy at all…
Outside of literally walking by, around, and at times over my own name on a grave, there were other sights to behold:
Alan Freed, disc jockey par payola and the man credited with coining the phrase “Rock N Roll,” has a marker here. The docent I spoke to said it was really just a cenotaph as Alan is “spread all over this place.” I assumed that meant his ashes but for all I know they’ve stashed body parts of the guy throughout the place. After all, she said there’s a lot of humor in this cemetery… Freed’s cenotaph is a tombstone on one side and mock jukebox on the other. I snagged a photo just as a bird was flying by. This is what it sounds like when geese cry…
The most famous occupant of the cemetery though is the 20th President of the United States, James Garfield. I knew quite a bit about his history as I recently read “Destiny of the Republic,” a fascinating book on the short time Garfield held office due to an assassin’s bullet… and “state of the art” medicine that bemoaned the concept of germs and sterilization. The monument itself was funded through an outpouring of public funds for the slain orator, a guy who got his party’s nomination as he was trying to give a speech nominating somebody else. Garfield actually refused the nomination at first. If you’d like to know more, visit your local library.
I’m always fascinated by how history is framed at museums, monuments, and I guess mauseleums. Garfield and his wife lie entombed and their only daughter and son-in-law are in urns before them. The laminated laserprinted story is… fascinating. They didn’t even bother to include when the son-in-law actually died because, really, she’s the story, right? I found it kind of refreshing.
Before leaving the final resting place of many Clevelanders, I made a quick stop at the super macabre Haserot Angel:
Took in the cenotaph of Elliot Ness…
And made a pilgrimage to the tombstone of supposedly the only baseball player killed in a game:
From there I headed downtown to the Expo proper. You can tell I’m super tired, not only in all the photos that came before, but in the freebie pics they offered at the event, the “awesome” pics are all debacles of inanity. I mean, more than usual. In my defense, the out of focus runners background FELT like I should either be posed as running myself or trying to acknowledge the fact that I was apparently standing in the middle of a stampede. It was, as internetizens might say, an epic fail.
I’m feeling very worried about tomorrow, not only with the timing logistics to get back to the left coast in time for U2 but weather wise here in the land of Cleves. Forecasts are calling for a string of thunder storms… which may scuttle the race entirely. I’m trying not to go overboard then in carbo loading for fear I may not run tomorrow. This could backfire on me. But as I wandered the aisles of the expo, I felt sluggish and stuffed and fat and depressed. Could be the lack of sleep, could be the reality of the situation. Fear is running about in the background of my mind… and that’s NOT what you want when you’re about to go running in the real world.
I know what you’re thinking – I’m in Cleveland – why haven’t I hit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on my trip yet? The answer is that I was there 8 years ago. Which isn’t to say it wasn’t great and that I’m sure there have been many, many updates, changes, revisions, and new exhibits to check out. But I thought I should try and see different things while I’m here… hence my cut through of an alley to the Cleveland Public Library. Here I found the tiny library patrons artwork…
…which led me to a new exhibit that just opened at the library: Superman – From Cleveland to Krypton!
Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were local boys who made good on their Depression Era Super Man who could fight for truth, justice, and the American Way. The exhibit was a little shallow and missed out on a whole lot of history and connections (for example the radio drama of Superman took on the KKK and revealed them for what they really were… and that’s not covered at all). But they did offer some choice memorabilia:
I actually swung by the childhood homes of S&S and snapped a few pics from the sidewalk:
My last stop of the day was a giant pencil. The pencil writes for itself.
And so like so many other weekend nights before, I wait for the dawn. To run or not to run… that’s all up to the gods. Ditto on my making it back to Los Angeles to see U2. I’ve done what I can… albeit not very well… and so it is what it is.
Now if you’ll excuse me… I gotta take a nap.