the truth can now be told.
i always had a problem with tennis on st croix.
don't get me wrong.
i had incredible tennis partners and some of the nicest people anwhere laughing at my alleged serve and cursing my drop shots.
but how are you supposed to be serious about your game when you are playing on courts that overlook 3 beaches and the caribbean?
no matter how hard i tried to focus on that killer overhead that i hit only in my dreams i kept getting distracted by all of that sunshine and ocean.
i really miss those days. and the people.
not that playing in the mountains was all that shabby. after all, at 9000 feet above sea level i could almost see the fast serves of my opponents rocket past me. but the mountain views in places like crested butte, keystone, vail, aspen, telluride, and steamboat springs were certainly worth a few humiliating defeats.
and my endurance was usually good enough to have that thin air work to my advantage.
and happy tennis memories include indoor tournaments in grand junction, and my many friends in gunnison, montrose, and delta. and, of course, time with family in new smyrna beach, where runs on the beach and tennis matches were as much a necessity as the napoleon slices at mon delice.
but yesterday was certainly a treat.
i play on an old guy's team these days (although i had to play singles with a 14 year old the other day). and we play on clay, which was invented as a way of giving me a chance to return serves in my declining years.
and yesterday we had our match on sanibel island.
for those of you that don't know sanibel and captiva islands from doc ford books or playboy photo shoots, they are secret treasures close to my house which substitute for martha's vineyard if you are boycotting massachusetts after the last election. (okay--maybe not all that secret judging from yesterday's traffic).
one of the best shelling beaches anywhere. lots of money, but in a funky environment where you score points if you cruise the bike path on a one speed.
and great food. of course i would have to mention that.
i can't afford the $6 toll to get over the bridge, let alone a country club membership. but my team plays one match at home in cape coral one one at the home court of the other team.
so i have gotten to check out some swank locations in fort myers, bonita springs, estero, and two clubs on sanibel.
you don't waste a trip to sanibel just for tennis. there should be a beach appearance and food.
yesterday i had friends from steamboat springs visiting their son up in st pete. they wanted a road trip and came over for lunch. we met on sanibel and i fortified myself for my gruelling doubles tennis match by loading up on black beans and rice smothered in hot sauce along with shredded beef tacos drowned in hot sauce (i like variety in my use of spices).
the players on my team have become friends. several are younger, but my partner yesterday was 77 and covered the court better than i did.
and i was playing tennis on an island again. this time there was a large water hole on the 18th green to distract me rather than the ocean, but the club was called beach view, so you know the gulf of mexico isn't more than a threewood away (at least if you are tiger woods and not otherwise occupied). huge palms everywhere. it's a nice place to go when you know the white house is still digging out from their last snow disaster. (i am amazed that obama hasn't been blamed for the weather).
today i am back in cape coral for my 6th day of tennis in the last 7 days.
my foot is a bit sore, but the body is holding up for the most part.
all i need is more visitors.
i'll save up for the bridge to sanibel. just make sure you bring your racket.
Friday, February 19, 2010
vivaldi rocks
want to take a trip back in time?
hard to find a good time machine that is as reliable as a toyota these days. or a delorean.
but i was able to head back to the sixties wednesday just by driving 15 minutes over the bridge to fort myers.
and there were frankie valli and the four seasons.
no. we're not talking about a revival tour where the beach boys come out with a little deuce coupe walker.
this was the off broadway tour of "jersey boys."
what a treat. if you were from a good sized city and remember when you got your first mcdonalds franchise, you are going to love this music.
if you were a teenager in the early 60's you may legitmately be nostalgic about the music of your youth. and you are long past due for your colonoscopy and prostate exams.
i never did get giddy over the beatles. but i loved the four seasons.
i really wondered whether dawn would go away. and left confused about the burning question of if big girls cry or not.
i was as weird a young person as i am as an old codger. i loved classical music as a kid. ravinia was five minutes from my house and i could hear issac stern and itzakh perlman live for $2 if i didn't hop over the fence and see them for nothing.
hard to beat the chicago symphony for summer entertainment. so WLS was not always taking precedent over WFMT.
but i really got hooked on motown.
the four tops. temptations. smokey robinson really was a miracle.
there were others. driving into the city to "downtown" with the top off of the volkswagen convertible. willow weep for me would bring a tear or two. and you had to wonder if california girls really were that special if you were 16.
so the four seasons were part of my youth. both vivaldi's version and the 45 rpm. if you were hearing these on cassettes or cds you are a different generation.
so jersey boys was a nice nugget to find. if you haven't seen it, and you remember seeing burma shave signs on a road trip, catch it when it comes to a city near you.
it may not let you buy ibm and xerox for a few dollars a share. but it should bring a smile to your face. i know sami and my brother would have loved it. my dad would have frowned and put on vivaldi.
they were all with me as i watched. and that made it even more special.
especially with that colonoscopy to look forward to.
hard to find a good time machine that is as reliable as a toyota these days. or a delorean.
but i was able to head back to the sixties wednesday just by driving 15 minutes over the bridge to fort myers.
and there were frankie valli and the four seasons.
no. we're not talking about a revival tour where the beach boys come out with a little deuce coupe walker.
this was the off broadway tour of "jersey boys."
what a treat. if you were from a good sized city and remember when you got your first mcdonalds franchise, you are going to love this music.
if you were a teenager in the early 60's you may legitmately be nostalgic about the music of your youth. and you are long past due for your colonoscopy and prostate exams.
i never did get giddy over the beatles. but i loved the four seasons.
i really wondered whether dawn would go away. and left confused about the burning question of if big girls cry or not.
i was as weird a young person as i am as an old codger. i loved classical music as a kid. ravinia was five minutes from my house and i could hear issac stern and itzakh perlman live for $2 if i didn't hop over the fence and see them for nothing.
hard to beat the chicago symphony for summer entertainment. so WLS was not always taking precedent over WFMT.
but i really got hooked on motown.
the four tops. temptations. smokey robinson really was a miracle.
there were others. driving into the city to "downtown" with the top off of the volkswagen convertible. willow weep for me would bring a tear or two. and you had to wonder if california girls really were that special if you were 16.
so the four seasons were part of my youth. both vivaldi's version and the 45 rpm. if you were hearing these on cassettes or cds you are a different generation.
so jersey boys was a nice nugget to find. if you haven't seen it, and you remember seeing burma shave signs on a road trip, catch it when it comes to a city near you.
it may not let you buy ibm and xerox for a few dollars a share. but it should bring a smile to your face. i know sami and my brother would have loved it. my dad would have frowned and put on vivaldi.
they were all with me as i watched. and that made it even more special.
especially with that colonoscopy to look forward to.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
takes two to mango
"my garden is filled wiith papyas and mangos
jimmy buffet
"who stole all my mangos?"
mike stern's neighbor
yesterday was the fourth of july. but more significantly it was the celebration of mango melee. can you imagine, an island where they spend a whole day celbrating the mango. hard to imagine. quite inappropriate. i think it should last a week. the melee takes place at the botanical gardens. the botanical garden here is pretty much like the average st croix back yard but with signs on the trees and flowers identifying them. yards on st croix are spectacular, fending off the encroaching jungles waiting to overtake them. it is something of a norse mythology dilema. in the long run, the jungle wins (unless we overpopulate and pave the whole island). but in the meantime it's a glorious battle to see the brilliant green in battle with bright red flambouyants and purple bouganvilla. i skipped the mango eating competition this year. good thing. the winner consumed eight huge mangos in less time than it takes the rockies bullpen to blow a lead. it was ready, set, go, and the winner is ....... what made it even more amazing, however, is that adult contestants could use only one hand. several hundred people watching 10 people wearing garbage bags as formal wear trying to make a mango disappear. i suspect that the winner may have eaten the seeds. it was amazing how many things were made out of mangos. there is a mango dis, mango dat competition. i brought home mango chutney, mango jam, mango lip balm, had mango smoothey's, and admired the mango barbeque sauce and mango soap. i passed on the mango tennis racquet and bathing suits. there was also quite a bit of mango history. we learned that the actual fruit of temptation in the garden of eden was not the apple. in fact the ancient hebrew word for mango is kosherhotdog, which was mistakenly translated into the serpent's temptation of eve. it does make sense. who would have sacrificed paradise for an apple? but a ripe, juicy mango. that's another matter. also of historical interest was the legend of william's delight tell shooting the mango off of his son's head, and sir issac (fig) newton discovering gravity when a ripe mango plunked him on his noggin. i did have some difficulty when they referred to ty cobb as "the georgia mango," but some license is allowed at festival time. i have learned that there are a fair number of people who have mango allergies. i think next year it would be fun to have a competition on who can have the most severe breakout from peeling and eating mangos. i'll bring the videocamera, you bring the calamine lotion. following the melee it was fireworks on the beach. shorts and a tee shirt were more than ample. they always are unless you are in a government building where the rigid conservation of resources means that the airconditioner is never under 40 degrees. nor is it much over. time for lunch. should i try the mango lasagna or just walk over to my neighbor's and tap the tree? you'll never know.
