Travels with AURORA

Date:                           November 21, 2009

Location:                    Daytona Beach, FL

0930

            We are quickly approaching one of those, “I know where I was when …..” days.  It is, of course, tomorrow and I do remember very well where I was when the news was delivered to our World History Teacher during class.  The fact that anyone in school dared interrupt her class was enough to warn all of the attentive students in her room that something very monumental had happened.  When Mrs. Fox returned to her position in front of the class after answering the messenger at the class door she wore a saddened and forlorn face that I will never be able to remove from my memory.  She immediately relayed the devastating news to us and promptly suspended class.  I do in deed remember where I was on November 22, 1963.

            The crispness of the pictures in my memory belies the fact that it was nearly half a century ago.  I have children that have children that have been born since then.  We all have lived a history book full of life in the past 46 years and yet I still can see the tear filled eyes of my World History Teacher as she slowly walked from class room door to her lecture position at the head of the class. 

Mrs. Fox had been a strong and wonderful teacher that dragged this lack luster history student up from the doldrums of a lazy student to the pinochle of an honors student in history.  On my first test I pulled my typical non effort grade of 70 something and was somewhat satisfied.  I had passed and isn’t that all htat maters?  Mrs. Fox requested my presence in her late afternoon activity period to discuss my effort in her class.  She, in a very succinct manner, informed me that she did think I had put enough effort into my studies and that she was a much better teacher than my 70 might imply.  I was to be allowed the time I needed to place a little more effort in my studies and I could retake the test.  Of course since it was the second time I was to take a test on the same information I would be allowed to achieve nothing less than a 95.  She hinted that a 100 might be more in my best interest.

            Mrs. Fox also told me that she thought I had a keen interest in history and that if I placed just a little effort in her class I could find it to be very rewarding.  To this avail she was willing to have me join her activity period so that I would be close to her if I should ever need any help.  Now in the old days of school activity period was the last period of school and time when most socialization and fun happened.   I was going to be allowed to forgo all of that fun so that I could study history.  Whoppee!!!!!  The other part of the deal I was going to accept no matter what I wanted was that as a special student of hers I was to achieve a minimum of 90 on all first test attempts and, if for some unknown reason, I did not I was to achieve a 100 on any retake.  I ended my honors history that year with a very high average.  But more importantly I ended that year with an undying love for history that remains with me to this day.  All because a teacher would not allow me to give less than she felt I should.

            I digress from my, “Where were you when” opening for no real good reason. It is just that as I begin these wordy blogs I often have no idea where I am headed and the rekindling of one memory just softly lead me to another.  I am sure that there is, hidden someplace in my meandering, a moral to this story.  Trauma will always leave a “bookmark” in your memory.  Once an old memory arise from the ashes of your mind it seems to ignite synapse that are, in some way, connected or relevant.  It might also be that through everyone’s life a person or moment will direct change or an attitude adjustment that will, forever, guide you in life.

            I am not sure if there is a moral to this mornings diatribe, but I now have to go back and continue reading my “pleasure” book “A Team of Rivals.”  There may be a test later and I don’t dare get less than a 90. 

            If you were, where were you 46 years ago tomorrow?  I will bet you can remember that much better than you can remember what you did 3 weeks a go.  By the way who was you most influential teacher?  If they are still alive write them a note and say thank you for being a positive guiding light in your life.  I will bet that they remember you also.

 9 DAYS to EMBARKATION

Wfdo2@wfdo2.com

Date:                           November 20, 2009

Location:                    Daytona Beach, FL

0900

            We went to the beach yesterday, now there is a surprise, and enjoyed the beauty of the Atlantic Ocean up close and personal.  The beach at Daytona is how this place got its fame.  It is even why that overly large parking lot called a raceway is located right in the middle of the city.  The original Daytona race was on the beach.  Now the speed limit on the sand is much lower.  It is posted at 10 mph and most people do a good job of obeying the signs.  The single section of the beach that we frequent is about 6 miles long.  Yesterday we decided to drive the full length of the beach area and it took us just over an hour.  That is 12 miles round trip at 10 mph.  It is a worthy use of a person’s time to ride along the waves as they slowly wash ashore onto the pristine white sandy beach.  But then that is why we came to Daytona and why we are having a very hard time leaving.

            It is a personal pleasure to enjoy the beauty of nature at the sea shore and to enjoy being a part of nature. It is even more rewarding to see how many other people find means and reason to also position themselves on the sand, usually book in hand, to soak up the late autumn sunshine and bask in the warmth of a Florida day.  Some seem to be reflecting on the problems of the cosmos as they recline in their chairs, eyes closed, and minds wandering as they listen to the rhythmic calm of the ocean waves gently washing ashore.  On this day the waves were a bit livelier than on some other days as the rolling blue-green water formed 2 or 3 foot crest and crashed a hundred feet or so off shore and then smoothly washed on to the beach.  With the crashing waves, a warm Florida sun, and a book in hand it is little wonder why so many people were reclining, eyes closed and contemplating their navel.

