Happy Birthday to Patty

Happy Birthday to Patty

Little Patty Sourwine was born July 30, 1949. This month that lovable little girl will celebrate her 60th birthday. I am pleased to have shared over two-thirds of them with her.

The first time we celebrated one of her birthdays was in the late 60’s. We were boyfriend/girlfriend at the time and about to get married. We completed the simple ceremony in the winter of 1970, just two days before Christmas. When we took our vows we said things like, “til death do us part.” Now it looks like that is how it is going to be. Don’t read into that comment, neither of us has a fatal illness or anything like that. It is just that we have gotten so accustomed to each other that I just don’t see either one of us seeking greener pastures. Besides, I still love her and she tells me and demonstrates that the feeling is mutual so that is that. The truth is, the longer I know her and the more I learn about her the more I love her.

Now that I have spent nearly a lifetime with her, I can say that Patty has grown in ways I could never have imagined. Here are a few of the ways she has impressed me:

Compassion: Anybody who has known Patty is aware of her kindness. You can see it in the way she deals with pets, the elderly, strangers, friends, family and children. She even feels sorry for mice in traps and droopy flowers.

Lover: I guess if you haven’t gotten better in this regard after 40 years of marriage, you ought to call for a “do over”.

Beauty: Patty is not an especially vain woman, but she has always made an effort to look nice. She does not overdo jewelry or makeup. She just lets her natural beauty speak for itself. She is still eye candy to me.

Matured gracefully: Gravity, father-time and chocolate have played a few tricks on Patty, but she just doesn’t dwell on those things. She likes who she is and I do too.

Mommy: Wow, what a mom. I always knew Patty would shine in this category, but she has exceeded any expectations I may have had.

Dogs: If you like to have your tummy scratched you will find Patty to be among your very best friends.

Patience: This is an example of a quality that reveals itself over time. There is no way I could have ever known how strong Patty would be in this department, especially in dealing with an aging parent.

House keeper: As hard as it is to believe, Patty actually derives some pleasure from making the family home a comfortable place to be. I don’t help her enough but she seems to want to do it her way so I don’t see any reason to fight with her over it.

Driver: Over the years, my vision has deteriorated and Patty has become our chauffer. She never complains and she is a very safe driver.

Fun: There is a difference between loving someone and liking them. Patty has earned both. We have done so many things together it is almost a sin of gluttony. We have climbed peaks, walked in beach sand, sat in the front row of concerts, rented an entire luxury box at sporting events, visited faraway lands and laughed together until our stomachs hurt. She is a wonderful best friend.

Church/faith: When we first got married this was not a big part of our lives, but over time, she has found her place and she remains very steady and at peace with her beliefs.

Employee: Patty spent 25 years trying to make cancer patients more comfortable. She showed great promise right away and spent the majority of her career as a coordinator of her department; often giving treatments to dozens of patients each day. Many of the family members sent thank you notes to her for the way she handled their loved ones. Imagine how proud I am of her for that.

Naturally, I always knew Patty was special, but these are a few of the ways that she has surprised and amazed me.

As our time together begins to wind down, we can count over 200 birthdays that we have shared: 40 of hers, 40 of mine, 30 each for our two sons, and probably another one or two each year of somebody else.

I don’t know of any way to make this birthday of hers as special as she deserves it to be. We will probably play the Beatles Birthday song because that has become a ritual for us. We might go out and eat or have the boys over because these too have become common but cherished activities.

Her milestone will not be celebrated by the masses, but I can tell you I am very grateful to have spent over 15,000 days with her.

I guess all that is left to say is Happy birthday, Darlin’. Thanks for sharing your wonderful self with me all of this time.

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Medical Marijuana

Medical Marijuana

Medical marijuana seems to have become a sanctuary for youngsters who want to get high. Prior to this year, the average age of medical marijuana users in Colorado was in the 40’s but nearly over-night the average age has dropped into the 20’s mostly as a result of an enormous number of new users er… patients. According to the following article 2,000 new registered users have been approved by doctors in the last month - just in Boulder Colorado. Another 6,000 or so are expected to be added to the roles by year end.

http://www.marijuana.com/drug-war-headline-news/126942-co-medical-marijuana-dispensaries-thrive-colo.html

While doctors are busy approving thousands of young, new patients, the Federal Government retains authority to raid the care-givers whenever the mood strikes them.

While these conflicting forces are at odds, the current Obama Administration seems dubious about the matter. In 2007 Senator Obama seemed sympathetic to legalizing the use of the drug when used as a pain killer and prescribed by a doctor

http://firstread.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2007/11/25/479649.aspx

but, this year at a town hall meeting, he pulled a political stunt and avoided answering the question as the end of this video reveals.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etYrAZxCAKU&NR=1&feature=fvwp

Meanwhile the feds hover.

Regardless of where any particular individual stands on the topic, we cannot deny that the society is paying more attention to all aspects of legalizing the plant in one form or another: as a medicine, as an intoxicant and in hemp form for various products. This Google search of related blogs

http://blogsearch.google.com/blogsearch?client=news&um=1&hl=en&q=medical+marijuana

revealed so many interesting articles I ran out of time to read them.

All of this leads me to two questions for my readers:

1) In this time of high medical insurance, would you want your Health Insurance Company to pay for Medical Marijuana treatments of all these “registered” and approved users, and then pass the costs along to you, just as they do for treatments of alcoholics or cancer patients?

2) Would you support legalizing the drug if it was taxed heavily?

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Legalizing Marijuana

It may be time to legalize marijuana,

and California may lead the way.

The humble weed was legal in this country until the late 1930’s. It was at about that time that the hemp fibers from the weed were growing in popularity for commercial purposes including the manufacture of paper, petroleum and pharmaceuticals, among others.

