Date:                           December 18, 2006                           

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

1430

            I hope you do not mind, but I am again going to explore the imaginary life of Carrie and Alex.  If you do mind you should find a new blog to waste your time reading.

It was a very biting winter cold that greeted Alex and Carrie as they walked down 77^th Avenue toward church.  The newly fallen snow lent a blanket of beauty to the neighborhood, but the wind combined with the moisture in the air was cutting to the marrow of Carrie’s bones.  Alex did not seem to mind.  He was wrapped tightly in his old winter coat with a new pair of mittens on his small hands.  He did not get his pony, but he still seemed happy and was proudly displaying a big smile as he and his mom headed to church for the Christmas day service.

            Carrie was not sure if it was the wind, or the biting chill of the new winter storm that harshly blew in her face, but she could feel a tear forming in her eye.  As the small droplet of water collected in the corner of her deep brown eyes, she could almost feel it freezing.  Maybe the pain of a frozen tear could take her mind away from the real pain that filled her saddened heart.

            Alex was running ahead scuffing his feet in the new snow making long parallel trails down the walk.  It was a great day for a five year old with new boots.  The snow was very white and yet to be marred with the slush and mud of traffic.  Alex could pretend that he was the very first person to ever be on this wilderness trail.  There were no other marks in sight that would indicate that another human had ever been here.  In Alex’s mind, he was the first person to ever forge through this wilderness.  He was breaking trail for the woman he loved, and she just happened to be his mom.  If the winter wind got too harsh for him, he could turn and run back to his mom and she would hug him and take away the hurt of the winter’s knives of ice.  It was great being a world explorer here on 77^th Avenue, but it was also kind of neat to have a warm hug when the wind got too fierce.

            The lights of the church were just up the street and as Carrie and Alex approached the amount of traffic, both foot and automobile, increased.  It was kind of nice seeing this number of people interested in leaving their warm comfort at home to attend a religious service on Christmas.  Somehow thinking this was an accomplishment was a little paradoxical.  In Carrie’s heart, she knew the real meaning of the day.  She even tried to explain it all to Alex, so that as he grew older he might remember some of the true story of Christmas.  This all sounded great in her mind, but still she could hear her lovely son saying, “I really wanted a pony.”  She could still see the disappointment in his eyes as he opened a brightly wrapped package of under shorts.  She really understood that Alex thought mostly of the packages of toys and trinkets as this day of love and peace was celebrated.  He was really thinking more, “What did I get” than he was thinking about the real meaning of the day.  But, sadly, this little five year old was not so different than most of society.  On this day of peace and love, Carrie was not aware of much peace in the world and the love she knew was causing more of pain than pleasure.

            As Carrie and Alex walked into church they offered some greetings of the season and received the same from the other people that were shaking off the speckles of Christmas snow.  The church was filled with smiling faces and rosy cheeks and a cacophony of greetings.  Some of the words spoken might have even been sincere, but in Carries mind they were all hollow and meaningless.  Still she smiled and returned the greeting with a “Merry Christmas” or at least a smile.  She tried to keep her tears to those caused by Mother Nature’s wind and biting chill and not those flooding her heart from the words on the telegram that she carried in her hand.  Alex and she slid into the third row from the rear on the left of the church.  It was the place where she usually sat on Sunday morning.  She hopped that this spot would offer her a zone of comfort and calming as she prayed to her God in a manner deeper and stronger than she had ever done. She needed to speak to her savior and more importantly she needed him to speak to her.  Her heart was aching and filled with pain.  She had never been as alone as she sat in “her spot” in this half filled church.  The hundred or so souls that had ventured out in the cold this holiday afternoon were not even in Carrie’s realm of reality.  She was setting next to the only person in the world that meant anything to her and it was this special person that she needed to talk to her God about on Christmas afternoon.

            Alex may have forgotten about his pony.  He had not mentioned it in almost 30 minutes.  He seemed to be more interested in the plastic racecar and driver that he was now running up and down the back of the church pew.  He was not making much noise and the people, around where he sat, were used to seeing him play quietly with a toy or book as his mom prayed.  The first hymn was being sung with gusto and Alex could have been screaming and not noticed.  This was a good combination.  Alex could get used to being in church on days when you should be at church and the throng of worshippers could get used to watching a new Christian being educated in the proper exercise of their religion.  As the second verse of the hymn started Alex lost his racecar under the pew in front of him.

            It was soon time for silent reflection and prayer and Alex knew it was time for him to sit quietly next to his mom.  For some reason today it felt like she was hugging him a little bit more securely and a little tighter.  Normally he would have found this uncomfortable and stuffy, but today he seemed to understand that this was a necessary exercise.  He was not sure how he knew it, but he knew that his mom needed the snuggling and warmth that his closeness was offering her.  He may not have understood the full impact of this connection, but somehow he felt a need to return the warmth and love.  Sometimes a 5 year old understands a lot more about needs and emotions than we give them credit.  Maybe they are just good at feeling the instinctive language of love.

            As the minister offered his canned prayer of love and caring.  He may have even meant what he was saying.  Carrie could feel a large stone of pain swell in her throat and a steady trickle of tears trailing down her cheek.  She could pray for the sick couple down the street.  She did care that Mrs. Suffern had fallen and was to be in bed for the rest of the Holiday.  She may have even thought about the other families that were now praying for their sons or daughter in Iraq.  She did know that, in her heart, she hopped that her savior was listening as this congregation prayed for peace and the safety of our soldiers in harms way.