            We had taken our bikes to the beach and expected to, again, ride along the sand and enjoy chasing the birds, but the wind deterred us from our plans.  The ride down wind would have been great, but somehow Mother Nature finds a way to make the return trip all uphill and twice as far.  And on a flat beach that is quite a marvelous event.  We wisely choose to, instead. Use our motorized mode of transportation to enjoy the beach ride and will save the more physical excursion for another visit.

            Our evening was planned around another foray into to culinary excellence.  Connie and found a recipe for Sichuan pork in her new cookbook.  My job was to help her turn this book temptation into reality.  I was not in charge of making the special sauce.  I was not in charge of combining the fresh and frozen ingredients to form a beautifully balanced presentation of culinary taste wonders.  I was not even in charge of stir frying the ingredients to a doneness of perfection.  I did, however, wield the knife that cut the pork loin into wrong sized pieces for cooking.  The recipe called for half inch slices.  We all know how well men can estimate size and often exaggerate and misrepresent reality with actuality.  We also know how well women can take a slight miscalculation make it seem perfect.  My half inch slices that were a lot closer to a quarter of an inch tasted wonderful and were cooked to perfection.  The meal was purely a trip into gourmet heaven.

            Did I mention that part of my duties on this night’s list of culinary chores was to help consume the resulting product?  This was a job which I handled with great aplomb and no lack of style.  I not only cleaned my first plate serving, but quickly lined up for seconds.  Sadly, the leftovers that Connie had planned for did not seem to exist at the end of the meal.  What did exist was a new recipe to file in our, “We Want This Again” category.

            To some this day may not seem like it was an overly exciting day.  We did spend a good share of the day’s time enjoying the beauty of nature seated along the ocean shore.  It is a place that will always be near and dear to our hearts.  We did soak in the warmth of a warm afternoon Florida sun as we allowed the eternal rhythmic sounds of nature’s lullaby sooth our thoughts.  And, we did finish the day with a gourmet meal created and consumed in our own little abode, with the accompaniment of a wonderful chardonnay.  If yesterday was not an overly exciting day, I am sure that it was a most definitely keeper.

            Today we have been greeted with clouds and haze, but that is not a totally bad thing.  We will, tomorrow, approach the single digit countdown to our anniversary cruise and I am sure that there are a few things that need to be accomplished.  I am also sure that Connie will do most of them, but I am always here to supervise and get in the way.  Isn’t that what men are supposed to do.   That is after they finish their measuring.

10 DAYS to EMBARKATION

Wfdo2@wfdo2.com

Date:                           November 18, 2009

Location:                    Daytona Beach, FL

0815

            I entered my space ship and took a trip back in time last night.  It was not a long journey.  Just a few miles up the road and around a few blocks in Deland, Florida and Connie and I found ourselves at the Stetson University lecture hall, or at least one of them.  It felt like a step back in time as we walked into the lecture hall and took our seat near the back of the large auditorium at our school desk.  I don’t remember it being this much fun and entertaining the first time I experienced this sensation of attending a college lecture.  But the surroundings sure did bring back some memories.

            A few notes of reference and observation before I continue.  The audience was very eclectic in age and stature.  There were the obligatory student aged participants, along with many geriatric, slow moving, old duffers like myself.  There were a few people taking notes, some on small note pads, and others on laptops.  I used the back of a piece of scrap paper.  After the lecture the professor remained to answer any questions we might have and I noticed that just about every younger student aged member of the gathering sprinted for the doors and most of the seasonally aged participants remained behind to garner as much more information as was possible.  I will let you form your own opinions on these facts; I just wanted to share the observations.  I also noted that the older the participant the earlier they seem to arrive and the latter they seemed to leave.

            The lecture was on Mayan facts and fantasies about 2012.  With the advent of the new media emphasis on the up and coming December 21, 2012 celestial alignment and the Mayan long count calendar coming to an end on that date, plus the new movie it was easy to understand the standing room only atmosphere in the lecture hall.  The professor was very pleased to see the first 20 or so people arrive early.  He thought that was a large turn out for his evening lecture series.  By the beginning of the lecture every seat in the room was full and there was, literally, standing room only.

            At just a little past seven, that was to allow the late college students to arrive and get seated, the lights went down and the computer display screen lit up and we were off on a tour of Mayan myth and reality.  Of course, there were a few bumps on the start of our journey.  The microphone battery died 2 minutes into his lecture and the room sound system did not like taking to the professors PC.  Luckily the professor had a strong voice and the room was spotted with enough young electronic wonks to get the PC problem solved and the lecture “proceeded on.”