At that time there were other powerful business men like William Hearst and the DuPont Brothers who had a vested interest in squelching any interest in developing hemp products. Hearst was a powerful newspaper tycoon and the DuPonts just got a patent for making paper out of wood pulp. Those fellow aligned with Mellon of Banking fame and together they persuaded the director of the Bureau of Narcotics, Harry Anslinger, that something needed to be done. Anslinger had a special hatred for jazz musicians and he later testified that use of marijuana caused people to go crazy and get violent.

Interestingly, as time passed and more qualified experts rebuked Anslinger’s position, he admitted that the drug probably did not lead to insanity or violent crimes after all. Then he made another irresponsible statement suggesting that smoking pot leads to the use of opium.
Around that time, the classic movie Refer Madness was produced and concepts like “gateway drug” were popularized. If you would like more background information, you might find the following article to be very compelling. http://www.iahushua.com/Hemp.html

Another interesting dynamic was taking hold in our society in those same years: namely Mexicans and other minorities used marijuana as an intoxicant, just as alcohol was used by many Americans. But some government officials saw the drug as a means to suppress and control these people. This article will fill you in on some of the details.

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/dope/interviews/schlosser.html
(In that article, you’ll also read about some of the ridiculous penalties that have been imposed on “drug criminals” For instance, “In the state of California, the average prison sentence for a convicted killer is about 3.3 years…. But under federal law, you can get the death sentence for a first-time marijuana offense even if there's no violence involved.”)

As all of these false reports were swirling around, Marijuana was declared illegal in 1937 and those laws are still draining our society of opportunities. At this time, the drug runners aren’t the only ones who gain by keeping the drug illegal. So does our criminal justice system, and companies that produce products that are threatened by competition from hemp products, such as the manufacture of paper.

But given the current economic conditions people are beginning to rethink the powerful opportunities that might be unleashed by reversing some old biases. These ideas are not new but they seem to be gaining in popularity right now. However, whenever such ideas start to gain legs, the same old tired opposition resurfaces. One such recent article is making its rounds.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/19/fashion/19pot.html?_r=1&ref=fashion&pagewanted=all
I don’t know if anything new will come from current discussions but it will be interesting. Those who have a vested interest in keeping drugs illegal (law enforcement, counselors, rehab centers, organized crime, lumber companies, oil companies, and drug companies who profit from other, more expensive drugs) have always told stories like this.

Meanwhile millions of consumers and other people would rather live with the problems of legalizing it than the problems we have by keeping it illegal. Speaking for myself, I am tired of gangs and border thugs exploiting the drug and its consumers as a means to fund all of their criminal activities. Legalizing it would cut back or eliminate drug running, violence, and illnesses from tainted products plus crowed courts and jails. In the mean time criminals get rich and we turn otherwise good citizens into criminals.

Since marijuana is essentially a weed, it could be grown much cheaper than tobacco as an example, and by making it more affordable there would be fewer people turning to burglaries and other crimes to get some of it.

Many Greenies love Maryjane as a bio-fuel.

I will freely admit that legalizing it would lead a few people to try it who would not if it was kept illegal and that some of them will have problems such as the lady cited in the last article, but those people already exist and we have treatments for them. Their lives certainly matter but so do the lives of the people who would benefit by reversing past foolishness; and that means everybody else. This is clearly a “greater good” issue.

As far as California is concerned, I have heard it said that legalizing marijuana and taxing it as we do cigarettes, alcohol and gasoline could single-handedly solve all of their financial woes. I suspect the same is true of our national economy.

But somebody (the President, the media, the Secretary of Agriculture, etc) needs to have the back bone to seriously talk about it.

What about you? Would you like to see stricter laws and more enforcement or leave things about the way they are or more freedoms even if that means a new set of problems?

Why?

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Terminating Relationships

Terminating Relationships

In the course of a life-time we all have many relationships, some of them with people and some of them in other forms. Perhaps you went to the same school for a long time, or you have held the same job, or your family owned an old pick-up truck, or you had a favorite dog or something like that.

Nearly all of these relationships come to an end in one way or the other. Perhaps your parents divorced, or a best friend got married and that changed everything for you, or your mother passed away, or you grew tired of a bowling league, or a boyfriend dumped you, or somebody stole your bicycle or your children left for college, or you were discharged from the military.

When relationships are terminated we are left with memories and perhaps a few scars.

In my recent posts I have identified several memorable experiences that we had as a result of owning a second home in the San Diego area for twelve years. Such a relationship brings us both joy and tears. If you would like to review our memories, scroll down to the one entitled Leaving California and work your way to the most recent post.

All of this brings up some interesting questions about relationships, either with people or in other forms.

What relationships have you had that left lasting impressions upon you?

Were those relationships terminated? How?

How did you feel?

What did you learn?

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Get Back

Get Back

When it comes to reviewing the ominous side of owning our particular condo on the beach, there were only two events in 12 years that were worth noting. The first one was waking up to the disaster on the morning of nine-eleven. The only other negative experience happened within the first year.

That November I decided to go to the condo by myself. I was planning on doing a little late season albacore fishing and otherwise just loafing.The first issue was the transportation.

My friend Bob had a left over one-way airline ticket that was nearing an expiration date and Bob agreed to sell me his ticket for half price. The airlines had not yet been through the nine-eleven experience so their procedures were much looser. But there were still Federal aviation laws and the ticket was not supposed to be transferable, so our secret little plan needed to be kept to ourselves.

So we went to the airport together and Bob checked in as if he was the person traveling. They took my bag without any hesitation. After Bob got his boarding pass, we went around the corner and he handed it to me. From there, I just got on the plane, as Bob, and it seemed like our plan was going to work just fine. Then, just as I was sliding into my seat, an unexpected bummer visited me.

You may have heard the term" ruptured disc" or "herniated disc" or "bulging disc" but no matter what you call it, the pain is incredible. That was the first time it had ever happened to me. If I wasn’t pretending to be Bob, I would have gotten off the plane right then. But, then I remembered that issue about my bag. If I got off the plane they would later have to return the luggage but it was labeled with my name rather than Bob’s name. I wasn’t sure if I had broken any laws or if my arrangement with Bob was just a matter of harmlessly misleading the specific airline. I didn’t want to have to explain myself. As painful as it was, I forced myself to sit down in Bob’s assigned seat.