            The pastor was now asking the gathered congregation to pray the prayer that Jesus had taught us.  As rising sounds of “Our Father, Who ..” rose in the church, Carrie again opened the telegram and began to read the contents.  Alex seemed to slide a bit closer and laid his head in her lap.  The small yellow piece of paper in Carrie’s hand slowly gathered each tear as if fell from her damp cheek.  The congregation was now reciting, “Thy Kingdom come…”  Carrie was now looking at her news through eyes filled with tears.  The words on the telegram were barely discernable.  She did not need to read them.  She knew, all too hurtfully, what they said.

            This Christmas when you set in church and pray for peace and the safe deliverance of our soldiers that are serving in harms way, please give a thought to Carrie and Alex.  There are real people that suffer from each of those statistics that appear on your television screen at night.  It may be time for us to do a little more than just pray for peace.  On this celebration of our savior’s birth it may be time to truly dedicate our efforts to his true message.

            Please let that empty spot next to Alex, next Christmas, be filled with the warm comfort of his father.  Please let Carrie’s tears be those of happiness on next Christmas.  Let us all pray that Carrie’s telegram and all others like it are completely forgotten by next year.

            Let there really be Peace on Earth.

Date:                           December 17, 2006                           

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0745

            The climax of my wife’s cleaning frenzy has come and past and the results are evident.  The RV is shinning and looks like new and I am tired just watching all that she did.  After church today we will venture to the Tucson airport and pick up her mother and we all will start working at returning the RV to its normal lived in look.  I have been warned that my little piece of the world must remain civil.  That little piece is the file cabinet / end table that is just beside my chair.  It is where I tend to put the important things in life, like cell phones, glasses, Sackee, our weather radio, and a multitude of other very important electrical gadgets.  Plus I have been know to have a pair or two of glasses, a coffee cup, and last weeks mail piled someplace on this small table.  Why my wife thinks I need to attend to this filing system, I have no idea.

            While Connie was attending to the full cleaning job of our home I had the important job of checking our mail.  I think that was just to get me out of the way.  I also started a new book.  My Barack Obama book is now across the street in the hands of our friends and I needed a new piece of literature to peruse.  I am now reading a book called “When Presidents Lie.”  It could be volumes and volumes of examples of past and, very sadly, present examples of how our leadership fails to think we deserve the truth, but it is only about 4 events in history that exemplify the consistent deviation from honesty that our country feeds to us citizens.  The truly sad part is that I am being taught lessons in history that I previously did not know or understand.  That is a sad commentary on my historical education.

            After a hard day of cleaning, for my wife, and a difficult day of staying out of the way, for me, we decided to get out of the park and share an adventure.  We went in search of Trader Joe’s.  If you have never been to a Trader Joe’s you have a joy in life to still experience.  If you have been to one, you know the fun and temptation we enjoyed.  There is every kind of food that you never knew you wanted and a few you may have not even known existed to tempt you and your wallet.  We were rather well obedient to our common sense and purchased only a couple of munchies.  We did, however, falter at the wine rack.  Trader Joe’s is the only place on the earth that you can buy 2 Buck Chuck.  This is Charles Shaw wine.  It does cost 3 bucks in Arizona, but it still carries the more popular cult nick name of 2 Buck Chuck.  It is also a very good wine, especially if you consider the price.  We now have a case.  It cost less than $36.00.  That is for 12 bottles, not just one.

            After our sojourn to the cheap wine counter we decide that we need some evening food fortification.  My lovely wife had been working all day, actually for a couple of days, so I offered a night out with someone else doing the cooking and cleaning up.  She happily agreed. Just our luck there was a very popular Chinese Buffet just across the street.  There was one slight problem, as there almost always is.  The just across the street was actually a 6 lane highway, with 3 turning lanes in each direction.  That adds us to 10 lanes of rush hour traffic and a slight hurdle to our evening dining adventure.  I told Connie to cover her eyes and I would let her know when we pulled into the parking lot.  There seemed to be a bit of horn blowing and even possibly a little hand waving as I pulled out of the Trader Joe parking lot, straight across 5 lanes of traffic and pulled a U-turn at the light, then pulled across the last 4 or 5 lanes of traffic into the parking lot.  Our car was unscratched, my wife was praying loudly with her eyes closed, and I eventually opened my eyes as I glided into a parking spot at the restaurant.  If other people had a problem, I guess that is something they will have to discuss with their psychologist on their next appointment.  I was hungry and food awaited.

            Our drive home was just at sunset and there were just enough clouds to make that a joy.  Mother Nature saves her reds and oranges for evening desert sunsets.  When she decides to share them with us frail humans it is a moment of beauty.  This evening was one of those moments and Connie and I were lucky enough to enjoy it with full tummies and calmer dispositions.  I had no multiple lanes of traffic to cross and most of the rush hour adventures were now home telling their significant others about the idiot from New York that cut right in front of them just to get across the street to a buffet parking lot.

Date:                           December 15, 2006                           

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

1815

            Some days I have an epiphany while taking the garbage to the dumpster.  That was reflected in my little story about a child’s gift a couple of days ago.  Some days I have exciting tales to expound on about the fun and frustration of being a full time RVer. That was exemplified in my ranting yesterday.  And, some days I have nothing to say, because not a whole lot happened.  That, I am afraid, is my situation today.