jimmy buffet
"who stole all my mangos?"
mike stern's neighbor
yesterday was the fourth of july. but more significantly it was the celebration of mango melee. can you imagine, an island where they spend a whole day celbrating the mango. hard to imagine. quite inappropriate. i think it should last a week. the melee takes place at the botanical gardens. the botanical garden here is pretty much like the average st croix back yard but with signs on the trees and flowers identifying them. yards on st croix are spectacular, fending off the encroaching jungles waiting to overtake them. it is something of a norse mythology dilema. in the long run, the jungle wins (unless we overpopulate and pave the whole island). but in the meantime it's a glorious battle to see the brilliant green in battle with bright red flambouyants and purple bouganvilla. i skipped the mango eating competition this year. good thing. the winner consumed eight huge mangos in less time than it takes the rockies bullpen to blow a lead. it was ready, set, go, and the winner is ....... what made it even more amazing, however, is that adult contestants could use only one hand. several hundred people watching 10 people wearing garbage bags as formal wear trying to make a mango disappear. i suspect that the winner may have eaten the seeds. it was amazing how many things were made out of mangos. there is a mango dis, mango dat competition. i brought home mango chutney, mango jam, mango lip balm, had mango smoothey's, and admired the mango barbeque sauce and mango soap. i passed on the mango tennis racquet and bathing suits. there was also quite a bit of mango history. we learned that the actual fruit of temptation in the garden of eden was not the apple. in fact the ancient hebrew word for mango is kosherhotdog, which was mistakenly translated into the serpent's temptation of eve. it does make sense. who would have sacrificed paradise for an apple? but a ripe, juicy mango. that's another matter. also of historical interest was the legend of william's delight tell shooting the mango off of his son's head, and sir issac (fig) newton discovering gravity when a ripe mango plunked him on his noggin. i did have some difficulty when they referred to ty cobb as "the georgia mango," but some license is allowed at festival time. i have learned that there are a fair number of people who have mango allergies. i think next year it would be fun to have a competition on who can have the most severe breakout from peeling and eating mangos. i'll bring the videocamera, you bring the calamine lotion. following the melee it was fireworks on the beach. shorts and a tee shirt were more than ample. they always are unless you are in a government building where the rigid conservation of resources means that the airconditioner is never under 40 degrees. nor is it much over. time for lunch. should i try the mango lasagna or just walk over to my neighbor's and tap the tree? you'll never know.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
the sky is falling
okay chicken little.
maybe the sky isn't falling.
but something is certainly falling from the sky.
as i type this from sunny florida the tv coverage of the great super bowl commercials of 1978 has been interrupted by visual images of washington d.c. under attack. 18 inches of snow in washington. 20 in baltimore.
sodom and gomorrah beat the point spread compared to these cities.
osama bin laden is ranting in his cave because he can't find out how to make it snow.
but d.c. has been brought to its knees by mother nature.
unless there is another explanation.
i don't want to go all biblical on you, but if noah built an ark to survive the sins of his time, don't you think that there has to be some punishment from above for the ineptitude in the house and senate?
the almighty may be known for patience and understanding. but if his (or her) health insurance premiums have been going up like mine have, you might want to buy a snow plow.
as republicans and democrats name call and have public food fights with less gravitas than the average kindergarten class you begin to understand why they call it recess when they are not in session.
i have a better chance of getting a tree cutting job on pandora than these clowns have of passing constructive legislation.
maybe the israelis and the iranians could provide counseling to the elephants and the donkeys on how to get along.
elections have failed to produce results.
so divine retribution is certainly a possibility.
after all, punishment with unbelievable cruelty is not unheard of.
you don't think reality tv is a coincidence, do you?
right.
like someone other than lucifer would have come up with jon and kate and jersey shore?
and now it is snowing in d.c. with more ferocity than christmas in wales.
not the first storm of the season.
this is the whitest season in washington history.
you have to think that barak obama gets some chuckle out of that.
if they knew what the weather was going to be the people would have elected bing crosby as president.
although a guy with a chicago winter background was not a bad choice.
not even phil the groundhog saw this one coming. it's a bit hard to convince people on global warming when they are building an igloo for spring.
but when aspen starts sending people to d.c. to explore snow importation plans you realize that something is amiss.
other areas have been effected.
but no place has suffered like washington d.c.
even scott brown has had to put clothes on to serve as senator.
predicting snow is more reliable than the brake system on a prius.
take the hint congress.
create jobs, fix social security, reform medicare, clean up the air, reduce taxes, and bring world peace.
or you're going to need a bigger shovel.
maybe the sky isn't falling.
but something is certainly falling from the sky.
as i type this from sunny florida the tv coverage of the great super bowl commercials of 1978 has been interrupted by visual images of washington d.c. under attack. 18 inches of snow in washington. 20 in baltimore.
sodom and gomorrah beat the point spread compared to these cities.
osama bin laden is ranting in his cave because he can't find out how to make it snow.
but d.c. has been brought to its knees by mother nature.
unless there is another explanation.
i don't want to go all biblical on you, but if noah built an ark to survive the sins of his time, don't you think that there has to be some punishment from above for the ineptitude in the house and senate?
the almighty may be known for patience and understanding. but if his (or her) health insurance premiums have been going up like mine have, you might want to buy a snow plow.
as republicans and democrats name call and have public food fights with less gravitas than the average kindergarten class you begin to understand why they call it recess when they are not in session.
i have a better chance of getting a tree cutting job on pandora than these clowns have of passing constructive legislation.
maybe the israelis and the iranians could provide counseling to the elephants and the donkeys on how to get along.
elections have failed to produce results.
so divine retribution is certainly a possibility.
after all, punishment with unbelievable cruelty is not unheard of.
you don't think reality tv is a coincidence, do you?
right.
like someone other than lucifer would have come up with jon and kate and jersey shore?
and now it is snowing in d.c. with more ferocity than christmas in wales.
not the first storm of the season.
this is the whitest season in washington history.
you have to think that barak obama gets some chuckle out of that.
if they knew what the weather was going to be the people would have elected bing crosby as president.
although a guy with a chicago winter background was not a bad choice.
not even phil the groundhog saw this one coming. it's a bit hard to convince people on global warming when they are building an igloo for spring.
but when aspen starts sending people to d.c. to explore snow importation plans you realize that something is amiss.
other areas have been effected.
but no place has suffered like washington d.c.
even scott brown has had to put clothes on to serve as senator.
predicting snow is more reliable than the brake system on a prius.
take the hint congress.
create jobs, fix social security, reform medicare, clean up the air, reduce taxes, and bring world peace.
or you're going to need a bigger shovel.