If you ever knew anybody with a ruptured disc, you know that the best way to relieve the pain is to lay down and take the pressure off of it. Nobody would recommend sitting upright in an uncomfortable airline seat. The thrust of the plane during take-off forced me back into the seat and the pain intensified. Once the plane was in the air I asked the other guy who was in my row with me if he would move to some other seat on the plane so that I could lay down across the three seats in my row. He agreed and I was able to release some of the pressure as I sprawled out the best I could, but it was still very uncomfortable, laying there like a wounded beached whale.

When the plane landed I waddled to the baggage area and asked a younger fellow to grab my bag off the carousel and I felt some mental relief because I had successfully eliminated any risk of getting caught misleading the airline; but my problems were just beginning. I still did not know that I had a ruptured disc, let alone what to do about it. I didn’t know if a day’s rest was all I needed or what I should do. I decided to try to get to the condo and see if the problem would just go away with a little rest.

I usually took a shuttle from the airport to the condo, but they stop at quite a few places along the way so I dragged myself to the taxi area knowing it was going to cost a small fortune to take a 25 mile ride. Once we arrived at the condo, the meter said I owed the driver $75. I gave him $100, 3 times the cost of the shuttle service.

Inside, I should have iced the back to cut the swelling but I never even thought of it. I just laid on the couch and hoped for a speedy recovery. It would be several more days before I felt like getting off the couch. In the interim, other complications were about to take over.

Somewhere along the way, perhaps from laying down in the airplane or taxi, I got a cold. My nose became a faucet, making rest very elusive. Getting off the couch was painful and countless trips to the bathroom to blow my nose was too much for the pipes. The toilet clogged and it would not clear on its own. Fortunately, we have a second bathroom so I used it for the next couple of days, but I disposed all additional Kleenex in a trash can after that.

After several days I was still very sore, but I thought I might be able to make it the hardware store to get a plunger. At the time, we kept an economy car at the property and I soon discovered that getting in and out of the tiny vehicle was very painful; however, I could not lay on a couch, sniffling, forever. I decided to tough it out.

When I came out of the hardware store I noticed one of the tires on the little car was completely flat. I know not to drive on a flat tire, but the swelling and pain in my back were still severe enough that I was not about to climb around in the trunk to pull out the jack and tire, let alone operate a jack to lift the car.

I knew of a tire repair shop about 5 miles away, so I decided to drive on the flat tire and rim, knowing full well that I would have to buy a whole new tire. I am wrong lots of times, but not that time. The tire was destroyed and needed to be replaced. Eventually I got back to the condo and quickly fixed the stool . At least I did not need to call a plumber.

The disc that caused all the problems is known as L3. It is in the loser back. It ruptured quite a few times after that and eventually a surgeon removed most of it. That helped quite a bit but I still wrestle with my back nearly every day.

That whole episode certainly adds up to one giant bummer, but when we compare it to all of the pleasure that the condo has given us, along with hundreds of other people, it is a price I am willing to pay.

The Day America Grew Up

The Day America Grew Up

In recent posts I have been discussing the process of selling a condo-on-the-beach, which Patty and I have owned for a dozen years. Most recently, I have identified the favorite experience of both Patty and me.

After writing those pieces, I decided to flip the coin over to find out it there had been any negative experiences at the condo. Fortunately, I could only come up with 2 negative events. First the simple one. I happened in our fourth year.

One fall, the Albacore fishing was especially good and I flew out there by myself for a few days of extreme fishing. I arrived late one evening and I was planning on sleeping in the next morning. Somewhere around 7:00 a.m. I got a surprise phone call from my oldest son, Adam.

After a groggy hello, Adam asked me if I was watching TV. I assured him I was not even awake, let alone watching TV. He proceeded to tell me some hair-brained fairytale about some unusual hijacking. He persisted in his story,so I turned on the boob tube just in time to watch a jet plane crash into the second building at the World Trade Center.

Later that day, after watching endless replays of the crash and the towers falling down, I realized there wasn’t anything I could do about it so I elected to go fishing anyway. Naturally, the buzz on the boat was all about the day that later came to be known as nine-eleven.

San Diego has a powerful military presence and when we returned from fishing the Coast Guard entered our boat, and others like it, to be certain there was nothing dangerous on board. I guess a fisherman could have beaten an innocent person over the head with a sea bass. Fortunately. they did not consider that to be a substantial risk so they let us enter the harbor.

I returned to the condo and the news of the time was so unbelievable that I joined the rest of the nation in shock. All sorts of experts were trying to figure out who had done that to us and why. That was the first time I heard of Osama Bin Laden and Al Queda.

The next few days we watched our new young President and the Mayor of New York try to put the pieces together for us. After that we would all learn about the people of the middle east and their religion. It was a very sobering week.

I was among the masses who still had a lot to learn about the region and its various peoples.
As you know, things have never been the same since then.

Ironically, the only other negative experience that I associate with the condo also involves a very ominous plane ride. This time, I was a passenger. I will fill you in next time.
　
　

A Special Fishing Trip

A Special Fishing Trip

Welcome! My wife and I are in the process of selling our home-away-from-home, which is a lovely beach-front condo in a northern suburb of San Diego. In previous posts you can find out how and why we decided to sell it as well as Patty’s favorite memory at the property after 12 years. This post is a follow-up to the most recent one in which I identified my favorite experience, and which was the time I went deep-sea fishing with my life-long pal, Ed. In that post you will find out why Ed means so much to me. Now we are going to discuss the special fishing trip itself.