            I waited all day for our special Hydro-Hot circuit board to be over night shipped, at my expense, to repair our heating system.  Mid afternoon I received a call letting me know that my over night shipment was in Albuquerque on a truck and would not be here until sometime Monday.  Needless to say, I was not a happy camper, but I was now free to do what ever I wanted.  Of course my wife was off swapping cookies and I had just finished my book, so I did not have a lot of choices.

            The excitement of my day was going for a walk and enjoying the nearly 80 degree sunshine in the middle of December.  I must admit it was a joy to be too warm in my jeans as I strolled around the geriatric confines of Voyager.  It is great to see a bunch of old duffers out playing like kids.  It is a bit sad to see absolutely no kids, but that is another long story about “Kid unfriendly” retirement RV parks.

            My lovely wife, that has had more energy than a battery selling bunny of late, did allow me to come and help her do laundry after she came home from her social cookie swapping.  When you are having a boring do nothing day you will jump at anything to keep your mind working.  We shared stories about cookies and missing circuit boards and folded a few towels together.  It was that kind of day.

            Some days are exciting and some days are very frustrating.  And then some days just are; today was a “just is kind of day.”

Date:                           December 14, 2006                           

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

1320

            “I thought I said I wanted COOKIES not KA-KA”

            Last night we had to turn off our Hydro Hot system so that when, in the morning, the repairman arrived he could easily replace our defective zone pump.  This sounds like quite an easy job. It may be a little costly, but that is what it is like living in one of these things.  It is not always fun and frolic.  Sometimes things happen and you have to get them fixed.  This was our time and it was our heating system that needed attention.

            We were a bit fortunate in this major catastrophe.   The night temperature was forecast to reach only into the upper 30’s and our heat pumps should be able to handle that with no strain.  Connie and I were both relatively clean so if we skipped our morning shower that should be ok.  We could take a cold shower but I have not had to worry about that since I was in the army and that is another story all together.  We had left the frigid freezing nights of TorC for good reason and one more night of coolness should not be a problem.

            As is normal on a day when you are expecting a visitor early, Connie and I were out of bed in plenty of time.  I was playing on the PC.  This is a normal past time for me.  Connie was getting ready to attend an orientation for a volunteer project we have coming up, and I was going to stay and watch Ken quickly replace our pump and get us back to brand new condition.

            Don’t get too far ahead of me.  We all know that things did not go exactly as planned.  Ken was here at his appointed time; we had made it through the night with the heat pumps working just as advertised and it looked like Ken had received, in the mail, all that he needed to fix our system.

             Oops 1.  The new pump was just a bit larger and sealed, as opposed to the open one it was replacing.  It also seemed to be mounted on a bracket that looked just a little different than the one in the compartment.  It seems the original bracket was riveted to the Hydro system box and the new one needed to be screwed in place.  Luck was on our side.  The new pump unbolted from the new bracket and fit exactly on the old one.  This is cool, maybe things are going to go right.

            Oops 2.  The new pump does not run.  It works fine if you supply direct voltage to it, but it won’t respond to the signal from the control board.  Did I mention that the new diesel burner was now not coming on as it should?  Did I mention that it is now that we turned from cookies to ka-ka?  It seems that sometime between, oh great it fits, and why is it not pumping, my control board for the whole system decided to take a _ _ _ _!  We have made one step forward and stepped right in the ka-ka.

            This story is by no means over.  I now have a very expensive piece of plastic covered in diodes and resistors and other little gems on the way to me.  It is being overnight air mailed to me at a very healthy extra fee I am sure.  I still do not have a fully functioning Hydro Hot system in my rig.  I still do not have a bill for all of the work and parts that have already been placed in our unit.  I am not having a good day, maybe a quickly emptying pocket, but definitely not a good day. 

            I did, after a few hours of crying, venture up to our NOMADS shed project and look at why the lights had decided to quit.  They worked just fine and then they did not.  After we had covered up all of the wiring, so I knew any major repair was going to be a big bummer.  I am having a miserable day, so why not keep it going?

            I noticed that the shed was getting power from outside.  Good, I hope.  The light switch did nothing for me.  Maybe not so good, maybe it is good.  I took the switch apart and measured electricity coming into the switch and leaving.  This could be a very not so good thing.”  Now I will have to tear apart the light fixture and see if I am getting power to the ballast.  I really did not want to do that, but I had promised to look at the problem and I was here.  I turned to swear at the light and the fun of tearing it apart when I noticed that the lights were on.  I flipped the switch a couple of times and they came on and off just like they are supposed to do.  I had not done anything to fix them and yet there they were, fixed.

            Being from the old school of repairman-ship, I know that a trouble that disappears is only hiding and will again show its ugly face.  It is not gone.  It is just not present at the moment.  I decided to take the switch apart and do some in depth trouble shooting.  First because it was the only ting I had touched and second it was the easiest part the circuit to test.  When in doubt start with the easy things and work toward the hard stuff.

            The ka-ka slowly went away and allowed my day to start rebuilding its reputation.  As I tested all of the connections on the switch I found one that had never been tightened.  Two turns of the screwdriver and the problem is gone.  Gone for real this time, I hope.  When in doubt, check the obvious, and obviously someone had forgotten to tighten all of his screws.