Friday, February 5, 2010
running with poodle on cruzan thyme
it was the time of morning when stephen king huddled under his covers and wrote his scariest material. first light eerily was peering around the low lying clouds. a noise from behind. rushing footsteps gaining on me. suddenly at my heels and then speeding past. a voice from a man in a red cape fading from behind "wait for meeeeee."
but poodle was long gone.
it rained last night. it may have been one of those classics with thunder straight from thor's hammer and 4th of july lightning displays. we get those here. but i slept the sleep of the well exercised unemployed. a sound and peaceful journey, without concern about that brief that needed to be written. so i did not see or hear the rain.
fortunately, my 32 years as an attorney allowed me to apply the basics of circumstantial evidence: the ground was wet, there were additional gungaloos squishing under my feet when i got out of bed, and the man next door was putting nails in the ark while a strange group of animals looked on impatiently.
so it must have rained. rain means two things on st croix. it fills your cistern (this is a facility into which rain water goes, not the relative that you are not allowed to date until she is 14 in olathe). and it produces puddles. puddles and poodles go together in my memory like george bush and larry, moe, and curly. if they had puppies they would be puddledoodles. but i approached my run with glee knowing that i had entertainment for the morning. i was not to be disappointed. at the start of our run, there is a house with a yard the size of yellowstone. it has several dips which produce small lakes (no catamarans allowed) which attract sea birds. and puddles and sea birds attract the poodle. she races after the birds like an f-16. she runs through the puddles sending spray everywhere, like a version of flash dance meets lassie come home. the birds taunt her, waiting until she is thoroughly annoyed until they waddle skyward at a pace that tantalyses her. i am convinced this is a symbiotic relationship. poodle loves the reckless abandon of the chase. the birds find it a convenient excuse to practice their take offs and landings. i am quite convinced that a typical bird conversation is "it's 6:30. that damned poodle is late. if she's not here in five minutes i'm blowing off the exercise and eating the last eclair."
the dog is ebony black. the birds are white as snow used to be. the field is a dazzling green that was created just to set off the contrast of colors. and the speed is such that i need a video camera to do it justice. you cannot be depressed when you have a poodle performing for your entertainment. she runs next to me when she is tired, joined at the hip. but she always saves a spurt or two for those last few birds. she'll never catch one, and barks loudly if she thinks they're dawdling to make sure they react. but it is a joyful relationship.
adding to today's entertainment was a whippet that has been too shy to play. he lives along our running-walking route, and is controlled on a very large lot by an electronic collar. for the first time today, he succummed to poodles charms. he chased poodle and played vigorously. poodle then turned on him and chased him from one end of the property to the other, back and forth. i thought the dog was in fear and would expire on the spot. but as soon as poodle stopped chasing, back came the dog and chased poodle. ooh la la strikes again. and all this was after a 4 mile run, 2 mile walk, and the pursuit of numerous sea birds.
but today i am supposed to be writing about cruzan thyme. my neighbor grows vegetables and herbs. these end up being tossed into the pot to assist in dishes such as spaghetti or waffles? fresh lemongrass just gets called lemongrass. but my favorite is always called cruzan thyme. "i'm putting cruzan thyme in the soup." i always laugh when i hear this. because cruzan time is what st croix is all about. everything runs (or fails to) on cruzan time. you either smile, or you leave. it's that simple. if waiting in line for stamps for a week bothers you, go back to new york city. people move here to get away from the rat race, and then they want to import rats.
in new york we had this. in colorado we did it this way. no one here cares. life moves at a rhythm all its own. i love to write about it. i think it is appropriate to satirize those aspects of culture and government that are so much fun. but i love and accept it and don't have illusions about changing it. you don't need a watch down here. people arrive when they arrive, and if the food is cold, so be it. parades start when the mood hits them. an appointment is more of a suggestion for a time.
a friend on guam said it was a place "where manana did not carry the same compelling sense of urgency that it does in mexico." st croix is not up to the high standards of guam. and who cares. i have the soul of an islander. and of a mountain person. the devil has not offered me anything in exchange for what he obviously considers a defective product. but my heart is with poodle and those sea birds.
but poodle was long gone.
it rained last night. it may have been one of those classics with thunder straight from thor's hammer and 4th of july lightning displays. we get those here. but i slept the sleep of the well exercised unemployed. a sound and peaceful journey, without concern about that brief that needed to be written. so i did not see or hear the rain.
fortunately, my 32 years as an attorney allowed me to apply the basics of circumstantial evidence: the ground was wet, there were additional gungaloos squishing under my feet when i got out of bed, and the man next door was putting nails in the ark while a strange group of animals looked on impatiently.
so it must have rained. rain means two things on st croix. it fills your cistern (this is a facility into which rain water goes, not the relative that you are not allowed to date until she is 14 in olathe). and it produces puddles. puddles and poodles go together in my memory like george bush and larry, moe, and curly. if they had puppies they would be puddledoodles. but i approached my run with glee knowing that i had entertainment for the morning. i was not to be disappointed. at the start of our run, there is a house with a yard the size of yellowstone. it has several dips which produce small lakes (no catamarans allowed) which attract sea birds. and puddles and sea birds attract the poodle. she races after the birds like an f-16. she runs through the puddles sending spray everywhere, like a version of flash dance meets lassie come home. the birds taunt her, waiting until she is thoroughly annoyed until they waddle skyward at a pace that tantalyses her. i am convinced this is a symbiotic relationship. poodle loves the reckless abandon of the chase. the birds find it a convenient excuse to practice their take offs and landings. i am quite convinced that a typical bird conversation is "it's 6:30. that damned poodle is late. if she's not here in five minutes i'm blowing off the exercise and eating the last eclair."
the dog is ebony black. the birds are white as snow used to be. the field is a dazzling green that was created just to set off the contrast of colors. and the speed is such that i need a video camera to do it justice. you cannot be depressed when you have a poodle performing for your entertainment. she runs next to me when she is tired, joined at the hip. but she always saves a spurt or two for those last few birds. she'll never catch one, and barks loudly if she thinks they're dawdling to make sure they react. but it is a joyful relationship.
adding to today's entertainment was a whippet that has been too shy to play. he lives along our running-walking route, and is controlled on a very large lot by an electronic collar. for the first time today, he succummed to poodles charms. he chased poodle and played vigorously. poodle then turned on him and chased him from one end of the property to the other, back and forth. i thought the dog was in fear and would expire on the spot. but as soon as poodle stopped chasing, back came the dog and chased poodle. ooh la la strikes again. and all this was after a 4 mile run, 2 mile walk, and the pursuit of numerous sea birds.
but today i am supposed to be writing about cruzan thyme. my neighbor grows vegetables and herbs. these end up being tossed into the pot to assist in dishes such as spaghetti or waffles? fresh lemongrass just gets called lemongrass. but my favorite is always called cruzan thyme. "i'm putting cruzan thyme in the soup." i always laugh when i hear this. because cruzan time is what st croix is all about. everything runs (or fails to) on cruzan time. you either smile, or you leave. it's that simple. if waiting in line for stamps for a week bothers you, go back to new york city. people move here to get away from the rat race, and then they want to import rats.
in new york we had this. in colorado we did it this way. no one here cares. life moves at a rhythm all its own. i love to write about it. i think it is appropriate to satirize those aspects of culture and government that are so much fun. but i love and accept it and don't have illusions about changing it. you don't need a watch down here. people arrive when they arrive, and if the food is cold, so be it. parades start when the mood hits them. an appointment is more of a suggestion for a time.
a friend on guam said it was a place "where manana did not carry the same compelling sense of urgency that it does in mexico." st croix is not up to the high standards of guam. and who cares. i have the soul of an islander. and of a mountain person. the devil has not offered me anything in exchange for what he obviously considers a defective product. but my heart is with poodle and those sea birds.
running on the beach on a non-snowy evening
my favorite place to run is alongside the ocean. there. i've said it. i haven't deserted my beloved mountains for some tempting water and sand mistress. i will continue to hike in the cool mountain air anyday compared to the most beautiful island hikes in high humidity and occassional mud. but running should be next to water, and no water is more tempting than when accompanied by beach and waves (it is pretty hard to run alongside a kayak down the colorado, after all).
some of my most memorable, longest, and enjoyable runs have been on a beach. back in the late '70's my brother moved to florida. he lived on the water, 3 blocks from the beach and ocean. these are the legendary beaches near daytona, where sharks pose a serious threat which is secondary to the prowling pontiac which shares the beach with runners and sunbathers. fortunately, the beaches around new smyrna are the same width (around low tide) as the state of texas. kick off your shoes, point yourself north, and you can run until you reach canada. or so it seems. when samantha was born my parents and i stayed at a cottage on the beach about 5 miles from my brother's. it was around my birthday. i remember setting out and losing track of everything except the sand and the surf (there were no distracting brunettes at 6:30 a.m.). soon i was at my brother's house. no surprise, he was sleeping. i turned around without stopping and headed back to the cottage. 10 miles without ever feeling like i was running.