            I will not recap the whole evening’s information.  You can either go to the movie for Hollywood’s version of the upcoming calamity, or go to any book store for the educated entrepreneur’s version of the cosmic shift in existence that we are all to experience on the winter solstice of the year 2012 when we are galactically aligned and when the Mayan long count colander comes the end of the 13th Pik.  These are events that happen only once in 26,000 years in the galaxy and once in 5200 years according to the calendar.  To have them happen on the same day is kind of cool and special and should be noted one could argue. 

The Mayan people have no idea what we are talking about.  There myths and prophecies are not nearly as exciting as Hollywood would have us believe.  There is, still existing, only one Mayan prophecy recorded on any tablet or form that refers to the end of the long count calendar and it is missing the most important relevant information due to the erosion of age and degradation of the rock on which it is carved.  This, of course, has not stopped a very lucrative industry from starting up to scare us as we approach the date of December 21^st, 2012.  I will allow you to do some research and form your own apocalyptic opinions on 2012.  You still have a little over 2 years to either laugh it away or find a secluded cave in which to hide as the continents shift, or the oceans over flow, or the cosmic alignment pulls the Earth apart, or we are again visited by the alien space creature that placed us here some umpteen thousands of years ago.  I will pass on a bit of information that I garnered from this professor of Mayan history and culture.  That is that you might want to continue paying your mortgage, and car payments, and you might not want to move all of your belongings to some tick invested cave in Bolivia.  But the choice is yours.

The best part of last night was the exuberance of youth felt as I sat in this lecture hall partaking in the sharing of information and education.  It was telling to see the young leave early and the old stay late as that education process was acting out before my eyes.  I can not speak for everyone in that hall last evening, but for me, I know that education is so very wasted on the young.  It is with age and experience that we learn just how much we do not know.  I know that many of us have already lived through our genius years, usually our late teens through our early twenties, but some of us are learning that it is really surprising how smart our parents become the older we get.

Go now and dig a hole to hide in or find a cave in which to seclude yourself from the forth coming calamity or maybe just live each and every day to its fullest and damn the predictions.  It is not an old Mayan prophecy but just an old adage that says; “Each day is a gift, that is why it is called the present.”

12 DAYS to EMBARKATION

Wfdo2@wfdo2.com

Date:                           November 17, 2009

Location:                    Daytona Beach, FL

0830

            When do you finally realize that the world has left you in the dust of electronic advancement?  Is it when your grandson is no longer asking you about computers, but instead showing you the computer that he has just finished building from scratch?  Is it when you find out that the whole world is texting and you can’t figure out how to put that smiley face on your e-mail?  Or is it when you find our that your favorite book store is now selling a $259.00 dollar electric reader that will allow you to carry 1500 books with you at all times and still allow you to download the latest “need to read” offering?  When do you realize that you are in the stone age of electronic enlightenment?  I don’t know, but I think I am there.

            I am very glad that my grandson took the effort and has the ability to build his own computer.  He researched every component and processing piece of his new baby and now has a computer that leaves mine in the dust.  A young man that once reveled at his grandfather’s expertise is now showing off his talents in a technology that so quickly left me in the lurch.  This is not a bad thing, but it is a real thing and a sign of the advancing times.  I am no longer a source of information for him, but my grandson is continuing to be large source of pride for me.

            I will not even get into texting.  It is an art that I have purposely failed to enjoy.  My sister has been light years ahead of me in this category for sometime.  She can text a full message faster then I can dial a phone number.  And, most of what she text is probably spelled correctly. We all know what the chances of that happening with me as the words flow from my fat fingers might be.  I still am not sure why I should spend half an hour punching my cell phone to figure out what I want for dinner when a 2 minute phone call would satisfy all my dilemmas.  I may not understand, but I fear our next cell phone will be text enabled.  You can only resist progress for jus so long.

            The final straw to my realization that I am sadly being left behind in the world of today’s electronics was my last visit to Barnes and Nobel.  On the counter as we were checking out and paying for our new book additions I noticed an advertisement for a new “reading machine” called the Nook.  It is a paperback sized electronic display devise that can carry a library full of books for your reading pleasure.  It will allow you to connect to B&N at nearly any place in the universe and download the latest and greatest Sarah Palin fantasy novel.  All for anything from free to about $9.99 a book.  You can even still go to the local book store, buy a cappuccino and sit in a comfy chair and read any book you want for free over their in store wifi.  When did I get left behind in the electronic revolution?

            I am not sure if all of this is good or bad.  I am, also, not sure I have given up the struggle to remain behind in the last century just yet.  My grandson and granddaughter do not still fit on my lap and will, I fear, have lap fillers of their own all too soon.  I will, probably, soon have some kind of a devise that will send gibberish through the cellular air, although I am sure most of it will be misspelled.  But do I have to give up the pleasure of holding a real book in my hands.  One that smells of ink and paper and might even offer me a paper cut once in a while as a reminder that it too has a spine and feelings.  Do I have to relinquish the pleasure flipping page after age as I either float through a tomb of fluff prose or a deep theological investigation of some historic event?  Must I give up the comforting feeling of paper for some cold plastic electronic impersonality called a Nook?  Can’t I fight the advancing revolution for just a few more years?