            To summarize my morning and afternoon, I would guess I would have to say I have had a screw loose most of the day. One I could easily tighten and the trouble went away.  The second is still wiggling its way into my wallet.  I hope that that situation tightens up real soon also.

Miles Traveled

Date:                           December 12, 2006                           

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0855

            The month of December is quickly passing into the history books and leaving behind in its wake some interesting news.  Most of the news I read and try to digest, but I am also trying to not make it an integral part of my daily life.  That is not because I think it is not worthy of my opinion or thought.  It is rather because I do have an opinion and many thoughts that seem to cause me more angst and frustration and few solutions.  I do realize that the news that I hear and read is just the news that a few big media conglomerates want me to hear and read and not necessarily any where near the true facts. I also realize that my fist pounding, red faced belly aching, diatribe will fix absolutely nothing.  That does, however, not stop me from suffering the pangs of frustration and anger as I search many different sources of what loosely pass as news.  If only I was the benevolent dictator of the world and I could make everyone do things my way, everything would be just fine.

            A couple of stories that intrigue me are about two very different topics.  I won’t bore you with a page after page dissertation on the current administration and my perspective on their leadership value, nor will I expound on my desire for direction in our foreign policy.  I will let you choose which side of the political fence to stand and allow you the effort to explain your position.  I strongly have my opinion and, I am sure, yuo may have yours.  The problem is that I sadly fear that there is no one listening to either of us.

            One of the stories that has caught my attention is; Who is Barack Obama?  He has exploded onto the political screen with the excitement of a rock star.  I know that he was the key note speaker at the convention in Boston.  I know that he lives in Chicago and has two very pretty small girls.  I know that he is a Senator from the state of Illinois and has yet to serve half of one term in that position.  I know all of this and yet I wonder why I have his latest book setting on my stand and I am fully enjoying reading it.  It is partially because he is saying a lot of things that my wife and I have been saying for a long time.  The book is also a very good read and an enjoyable personal reflection of a man that has had a very eclectic background and sojourn through life up to this point.  I know all of this and yet I can’t help but think, who is Barack Obama.

            I wonder if this country is big enough and strong enough to have a black man be a potential president.  Is his intelligence, and personal charisma enough to get him past the doors of prejudice and bigotry?  I pray that this question never has to be answered.  I can understand if you disagree with him on principle, but I will never understand you not listening because of his ethnic or racial heritage.  Is Barack our next national leader?  Or is he just our current fashionable celebrity? 

            The other story that peeked my interest this morning is about a Christmas tree in   the air port in Seattle, Washington.  It seems that some rabbi felt offended by the decorations and, through some publicity, managed to get them taken down.  He later recanted his law suit threat and the workers replaced the Christmas trees.  This whole situation confuses my little brain.  First of all the tree is not a Christian symbol.  It is a pagan symbol of rebirth and the celebration of the return of light.  Remember that it is at or near Christmas that the days do start to get longer.  It was this celestial phenomenon that the original Druids were celebrating.   We Christians co-opted this time to celebrate our most holy day as the celebration of the birth of our savior;  The return of our light of salvation and peace.

            It is at this point that the story gets confusing in my head.  The celebration of Honokaa is also at this time of year and is the celebration of light.  Are we sensing a theme here?  Jesus was a Jew, at least at his birth, and maybe we should honor his religious celebration by installing a menorah along side the pagan symbol of celebration.  The most confusing point is that if we believe in the message of the baby whose birth we celebrate in December maybe we are making a major mistake in all of this discussion.  I think that the massage of that baby in the manger was one of peace.  Did I say “peace”?  Maybe if a symbol made of plastic and glass and manufactured in a sweat shop in Taiwan is offensive to some one of another religion, maybe we should respect their feelings and try to appease them.  Maybe we should look for the peace in the situation and not he confrontation.  Maybe the true symbol of the season should be removing the symbol that seems to offend and replacing it with an attempt to understand and love our fellow man.  Maybe we should practice what that symbolic collection of light is really supposed to mean and not just look for the nearest TV camera in which to place our face and pontificate.  I am not sure but I really wonder What Would Jesus Do?

Date:                           December 11, 2006

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

1615

            On Sunday we usually start our day at one church or another, and while we are here at Voyager we usually start at the nondenominational gathering called the Voyager Chapel.  The fact that the pastor is a friend and we are here partially because he is here may be part of the reason we attend this church gathering.  I am not sure what “nondenominational” means or why that has to be mentioned in the service bulletin, but I guess that may make some people feel more comfortable.  The pastor is a Methodist, the God is pretty much the same one I pray to and the people seem to be quite normal, so I guess all is ok.  I do know that my wife sings in the choir and that is another reason that we like spending this time of year here at Voyager.

            After church the Burgesses, Jenkins and we Shelanskeys had made reservations to attend the Tucson Symphony, so our Sunday was pretty well planned and quite full.  Prior to our excursion into some semblance of class we stopped at the local Sweet Tomatoes and had lunch. I was pretty good at  self control at the self serve buffet.  My wife is always good.  I had a nice, large salad, Sweet Tomatoes signature offering, and a good bowl of soup.  That is not bad for me at an all you can eat buffet.  I did slip a bit at the dessert counter.  They had soft ice cream and collection of delicious sundae syrups to place on top.  Oh well, I had been good at the other serving lines.  I did feel a little social pressure.  As I finished my lunch a bit early, due to the self constraint at the food counter, I felt obligated to return to the ice cream machine and refill my sundae dish so that Dave would not be the only one eating.  I just got a small bowl of fruit, actually strawberries in a delicious sauce.  In order that I might make it back to the table with out the strawberries sloshing in my bowl I placed just the slightest bit of ice cream on the bottom of the dish to cushion the ride.  Connie thought I was over indulging at the dessert counter.  It was, after all, just fruit and dairy.