i bought my dad a tennis racket that day. just because. it felt good to finally give something back. such an idyllic time. within months he had been killed by two errant semi-trucks. but i remember every detail from his lying in the hammock at al's, enjoying that racquet, and eating as many calories as a daily run up to 10 miles would allow. i cannot think of new smyrna without thinking of running. that terrible run in pounding rain after the service at al's funeral. lightning and thunder everywhere, and the rain matching my mood and tears. wonderful, joyful runs with my incredible niece and nephew. leisurely days seeing how far sami could run on the beach. and her patient, anxious to please personality walking for half an hour in one direction and then returning while i ran for the same time. remarkably, we ended up together and had time to laugh.
perfect sand and a perfect beach. i have found times in the caribbean where the loveliness is impossible to accept. up and back on a half moon beach in cane garden bay without shoes for an hour and a half. the same at little dix in virgin gorda where i was dropped while a friend went diving and entertained the guests with my back and forth run on the half mile beach where the room rate was ten times more than where i was staying.
my favorite is when my toes are in the water and the sand is firm enough for me to splash but not sink. visions of chariots of fire but i have a better tan. whether in guam, new caledonia, or martha's vineyard i have had flights of fancy as the waves with "tremulous cadence slow" match my 9 minute pace.
but the caribbean is special. and new smyrna still has my heart and memories.
which brings me to my current life on st croix. i can run by the ocean on a daily basis again. my knee is not healed (of course it has not been seen by a doctor, either), but i am lured to the waves like a lemming and stubborn as a republican on stem cell research. there does not have to be any logic to it. the waves are there, and so am i. i wear my shoes because this is not new smyrna or cane garden bay. but the smile is there, and my running companion doesn't mind that she is twice as fast as long as she can use her paws to chase the sea birds that like to torment her. i would trade it all for that cottage with the family intact, or for a nice walk-run with sami. but my running lets me remember. and eat that extra piece of banana cream pie.
some of my most memorable, longest, and enjoyable runs have been on a beach. back in the late '70's my brother moved to florida. he lived on the water, 3 blocks from the beach and ocean. these are the legendary beaches near daytona, where sharks pose a serious threat which is secondary to the prowling pontiac which shares the beach with runners and sunbathers. fortunately, the beaches around new smyrna are the same width (around low tide) as the state of texas. kick off your shoes, point yourself north, and you can run until you reach canada. or so it seems. when samantha was born my parents and i stayed at a cottage on the beach about 5 miles from my brother's. it was around my birthday. i remember setting out and losing track of everything except the sand and the surf (there were no distracting brunettes at 6:30 a.m.). soon i was at my brother's house. no surprise, he was sleeping. i turned around without stopping and headed back to the cottage. 10 miles without ever feeling like i was running.
i bought my dad a tennis racket that day. just because. it felt good to finally give something back. such an idyllic time. within months he had been killed by two errant semi-trucks. but i remember every detail from his lying in the hammock at al's, enjoying that racquet, and eating as many calories as a daily run up to 10 miles would allow. i cannot think of new smyrna without thinking of running. that terrible run in pounding rain after the service at al's funeral. lightning and thunder everywhere, and the rain matching my mood and tears. wonderful, joyful runs with my incredible niece and nephew. leisurely days seeing how far sami could run on the beach. and her patient, anxious to please personality walking for half an hour in one direction and then returning while i ran for the same time. remarkably, we ended up together and had time to laugh.
perfect sand and a perfect beach. i have found times in the caribbean where the loveliness is impossible to accept. up and back on a half moon beach in cane garden bay without shoes for an hour and a half. the same at little dix in virgin gorda where i was dropped while a friend went diving and entertained the guests with my back and forth run on the half mile beach where the room rate was ten times more than where i was staying.
my favorite is when my toes are in the water and the sand is firm enough for me to splash but not sink. visions of chariots of fire but i have a better tan. whether in guam, new caledonia, or martha's vineyard i have had flights of fancy as the waves with "tremulous cadence slow" match my 9 minute pace.
but the caribbean is special. and new smyrna still has my heart and memories.
which brings me to my current life on st croix. i can run by the ocean on a daily basis again. my knee is not healed (of course it has not been seen by a doctor, either), but i am lured to the waves like a lemming and stubborn as a republican on stem cell research. there does not have to be any logic to it. the waves are there, and so am i. i wear my shoes because this is not new smyrna or cane garden bay. but the smile is there, and my running companion doesn't mind that she is twice as fast as long as she can use her paws to chase the sea birds that like to torment her. i would trade it all for that cottage with the family intact, or for a nice walk-run with sami. but my running lets me remember. and eat that extra piece of banana cream pie.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
who asked for this?
you remember the old toyota commercial. "you asked for it, you got it, toyota."
bet they regret that one these days.
people didn't ask for the current problems, but they got it anyway.
kind of like a sexually transmitted disease for cars.
if this was chevy it wouldn't even get a mention.
but toyota has had that reputation for dependability that makes big ben look like a timex.
truth is, i always wanted a toyota.
in the 70's i couldn't afford a corolla. later i would chose an xterra over an fj cruiser because of cost. and thankfully the del sol was just a better buy for the money than the little toyota convertible of its day.
but each time i thought i would be a toyota owner. and it turned out otherwise.
i guess i just didn't want to ask for it that badly.
and now toyota is the new edsel. people are more interested in getting warts than a prius. a recall? unheard of.
it doesn't help when the company spokesperson comes on and is wearing ceremonial hari kari gear.
i just think they will have to rethink the commercials.
and i do have a part time solution.
they can always borrow my honda del sol. with 240,000 miles i can say that i got what i asked for.
bet they regret that one these days.
people didn't ask for the current problems, but they got it anyway.
kind of like a sexually transmitted disease for cars.
if this was chevy it wouldn't even get a mention.
but toyota has had that reputation for dependability that makes big ben look like a timex.
truth is, i always wanted a toyota.
in the 70's i couldn't afford a corolla. later i would chose an xterra over an fj cruiser because of cost. and thankfully the del sol was just a better buy for the money than the little toyota convertible of its day.
but each time i thought i would be a toyota owner. and it turned out otherwise.
i guess i just didn't want to ask for it that badly.
and now toyota is the new edsel. people are more interested in getting warts than a prius. a recall? unheard of.
it doesn't help when the company spokesperson comes on and is wearing ceremonial hari kari gear.
i just think they will have to rethink the commercials.
and i do have a part time solution.
they can always borrow my honda del sol. with 240,000 miles i can say that i got what i asked for.
don't ask don't tell the supreme court to relocate
i was asked to write two columns. sex in the military (ssshhhhhh) and the supreme court going down the rabbit hole in their decision to allow monopoly money to be used to finance political campaigns.
sorry, but the sun is out, temperatures should be around 80 today, and my computer is inside the house. and my tennis racket is waiting.
so i will leave you to your own imagination as to how free speech became an excuse for a "buy your own senator" promotion by big money interests.
the abandonment of don't ask, don't tell is pretty easy.
only heterosexual males belong in the military. like george bush serving with glory in the national guard.
after all, alexander the great is reputed to have leanings towards men and he never went anywhere with his military career. conquer the world? sure. but you never heard about a big bowl victory in the army-persia football game.
and do you really expect that will and grace are going to serve in the military with the current design of the uniforms? i don't think so. won't we at least have to add a little color?
we are still suffering from the decision to let women serve. joan of arc may have had a moment or two, and zenobia did okay against the romans. but the israeli army allows women and everyone knows what a failure they have been. many a syrian has made fun of how ineffective the israeli women are. of course they usually have a tank parked on them at the time of their merriment.
sex has no place in the military. that is why our troops have practiced abstinence in the past so successfully. just check out the local strip clubs or hooters when the fleet comes in. no military people at those places when church and pure thought are available as alternatives.
people have to prove their worth to get to serve in such exotic locales as afghanistan or iraq. let gay people get the chance to join up and it is only a matter of time before blacks and jews want to join. and then where will we be?
let's get the focus back where it belongs. think john wayne. who cares if an interpreter speaks the local language as long as they don't want to marry someone of the same sex in iowa.
and if we need a few extra troops, let's draft the majority opinion side from the supreme court and send them to kabul. and if people want to know where they have gone, i have the perfect response: don't ask, don't tell.