            It is time for me to stop my whining for today as I put away my electronic paper and pen and prepare to magically send my diatribe forth into the netherland of cellular service to make it available to any one in the world that may be sorry enough to accidentally stumble on to it in the cyber world.  I know, I have lost the war and the solid-state soldiers of modernization are already victorious.  But, today, as I continue my reading of  “A Team of Rivals” I will turn each page, one sheet of paper at a time, and I won’t push a plastic touch sensitive button on the side of a cold electronic display terminal.  I will do that today, but one must contemplate just how much longer that choice will be available.

13 DAYS to EMBARKATION

Wfdo2@wfdo2.com

Date:                           November 15, 2009

Location:                    Daytona Beach, FL

0930

            The grey of the previous days melted away and Florida returned to the crystal blue skies of a tropical paradise again.  The temperature, in Daytona Beach, did not quite make it to the tropical realms, but we gladly accepted the high 70 degree temperatures and warm breezes.  After spending entirely too much time inside our RV we decided it was a beach day and off to the ocean we ventured.

            We had a scrumptious dinner planned of Cajun catfish and wild rice so we decided against the usual picnic lunch and instead packed our new bikes and proceeded down Speedway Blvd toward the beautiful white beaches of Daytona.  This was our thousandth time to drive to and on the beach and as usual we got to the gate just as some tourist realized that you had to pay to drive on the world famous Daytona Beach. We patiently waited for them to figure out how to make a U-turn in the middle of the road and then proceeded to the gate.  We had purchased a season pass when we first got to Daytona Beach and now just have to stop and have our pass scanned as we pass pleasantries with fee collector.  We have found that the purchase of the seasonal pass was a very economic investment for us and pleasure that keeps giving.

            It is always a neat feeling to drive, literally, down to the ocean and then at the very last second take a turn to drive along the waves as they sweep in from, what was today, a slightly full ocean.  Normally at low tide the beach is very deep and has more than enough room for at least two lanes of traffic, a deep parking lot backed up to the deeper sand of the shore and still leave much room between the water and the people playing in the sand.  Today the waves were very close to and, at times, overlapping the driving lanes.  Leaving a much smaller area for the sea revelers it made the beach seem a bit more crowed than it truly was,  but we did find a very lovely secluded spot to park our car and enjoy our excursion to self pampering sun and sea.

            Our main objective on this visit was to enjoy our new Trek bikes on the beach and it was a beautiful day to do just that.  The southern end of the beach was pretty empty and allowed us a much uncluttered section of the beach to bike along.  The sun was just warm enough to make us comfortable but nowhere hot enough to hint that we needed to be any place other than where we were at that very moment.  We headed south along the beach and rode about 2 or 3 miles along the ocean chasing birds and fully enjoying the beauty of the day.  Our bikes worked wonderfully as we pedaled along the shore and tried to enjoy the warm breezes, blue skies and beauty of the Atlantic as she swept onto the pristine white beaches.

            After our 2 to 3 mile ride south we decided to turn around and head back to our car and our staked out beach area to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.  It was about 7 miles back north along the same beach.  We did not realize, as we pedaled south, that we had had a lovely breeze blowing at our back.  As we turned around and headed back into the breeze it became much more noticeable.  It was not impossible, but when we arrived at our little secluded section of the beach near our car we were aware that we had just completed a very pleasant bike ride.  Our legs said, “Thank-you” for finally getting home.  We got to use some of the lower gears on our bile and our chairs felt very good as settled into an afternoon of beach reading and pure laziness.

            Our day was completed with a dinner of cast iron skillet blackened catfish with wild rice and vegetables.  Add to that a glass or two of good white wine and you have a pretty great dinner.  Connie and I enjoy the fun of joining together in creating the evening repast.  Tonight it was my turn to man the skillet and Connie watched and created the delicious rice boiled in a specially season brew.  Golden Corral, eat your heart out.

            A simple day, and simple meal and special memory, it was a pretty good day.  I still remember a little bit of sage advise my father gave me as he was finishing his latter years.  He told me” If I did not have my memories I would be really depressed as I reach the end of my life.”  His sight was waning, his hearing all but a gone, but his memories were still sharp and the pleasure that filled his life.  He always promoted and supported my efforts to build memories for he knew there true values.

15 DAYS to EMBARKATION

Wfdo2@wfdo2.com

PS

On Twitter this would read:

We went to the beach, took a 6 mile ride and came home for a catfish dinner.