            With a full tummy and a discouraged wife we headed to the symphony and an experience of beauty that I had not expected.  The first selection played by the Tucson Symphony was written by a professor at the University of Arizona, and it was the world premier of this piece.  Personally I think he might want to rethink his choice of hobbies and stick to fly fishing or something.  The music may have been, artistically, wonderful.  It was not my personal favorite moment in the day.  Luckily it lasted only 10 minutes or so, and I think it gave the orchestra a chance to warm their seats and tune their instruments.  It did not give me a warm satisfied feeling, but then that is what art is about.  Some of us like some things and some of us wish that we had a dial to change the channel when the noise playing is excused as a modern composition.   Good music is music that is perceived by the listening ear as pleasant.  This composition was 10 minutes too long for my taste.

            The next piece was a violin solo performed by a 17 year old protégé of Itzhak Perlman, named Catlin Tully.  Remember that name and pray that you will be fortunate enough to be able to attend a performance by her.  She is an angle in a young girls form that has a maturity in musical talent that in beyond description.  She doe not just bring forth music from a funny shaped box with strings in it by scraping a bow across it.  She beckons forth the sighs of angels love.  She brings forth the original beauty of the composer in a manner that I feel even he may not have thought possible.  The piece she played was Mendelssohn’s violin concerto, and I won’t even pretend that I knew what that was before we walked into symphony hall.  I do know that for nearly half an hour this young child of a woman presented us with a beauty that was magical.  She brought forth the singing of angels from that funny shaped wooden box and captivated a house full of educated classical music lovers.  There was no question that she controlled the moment and we, as the attending audience, were fortunate to be allowed the experience of her art.

            The rest of the symphonic performance was also quite wonderful.  The afternoon certainly made a turn for the better after Mr. Rogers opening offering was dismissed.  Tucson has a very well respected school of music and as such offers a talented base from which to draw for the symphony.  We travelers are just lucky to be present when they decide to share some of the talent hidden away here in the desert.  The crescendo of a symphony orchestra will touch your soul and on this Sunday in December in Tucson we had our souls soothed, entertained and deeply touched.

Date:                           December 10, 2006                           

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0830

            Lazy is as lazy does and I was in a very lazy mood yesterday.  The biggest chore I had to accomplish was to find a bank and get some money.  You have got to love the modern convenience of ATMs.  This back breaking chore took all of half an hour at the most and consisted of driving down the road a mile or two and pulling into the local Wells Fargo.  How appropriate, I am in the southwest and the bank is a Wells Fargo.  I expected to see Wyatt Earp standing outside the door with his Buntline special.  Instead I saw a lot of people that looked a lot like me, all driving up to dip into their bank accounts. There wasn’t a horse in sight.

            When I returned home I had a full day of absolutely nothing to do.  I did have to go and help place some table in the Catalina Room here at Voyager.  We have been invited to the choir dinner and I volunteered to help set up the tables.  That strenuous job took all of 15 minutes.  It was a case of many volunteers and very little work.  It did allow me to meet some of the choir members with whom my wife is enjoying singing.  It seem that they have some talent and taste and, I am sure, would ban me from even coming to the performances if they ever heard me sing.  I was allowed, however, to roll the tables out and place them on the floor with chairs around them.

            Between my harrowing chores of driving to get some spending cash and setting up a few tables I spent the rest of the day reading my newest favorite book.  It is Barack Obama’s newest offering.  I will not bore you with my opinions or my desires in relations to his political future. I will tell you that his book is very interesting and a worth while read.  It is the typical tomb offered by every politician that has the glint of desire to progress up the ladder of success.  It is also, I am sure, his next volley of ambition to toss his proverbial hat in the ring of presidential politics.  Putting that all aside it is still a good read and quite entertaining at times.  There is a good chance that his efforts have lined up, at least, one vote maybe two.  It is kind of neat to read a book that says some of the things that you’ve been saying and that agrees with some of the opinions that you have.  It is not only good and easy reading but it makes you feel a little more relevant and maybe even a little more intelligent.  As far as the election goes, it is a long time until November 2008 and for him to be a viable candidate he has a lot of bridges to cross before he gets there.  I fear that we as country may have a little growing up to do also.

            After a full day of patting myself on the back because a nationally prominent political leader is espousing some of the same ideals that I pontificate Connie and I ventured to the Catalina Room so we could enjoy my afternoon of table arranging.  Actually we attended the choir Christmas dinner.  It was a pot-luck affair with a lot of choices and far too much food.  I tried to sample as much as I could, but then that has always been one of my major faults.  I did manage to enjoy some of my wife’s new concoction, a tamale pie.  By the time I got to the table with her offering on it, the pie was almost gone and the dish was nearly clean enough to put back in the cupboard.  I guess it was a success.

