Branson−in−Ozarks is the recreational oasis that Bloomberg never built in 8 years of promises.
When our World War II Bomb Group selected Branson Missouri for this year’s reunion site, we wondered why. Some guys said “It is an amusement center.” In the midst of the jagged Ozark mountains where farmers like Dizzy and Daffy Dean pitched hay, before they pitched shut outs of the St. Louis Cardinals.
But I would fly anywhere to re−unite with our bomber mates. We became brothers under the skin, all bound together by the shackles of war.
We had to fly to the reunion from LaGuardia to Atlanta, where we bathed in heat overnight, to catch a morning flight to more obscure Branson.
Obscure it was not − as the jagged Ozark mountains finally parted into this oasis setting we peered out of our taxi into the magic valley below.
A true oasis of fun, where one entertainment followed another.
In our long weekend in Branson we were not able to really see the so many attractions, like the Branson Scenic Railway − Sightseeing, rolling along the tracks amid the never ending Ozarks − or the IMAX Giant Screen on a giant 6 story projection as you envision yourself reaching out and climbing the jagged ice capped Alps − but we did enjoy lunch at McFarlin’s in its rustic western setting or the Little Opry Theater with its tributes to country music’s legendary music man John Denver. But would you believe it snuggled amidst the mountainous entertainment center was the reincarnated sight of the Titanic Ocean Liner replete with ice−berg too.
All day parents line up to board the gangplanks that lead visitors into the replica of that ill−fated liner. A nurse on −board relates the story of the ocean queen while another nurse, in full costume, entertains the children as if they were guests aboard.
As a group our busload of veterans got to see a show called The Six, all brothers who put on a rollin’ show of music then they boarded our bus, to thank us veterans for defending our nation.
And who has his own theater there, but that hankyin Russian who once wowed Brighton Beach and our east−coast, Yakov Smirnoff, with his own Explosive Laughter Theater with side splitting humor − exploding each morning and afternoon.
Among our many entertainment sites we found a morning to visit a remarkable museum of amazing items out of World War 2 including uniforms of our enemies and allies.
On each of our annual reunions, the 494th Bomb Group brethren and mates takes the time to gather in prayer and pay tribute to our departed.
We even had the opportunity to visit a man−aided lake that resulted from a Federal dam project, years back, but these mountain Ozarkians sure know how to take advantage of the man−given blessings bestowed upon them.
Branson has overblossomed, Hilton who has a 4−story hotel in town, came back with a 9th floor Hilton.
Meanwhile back in Brooklyn, where God gave Coney Island ocean frontage, prime property seeking renewal of hope of entertainment, of touches of luxury where the sun soaks its visitors on splintered boards and popping nails, is rewarded with unfulfillment by a two term mayor who convenes each spring on the boardwalk with a briefcase full of promises.