sorry, but the sun is out, temperatures should be around 80 today, and my computer is inside the house. and my tennis racket is waiting.
so i will leave you to your own imagination as to how free speech became an excuse for a "buy your own senator" promotion by big money interests.
the abandonment of don't ask, don't tell is pretty easy.
only heterosexual males belong in the military. like george bush serving with glory in the national guard.
after all, alexander the great is reputed to have leanings towards men and he never went anywhere with his military career. conquer the world? sure. but you never heard about a big bowl victory in the army-persia football game.
and do you really expect that will and grace are going to serve in the military with the current design of the uniforms? i don't think so. won't we at least have to add a little color?
we are still suffering from the decision to let women serve. joan of arc may have had a moment or two, and zenobia did okay against the romans. but the israeli army allows women and everyone knows what a failure they have been. many a syrian has made fun of how ineffective the israeli women are. of course they usually have a tank parked on them at the time of their merriment.
sex has no place in the military. that is why our troops have practiced abstinence in the past so successfully. just check out the local strip clubs or hooters when the fleet comes in. no military people at those places when church and pure thought are available as alternatives.
people have to prove their worth to get to serve in such exotic locales as afghanistan or iraq. let gay people get the chance to join up and it is only a matter of time before blacks and jews want to join. and then where will we be?
let's get the focus back where it belongs. think john wayne. who cares if an interpreter speaks the local language as long as they don't want to marry someone of the same sex in iowa.
and if we need a few extra troops, let's draft the majority opinion side from the supreme court and send them to kabul. and if people want to know where they have gone, i have the perfect response: don't ask, don't tell.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
gungaloos and centipedes
the local paper does not publish on holidays (or mondays), so i thought i would be helpful and provide some potential articles.
WHAT"S AT THE MOVIES
star wars does dallas premiered last weekend. the plot involves a nice human being who is tempted by the dark side to don the black robes of the dark side. corrupted by the power this presents he loses all compassion for humanity and becomes a total egomaniac acting with disregard for reason and without a conscience. and after his career as a judge, darth vader does some other things as well.
SPORTS
while some of you with limited reception were forced to settle for the french open this weeik, the big tennis news was the tennis tournament at the buccaneer. it is fascinating trying to do tournaments since the categories are open and b. since they won't let me play b you find a class of players ranging from just above mediocre (which would be me), to just under sensational (which would be whoever is playing against me). as usual,` the best part of my tennis game is my partner selection. i had excellent partners in the men's and mixed (no singles category), but not strong enough to handle the burden of carrying me to the end. in men's doubles we lost 6-0, 6-0 to the club pro. it wasn't as close as the score made it sound. in mixed, we managed to survive three rounds and lose in the finals to the club pro again 6-3, 6-3. no one confused me with roger federer, but the pro did discuss with me the idea of being a part time assistant, a tennis pro in the caribbean! and they say fantasies don't come true (michael jackson aside). who knows. i told him i thought i would have to learn how to play before i could teach others, but it might be fun.
SCIENCE AND NATURE FOR A THOUSAND, PLEASE
in the creepy, crawly category we have centipedes, gungaloos, and michael jackson. centipedes are nasty. their bite is dangerous and their appearance is hideous. they are quick and live forever. i had one in my sink one day. after drowning him for an hour or so, i dropped his lifeless body in a cereal box which i put outside (being too lazy to walk it to the outside garbage). when i went to drop it into the garbage the next morning, out crawled the centipede. i handled it very maturely. i proceeded to stomp on it with my dress shoes (i was working back then) several times. this seemed to annoy it. only after wearing myself out to exhaustion doing what appeared to be some bizarre version of the macarena did i inflict enough damage to put what was left of the creature into the trash. fortunately, centipedes are not an everyday visitor to the stern household. the same cannot be said of gungaloos. they are difficult to describe. usually green in color they are a wormlike creature about two inches in length that seems to have as its sole purpose in life getting into your house and dying. it is not uncommon to sweep 20 or 30 of these guys up in a day. sometimes in an hour. their bodies turn to dust shortly after (or before) death. they aren't much more lively alive than they are dead, but they do like to crawl around ceilings, walls, clothes, and into the bed upon occassion. when it rains you might find a thousand gungaloos on the road when you are running. i do not know why they try and get to the other side. the other thing that is of interest is that if you touch a moving gungaloo they immediately take on a death like character (this may not be an act) and do not move. this same characteristic is known to take place in humans after several years of marriage. in the somewhat warmier and cuddlier category (no more michael jackson jokes, please), we have the mongoose. these animals received some level of fame and respectability in rikki tikki tavi. as you may recall, they are devastatingly effective against cobras. of course, there are no cobras or other snakes on st croix. but there are rats. the mongoose, previously unknown to the island, was imported to deal with the rat population. of course the only predator to the mongoose is the chevy convertible. and rats scurry around at night, and the mongoose has only day jobs. so both the rats and the mongoose are able to thrive without interacting. seems to be about as effective as bringing me in as a weapons prosecutor.
LOCAL NEWS
the head of the chamber of commerce resigned after allegations were made about sums of money disappearing under her watch. she was unavailable for comment when contacted at her new home on the french riviera.
NATIONAL NEWS
bad things happened in iraq.
you will have to supply your own comics and crossword. i don't work on memorial day either.
WHAT"S AT THE MOVIES
star wars does dallas premiered last weekend. the plot involves a nice human being who is tempted by the dark side to don the black robes of the dark side. corrupted by the power this presents he loses all compassion for humanity and becomes a total egomaniac acting with disregard for reason and without a conscience. and after his career as a judge, darth vader does some other things as well.
SPORTS
while some of you with limited reception were forced to settle for the french open this weeik, the big tennis news was the tennis tournament at the buccaneer. it is fascinating trying to do tournaments since the categories are open and b. since they won't let me play b you find a class of players ranging from just above mediocre (which would be me), to just under sensational (which would be whoever is playing against me). as usual,` the best part of my tennis game is my partner selection. i had excellent partners in the men's and mixed (no singles category), but not strong enough to handle the burden of carrying me to the end. in men's doubles we lost 6-0, 6-0 to the club pro. it wasn't as close as the score made it sound. in mixed, we managed to survive three rounds and lose in the finals to the club pro again 6-3, 6-3. no one confused me with roger federer, but the pro did discuss with me the idea of being a part time assistant, a tennis pro in the caribbean! and they say fantasies don't come true (michael jackson aside). who knows. i told him i thought i would have to learn how to play before i could teach others, but it might be fun.
SCIENCE AND NATURE FOR A THOUSAND, PLEASE
in the creepy, crawly category we have centipedes, gungaloos, and michael jackson. centipedes are nasty. their bite is dangerous and their appearance is hideous. they are quick and live forever. i had one in my sink one day. after drowning him for an hour or so, i dropped his lifeless body in a cereal box which i put outside (being too lazy to walk it to the outside garbage). when i went to drop it into the garbage the next morning, out crawled the centipede. i handled it very maturely. i proceeded to stomp on it with my dress shoes (i was working back then) several times. this seemed to annoy it. only after wearing myself out to exhaustion doing what appeared to be some bizarre version of the macarena did i inflict enough damage to put what was left of the creature into the trash. fortunately, centipedes are not an everyday visitor to the stern household. the same cannot be said of gungaloos. they are difficult to describe. usually green in color they are a wormlike creature about two inches in length that seems to have as its sole purpose in life getting into your house and dying. it is not uncommon to sweep 20 or 30 of these guys up in a day. sometimes in an hour. their bodies turn to dust shortly after (or before) death. they aren't much more lively alive than they are dead, but they do like to crawl around ceilings, walls, clothes, and into the bed upon occassion. when it rains you might find a thousand gungaloos on the road when you are running. i do not know why they try and get to the other side. the other thing that is of interest is that if you touch a moving gungaloo they immediately take on a death like character (this may not be an act) and do not move. this same characteristic is known to take place in humans after several years of marriage. in the somewhat warmier and cuddlier category (no more michael jackson jokes, please), we have the mongoose. these animals received some level of fame and respectability in rikki tikki tavi. as you may recall, they are devastatingly effective against cobras. of course, there are no cobras or other snakes on st croix. but there are rats. the mongoose, previously unknown to the island, was imported to deal with the rat population. of course the only predator to the mongoose is the chevy convertible. and rats scurry around at night, and the mongoose has only day jobs. so both the rats and the mongoose are able to thrive without interacting. seems to be about as effective as bringing me in as a weapons prosecutor.