            After dinner we, as the attendees, were the entertainment.  There was a duet that sang a Christmas song, and a piano offering of a medley of Christmas music, but the real entertainment was the full groups singing of Christmas carols.  Attending a choir dinner of some 80 to 100 people that can actually carry a tune and having them serenade you with melodic treasures is certainly a pleasure.  The room literally filled with the beauty of the season as these collected voices rose in the spirit of Christmas.  It was the kind of evening that we tonal challenged participants could really enjoy.  If you want to attend a holiday dinner where the collected throng might break into song may I suggest that you find a choir dinner and position yourself somewhere in the room just to enjoy the music.  It will, I promise, send a chill up your spine and etch a memory in your heart.  By the way, the food was good too.

Date:                           December 9, 2006                             

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0930

            We actually had a day off. There was no NOMADS project on which we were to report for duty; there was no event or social demand that had our name on the “RSVP” list; and we did not have any demanding duties to accomplish around the RV. What were we to do?  We had finally found a day in which we could venture forth and do a little or a lot of nothing.  In our retired life of relaxation and boredom this seldom happens.

            We did have a very empty larder and Connie thought it wise that we find a place to re-supply the necessary things of life.  We needed crackers, bread and cookies.  There are just some things that a person can not do without.  Connie thought we should head to one of the local Wal-Marts and attempt to fill our cupboards so that we could fill or tummies later.  I took Sacke, but I know my way around Tucson, so I did not bother to request her help in finding our Super Wal-Mart.  This is not a bad thing, only I decided to head to a Wal-Mart that was north of where we are staying and the one I really wanted to be at was south and west of us.  Does this surprise anyone?  As we entered the steady stream of millions of people late for their appointments Connie mentioned that we might be going in the wrong direction. How could that be?  I know where I am going.  She pretended to allow me that moment of indiscretion and we “proceeded on.”

            To shorten an embarrassing hurtful story, we arrived at the northern Wal-Mart, turned around in the parking lot, went up the wrong street to redirect ourselves and finally placed our destination in Sacke so we could find the right Wal-Mart. It was, of course, on the other side of Tucson and nearly in Mexico.  Maybe I can look for my Ford chair covers.  By the way, I found them. They came home all on their own with a very big smile.  I wonder where they had been.

            We did finally make it to the right store.  We drove in a mishmash of traffic that seemed to be made up of people that were 20 minutes late to where ever it was they were going.  And we did it all without my lovely wife even once saying, “I told you so.”  I did, however, manage to use almost every blue expletive deleted word that I know.  It seems that every Tucson driver wanted to be in the same lane I was in, using the same spot I was using, and they wanted it even more than I did.  How can a million cars all want to cut me off every time we come close to a traffic signal light?  Why is every driver in Arizona willing to speed pass me on the left, cut in front of me just as we approach a red light and then turn right as I am standing on my brake pedal, swearing up a blue streak, questioning his heritage and praying that I don’t end up in his back seat.  Driving in Tucson can be a challenge both to your driving skills and reaction time and to the questionable control of your temper.

            As we were turning off the bumper car road way and headed into the Wal-Mart parking lot on the left, I noticed a Golden Choral Restaurant on my right.  Oh well, what is good for the blankity blank Tucsonian is good for the geriatric New Yorker.  I made a sharp right hand turn from the left hand lane and went in for lunch.  I guess not all idiot drivers have an Arizona plate on their car; some have a New York license tag.  I wonder if they were filling the air in their car with as much blue air as escaped from ours as we opened our doors and headed in for lunch?

            We spent most of the rest of the day trying to find my wife a red Christmas sweater for our dinner with the Voyager Choir.  We were not even a little bit successful.  We did manage to walk about three hundred miles in an assortment of strip malls and regular full sized malls.  We also managed to crisscross Tucson a couple of times and I got to practice my blue language driving skills.  Sadly we were not able to accomplish the main goal of our sojourn.  I do not know if the southwest does not wear red Christmas sweaters, or if we just looked in all of the wrong stores.  I do know that shopping with a determined woman that has a very good idea of what she wants can be a formula for failure.  Connie took our days failing accomplishment well and will, I am sure, be adequately attired for our social evening.

            We returned back to our site, violating one of our cardinal rules, it was after dark.  We are not supposed to be driving after dark, and we obey that rule most of the time.   I did notice that at night it is much more difficult to see the other drivers waving at me with that partial hand, single fingerer salute that seems to be so very popular in the southwest.  Come to think of it, it is quite popular in most places that I drive.

Date:                           December 8, 2006                             

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0945

            If we were at sea, a reference to by blog of the other day, we should be on a large sail boat.  First because that would make my wife very happy and second, because the strength of the wind here the last couple of days would really make it a fun sail.  The wind has been blowing at a constant 15 to 20 miles an hour for over 3 days.  When we think that we are getting used to the constant turbulence Mother Nature will throw in a little gust of 25 or 30 mile an hour wind.  Needless to say, we are having a windy time in the desert.  The constant flow of Mother Natures windy personality has provided us with a new rug, that came from somewhere down wind, and she has deprived us a our Ford Chair covers.  Which are now stopped at the boarder crossing into Mexico being stripped searched, I am sure.