Albacore fishing out of San Diego is the ultimate experience in the San Diego area. One reason is that the Pacific’s water temperature has to be just right or the prized tuna won’t even come within reach; and that only happens once every four years or so. As you guessed, our great fishing trip was right in the middle of one of the best albacore runs in recent history. Ed had never been albacore fishing before. I had gone about a dozen times. But Ed loved fishing and I knew if things went just right, this would prove to be the highlight of all his fishing experiences.

My preferred boat for this purpose is commonly found in an area know as Fisherman’s Landing. It is called the Pacific Queen. It holds about 50 fishermen and has some VERY SMALL cabins for sleeping during the long rides to and from the fishing grounds. Most of the other boats pack all of their patrons into a large bunk room below deck, and that makes it difficult to get any sleep. The owner of the Queen was Mr Makewin. I never actually met him. On some occasions, the Queen would offer "limited party" trips in which only 24 fishers were allowed. These were much better becasue there was more room and the crew could give each man more time and attention. The price was higer, coming in at about $200 per person for a 36-hour thrill. Our trip was indeed one of those limited party days.

Ed and I got on board about 8:00 one evening. The picture above was taken on the deck of the Queen just before we took off. While everybody was busy settling in and registering, the boat eased its way out into the bait tank area and picked up hundreds of pounds of frisky anchovies, which are usually the bait of choice for the prized tuna. That accomplished, we began the all-night trek to the fishing grounds. Before taking up bunks the fishers tend to chat a bit and I was surprised to learn that Mr. Makewin had recently sold the boat.

The Queen is big and only moves along at about 12 knots or 10 miles per hour. It runs on diesel fuel and the scent of the fuel is fairly noticeable. That might make it difficult for some people to sleep, but the rocking of the boat as it navigates it way, is so soothing I never had any problem dropping off.

The boats in the fleet have incredible navigational equipment and can return to the precise spot where the albacore were last known to be, but that is not a foolproof system because the elusive sports fish tend to follow water currents around and those are somewhat unpredictable. This particular trip the school of fish was so large, said to be in the hundreds of thousands, that the captain had no problem finding them.

The boat’s motors shut down about 6:00 a.m. and everybody knew we arrived. The captain got on the microphone and told us his equipment revealed that there were many thousands of 30 pound fish, just below the boat. He knew chaos would be the song of the day so he needed to establish some ground rules. We jumped out of our bunks in nervous excitement and noticed the smell of fried bacon and fresh coffee had overtaken the usual whiff of diesel fuel. We gathered round the galley area and learned important safety issues and certain procedures like how to get those frisky anchovies out of the bait tank and onto a hook.

To the inexperienced fishers the "announcement" ritual is a bit nerve racking because it seems like the fish might get away, but it you think about it, where are they going to go? Besides, if they do migrate a bit the boat has fish finders and can usually remain adrift right on top of them. Before long, there was nothing left to do but go fishing. My great friend and I joined all of the others.

When an albacore takes your anchovy it is one of the most exhilarating experience you can imagine. The big fish takes a deep, deep dive and the line peels off your reel so fast that it hums. You worry that you are going to run out of line and the fish might pull you overboard. But the crew members are quick to help less-experienced fishermen and they tell you exactly when to set the hook and how to slow the powerful tuna down. When the big fish strikes, someone yells "Hook up" and everyone knows they are biting.

It was just a matter of minutes before the first fish was hooked. "Hook up" And then somebody else caught one, "Hook up" then another and another and another "Hook up, Hook up, Hook up." Twelve to fifteen guys had a fish on the line, all at the same time. It was enough to make a fellow drool.

One fish would go left and another one would go deep while still another would go right and yet another was very close to the boat. The crew members have to work like crazy to help everybody avoid getting their lines all tangled up with each other. Sometimes they just couldn’t do it and several lines would join together into such a tangled mess that all the lines had to be cut and everybody had to start over and get new hooks and anchovies.

Most of the action is at the stern, the back of the boat. I was within that group and landed a couple of the prey. That sounds rather insignificant, but those fish are big and powerful. It takes a lot of effort and time to get any one of them to the boat and then on board. My arms were burning from the wrestling matches. Ed took a position at the front of the boat where there were only a couple of fishers, so I only saw him a couple of times. Since there were so many fish to be had I assumed he was doing just fine.

Meanwhile, somebody new was constantly yelling "Hook up." The crew helped the beginners and let the better fishermen fend for themselves. "Hook up" over and over again. Each guy landing all of the powerful gamefish his poor arms could manage. For the next hour or so, there were so many 30 pound fish that the only guys who weren’t hooked up were the ones in the bathroom or galley or taking a break or the ones tying on new hooks.

After nearly 2 hours, the deck was cluttered with dozens of flopping fish. Blood was everywhere and the deck was slippery because of it. Fishermen were stepping all over each other as the boat rocked up and down with the sea waves. Finally, the crew had to shut everybody down to clean up the mess. They dropped many dozens of fish through hatches in the deck to be processed later. Then they cleaned the deck for another assault. Meanwhile, an exhausted group of fishers grabbed a quick breakfast and compared stories.

Naturally, I sought out Ed to see how he was doing. He told me I was crazy for spending so much time at the stern with all of the other fellows. I responded by explaining to him that is where the action usually is. Then he hit me with a surprise. There was an old-timer up on the bow with him who was personally coaching him and they had landed more fish than I had, and without all the craziness. His coach was Mr. Makewin, the former owner of the boat. Imagine that!

While all the rest of us were trying to figure out how to catch tuna on the stern, Ed was fishing with the most respected man in the entire fishing fleets of San Diego. If Ed had to pay for Mr Makewin’s personal coaching, he could not have afforded it. As it worked out Mr. Makewin, was granted some free trips on his former boat out of respect and this was one of those times. I cannot imagine a better way to introduce my life-long buddy to the wonderful and crazy world of albacore fishing.

Natrurally, everybody caught their limit of the 30-pound deep-diving tuna and the crew even took a few extra fish back to give to their own friends and family as well as a facility that provides for seniors. We caught so many fish we didn’t know what to do with them all so we just started throwing them back. Everybody caught their fill and wore out their arms. What an incredible experience.