LOCAL NEWS
the head of the chamber of commerce resigned after allegations were made about sums of money disappearing under her watch. she was unavailable for comment when contacted at her new home on the french riviera.
NATIONAL NEWS
bad things happened in iraq.
you will have to supply your own comics and crossword. i don't work on memorial day either.
st thomas versus st croix
you can't spell caribbean without a sea. you can't spell ocean without the grating roar of pebbles which the waves draw back and fling at their return up the high strand (my apologies to mathew arnold).
some thoughts while watching the sun come up over the ocean on my walk-run this morning. it is difficult to look out at the ocean without developing into something of a philosopher. changing appearance without colagen. dead still one moment, eight foot waves the next. a constancy that makes the events on this darkling plain where ignorant armies clash by night seem much more trivial (apologies to arnold the pig and the colorado rockies who seem to prefer to go gentle into that good night (games). my morning routine has included a walk or run (or both) daily pre 7 a.m. not everyone's idea of retirement i'm sure, but it has been quite pleasant as well as beautiful.
speaking of beauty, at the risk of losing paying readers, i must again expound upon the sight of the jet black standard poodle streaking across grass so green that ireland is put to shame in chase of the various sea birds that have settled down for a grass and bug buffet. her grace and athleticism in pursuit of tennis balls on land, ocean, and swimming pool are the things that dreams are made of, but nothing compares to the unfettered joy of her racing back and forth between the birds and me as i waddle down the road at the pace of the local slugs. if i ever figure out how to use modern technology i will try and capture this experience on film for those who have not yet figured out plane schedules to st croix to observe in person. it is quite the sight.
it has occurred to me from some of the questions posed by readers (not the one that started "why do you waste your time writing this s__t) that some of the mainlanders do not understand or appreciate the relationship between st thomas (known to locals as stt) and st croix (known to locals as irving r. feldman, but i will use the initials stx). to fully comprehend the situation you must read two great historical works. the first is cinderella, aka this stupid glass slipper is not as comfortable as a birkenstock, or my prince has come, but it doesn't mean he cares if i do. the second is romeo and juliet, a play adapted from the musical west side story. stx is cinderella. she has beauty, and has married well by joining up with prince hovensa, who owns the largest oil refinery in the western hemisphere. unfortunately, stt has taken over most of her money and refuses to give her control of her own life and sends her off to clean the toilet bowls and scrub floors while stt goes down to the docks and hustles cruise ships as they disgourge thousands of sun burned tourist types in search of the perfect over priced t shirt. the relationship between the two islands makes the montagues and capulets look like best friends headed out for a kentucky fried chicken picnic with pina colada chasers. money is generated on st croix and spent on st thomas. even though each island has 7 senators, virtually all government business (and spending) is located on stt. thus the discrepancy of 15 prosecutors on stt, while stx has 4, all waiting for better options such as ice berg spotter on the titanic. the population size of the two islands is virtually identical, and stx is almost 3 times larger. but stt is like the local bully and keeps taking the lunch money from stx. there is an independence movement afoot on stx, but it is not looked on kindly by stt. this is made even more interesting since the family names on both islands are identical, and one would think that they would get along. but the situation seems to get worse instead of better, although promises of change are an expected part of the dialogue and every administration is brought in with great promise for finally giving stx its due, only to give it the shaft instead. any resemblance between this and george bush as president is for all of you to figure. but it makes for an interesting political landscape, and at least partially explains the worn out expressions on government employees on stx.
i do not believe in making social commentary without offering solutions. i am therefore recommending the forced relocation of every individual on stt to new jersey beginning immediately. the governor could leave first, as a positive example, followed by the 15 senators. the cricket team could stay. cruise ships docking in stt will be confiscated and sold to the polish navy. in order to assure that the transition goes smoothly, i will establish personal head quarters at the lovely beach at megan's bay. send coconut and banana rum please (another product of stx). enough for now. there is one bright spot. gas is 70 cents a gallon less on stx. now it only costs me a thousand dollars to fill my jeep cherokee. i miss the del sol. if you can't send cash, send gas coupons. _________________________________________________________________
some thoughts while watching the sun come up over the ocean on my walk-run this morning. it is difficult to look out at the ocean without developing into something of a philosopher. changing appearance without colagen. dead still one moment, eight foot waves the next. a constancy that makes the events on this darkling plain where ignorant armies clash by night seem much more trivial (apologies to arnold the pig and the colorado rockies who seem to prefer to go gentle into that good night (games). my morning routine has included a walk or run (or both) daily pre 7 a.m. not everyone's idea of retirement i'm sure, but it has been quite pleasant as well as beautiful.
speaking of beauty, at the risk of losing paying readers, i must again expound upon the sight of the jet black standard poodle streaking across grass so green that ireland is put to shame in chase of the various sea birds that have settled down for a grass and bug buffet. her grace and athleticism in pursuit of tennis balls on land, ocean, and swimming pool are the things that dreams are made of, but nothing compares to the unfettered joy of her racing back and forth between the birds and me as i waddle down the road at the pace of the local slugs. if i ever figure out how to use modern technology i will try and capture this experience on film for those who have not yet figured out plane schedules to st croix to observe in person. it is quite the sight.
it has occurred to me from some of the questions posed by readers (not the one that started "why do you waste your time writing this s__t) that some of the mainlanders do not understand or appreciate the relationship between st thomas (known to locals as stt) and st croix (known to locals as irving r. feldman, but i will use the initials stx). to fully comprehend the situation you must read two great historical works. the first is cinderella, aka this stupid glass slipper is not as comfortable as a birkenstock, or my prince has come, but it doesn't mean he cares if i do. the second is romeo and juliet, a play adapted from the musical west side story. stx is cinderella. she has beauty, and has married well by joining up with prince hovensa, who owns the largest oil refinery in the western hemisphere. unfortunately, stt has taken over most of her money and refuses to give her control of her own life and sends her off to clean the toilet bowls and scrub floors while stt goes down to the docks and hustles cruise ships as they disgourge thousands of sun burned tourist types in search of the perfect over priced t shirt. the relationship between the two islands makes the montagues and capulets look like best friends headed out for a kentucky fried chicken picnic with pina colada chasers. money is generated on st croix and spent on st thomas. even though each island has 7 senators, virtually all government business (and spending) is located on stt. thus the discrepancy of 15 prosecutors on stt, while stx has 4, all waiting for better options such as ice berg spotter on the titanic. the population size of the two islands is virtually identical, and stx is almost 3 times larger. but stt is like the local bully and keeps taking the lunch money from stx. there is an independence movement afoot on stx, but it is not looked on kindly by stt. this is made even more interesting since the family names on both islands are identical, and one would think that they would get along. but the situation seems to get worse instead of better, although promises of change are an expected part of the dialogue and every administration is brought in with great promise for finally giving stx its due, only to give it the shaft instead. any resemblance between this and george bush as president is for all of you to figure. but it makes for an interesting political landscape, and at least partially explains the worn out expressions on government employees on stx.
i do not believe in making social commentary without offering solutions. i am therefore recommending the forced relocation of every individual on stt to new jersey beginning immediately. the governor could leave first, as a positive example, followed by the 15 senators. the cricket team could stay. cruise ships docking in stt will be confiscated and sold to the polish navy. in order to assure that the transition goes smoothly, i will establish personal head quarters at the lovely beach at megan's bay. send coconut and banana rum please (another product of stx). enough for now. there is one bright spot. gas is 70 cents a gallon less on stx. now it only costs me a thousand dollars to fill my jeep cherokee. i miss the del sol. if you can't send cash, send gas coupons. _________________________________________________________________
the first writing from st croix
it has occurred to me that if i wish to describe myself as a writer that it is incumbent upon me to occassionally write something. my most recent works seem to be limited to a change of address form and and a grocery list with a kurt vonnegut influence. i have questioned whether these actually qualify as literary works. but after seeing recent screen play adaptations for movies, i am sure that my attempts are legitimate. after all, even the rubiyat of omar khayam may have started as a grocery list. a loaf of bread, a jug of wine ...... who knows? and even shakespeare in richard the third "a horse, my kingdom for a horse." might have been on his to do list right above "bring home prune danish for lady ann."
