Operative word of the day: KINSHIP. The big plan for today was to meet daughter Sarah’s future in-laws. And I also met a new friend today who will be joining me to New Orleans. So family and friends was very much on my mind.

As a semi-related side note: KINSHIP is also the central focus of the Kinslagher Brewery in Oak Park, where my brother-in-law Neal Armstrong (not the astronaut) is one of the founders. They brew what is still my favorite beer, Prohibition Pilsner, that I look forward to getting back to in a few weeks; maybe a homecoming party of sorts at the taproom? They make a lot of great beer at the Kinslagher: my friend Geeto will chew your arm off for a pint of their porter, but as a Chicago fire captain and former paramedic he’ll also make sure your arm can be surgically reattached.

Anyway… yesterday I texted Dick Dastardly; he advised there would be strong winds and advised me to ‘hunker down’. I thought he was talking about today’s travel forecast, but he was talking about last night. I saw the low overnight forecast was supposed to be mid-50s, but I wasn’t expecting 20 mph winds; so as usual I put the tent up without the rain fly. You know that old saying about the witch and her mammary gland, jeepers it was cold last night; I resorted to sleeping in pants, 2 shirts and my rain jacket (though I really should’ve just gotten out and put on the rain fly which holds in warmth and holds out wind). With the wind chill, the ‘feels like’ temperature was 42. I didn’t get much sleep, and the wind whipped up the sand against the screen tent all night. When I got up there was a fine dust coating me and everything inside the tent. Lesson learned.

It was still cold at sunrise breaking down camp and packing up, but once underway all was good. Though 5 minutes after I was on the water I noticed a mile marker that said 908.7. I just knew one of these bends was going to be like one of those chutes and ladders things. I should be 370 miles further downstream and now I’ve been redeposited north through one of the 540 degree turns. Or, maybe I’ve dreamt the past two weeks and this is really where I am? Nevermind, paddle on.

I started the day in yet another of these long bends in the river; I went around this right bend for nearly two hours: “At the next buoy turn right, at the next buoy turn right, at the next buoy turn right…” Finally I just had to turn the directions off. Wait, are you using Google Maps or Waze? I think there’s a setting… I’m not really using any GPS directions; there is but one way – downstream.

But, I had my right blinker on for nearly two hours. Anybody who is passing would’ve thought I must be from Iowa, but nobody would pass this morning seems the tugboat captain gave everybody the Saturday off.

If anything was going to loop me around and deposit me in another place on the river or maybe in another dimension, it was this impossibly long right hand bend, I was beginning to lose it but, but then came my friend Strom!

For whatever reason, I had been thinking about that TV show Romper Room. It was on in the US for over 50 years, so I’m sure a lot of us know it. I only remember at the end of the show the hostess Nancy Claster would put this looking glass thing in front of her face and pretend she could see kids in front of their TV set at home watching. “Romper, stomper, bomper, boom.” She would always start with that statement, then follow with names. “I see Jimmy, and Sopinka, and…” You always wanted to hear your name. I think she said Matthew once, but nobody calls me Matthew. Usually it went something like: “I see Sarah, I see Mark, I see Bennie” “Hey, she saw my fish Benji!” “No, she said Bennie.” “Did not, she said Benji!” “You’re just stupid.” “I’m telling… MOM! Matt called me stupid!”

As I’m thinking this, who do I see floating in the channel 50 feet away? Strom! A few of you offered to send a volleyball for me to talk to so I wouldn’t be talking to myself. Well Strom, full name Headstrom, don’t ask me, he’s from Arkansas where things are just different, is a soccer ball. He came to me in my time of need and I expect him to be with me to New Orleans. Though so far he’s not real talkative; I suppose he needs a face.

So today would be a relatively short 37 miles to where I planned to meet Sarah’s future in laws at Warfield Park in Greenville: Ron and Andrea Preston with their daughter Bella who is visiting Ole Miss as a likely college choice for next year. I don’t know the Prestons really well, I think I’ve met Ron 4 times and Andrea 3. After Sarah and Tater Log got engaged, we met for dinner. Ron I think came straight from work, dressed in his business casual lavender and ermine. I thought he said he was in engineering, but maybe it was entertainment? And when I asked about his outfit, did he say he shops on Fifth Avenue, or his shop’s on Fifth Avenue? Anyway, I didn’t ask any more questions, but wondered how Andrea ended up with him.