            One benefit of the constant huffing and puffing is that when we go to bed we are rocked to sleep.  The wind is blowing hard enough to rock our whole house.  I am not sure that this is as much fun for Connie and it could be.  Last night before we turned in for the evening, she pulled in our front slide.  I think she was afraid that it might leave the park in search of our chair covers.  When we awoke this morning, the slide was still here, including our bedroom slide with stood the wind frenzy.  Our chair covers are still in flight to some place south.  They may be on there way to Bolivia by now.

            During the wind and furry of a normal day in the desert, we ventured down the street to continue work on our “NOMADS” project at Ray and Martha’s.  Most of the work is inside of a small shed, so we are quite protected from the blowing temperament of desert wind.  It is, however, interesting to watch someone try to pick up a sheet of paneling and maneuver it from the storage pile to the table for trimming.  If the wind is blowing in the direction that you wish to go, you just hang on and hope that you can stop when you reach your destination.  If the wind changes her mind it can be a whole new experience.  Poor Dave was in charge of preparing the paneling for installation.  I was in charge of laughing as he became a low flying plane, trying to direct his feet, the paneling and his body in the general direction of the trimming table.  There were times that I thought I was going to have to call the Air Force and request that they not shoot down any unidentified flying panel holding NOMADS.  The skies over Tucson can be crowded with fighter jets, commercial jets, and, today, flying pieces of almost anything.

            Our remodeling project is progressing about as well as one could expect of a group of geriatric hammer wielding volunteers.  Some of the paneling is actually staying up on the ceiling where we placed it.  Some of it had to be encouraged with bigger screws to remain positioned.  Some of the holes we cut in the paneling were actually where the holes need to be.  This was as much a shock to us as anyone else.  You have an 8 by 4 foot piece of paneling that is going up on the ceiling where there is a small piece of wire hanging.  Some how we managed to measure where that wire should hang down through the ceiling, cut a small hole right in the middle of this piece of panel, and when we put it up the wire and the hole lined up.  Is that cool or what?

            While we men were standing around marveling at our expertise and luck our wives were busily insulating the whole room.  How they managed to accomplish that task and not get constant leadership from we men of construction I do not know.  But, by the end of the day they had finished there chore and we are still trying to fit the last piece of ceiling panel into place.  We did have 3 whole pieces of paneling to put up, and they just had 4 walls to insulate, and, oh yes, the ceiling also, and they also clean up at the end of the day, and somehow in the middle of that they managed to fix us lunch.

            People are always asking me what the “women”  do on a NOMADS project.  The men do all of the men stuff, but what do the frail little women do?  Well in my experience, the women do everything that the men do and usually in a more efficient manner.  For those of you that remember Connie as the professional teacher, which she was, you really need to meet the lady to whom I am married.  Tool belt wearing, hammer wielding, tape measure carrying, construction worker that is still the professional teacher that she always was.

            It is time to set our sails and venture out to see if we can reclaim a bag for our deck chairs.  I am going to take my passport just incase I have to leave the country to search for it.  Maybe I could send an e-mail to the shuttle crew to have them keep an eye out for a green bag with a black strap that might be in a low orbit someplace over Tucson.

Date:                           December 6, 2006                             

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0900

            Connie and I are still at sea in the middle of the desert.  As crazy as that may sound, it comes very close to describing our present location and situation.  We are at the Voyager RV Park, note the sea connection, and we are socially active as if we were on a cruse through the seas of any ocean.  If you have ever been on a cruise you are very aware that you can be as restful and boring as you like, but there is also a myriad of activities offered to fill your days and evenings.  Since all of this is taking  place just outside of Tucson and is located right in the middle of the desert, I stick to my opening statement that; “Connie and I are still at sea in the middle of the desert.”

            The fact that we are parked just across the street from one set of dear friends and just down the street form other dear friends does add to the socialization of our present experience.   Connie is in the choir and we have been invited to attend the choir Christmas dinner:  We have tickets to attend the Tucson Symphony this week;  Tonight we are to attend the Gaslight Theater with three other couples; I am going to be working on a “NOMADS” project for the RV park pastor this morning and afternoon; We have attended two nights of game playing and one night of “Connie and Rob get it off your shoulders”; We have washed our rig and polished it; We have purchased our grandkids Christmas Ornaments and toured Tucson’s shopping areas; Connie has gotten her hair cut; We have progressed in getting our rig’s Hydro-hot system repaired; and we have not been here a week yet.  By the way I have also found time to buy a new book and I am well into enjoying Barack Obama’s new novel.  We still have not been here a week yet.  This is just a glimpse of what life is like at Voyager.

            Our first day here was Sunday, and since one of the friends that I mentioned before is the pastor at the park, Connie and I ventured to church.  Of course since Connie was already enrolled to sing on the choir and they were expecting her beautiful sopranic voice and this  helped us firm up our decision to go to church.  When I got to church, a little later then my wife, the ballroom was nearly full.  At Voyager, basically and RV park, it is usual to have nearly 400 people at service on Sunday.  The choir, of which Connie is now a member, has over 45 people singing in it. That is wonderful enough, but the real joy of seeing that many people willing to give up a few moments of their time to share their voices is that the director expects them to do a good job.  He is a “task master” and while we melodically challenged seat warmers are willing to listen to any thing that resemble music, he demands that the collection of tune carrying volunteers actually perform up to his standard.  It is an effort and dedication that is, I hope, fully appreciated by the other 350 attendees at church.