i may not be writing, but i have been thinking about writing. it just seems to be one of those things where effort is involved (although see reference above to recent screenplays). and effort is definitely more difficult to generate here in the caribbean. it is not a coincidence that many of our "great literary works" were written in cold places. put shakespeare in the british virgins and the dialogue would be "should i write hamlet today or go to the beach with this mango that just fell off of the tree." the world would have been a poorer place indeed if it were not for those primitive conditions and no mtv.
now i realize that i probably offended the southernors amongst you who hold with faulkner as america's great contributer to literature. and i do have a fondness for patrick conroy. but you must remember that while the weather is warm in the south, you are not allowed to do any activities except for occassional recreational lynchings and cross burnings. and when you do go out, you must laden yourself with seven layers of clothings, includings petie coats, girdles, umbrellas, hats, and high heels. and that's just for the men. no wonder a night out wearing just a white sheet had such appeal. but the point is that writing was a possibility there since there was nothing else to do and computer games had not yet been invented.
but here on st croix, the opportunity for distracting activities are numerous. there is a hamock next to the pool. i have spent enough time in the hamock that i now think my bed sways back and forth. and since hurricane season has not yet begun, i am probably wrong. in the last few weeks i have played softball, golf, tennis, hiked, snorkeled, walked, ran and went swimming, although not simultaneously. playing softball with fins might improve my style, however.the point is that in a place in which doing nothing is a national pasttime and socially acceptable, there are just too many things to do. add movies, guitar, books, and the ever present and remarka ble poodle and it seems that sitting down at the computer for more than determining how the rockies lost that evening is just not likely to occur. but i will try and be more diligent since it is possible that at least one person out there remotely cares about what i am doing. if you find out, please let me know immediately.
for those keeping track (and not wanting slim shady's telephone number (or prison number), i am still esconsced (i haven't figured out spell check on this computer) on st croix and enjoying my career as a writer (otherwise known as unemployed). friday was my last official day of work and i was on vacation. we did hire a young woman for the office who has only been waiting five months for her nopa to get signed by the governor. and then after she had moved here and not been able to work for over a month, the nopa was signed and she began working. but they haven't done the paperwork to allow her to actually practice law yet, so she watches and thinks about lawyering. her fiancee, who is also a lawyer and desperately wants to be a prosecutor has been deemed unworthy of working at the high professional standards of the st croix office. so he will take the bar and get paid twice as much in private practice. two of the four remaining lawyers will be gone in the next few months, so it should be interesting. last one out turn off the lights. my job search is a lot like my writing. i find it more productive and rewarding to think about it than to actually engage in the activity (no sex jokes here, please). i did have a delightful discussion with the people who are in charge of one of our private academy schools. very bright and pleasant young folk with a daughter who is going into 11th grade. i expect they will offer something at wages somewhat less than poverty level. but i do have the option of taking poodle and dark sun glasses downtown and selling pencils to supplement my income. or i could do mediation and work with lawyers. please send pencils. i am still looking at private practice with jock back in montrose as my most likely and logical alternative, but he has been insistant that i buy back into the rockies tickets if i return. and he has threatened to play golf with me. there are some other government lawyer possiblilities out there, and i am not saying no to any propositions (except slim shady). i just am not saying yes. after all, the sun is out, the ocean beckons. i have been running daily for two weeks without significant knee pain, tennis tournament this weekend (although i probably won't participate in the davis cup try outs that were advertised in the newspaper. i don't see that happening on the mainland). so keep writing and i will always reply. for those of you who don't reply, i will delete you from my mailing list and sell your e-mail addresses to some appreciative business that specializes in penis enlargements, low mortgage rates, or this really great new weight loss plan. oops. i forgot that you already get those emails. and some of you may prefer such e-mails to mine. i love being classified as junk mail. it is a step up.
i am off to motor vehicle today to get my car registration updated. this may be a novel in its own right. this yearly process which is frequently done by mail in those jurisdictions not needing to employ nieces and nephews at motor vehicle, is one of the dreaded "you can't get there from here activities on the island." people pay folks $50 to go get their registrations for them. these ads appear in the paper regularly. it is not just that they are slow. it is a challenge to get there on a day when everyone (or someone) is working and will actually acknowledge your presence. if you don't believe me, please reread "don't stop the carnival." it is historical fact that when columbus landed on st croix he went to get the registration for his boat and never found the east indies. jimmy hoffa was last seen registering his limo on st croix. amelia erhardt stopped here to register her plane. you get the idea. so if i end up in limbo, plese feed the dog and water the plants, or the other way around. and leave the lights on for me, please.
i may not be writing, but i have been thinking about writing. it just seems to be one of those things where effort is involved (although see reference above to recent screenplays). and effort is definitely more difficult to generate here in the caribbean. it is not a coincidence that many of our "great literary works" were written in cold places. put shakespeare in the british virgins and the dialogue would be "should i write hamlet today or go to the beach with this mango that just fell off of the tree." the world would have been a poorer place indeed if it were not for those primitive conditions and no mtv.
now i realize that i probably offended the southernors amongst you who hold with faulkner as america's great contributer to literature. and i do have a fondness for patrick conroy. but you must remember that while the weather is warm in the south, you are not allowed to do any activities except for occassional recreational lynchings and cross burnings. and when you do go out, you must laden yourself with seven layers of clothings, includings petie coats, girdles, umbrellas, hats, and high heels. and that's just for the men. no wonder a night out wearing just a white sheet had such appeal. but the point is that writing was a possibility there since there was nothing else to do and computer games had not yet been invented.
but here on st croix, the opportunity for distracting activities are numerous. there is a hamock next to the pool. i have spent enough time in the hamock that i now think my bed sways back and forth. and since hurricane season has not yet begun, i am probably wrong. in the last few weeks i have played softball, golf, tennis, hiked, snorkeled, walked, ran and went swimming, although not simultaneously. playing softball with fins might improve my style, however.the point is that in a place in which doing nothing is a national pasttime and socially acceptable, there are just too many things to do. add movies, guitar, books, and the ever present and remarka ble poodle and it seems that sitting down at the computer for more than determining how the rockies lost that evening is just not likely to occur. but i will try and be more diligent since it is possible that at least one person out there remotely cares about what i am doing. if you find out, please let me know immediately.
for those keeping track (and not wanting slim shady's telephone number (or prison number), i am still esconsced (i haven't figured out spell check on this computer) on st croix and enjoying my career as a writer (otherwise known as unemployed). friday was my last official day of work and i was on vacation. we did hire a young woman for the office who has only been waiting five months for her nopa to get signed by the governor. and then after she had moved here and not been able to work for over a month, the nopa was signed and she began working. but they haven't done the paperwork to allow her to actually practice law yet, so she watches and thinks about lawyering. her fiancee, who is also a lawyer and desperately wants to be a prosecutor has been deemed unworthy of working at the high professional standards of the st croix office. so he will take the bar and get paid twice as much in private practice. two of the four remaining lawyers will be gone in the next few months, so it should be interesting. last one out turn off the lights. my job search is a lot like my writing. i find it more productive and rewarding to think about it than to actually engage in the activity (no sex jokes here, please). i did have a delightful discussion with the people who are in charge of one of our private academy schools. very bright and pleasant young folk with a daughter who is going into 11th grade. i expect they will offer something at wages somewhat less than poverty level. but i do have the option of taking poodle and dark sun glasses downtown and selling pencils to supplement my income. or i could do mediation and work with lawyers. please send pencils. i am still looking at private practice with jock back in montrose as my most likely and logical alternative, but he has been insistant that i buy back into the rockies tickets if i return. and he has threatened to play golf with me. there are some other government lawyer possiblilities out there, and i am not saying no to any propositions (except slim shady). i just am not saying yes. after all, the sun is out, the ocean beckons. i have been running daily for two weeks without significant knee pain, tennis tournament this weekend (although i probably won't participate in the davis cup try outs that were advertised in the newspaper. i don't see that happening on the mainland). so keep writing and i will always reply. for those of you who don't reply, i will delete you from my mailing list and sell your e-mail addresses to some appreciative business that specializes in penis enlargements, low mortgage rates, or this really great new weight loss plan. oops. i forgot that you already get those emails. and some of you may prefer such e-mails to mine. i love being classified as junk mail. it is a step up.