They are visiting Ole Miss as Bella wants to study “how to find and marry a professional baseball player”; Ole Miss has a good program. I wanted to be prepared and help as best I could, so I reached out to the best baseball mind I’ve known, ESPN baseball analyst Tim Kurkjian. Unfortunately, Tim didn’t think my offer to help Bella was quite proper, thinking women should endeavor to be more than professional wife and girlfriend; so I turned to the second best baseball mind I know, with decidedly less scruples: Mike Anderson. Mike’s views aligned with my own, that Bella should be looking at warm weather schools with good baseball programs. And she should be seeking out shortstops or pitchers that can throw 100 mph. I caution a little bit on the pitcher because of a higher nutcase frequency (what Mike deems the Bauer-Cleavenget effect), but we figure Andrea will be involved in the final candidate screening (though she did end up with Ron 🤔). But, I still had miles to go before that dinner conversation.

As noted, very few tugboats and barges were moving today. However, there’s still no complacency allowed. Any of these beasts parked against the banks could fire up and look to move out at anytime. Who knows when somebody might request a couple of bushels down in Greenville: “DoorDash calling marine vessel Sally Archer, come in Sally Archer” “Yeah, this is the Sally Archer, I copy, go ahead DoorDash. “Hey, we got a request from a Ron Preston in Greenville for a bushel of sorghum. Can you fill that order?” “Well I’m carrying just over 55,000 tons of sorghum, it’s a bit of a small order but, yeah, I can do that.” “Thanks Sally Archer; and make sure that it’s the good stuff; this Preston guy has a daughter that may end up at Ole Miss. He’s in the entertainment business, so he could be a nice repeat customer.” “Okay DoorDash, I’m on my way. Advise if there’s any bear in the air, cuz I’m about to put the hammer down.” “10-4.”

So I arrived in Greenville pretty much as planned just after 3pm. The Prestons were expected at 5. Time enough for me to set up camp, shower, and start my Strom blog. But, 5 minutes later, the Prestons arrived. First, I was a little confused as they were so early, then I was a little confused as I realized we’re all here together in Greenville Mississippi, of all places. We had a brief dialogue and I think Andrea was just making sure I was still sane enough to take out for a dinner in public. Ron helped me set up the tent and then they drove me to the campground shower house before dinner.

Again, I should’ve gotten more photos, because Greenville had all the makings of a Mississippi River town that was probably amazing 100 years ago. Now it looked derelict and lonesome. The restaurant, Doe’s Eat Place, was quite renowned, and still gets great reviews, but you wouldn’t know that from the outside. I’ve included a photo below from the interweb, but it didn’t quite look this nice, and the neighborhood was not one to wander around alone. Apparently the local sheriff hangs out at Doe’s every night, and he walked out as we walked in.

But, the food was excellent! They’re known for their steaks, and Ron and I each had the bone-in ribeye, medium rare. It looked more like a meal you’d see in front of Fred Flinstone, these steaks were massive. Also, Andrea was told she needed to try some Koolicks (just like at Mike’s Fish Shack in Guttenberg); Doe’s didn’t serve Koolicks, but one ofvtheir employees, or perhaps the sheriff, went off and brought some back in a ziplock bag. Debra (our waitress) and the rest of the staff couldn’t have been more friendly, and the food was delicious. If ever in the Greenville MS area, I would recommend dinner at Doe’s.

During dinner Andrea seemed mostly curious and concerned about my diet on the river. She’s a big pusher of protein and fiber and wanted to see how I was filling those requirements. We did discuss Bella’s MLB shopping criteria, passing on the Mike Anderson recommendations. Bella was pretty excited about Ole Miss; I hope that all works out for her to be there. Ron told a few cringe worthy jokes: “What do you get when you boil a funny bone? A laughing stock. Don’t you find that humerus?” It seemed Bella had a switch that she could trigger to close down all auditory senses every time Ron opened his mouth; she’s well practiced in “Ron”. It did make me wonder how Andrea ended up with Ron; maybe he was different before a serious head injury?

Maybe 18 months ago Sarah told me that she thought I would like Ron, “because you’re a lot alike.” I’m sorry to say she’s probably right. I envision Christin and Andrea starting a women’s group someday about coping with the loss of their husbands’ regression into preadolescent behavior. Anyway, it was a really lovely meal with kin, and I left wanting Ron’s shirt.

The Prestons dropped me back at camp where Andrea gifted me what would be tomorrow’s breakfast: some energy bars, mini muffins, an Aloha protein bar and a caffeinated energy drink. That would help get me on the water at dawn for the start of a 101 mile stretch to Vicksburg that I was determined to do in two days. I went to bed pretty much right away, really grateful for this improbable visit. This will be the last I see of anyone I know before New Orleans! Which I told the Prestons has a countdown from today of 12 more days, 11 of those on the water, and if all goes to plan, 9 more holes. Hey now… watch it.

For today’s playlist addition, and since I’ve thrown some shade on Ron, I’ll reward him with this one. I know he’s a big fan of Bill Withers (as is my daughter Caroline), and this song seems appropriate for Greenville: Lonely Town, Lonely Street