            Our life at Voyager is not exciting and the fodder of which great prose can be nurtured.  It is not boring or complacent.  Having friends here makes it very easy for us to join in and be aware of the many events that are available to everyone.  It is like a cruise, as I first mentioned.  There is a long list of activities offered and it is available to everyone at their own comfort level.  The long list of things that we have already done does not even scratch the surface of what is a available and offered to the voyagers.  Our five weeks will, I am sure, pass all too quickly and then we will be on to new adventures.  We may need to go to work so that we can rest. 

            Life is a lemon orchard, and when the lemons begin to fall on your head you can make that proverbial lemonade or just sit down and suck one of the lemons.  Connie and I are now in the middle of a lot of lemonade stands and we are quickly learning the benefit of making lemonade.  What ever the reasons for our discomfort and equipment failures in TorC we have a chance to recollect our thoughts and energies and produce that lemonade.  That is if we can find enough time in our social calendar to stir the mixture.  It may be the lack of time and constant social interaction that is providing the sugar for the new drink concoction.

Date:                           December 3, 2006                             

Location:                    Tucson, AZ

0730

            It has been a while since I have sat down and tried to update our adventures.  Some of it was because there was not a lot of adventure to update and then, as is so often the case, the adventure increased and did not allow me the time to expound on it.  It is a paradox of living this thing we call life that provides, at times, too little to write about and then too much to allow anyone to write anything.  There have not been any life threatening traumas that have inflicted us, nor have there been any overly stressful accidents that I must report.  We have, as you may have noticed by the location heading, changed our position on this earth.  We are no longer in TorC or New Mexico and are now setting in the Voyager RV Resort across the street form our dear friends and planning on spending the holidays in Arizona.  Connie’s mom has changed her flight plans and will join us here in a couple of weeks.

            We are also awaiting a call from a Hydro-hot service man to come and visit our wallet.  It is from this portending experience that we draw our major reason for the location alteration.  The temperature in TorC dropped to 18 degrees a coupe of nights ago and it was on that cold night in the desert that our wonderful and expensive heating system decided to take a dump.  It is fired by a diesel burner and an electric heating element and with that supply of heat provides a great hot water baseboard heating system for our home. On a normal cool night the electric element is plenty of heat source and Connie and I live in great comfort.  On colder nights the diesel burner is called for and we remain in calm and warm surroundings. On nights when the temperature drops into the teens and the diesel burner decides to take a holiday we are not nearly as comfortable. You might even say it gets damn cold in here.

            After a lot of calls to the local RV repair shop, a man that had never heard of a Hyrdo-hot system, the local Newmar dealer in El Paso, that was not recommended by Hydro-hot, and a final call to a repairman in Tucson, that was highly recommended by Hydro-hot, Connie and I broke down our home and made it a bus and headed west and south.   I think it is the south part that is the best direction.  We hope that by tomorrow we will be actually be seeing the repairman and not just talking to him on the phone.  We, also, hope that we will not have to be contemplating a new mortgage on our lives to pay for his assistance.  Just for your edification, our diesel burner is now working, our Hydro-hot system is working like a champ in 2 of our three zones and we are still in Tucson and not TorC.

            It is with a mixed bag of feelings that we started our bus and headed south and west.  If I totally understood all of the feelings that I felt as we turned south on I-25 I would gladly try to explain them.  There was a feeling of some sorrow at leaving a very accommodating family at the RBHS, and yet I must be honest and admit that I never felt like I belonged.  I am not sure that is a negative statement it is just an honest statement.  I have been given a couple of pat psycho babble answers to explain these feelings one from me, one from my wife and one from friends.  I will just state the hypothesizes, in no particular order, and let you decide; 1- We were out of our comfort zone; 2-We were experiencing cognitive dissonance; or 3- We were never able to find the concordance of harmonic resonance between our souls’ energy and the energy of TorC.  You pick the right description that explains it to your best understanding.  I personally think that they all say the same thing.

            When I fully understand how each of the afore mentioned diagnoses truly do coincide and state the situation’s effect on our ids I will write a long diatribe trying to explain it.  It may be the basis for that great American novel I keep hoping is inside my little cranium.  I may never fully understand how any of the events over the last few months have changed my being and spirit, but I am sure that I am a transformed person for having lived them.

            Just because I am approaching 60 does not mean that I am not still able to learn a few things.  At this age some of the things that I learn do take a little longer to digest and find a proper sport in my perspective library of life, but they do help design my understanding of what life is.  I have learned that no matter how different things are they are all pretty much the same.  I have also learned that no mater how harsh the lessons of life are most people learn almost nothing from them.  It is also quite apparent that experience is a strong and forceful teacher, but the lessons learned seldom are beneficial to the growth and health of your soul.  When any of this becomes understandable to me I will gladly explain them to anyone that wants to listen.

            To summarize all events over the last few days:  Connie and I are in Tucson with very wonderful friends and we do feel like we belong; We are warm in our home and preparing to have some preventive routines and maintenance done on our heating system; We are both struggling with the lessons learned and the proper perspective to place on our time in TorC; and quite possibly the diesel burner failure was just a God moment and we are now just exactly where we belong and doing just exactly what we should be doing.  I need to go and watch the sun climb over the rugged peaks of the Desert Mountains and get ready to go to church.   I am sure there will be lots more to this adventure, and I might even find a way to explain it all to you.

Miles Traveled           292      TorC to Tucson