i am off to motor vehicle today to get my car registration updated. this may be a novel in its own right. this yearly process which is frequently done by mail in those jurisdictions not needing to employ nieces and nephews at motor vehicle, is one of the dreaded "you can't get there from here activities on the island." people pay folks $50 to go get their registrations for them. these ads appear in the paper regularly. it is not just that they are slow. it is a challenge to get there on a day when everyone (or someone) is working and will actually acknowledge your presence. if you don't believe me, please reread "don't stop the carnival." it is historical fact that when columbus landed on st croix he went to get the registration for his boat and never found the east indies. jimmy hoffa was last seen registering his limo on st croix. amelia erhardt stopped here to register her plane. you get the idea. so if i end up in limbo, plese feed the dog and water the plants, or the other way around. and leave the lights on for me, please.
didn't the blog eat chicago?
kicking and screaming, i have entered the latter years of the 20th century.
i have had a number of friends suggest i do things with my writing. most of their suggestions were anatomically impossible or just plain mean. i will get a colonoscopy before i start storing my columns in that area, thank you.
but a few of you seem to like them. and in today's world, that means creating a blog.
after all, i probably have over 500 writings on such profound areas as mango festivals on st croix, to clyde the elk and his alleged murder charges in scenic craig, colorado.
who would pass on a chance to read the outdated obituary of kurt vonnegut or a review of the acquittal of michael jackson at his last child molestation trial? there probably hasn't been any publicity about jackson since that trial, has there?
the bad news is that it might make me write more.
or it could just let me post old writings when i am too lazy to come up with something clever.
and it may be that the general public has less interest in the day to day activities of the practically perfect poodle than the rest of you.
no big surprise that i named the site after the ppp. she not only is my greatest inspiration for writing material, but usually is lying here at my feet while i type. hard to ignore that level of loyalty.
my motives are pure. i wish to provide some amusement and occassional insight, and to become rich beyond my wildest dreams.
and i do have some wild dreams. although they rarely involve money.
so now you can check out the happy poodle. for at least a day or two. if i hear too many complaints or just find a total lack of interest i will either retire or go back to the old e-mail approach.
but i would love to see you here. and feel free to respond.
i somehow feel unclean doing this. so make the sacrifice worthwhile. do not let this embrace of technology be in vain.
poodle needs the support to be happy. i'll settle for cash or dinner.
i have had a number of friends suggest i do things with my writing. most of their suggestions were anatomically impossible or just plain mean. i will get a colonoscopy before i start storing my columns in that area, thank you.
but a few of you seem to like them. and in today's world, that means creating a blog.
after all, i probably have over 500 writings on such profound areas as mango festivals on st croix, to clyde the elk and his alleged murder charges in scenic craig, colorado.
who would pass on a chance to read the outdated obituary of kurt vonnegut or a review of the acquittal of michael jackson at his last child molestation trial? there probably hasn't been any publicity about jackson since that trial, has there?
the bad news is that it might make me write more.
or it could just let me post old writings when i am too lazy to come up with something clever.
and it may be that the general public has less interest in the day to day activities of the practically perfect poodle than the rest of you.
no big surprise that i named the site after the ppp. she not only is my greatest inspiration for writing material, but usually is lying here at my feet while i type. hard to ignore that level of loyalty.
my motives are pure. i wish to provide some amusement and occassional insight, and to become rich beyond my wildest dreams.
and i do have some wild dreams. although they rarely involve money.
so now you can check out the happy poodle. for at least a day or two. if i hear too many complaints or just find a total lack of interest i will either retire or go back to the old e-mail approach.
but i would love to see you here. and feel free to respond.
i somehow feel unclean doing this. so make the sacrifice worthwhile. do not let this embrace of technology be in vain.
poodle needs the support to be happy. i'll settle for cash or dinner.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
the avatar diet
i went to avatar saturday. it may have changed my life.
not the plot, which was entertaining enough, although a bit predictable.
nor was it the technology of making a movie that is certainly well beyond my powers to comprehend. and it wasn't the theme, although it was interesting to see people rooting (pun intended) for the trees over the military.
it was the hidden message that most people who saw the film missed. the potential for the new avatar diet. it could make millions.
didn't see that coming? i agree that it was a bit subtle. but you couldn't miss how thin everyone was in the movie. it helps being 12 feet tall to be sure, but it was pretty certain that they were downright skinny. after all, in a very expensive movie they certainly didn't waste lots of money on clothing allowance.
and what did they eat? the only clue was the shooting of the antelope thing. obviously a high protein source. and that's it. no wheat fields or rice paddies. no munching on veggies. it was pretty apparent that they weren't going to be cutting down those trees for tilling the soil.
so meat remains as the apparent life force for these folks. dr. atkins would be so proud.
and no one looked unhealthy. no heart attacks from clogged arteries. no need for high cholesterol medication. not a single moment of the film wasted on health insurance reform.
just skinny people on an all protein diet. throw in the high exercise quota and you have my dream life. run everywhere and charcoal broil a porterhouse at night.
the movie will make somewhere in the neighborhood of a zillion dollars. but the real money is in the marketing. avatar sipping cups. avatar action figures. a resurgance in bows and arrows.
so why not an avatar theme park and diet center? with americans fascination for quick weight loss plans how could it fail? spend your day swinging on vines and running across tree limbs and get rewarded with several pounds of steak.
i'm not sure how 3-d golf courses and tennis courts will work, but we will throw them in along with a nice lake or two for the swimmers in the group.
everyone will be blue with envy. maybe we can't make people taller, but we can slim them down and send them home with their own spear for those who can't run to the grocery store and back.
and then we will have avatar protein bars, avatar running shoes, avatar tree fertilizer. beats the heck out of practicing law. and i will need to have sigourney weaver as a consultant. not exactly a negative.
as usual, send all support and donations in cash to my website: payforstern'snewporsche.com.
i can't wait to have our new corporate headquarters.
all i need to find is a really really big tree.
not the plot, which was entertaining enough, although a bit predictable.
nor was it the technology of making a movie that is certainly well beyond my powers to comprehend. and it wasn't the theme, although it was interesting to see people rooting (pun intended) for the trees over the military.
it was the hidden message that most people who saw the film missed. the potential for the new avatar diet. it could make millions.
didn't see that coming? i agree that it was a bit subtle. but you couldn't miss how thin everyone was in the movie. it helps being 12 feet tall to be sure, but it was pretty certain that they were downright skinny. after all, in a very expensive movie they certainly didn't waste lots of money on clothing allowance.
and what did they eat? the only clue was the shooting of the antelope thing. obviously a high protein source. and that's it. no wheat fields or rice paddies. no munching on veggies. it was pretty apparent that they weren't going to be cutting down those trees for tilling the soil.
so meat remains as the apparent life force for these folks. dr. atkins would be so proud.
and no one looked unhealthy. no heart attacks from clogged arteries. no need for high cholesterol medication. not a single moment of the film wasted on health insurance reform.
just skinny people on an all protein diet. throw in the high exercise quota and you have my dream life. run everywhere and charcoal broil a porterhouse at night.
the movie will make somewhere in the neighborhood of a zillion dollars. but the real money is in the marketing. avatar sipping cups. avatar action figures. a resurgance in bows and arrows.
so why not an avatar theme park and diet center? with americans fascination for quick weight loss plans how could it fail? spend your day swinging on vines and running across tree limbs and get rewarded with several pounds of steak.
i'm not sure how 3-d golf courses and tennis courts will work, but we will throw them in along with a nice lake or two for the swimmers in the group.
everyone will be blue with envy. maybe we can't make people taller, but we can slim them down and send them home with their own spear for those who can't run to the grocery store and back.
and then we will have avatar protein bars, avatar running shoes, avatar tree fertilizer. beats the heck out of practicing law. and i will need to have sigourney weaver as a consultant. not exactly a negative.
as usual, send all support and donations in cash to my website: payforstern'snewporsche.com.
i can't wait to have our new corporate headquarters.
all i need to find is a really really big tree.
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