On the way home we compared notes, ate albacore and complimented the crew. I especially enjoyed talking with Mr. Makewin and my buddy Ed. The memory of that special trip is branded into the back of my head and I will savor it forever because my very dear friend Ed died just a few months later. While we were on that trip, we had no idea that Ed had cancer. Naturally, Ed’s death hurt me quite a bit. As I mentioned in my previous post, I really loved Ed.

This story offers us a fine example of why we need to appreciate the special people in our lives. This wonderful time with Ed lends me a reason to celebrate. I cannot imagine a better way to say good-bye to my pal of 40 years.

And, that is why albacore fishing with Ed is my favorite experience from our years in the San Diego area.

Meet Ed

Meet Ed

If you are joining me for the first time, I am in the midst of a mini-series regarding the sale of a condominium that Patty and I own in California. The previous post was about Patty’s favorite memory after a fantastic 12-year run. This entry is about my favorite memory. It involves the time Ed and I went tuna fishing, out of San Diego.

Before I tell you about the trip itself, a little back ground information is in order. Once you understand my relationship with Ed, I think you will apprecaite why the fishing trip means so much to me. I met Ed when I was 10 years old. He was almost 9. In the picture of two sockless buddies, Ed is wearing the white shirt; It looks like my pants are torn.

I was raised in a family of manly men. There was not much public affection among them, especially man to man. I remember saying when I was a kid "boys don’t hug boys". I don’t know who planted that idea in my mind, but it illustrates the silly barriers that the men in my family kept between themselves.

Even though my father and I loved each other, the only time I remember hugging him was when he was in his casket after suffering a fatal heart attack at age 61. Before that, neither of us ever said I love you to each other. We kind of hinted around at it. We would say things like "We love you guys" In my case, "We" meant Patty and me, and "you guys" meant my dad and my step mother, Bridget. Somehow, dragging the girls into it and making it into "gang love" made all that lovey dovey talk easier to deal with.

Ed’s family was the opposite. They were Italian and very animated. The men hugged everybody including each other. At their family functions they would hug when they entered the room for the first time. After that they would get a glass of wine and start arguing. Wild hand gestures were the norm. They bonded by getting loud and calling each other names. When it was time to go home they would all hug again because the bond mattered more than anything else. They seemed to have their own priorities ln proper order.

When Ed and I grew up together we never did resort to that huggy/kissy/affection stuff but one day, when we were in our 40's, Ed broke the ice. We had just come home from another fishing trip and as he got out of my truck, when I dropped him off at his home, he said, "I love you, man." Even though we had shared several decades, he caught me off guard. I did indeed love him too, but "Boys don’t hug boys" you know, let alone say those 3 particular words that are reserved for the women folk. I couldn’t bring myself to return the verbal affection. I think I grunted something affirmative like, "uh huh." But Ed was not deterred.

Thereafter, Ed stuck with it. He concluded each new meeting and every phone call the same way, "I love you". Before long it just came out. I said it too. It was natural after all. From that moment on, I was Italian, or at least it seemed like it. Ed was like a very dear brother to me. I loved him and I no longer cared who heard me say it. We shared lots of hugs and lots of I love yous after that.

My loving Italian brother taught me that boys do hug boys after all! Affection is normal and so is showing it and saying it. Now I am a chronic hugger. I even hug Patty a lot more. I am especailly glad that my own sons will not have to wait until I am in my casket to hug me or to say I love you. We all have Ed to thank for that priceless gift.

Now that you know how important Ed has been to me, you might understand why a fishing trip with him means so much to me. On the other hand, if you knew how many times Ed and I went fishing together you might wonder why one particular trip can be more important than all the others.

In my next post, I will tell you all about that very special day.

Patty's Favorite Moment

Patty's Favorite Moment

My wife, Patty, and I have owned a condo in California on the beach for over 12 years, but we have decided to sell it. For more on that topic see several previous postings.

We were eating dinner at the Coyote grill the other night. That particular restaurant is one of our favorites because they have a nice semi-private patio that is cool in the summer and warm in the winter. We were reminiscing about all of the places we have gone, all of the things we have done and all of the people we have enjoyed as a result of owning the condo that we have sometimes affectionately referred to as the "nest".

There are plenty of general pleasures like watching the sun fall off the end of the earth right from our deck, or kicking off our shoes and walking down the stairs and across the grass in the yard then take a few more steps to begin long walks on the beach, or all of the private time we have shared together.

Then our conversation became more specific than that. We were recalling very precise activities. There are so many of them that I almost feel guilty. I am not sure that one person deserves so much pleasure. We must have gone on for a half hour, reliving all of those fine moments.

As our dinner was coming to an end, we each tried to pick the number one thing that meant the most to us after all of this time. There was so much to choose from but we each settled on something, Interestingly, Patty’s favorite memory also made my list of favorites and my top choice was one of the first things she mentioned when we began the exercise.

Patty’s first choice was searching for sand dollars, with her mother, Doris (That is Patty, her mother and my aunt in the above picture) I understand why Patty made that choice for four specific reasons: First, Doris always loved this place. Evidence of that was found in the way she watched each sunset as if she had never seen a previous one. She also regularly recalled fond memories of times she visited the beach with her own mother and with Patty’s dad. She couldn’t get enough of the kids playing on the beach, She loved long walks in the sand. And she particularly enjoyed looking for shells and sand dollars.

Second, I am nearly as fond of Doris as Patty is. If you would like to read an article that reveals my feelings for her, just visit my website http://www.uncledavesrealestate.com/bin/web/real_estate/AR273324/ACTIVATE_FRAMES/EXTRA1/Littleton/1246890401.html and examine Grandma: Worn out at 86. As far as I am concerned, all time with Doris is to be valued.

