Doing Vegas with Bernie and Elinor

"I reminded Sandy that Camille was her first friend," Elinor Engelhard told me as we chatted together about old times.  "Maybe they don't remember each other, but they were still first friends."  Dave and I settled into the couches of the Las Vegas Hotel (formerly the Hilton) on April 21, 2012, for two hours of non-stop "catching up" with our old friends, Bernie and Elinor Engelhard.  The four of us searched our brains, but we were simply unable to remember when we had last seen each other.  It was another Vegas weekend, with dinner at The Red Door and a performance of Blue Man Group.  But when?  Five years?  Seven?  Not ten. 

We feel like we've been friends forever, and always will be.  Dave took over Bernie's spot as social worker at Davis Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona, in 1973, when Lisa was 1 1/2 and Camille was just two months old.  Sandy was born in June and Camille in July, 1973.  The two of them crawled together in their terry cloth sleepers and toddled together with their first steps as the Engelhards and Spendloves hung out at Bernie and Elinor's rodeo parties and our home-cooked dinners.  We even went camping together on Mt. Graham, where Bernie rigged me up an outdoor shower because I couldn't face a night without a warm bath.  Elinor and I watched over Camille and Sandy, in the play pen, as Lisa rode around in the dirt on her plastic dog with wheels.

Elinor and Bernie are fun, gracious people who are upbeat, involved with their community, and love to explore the world.  Last month, Bernie emailed us that he was attending a psychology seminar in Vegas with his good friend, Tony, and invited us to join them.  As we talked, during our afternoon together, Bernie threw out a few restaurant suggestions and Elinor and I both voted for Emeril's, managed by (or at least named for) a celebrity chef from New Orleans.  The food was great, including lobster bisque, shrimp etoufee, and lime mousse with mandarin orange sauce. 

We then attended David Copperfield's magic show.  The most memorable trick was David seating 13 members of the audience in a wire cage at the front of the stage, swathing it with curtains and posting audience guards on all sides, then somehow transporting those 13 people to the back of the auditorium!

Sunday morning, before breakfast, Dave and I wandered the hotel, laughing about all of the kitsch in the stores--mugs, bags, t-shirts and books, all emblazoned with Las Vegas logos.  We were amazed at all the tight-fitting miniskirts at the magic show last night, and we ogled equally scandalous, transparent dresses in the boutique windows.  They were the types of dresses that would result in our granddaughter Sophia asking, "Do I wear anything under that?"

We spent another two hours at breakfast, savoring good conversation along with our oatmeal and eggs.  Then, it was time for last hugs and goodbyes, and an invitation for us to join Bernie and Elinor for camping in Colorado this summer.  We also hugged Tony, whom we had grown to like and admire.  He is a Viet Nam vet who is now a psychologist and leads groups of vets back to Viet Nam and Iraq to treat their post traumatic stress disorder.  He also owns a beautiful new vacation home near Pine Top, Arizona.  We explored Pine Top at a recent Spendlove family reunion.  We had lots to talk about together.

On our way home, the "back way," we drove through Alamo, NV, the Flindt family seat.  It now has an airport! 

We drove on for another 60+ miles, until I cried out to Dave to slam on the brakes and let me get a picture of this sign. If I ever start my own legal practice, my quarters may look just like these! Across the street was a colossal junk heap. 

One other picturesque stop was on the border of Nevada and Utah.  We had just passed a wind farm. Many trucks, each bearing one of the huge, high tech propelers, were parked together at a truck stop.  Inside, good old boys in baseball caps and Stetsons were watching sports on two overhead TVs, as slot machines glowed behind them.  It was a perfect contrast of new and old ways.

Dave grew up in the desert, and I inherited my love of it--my parents' hometowns of  Vernal, Utah, and Pima, Arizona, are dry, sparse towns.  We relished our drive home through low desert vistas and the high mountain desert of Mt. Wheeler.