Third, none of our other parents ever got to see this place. Both of our fathers died before we bought the property and my mother got cancer before she had a chance to visit. I think we both cling to Doris because she is the last living parent for either of us. We like to help her find pleasure.

Fourth, as the story at my website suggests, Doris is worn out. Her mind is struggling. While it makes us sad to watch her fade away, we can take pleasure in the fact that we brought her out here with us so many times, including a visit just a few months ago. But this time, things were worse than ever before. It took Doris 4 days before she could get up in the morning and remember where she was. Her recent struggles remind us that our good moments with her are becoming father and farther apart. So all good memories with her have exaggerated importance for both of us.

Patty has been a far better daughter than most people would ask for. Anybody who has ever been a primary care giver can understand just how demanding people like Doris can be, but Patty has always done well with seniors so she has set a fine example for our entire family in this regard. I respect Patty more now than I ever have before.

So, I understand why Patty puts so much importance on looking for sand dollars with Doris. As I said earlier this was also high on my list.

Even if we were not selling the condo, Doris would never be able to see it again, so there is a great comfort in realizing we really did do everything we could to be certain that the widow, the mother-in-law, the sweet little old lady with an exhausted mind who Patty affectionately calls "mom" has found so many sand dollars and watched so many sunsets in the sunset of her very own life.

Tomorrow I will share my own favorite experience.

A Half-Generation Later

Patty and I are in the process of selling a condo that we have owned in the San Diego area for over twelve years. It is a nice property and it has been a big part of our lives, but it is time to make a change. We have accepted an offer and if the transaction works out, this will be our last visit until we come back in August to remove all of our belongings. Considering all of the crazy things that have been going on with lenders lately, there is still a good chance that the deal will fall apart, but for now we are proceeding as if the property has been sold.

This week I am writing a few articles about some of the things that have happened to us along the way. Today I am going to focus on some of the things that were "different" when we bought the property a half-generation ago, in 1997. See how many you remember.

Bill Clinton had just been reelected; then we all met Monica Lewinsky
Scientists cloned a sheep named Dolly
Relatively few people had cell phones and they were very expensive
There were no iPods
Princess Diana was killed in a car crash
The attack of the World Trade Center would not happen for another four years
England’s Tony Blair was elected
American Idol was not around
Frank Sinatra and Mother Theresa passed away
The top 3 movies were Titanic, Contact and Boogie Nights.
The top 3 TV programs were ER, Seinfeld and Suddenly Susan
The most popular song for the year was Don’t Speak by No Doubt (I don’t even remember that one). The next two were both by Jewel
The Superbowl was won by Green Bay and that was the 13th consecutive year that the NFC beat the AFC
The Florida Marlins grabbed the World Series
The NBA Championship went to Chicago for the 4th time. Michael Jordan was MVP again.
Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup
Silver Charm won the Kentucky Derby

That was an interesting time indeed. Each year thereafter has equally interesting facts, but the point is not to identify all of the special moments; rather it is to observe that life is full of wonder. Buying the condo was certainly part of the wonder in our lives in 1997 and for more than a decade thereafter. What about you? What special moments did you have in that time?

Tomorrow: Patty’s very favorite experience at the condo.

See you then.

Leaving California

Leaving California

Twelve years ago my wife and I bought a condo on the beach. After all of these years we have decided it is time to sell. It was not an easy decision. Many of our best memories from that time in our lives come from the experiences we gained at that property.

It is located in the town of Oceanside which is north of San Diego and just south of Camp Pendelton Marine Base. Prior to our purchase, the town had earned a rather seedy reputation because it catered to retired marines who did not return to their own home towns upon being discharged. As a result there were lots of tattoo parlors, nudey bars, prostitutes and beach bums around.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the marines and I really appreciate all of their sacrifices (as well as their families’ sacrifices) which have given us all so much. But my fondness for the people in the military does not change the reality of what Oceanside had become.

Well anyway, we completed our purchase just after the city officials decided to clean things up. New government buildings were constructed and the police began cracking down on all of the less becoming behavior. A new commitment was made to maintaining the beaches and now they rival any on the coast. Over time, some developers purchased many dozens of the older homes near the beach and replaced them with beautiful 2-story stucco homes. All of this caused property values to rise beyond anything we ever anticipated. That humble little condo became one of the best investments we ever made, even though we did not buy it for that purpose.

We have spent about 8 weeks a year at the 2 bedroom home-away-from-home. Our friends and family have also used it for a similar amount of time each year. Therefore, it has certainly gotten plenty of use and enhanced a lot of lives. We have gone for hundreds of walks on the beach and watched many, many sunsets. We have visited nearly every attraction within driving distance and some of them several times. There is not much more sight seeing to do.

Add to that, the woes of the general economy, which have not completely avoided us, and the particularly horrible state of the California real estate market (prices are dropping like a rock) and it just seems like our time with the property has run its course.

A couple of months ago we decided to list the property for sale and we recently received a contract that we accepted. If all goes as expected, which is not automatic because lenders have gotten very weird lately, the sale will take place in the middle of August.

Given all of this, we made an impulsive visit to the condo this week. We are trying to squeeze a few extra days in for ourselves before we wrap up this part of our lives.

We arrived yesterday and went to one of our favorite restaurants and started recounting some of the better memories which we harbor. As the week unfolds we will try to visit a few of our favorite places and recall some of our favorite moments.

I will keep you all posted how the week develops.

The Botched Haircut

A Botched Haircut

I was bald before bald was cool.

I am a baby boomer. I was raised in a time when men got a hair cut every week, on the same day. My own father got a haircut every Thursday afternoon for years. It was a religion. The men of those days wouldn’t be caught dead with unkempt hair. Then my generation, the hippie generation, came along. As far as we were concerned, all hair was too short.

Ironically, just when long hair was really cool, I started losing mine. It was 42 years ago. I was 17 at the time. At first I noticed a few extra hairs in my comb each morning. I didn’t yet realize what was going on, which is odd because I had a whole family of skinheads. Within a year or two, more hair was falling out. As the years ticked by and I reached 30, there was no doubt where I was headed, if you will excuse the pun.

At the time (Circa 1978) most of the balding fellows looked for creative ways to hide their problem. There were snap-on toupees (yes, they actually had snaps inserted under their scalps), hair transplants and some rather impressive comb-overs. You have probably seen some of those fellows who part their hair just above one ear so they can grab enough hair to comb way over the top of their heads to the other side. I never resorted to any of those. As I said, there were a bunch of bald men in my family so the balding process never really bothered me much. I just thought it was normal.

Many years have passed since then and I never have fought with nature over this issue. Now, my forehead pretty much goes all the way over the top of my head and ends in a saucer-sized circular spot that lives on the back of my head like a yarmulke, which is a beanie-like hat that the Jewish men wear in the Synagogue.

While some men, like John Edwards of political fame and Simon Cowell, the judge on American Idol, pay over $400 for each hair cut, I bought some clippers from Wal-Mart for $24. My charming wife, Patty, cuts my hair. I tend to let what little bit I have grow too long and then I over react and have my wife cut it a little too short. That system has worked fairly well for a few years now…until today. Today, things were different.

I set up the correct chair in the garage and got out the clippers and Patty met me to complete the task. There are attachments, numbered 1 to 5, which you add to the clippers based on how short you want your hair; the smaller the number on the attachment the shorter the hair. As usual Patty started with a number two and cleaned up my entire dome. It only takes a few minutes. After that, she replaces the number two attachment with the only lower number, a number one. It is used to trim around the ears and around the back of the neck. The object is to blend the two depths of cut so that you cannot tell where the number two leaves off and the number one takes over. Now this is where the problem begins.

I guess Patty’s mind was wandering a bit because her first swipe of my hair with the number one attachment was a little higher above my left ear than usual. It no more hit my head before she yelped “Oooops!” “Oooops?" I thought. I knew exactly what was wrong. That was bad enough, but then she started laughing; not just a minor giggle but a full blown stomach shaking laugh. UH OH!

Then her instincts kicked in and she started patting my head as if it was a glob of clay that she was trying to reshape. Then she realized what she was trying to do and she laughed even harder. By then, I knew what happened, and I knew what she was trying to do about it, and she knew that I knew, but the whole thing was really rather humorous so I started to chuckle right along with her. I thought I ought to let her off the hook so I stood up and we hugged each other, chuckling together like a couple of laughing hyenas enjoying a very rare moment.

Finally the silliness wore down and I returned to my chair. Once again Patty grabbed the clippers, with the number one attachment, and took her position. We were both still smiling as she raised her hands to my head to resume the task. The trouble was, her mind was still amused by the mistake so she didn’t bother to concentrate enough this time either.

Yep, you guessed it. Another big swipe stole away yet another group of scarce and precious hairs on my ever-balding head. This time Patty lost control. She turned and faced away from me and buried her head in her hands and she was trying to stifle the laughter that she just could not contain. I have never heard her laugh so hard. If she would have drank any milk, it surely would have squirted out her nostrils. She could not contain herself. I saw her jiggle in places she never jiggled before. She was laughing so hard she was squeaking and making all sorts of goofy new noises.

I suppose some other fellow, who is more vain than I am, would have really gotten angry, but I have noticed the fellow in my own mirror and there is not much there to be vain about. Besides, laughing with my wife like that, after 40 years of marriage, is a much better use of my time.

Now my head looks like that favorite well-trimmed bush in your front yard, just after the milk truck runs over it. Even I can see the humor in that. Besides, 40 years ago I promised to accept her for better or worse and she took the same vows. I guess this is just one of those times when our sacred honor is being tested. I think we will get over it but I am going to have to wear a hat for a while just so she won’t laugh herself to death.

Now, how would that look on a head stone? “Here lies a woman who looked at her husband and laughed herself to death”

Until we meet again, watch out for the woman with clippers and the number one attachment.

BZZZZZZZZ!

10 Days of Marriage

Married People Take Note

A short time ago, we visited the campus of Notre Dame University to observe our niece marry the man of her dreams. Sharon and Chris met 4 years ago in the college marching band. Chris went to Notre Dame while Sharon attended the sister college, St Mary's.

They hit it off right away and announced their plans nearly two years before the big day arrived. Naturally, all of the women involved (their mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmas, and friends) all got on board right away. I was among another group who delayed the excitement of anticipation until the eventual wedding day was only a couple months off. After all, old timers like me have been around the block a time or two. I have seen too many plans go awry to jump on every emotional roller coaster that comes flying by.

Not to be deterred, the women made plans. After all, American weddings must be spectacles you know. Churches have big demand for their facilities. Sharon’s mom booked the date well over a year in advance.

The wedding gown lends opportunity to raise an eyebrow, or two, or maybe even three! For starters they cost so much money, that our very own congress would shrivel like cowards if they had to pay for one. There is a presumption that they will only be used once (but half of all marriages end in divorce) so they only have to last one day and then they get relegated to a lonely closet somewhere. Thereafter, the bride takes it out for nostalgic purposes once in a while. They also like to try it on from time to time just to see if it still fits. It usually doesn’t. As far as I am concerned, there are a lot of cheaper ways to get disappointed. Sharon’s gown was beautiful, and so was she.

There are countless other details to be attended. Some of them include, invitations, travel plans, accommodations, wedding gifts, the reception hall, music, decorations, meals, the wedding cake (it was yummy!) , site seeing, the services themselves, the songs, the speakers, the vows. The wedding party can include a matron or maid of honor (depending on if she is married) one or more bride’s maids, the best man and the groomsmen, as well as a flower girl and a ring boy. Then there are all sorts of traditions to observe.

The wife’s side of the family is supposed to pick up the bulk of the tab, but usually the groom’s side helps out. Sit here, lift your glass this way, throw the bouquet, the bridal showers, the bachelor party, feed each other cake, removing the garter and wedding favors (Remember the Godfather?). What about the wedding veil (keeps out evil spirits), throwing rice, the gown color, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue? The reasons and history behind some of these traditons can be found at the site of Wedding Wisdom. Another good site is essortment.

Chris and Sharon’s wedding was deep in tradition and I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would, but one of the best parts came 10 days later when she emailed us. Her topic: 10 things I learned about marriage in my first 10 days.

“How cute” I thought. “What could a young bride of such little experience actually learn?” I quickly opened the message. I have included Sharon's list for your review.

Ten things I've learned about marriage in the first 10 days:

10. How to wake Chris up when he's snoring by tugging on the covers so I can fall back asleep before he starts snoring again.
9. How to clean copious amounts of mold off of a bathtub.
8. How to parallel park in Chicago (and when that doesn't work, sometimes there are nice old guys who will do it for you if you smile and say thank you)
7. Kool-aid is tolerable to drink if it's only the lemonade kind.
6. To avoid the pigeons who live in the back stairway of our apartment building, first bang the doorjam with a baseball bat, then quickly run inside while the pigeons fly outside, and then run down the stairs before they return.
5. The characters from Peter Pan are not imaginary. I know, because I live with the lost boys, and I have discovered that I am Wendy.
4. Ants don't like Clorox bleach, so if you spray the hole where they seem to keep coming into the house, only a few will break the perimeter.
3. Having someone to say goodnight to before turning out the lights is pretty cool.
2. God always finds a way to give you the things you really need.
1. No matter how dusty, pigeon-infested, mold encrusted, or old an apartment is, if you're with someone you care about, it still feels like home.

I smiled as I scanned her list. It was very charming. I forget the details of the Peter Pan story so that one went over my head, but we all should reread her number one item. This idea is lost on many of us. How could such a young and inexperienced person realize such an important truth? It is good to be reminded of such things, even if the reminder comes from someone so young and naïve; or is she? Still, I took mental note of her apparent wisdom.

As for me, I am approaching 15,000 days of marriage now. There is no telling what kind of list my wife has assembled regarding all of the things our marriage has taught her. At one lesson per day, as Sharon’s list was, my wife should be wiser than Solomon by now. She probably is.

Sharon’s list makes me realize that I take my own wife for granted. She knows all sorts of things about me, yet she sticks around for some reason. I ought to be more appreciative. I am gald I got the reminder.

What about you?

Comments?

Michael Jackson: Icon or Beast?

Michael Jackson: Icon or Beast?

Michael Jackson’s memorial service was yesterday. Like most everybody else, I have been drawn into a couple of conversations about him this week. Nearly everybody recognizes his talent as a dancer, singer and entertainer. Still, there are all of his questionable activities with children. In our country a person is innocent until proved guilty, but that "benefit of the doubt" concept is reserved for the courts. In the arena of personal opinions, there is a lot more room for speculation and suspicion.

The people who love the fallen star, point to his successes. My youngest sister (I have 6 of them) grew up with the now-famous moon walk and the lone white glove. They think he is one of the greatest of all times; right up there with the Beatles and Elvis, but is that really true? Let’s take a look.

According to Billboard 200 He is not in the top 10 in total number of top-ten albums, number of number-one albums, or most weeks on the charts, but the Thriller Album stands proud among the very best of individual albums. Count me among the buyers.

There was only one album that stayed at number one for longer than Thriller (West Side Story holds the record at 57 weeks) which held the top spot for a remarkable 37 weeks. Thriller remained in the top ten for 78 weeks, which is 5th place on the all time list. Both of these accomplishments exceed any single album of the Beatles or Elvis. However, both of those artists exceeded MJ in the previously mentioned categories.

All of this will get revised soon because one week after Michaels death, nearly another million albums have been sold and the number is still climbing.

Given the fact that Elvis started in the 50’s and the Beatles were just a few years behind him we have to admit they have had a big head start on MJ unless you count the cutsie music of the Jackson Five. It is hard to know what the final results will be but there is no doubt when it comes to musical success, Mr. Jackson deserves his props, even if most of his fame comes from just one album.

So Michael the entertainer deserves his respect but what about the other Michael Jackson, the one who has had to hire every attorney west of the Mississippi to stay out of jail?

A little research reveals that Michael paid off the Chandler family somewhere between 10 and 22 million in 1994. Thereafter he settled another case without going to court. In both cases, many people believe that there was misbehavior, but the parents of the alleged victims either wanted the money or they wanted to spare their kids the embarrassment of a full-blown court case.

After that, our star was also charged with four counts of lewd conduct with a child younger than 14; one count of attempted lewd conduct; four counts of administering alcohol to facilitate child molestation; and one count of child abduction. He was found not guilty but he never proved his innocence. There is a big difference. Just ask O.J. Simpson, who was found not guilty in criminal court but held responsible for two deaths in a civil court.

There are plenty of Michael’s loyal followers who grant him the benefit of the doubt. Even the United States Congress had a moment of silence for him, which I found odd. A black leader (Sheila Jackson) pushed for it and nobody else had the backbone to point out the absurdity of that. Are we going to honor all entertainers now? Or just black ones? Or just the ones with a dubious past? Or just the black ones with a dubious past? Where do we draw the line? No such respect was accorded Farrah Fawsett who died the same day as Jacko.

As far as granting Michael the benefit of the doubt, color me very skeptical. I can’t help but think of the time he subjected his own child to unnecessary risk by dangling the youngster over a balcony, several stories above ground. This is not evidence of somebody who has the best interest of children at heart. That reckless disregard for children lends me plenty of doubt about the activities at Neverland where young ones were drawn in by all the glamour and may very well have gotten more than they bargained for. Naturally, I don’t really know what went on between the sheets but there is just too much circumstantial evidence to make me comfortable.

So, given all of the above, Michael has proved he is an icon and we are left to speculate about his dark side, if any.

Regardless of what the truth is, may he rest in peace.